Skye had liked the idea of another few days of having Wyatt to herself before they announced their togetherness to the world, but seeing Beck’s car in the driveway actually dissipated her fears.
Beck loved Wyatt.
Beck loved her.
This would be fine.
The front door burst open, and there he was.
Her big brother.
Beck’s goofball grin showed off the Hollywood-white teeth against his dark stubble. “Wyatt, my man.”
While she helped Nicholas out of the car, Beck lifted a hand, then slapped Wyatt’s and pulled him in for a one-armed man-hug. Her brother was taller, and they were both in good shape, but Wyatt was a brick.
See?
No reason to worry about fists.
“Gotta get home more often,” Beck said.
Wyatt thumped him on the back. “Only if you promise to keep your clothes on.”
Beck let go of Wyatt and grabbed Skye, smothering her against his crisp designer shirt. Despite his fame, despite his money, despite his harder, leaner body, he was still Beck, still smelling like ivory soap and still happy to rub his knuckles into her scalp. “Hey, brat.”
“It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” She pinched him just above his elbow. He laughed and let her go.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she passed him on her way into the house.
“Taking you home.” He bent and held out a fist to Nicholas. “Hey, bud. You having fun?”
Nicholas nodded and bumped his fist against Beck’s.
“Not trying anything with my sister, are you, man?” Beck added.
Nicholas blushed. “She’s pretty, but she’s a little old for me.”
Beck hooted and clapped him on the back. “Good man.”
“Can you sing ‘American Sweetheart’?” Nicholas said. “It’s my mom’s favorite song.”
“He was just a backup singer.” Wyatt had that straight-laced expression again, but she knew he was laughing on the inside. “Trust me, we don’t want to hear that.”
Her brother simply grinned. “Hope you’re keeping your hands off my sister too, jack—”
“Language, Mr. Beck,” Skye interrupted. She glanced at Wyatt and sucked in a big breath. “And, actually—”
“You should get rid of all of those cut-outs of yourself here,” he interrupted. “You know the people who come here don’t really want to see that.”
“Most of ’em want to take one or two home,” Beck replied with a wink.
Skye blinked at Wyatt.
He’d gone stone-faced. Not mad stone-faced, but impossible to read stone-faced.
Needles poked at her heart.
He did still want her…didn’t he?
Hadn’t he just said he’d always be patient with her?
Or did he not realize she’d been about to tell her brother the truth about them?
She poked Beck in the side and tried to act normal. “I thought you were supposed to be doing voiceovers for that videogame as soon as you got back from Europe.”
“They had a production delay. You going home? Or do I need to call in more reinforcements?”
She glanced at Wyatt again. “I’m a one-reinforcement kind of girl,” she said.
Beck wiped a hand over his stubble, the goofball fading, replaced by the big brother who had watched over her all her life. “I just want you to be where you’re happy.”
Wyatt’s gaze was on her, unflinching.
He made her happy.
But did he still want her?
Was he having second thoughts now that Beck was here?
“Where you’re happy, Skye,” Beck continued. “Not where some guy thinks you’ll be happy. Not where everyone else wants to define you by who you’re dating.”
Her cheeks went hot. So did her neck. Her heart, though, endured another jab.
She shot another glance at Wyatt.
And once again, found him unreadable.
I don’t want to go home. I want to go with Wyatt.
She opened her mouth.
Sucked in a big breath.
“I have a headache.”
* * *
Wyatt had a spring wound tight in his chest, getting tighter every minute.
Women didn’t get headaches.
They got I don’t want to deal with this aches.
“She been like this all week?” Beck asked.
He shook his head. They were hanging out in the kitchen, Beck munching on an apple, Nicholas sneaking Nilla Wafers like he thought Wyatt hadn’t noticed.
“Probably the bowling balls gave her a headache,” Nicholas offered. “My mom says bowling alleys are too loud for ladies sometimes.”
“Y’all went bowling?” Beck said. “Did you knock ’em dead, Mr. Nicholas?”
“I tried to kill my thumb.” He held his thumb out proudly for inspection.
Beck let out a low whistle. “Gotta be careful with your thumbs, man. Only thumbs you’ve got.”
Wyatt swiped his mouth to cover a snort.
