“I win!” Hattie shouts at the top of her lungs.
My brother grunts at his loss and tosses his cards down on top of the pile. “How is it I never win this game?”
“Because obviously you suck at it,” I taunt as Ryann starts to collect them all.
“Don’t say suck,” he scolds.
“Don’t say suck, please.”
Paxton narrows his eyes at me at the same time he rises to his feet. “E chi di voi ha sette anni?”
Giggling at him calling me childish, I lean back in the seat and deny the offer at another round of cards with a simple shake of the head.
Hattie’s disappointment is palpable. “Just one more, Auntie Julez? Per favore?”
The use of Italian causes me to cave. “Bene, but that’s it, Hattie Pattie. I gotta get home.”
“You’re not staying for dinner?” Ryann shuffles the cards while her fiancé checks the grill.
“Can’t. I have a date.”
Or at least I hope I have one. Wyatt hasn’t texted me that he’s landed safely yet. Unfortunately for me, he’s been traveling a ridiculous amount these past two weeks. First, he was on some cooking in nature camping retreat thing, then he came home for two days before he left again to film some cooking show out in California. As much as I hate him not being around, I hate that I hate it more. I’ve never allowed myself to become so attached to someone. Not after being ripped from all I knew and had when I was younger. No. I swore I would never put myself in a position like that.
I swore I’d never allow myself to be this…vulnerable.
Yet here I am.
Spending every waking moment I’m not working pining for the only man I’m fairly certain I can’t live without.
Ryann begins dealing the cards. “Same guy?”
“Same one.”
“What do you mean same guy?” Paxton inquires, shutting the lid to the grill. “Quale ragazzo? Why don’t I know about this?”
I lean forward to pick up my cards. “Because you don’t need to know about it.”
“Cazzate! I’m your big brother, Julez. It’s my job to protect you.”
“It’s your job to protect them.” My free hand gestures to the other two people. “I’m a grown woman, Paxton. I can protect myself.”
“Julez-”
“Non iniziare.”
“Who is he?”
My eyes lift to meet his.
We’ve had many many discussions on when and how to break the news to Paxton. Wyatt has given up on finding a route that doesn’t end with him getting punched in the face, while I’m simply trying to decide if we should do it together or separately. The benefit of doing it together is we are presented as a united front. A team. An actual couple not afraid of the repercussions of his possible rage.
Definite rage.
He’s without a doubt going to go for my boyfriend’s face or jugular. At least if I’m there he’s likely to do more yelling than beating. It’s not like Paxton’s this violent, oversized, mindless giant. He just…he takes the duty of protecting his loved ones to the degree of life or death. Sadly, I believe that’s my fault. Had things not happened with Carter the way they did I’m fairly certain his brain wouldn’t automatically shift to the kill or be killed mode that it does.
As much as I wish I could reprogram him, I can’t.
Hell, I’ve hardly been able to reprogram myself…
He plops back down in his chair. “What’s he do for a living?”
The interrogation continues, yet I lower my attention to look at the hand I’ve been dealt.
“How long have you been together?”
“Stop,” Ryann hisses. “This is why she doesn’t tell you anything.”
“Buttercup-”
She lifts a finger to hush him. “No. Non piu. We’re playing cards.”
Hattie lunges forward. “I won! I get to go first!”
A yellow card falls on top of the pile with so much enthusiasm we can’t help but smile. Around and around we go, taking our turns, drawing and skipping turns until Hattie emerges the victor yet again.
“You are really good at this game, Hattie Pattie…” I playfully wag a finger at her. “You better not be cheating.”
“Of course not!” She giggles. “I’m just really, really, really good.”
“And so modest,” her mother sighs, reaching for her glass of wine. “Why don’t you go play on the playground until Dad’s done making dinner?”
Hattie nods and races away for the jungle gym “Santa” brought her for Christmas. Paxton ditched dinner early with us, convinced Nate and Holden to come over as soon as Hattie was asleep, and spent the next few hours in the cold assembling it. The video of her seeing it Christmas morning was enough to bring tears to my eyes.
And another wave of wonder regarding my own future family…or lack thereof.
“Julez,” Paxton’s firm voice commands my full attention. The moment our eyes connect again he huffs, “You can’t keep shit like this from me. What if he’s not who you think he is?”
I adopt my vow of silence once more.
“What if he’s secretly got another family three states over?”
His delusional idea causes me to shake my head.
“It happens.”
“Paxton-”
“It does. I had a case three weeks ago dealing with that very scenario.”
Ryann stops herself from having a sip of her wine. “You did not. You had a woman who filed for divorce because she found out her husband, who was a pilot, was sleeping with a woman that worked at his favorite lounge each time he was in her state.”
“Same shit, Buttercup.”
“It isn’t,” his fiancée argues on my behalf. “You know, this is the reason why she doesn’t tell you things.”
I shoot my finger Ryann’s direction. “Verità.”
“You’ve gotta loosen the reigns a little, Suit. She’s your sister. Not your parolee.”
“Even Mamma and Papà aren’t this imposing on my personal life, and they’re actively trying to get to know me better. Don’t get me wrong. After the talk we had last weekend, they’re definitely asking me a shit ton of questions and taking a huge interest in my life, but they seem to understand there are certain topics I’m not ready to open up about, which means they need to be a bit more patient.”
“Hear that, Suit?” Ryann interjects. “Patient.”