In the last twenty-something years, the only thing that had changed about Beck was the number of people who knew his name. Otherwise, he was the same kid who’d found Wyatt cowering before Bucky McMalley in the lunchroom. Dude, Bucky… Gotta watch how much you terrorize the new kids. They’re the only ones who don’t know any better than to try to be your friends. We’re gonna take this one, but you try to go easy on the next one, okay?
Cash and the Wilsons had been his personal bodyguards for the next week. Probably longer, but from about the second week on, Wyatt had called them friends instead of protection.
“Why do you have pillows with your face on them?” Nicholas asked Beck.
“So my friends can hug me anytime they miss me.”
Nicholas gave a slow nod. “That’s really smart.”
Wyatt glanced at the stairs.
Should he go check on Skye?
Or let her be a while longer?
Beck showing up had tossed them both for a loop. Wasn’t often he wished for a phone call instead of a face-to-face, but he knew how Skye’s last relationship had ended.
He wanted to give her time to adjust to the idea of going public.
He kind of wanted her to himself another two days too.
Without any outside influence.
She’d never been so open.
No matter how long he’d dreamed about her, the reality of her had been so much better. When she smiled at him, when she held his hand, when she confided in him, when she teased him and made him banana pudding and loved him, his entire world glowed.
He saw colors he’d never known before. The air was sweeter, the sun brighter, the world around him magnificently peaceful and perfect.
Beck poked him in the gut. “Hey. I said, the house okay this week? What’s up with you? Look like you’ve got a girl on your mind.” Beck’s grin crinkled knowingly.
“Uncle Wyatt doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Nicholas said. “I think he should marry Miss Skye though. She’s pretty. And she’s nice. And Uncle Wyatt likes her.”
Beck hooted again. “Aw, man, Nicky, sorry to dash your hopes, but the chances of that happening are about as likely as pterodactyl ninjas going to war with armadillo pirates.”
Marry Skye?
Hell, yeah.
If she’d have him.
“Pterodactyl ninjas?” Wyatt said. “Jet lag doesn’t agree with you, man.”
“It’s this video game I’m voicing. Post-apocalyptic dinosaur cult stuff.” Beck reached into the fridge and pulled out two beers. “Could probably get you a role if you want. They’ve got a stuffy-ass general they’re still casting.”
“Human, animal, or fossilized?”
“It’s a robo-flamingo.”
Wyatt chuckled while he clinked bottles with Beck.
Hanging with Beck was always a good time.
If only Skye were ready to be up here with them.
* * *
Skye slid down the wall at the base of the stairs.
He had had his opening. Beck had handed it to him, right there. Got a girl on your mind?
And Wyatt, straight-laced, honest, always right Wyatt, hadn’t taken the chance.
He hadn’t claimed her.
Hadn’t even hinted that he wanted her.
She didn’t need a warrior hero. She didn’t need a cave man to grunt out his claim to her.
But she didn’t need to be someone’s delicate situation either.
She didn’t need to be handled with kid gloves.
And she was pissed that Wyatt didn’t have enough faith in her to tell Beck how he felt.
He’d called her fearless. Brave. Strong.
Yet he’d stopped her from telling Beck about them, and now he was hiding it himself.
Steven had hidden her.
For months, he’d asked her to keep their relationship quiet. Then he’d waited to introduce her to Matthew. Then he’d kept her out of handling any of the situations that her being in his life had created for his family.
She was done.
Done being hidden.
Done being protected.
Done being a special snowflake who might break if someone looked at her wrong.
Because that wasn’t who Skye Ryder was.
Never had been.
Never would be.
She pulled herself off the floor, a new, razor-sharp focus and determination spurring her into motion.
Wyatt was right.
She’d always stood up for the underdog.
Well, she was the underdog now.
And she was going to stand up for her own damn self.
* * *
Skye had just finished tossing the last of her things in her luggage when she felt a presence behind her.
Not Wyatt.
She’d know his presence anywhere. That quiet, intense focus and the clean, outdoorsy scent was missing.
This was more annoying, like day-old gym socks that needed to be washed, but that she still loved because they did what they were supposed to do.
She turned, and sure enough, there was her big brother lounging in her doorway. “Leaving?” he said.
“I’m going home.” To face her fears. To get her life back. To be the woman Wyatt believed in.
Her heart hiccupped.
She loved Wyatt.
Even though she was furious with him for not wanting to claim her, even though he might not understand why she was leaving everything here to go home, now, she loved him.
His loyalty, his heart, his hidden dry sense of humor.
His quiet dedication.
His intense focus, so unnerving and thrilling at the same time.
And she didn’t just love him.
She’d thought about him every minute of every day since he’d gotten here. Since the moment she’d opened her eyes in the bathtub and found him watching her, that surprised O on his lips, the heat in his brilliant blue eyes, the way his Adam’s apple had bobbed while he stuttered out his sorrys and stared at the ceiling.
Because even in that moment, she’d known he wasn’t the man she’d always thought.
Was she giving up any chance at a future with him by going home now?
Maybe.
But Wyatt deserved the woman he thought she was.
And she wasn’t that woman.
Not yet.
That woman was inside her, but until she exorcised the demons of her past and went home, she wouldn’t be that woman again.
Beck stretched his hands over his head. “You like Wyatt.”
Her shoulders bunched. Here they went.
He held a hand up. “Spin it down, Kujo.”
She grabbed a pillow with his face on it and tossed it at him. He snagged it out of the air and grinned at it. “Oh, hey. I’ve been looking for more of these. Thanks.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“He’s a good dude, Skye,” Beck said.
She knew.
And she knew she was a mess.
She plopped onto the bed and buried her face in her hands. “He could do so much better.”
“Probably.”
When she didn’t laugh, he sighed. “He can’t do better, Skye. No guy can do better. Not better than you.”
“You have to say that.”
“Sure, but I mean it. Honestly, I’ll probably be single my entire life, because even I can’t do better than you, but that’s disgusting, so…”
“It’s a really good thing you get scripts for all of your public appearances.”
He laughed a real laugh. The bed sagged beside her. Beck flung an arm around her and pulled her in for a one-armed hug.
“Steven called it off because his son hated me,” she whispered. “And Wyatt—did you know he’s had a crush on me his entire life? But I’m not the girl he knew, Beck. I got hurt, and I didn’t know how to get over it. I’m trying, though. I am.”
“Steven called it off because his ex-wife had him by the balls over questionable contributions to his campaign.” He pulled his phone out and flashed the screen at her.
She scanned the email, her heart thumping in her ears. “Is this public?”
“Nah. Probably won’t be. He’s done good things for Copper Valley, and there’s not enough evidence for the cops to get involved. Sounds like he didn’t even know about it. But his ex could make a big enough stink to make sure he’s never re-elected.” He rubbed her arm. “His kid was acting out because his mother’s a bitch who didn’t understand how lucky her son would’ve been to have two moms who adored him. It was never about you or anything you did. But if I need to let him know we know about his campaign finance problems, I’d be happy to do that for you.”
Hot tears pricked the back of her eyelids. “I still need to go home,” she said. “Wyatt—he didn’t even have to say anything, but he made it okay. He made me okay. I just—I don’t feel like I deserve him. Not yet.”
“You’re going to get mushy on me, aren’t you?”
“I can’t drive two miles without seeing you in your underwear on a billboard. If I want to get mushy, I’ll get mushy. Your turn to suffer.”
“Think you’re getting the better end of the deal here.”
“Your billboards are going to give me a corollary embotabolism.”
He snorted.
She tried not to, but soon she was laughing right along with him. Still, she shoved his shoulder. “You are such a pain in the ass. A corollary embotabolism? In his right anter-eater valve?”
“I wasn’t the one who believed me.” He tossed his head back, still laughing. “Bet Wyatt laughed his ass off when you told him.”
“You knew I’d tell him?”
“If you were talking to him.”
“You went to a lot of trouble to keep me here this week.”
He angled his phone. “Knew you wouldn’t go home, and I was waiting for that email.”
“You had Steven investigated.”
“Tripp heard a rumor. Sent me a note.”
That made sense. Of all the guys from the neighborhood, Tripp was one with good reason to interact with the mayor’s office.
“Heard he misses you,” Beck added.
“Tripp’s always been very open in his adoration of me.”
“I meant the mayor.”
She blew out a breath. “I know.”
“You miss him?”
“Not at all.” She didn’t. She didn’t miss the man, didn’t miss the drama, didn’t miss the spotlight. “But I miss home.”
Not as much, though, as she already missed Wyatt.
“I have one more confession,” Beck said.
“If you’ve just discovered you have a secret love child, I don’t want to hear it.”
“I, ah, knew you and Wyatt would be here at the same time when I told you each you could use the house.”
“You did this on purpose?”
“Hell, Skye, the guy’s been in love with you for years. Wasn’t anyone I trusted more to be here for you until I could get here myself.”
Her jaw dangled. “You knew?”
“He’s quiet, but he’s not subtle.”
“You know I hated him when we were growing up?”
He grinned. “Such a fine line between love and hate.” He stood and held out a hand. “But there’s not a fine line between right and wrong. Not here. You know all the shit I’ve pulled on him over the years? And he’s still here. You don’t have to be perfect, Skye. All a guy like him wants is just to be loved. Don’t make me pick him over you.”
Her eyes bulged.
He was still holding out a hand, not laughing, not smiling anymore.
“Did you seriously just threaten to write me off if I don’t date your best friend?”
“Yep.”
Wet heat prickled her eyes.
A relieved breath slipped through her lips. “What if we break up?”
“I might forgive you.” He rocked back on his heels. “Eventually.”
“And Wyatt?”
“I’ll be right there in the bar with him, telling him all kinds of stories of your ugly side.”
“You—you—” She had to swallow against the soggy lump in her throat. “Dammit. How do you always manage to come out looking like the best brother in the entire universe?”
There went that obnoxiously cocky grin. “Because I am.”
He was, she admitted on a sigh.
And if he was right—Wyatt didn’t need her to be perfect.
He just needed to be loved.
And that, Skye could do.
* * *
Beck had disappeared when Wyatt got back downstairs from tucking Nicholas in for the night.
He winced.
Probably should’ve changed the sheets in the master bedroom.
And it was probably too late now.
He rubbed a hand over his chest.
Would Beck kick his ass? Probably not. He’d given up fighting when he’d taken up modeling.
But emotional warfare—that would hurt.
Beck wasn’t just his friend. He was a brother. And while Wyatt didn’t need physical protection from anyone or anything the way he had as a kid, he couldn’t say his heart was as strong as his body.
And the longer there was silence from downstairs, the more that heart worried.
Had he miscalculated?
Had he misunderstood?
Had Skye started to realize they were all leaving here in less than two days, going back to the real world, and she didn’t want him anymore?
Oh, shit.
Was she leaving?
He spun for the stairs, heart in his throat.
And there she was.
Walking straight for him from the top of the stairs. Barefoot with her long legs in skintight denim, that pink tank top she’d worn all day clinging to her curves, chin set in that stubborn, don’t mess with me jut.
And her eyes.
Those beautiful emerald eyes.
Locked on him, bright and on fire.
He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find words.
He didn’t have words.
She didn’t stop. Just kept walking.
Until she was reaching for him, running her hands up his chest and around his shoulders, up his neck to cradle his head. She went up on tiptoe, and her lips touched his.
“I love you, Wyatt,” she whispered against his mouth.
She sucked his lip into her mouth, pressed her body to his, and she kissed him.
And she kissed him.
With her lips, her mouth, her tongue.
Her fingers raked over his scalp. She pushed him back until the counter stopped him, her body aligned with his, her soft curves a perfect fit in his hands. “I love you,” she said again between kisses.
He closed his eyes and lost himself in her.
Her taste. Her scent. Her mouth. Her body.
Time stopped ticking. The world stopped spinning. Nothing existed except Skye.
His Skye.
His earth, moon, and stars too.
His everything.
“Uh, is this where one of you is supposed to say PDA, Uncle Wyatt?” Beck said from somewhere nearby. “Because gross.”
Skye giggled as she pulled out of the kiss. “I’m coming with you to Georgia,” she whispered.
He dropped his head to her shoulder. “Your job—”
“I can telework. And then we can date for a while. Get married. Have seven or eight babies. And you’ll retire and we can move home.” She bit her lip. “If you want. I’m not perfect, Wyatt. I still feel a little broken. But you—you make me okay. You make me so much better than I’ve ever been, even when I know I still have some work to do.”
“Skye,” he whispered reverently. He gripped her tight, because she was the only thing keeping him from shaking.
“I love you,” she said again.
“I love you. So much. Always.”
He always had.
And he always would.