Paxton runs his thick fingers to the back of his neck and sheepishly confesses, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you, Julez. Not when there’s a chance I could’ve prevented it. Especially when all I had to do was ask questions, something I didn’t before. Something I should’ve done before.”
“What happened with Carter wasn’t. Your. Fault.” Reaching over to place a hand on his leg, I softly add, “I know you care, Paxton. I appreciate it. I really do. And I swear, dalle mie labbra alle orecchie di Dio, if I need you, I’ll speak up.”
“Before it’s too late.”
“Sì.”
He nods, and for the first time that I can remember, he backs off.
Ryann takes the opportunity to offer, “If you’re not busy next Thursday night, I’m having my bachelorette party and would love for you to come.”
Paxton grunts his disapproval as I lean back in my seat. “I have an important meeting late that afternoon, but I’m sure I can still make it. Do you have something already planned?”
“No strippers,” he bites. “It’s not up for negotiation.”
“For either of us,” she snips.
He slides his hand onto her leg and lets it slip towards her inner thigh. “There’s only one woman I’ll be seeing naked that night.”
A small snicker escapes seconds before I shake my head. “You know if I said something like that in front of you, you’d shit a brick.”
He doesn’t argue.
“We’re just going to do a little spa treatment. Great dinner. Drinks. Nothing too wild. Eden, my best friend who is flying into town, arranged the whole thing to be very low key. I’m not the only one with a protective fiancé or in her cases fiancés.”
Having met several polyamorous couples in my life, I don’t ask for her to elaborate like I’m sure most people do. “I’ll definitely be there. I’m honored you want you me around for such a special thing.”
“You’re in my wedding, so I think I’m obligated to invite you,” Ryann laughs between sips of wine. “Kidding. We’re family, Julez. Of course I want you to come.”
Paxton’s face lights up like a Christmas tree the second she calls us family.
We are.
She’s my brother’s future wife. The mother of my niece. The daughter my parents always wanted and an ally I can have on my side when Paxton spirals into fits like he did earlier. More importantly, I think she just may be the only one who can talk him down when the news of me and Wyatt finally breaks.
After avoiding my brother’s second round of investigation into my mystery boyfriend, I give Hattie goodbye kisses and head home. The traffic is atrocious and listening to Wale’s “The White Shoes” only makes me miss my boyfriend more.
He’s such a beautiful contradiction…
Born the only heir to a fitness legacy, yet has a dark obsession with sugar.
Bred to breathe the classics like Beethoven, yet would rather spend his time listening to rap mix tapes.
Branded the bro who’s incapable of settling down, yet endlessly talks about the future he sees for us.
A future I’ve fallen in love with.
A future impossible with anyone else…
I park my jeep in the bright area of the parking garage near the currently empty security booth and take a moment to observe my surroundings.
Lately, it feels like someone has been following me, which I’m sure is just paranoia from being in this city this long. Highland haunts me in ways I haven’t had to directly deal with, but now that I’m here, now that I have a boutique that’s about to open here, now that the man I love is here, I’m going to have to throw some salt at those ghosts to get them off my back. I have a life here. A life I wanna keep. A life I have to figure out how to protect from my own lingering anxiety.
Convinced I’m safe, I exit my vehicle and make a prompt rush towards the elevator. I swipe my key, slip inside, and give the parking garage one last look just as a hooded figure strolls by. The doors shut long before the person has a chance to join me. A long, deep exhale passes between my lips.
Paranoia.
Just paranoia.
Admittedly, after talking to Paxton it has a tendency to slip into overdrive.
By the time I’m arriving at my apartment, I’ve not only managed to settle my nerves, I’ve convinced myself to tell Wyatt how I’ve been feeling about everything lately. The recent call I had with my therapist, a woman I talk to so rarely I’m willing to pay the outlandish price for a forty five minute conversation, centered on her suggestion to stop bottling up unpleasant emotions. She urged me to let go of the notion that my worries would be washed away like they were before. Urged me to put my trust back in the hands of someone I love.
And I do love him…
Enough to permanently move here.
Enough to go toe to toe with my brother.
Enough to marry him…
God, I can’t believe I wanna marry him.
As soon as I’m inside my apartment, the sight of my favorite red dress laid out for me takes me by surprise. I stick my gum on the wall beside the door and cautiously creep over to the display, immediately noticing a hand written note laid on top of it.
Sweet Cheeks,
Wear this and my favorite kicks.
Meet me at Dai’s Steakhouse.
Take a car. I’ll drive us home.
-Wy
I giddily change into the requested items, my signature lipstick, and call an Uber as requested.
The Japanese Steakhouse is located in the heart of downtown Highland. There’s always a wait and never an unhappy customer. Wyatt’s been promising he’d take me, but insisted we needed to go for a special occasion. That thought alone has my mind racing in a million directions.
He wouldn’t take me to a romantic dinner to dump me, would he?
He’s smarter than that.
He knows I’d still bitch slap him in a fine dining restaurant among his famous chef pals.
At the establishment, I’m escorted to one of the unoccupied hibachi grills near the furthest wall and assured I will be waited on momentarily. My attention roams around the room observing the other chefs hard at work. The large groups of diners surrounding them watch and coo in awe, clapping at some of the tricks being performed. I’m so enthralled with what’s happening at another table I almost miss the throat clearing at my own.
I turn my face to the one I can’t believe I haven’t seen in almost a week. Our bright beams are identical. “Good evening, Chef.”
“Good evening.” He barely tips his head I’m sure for fear of his bright red hat falling. “I will indeed be your Chef for this evening.”
Unable to resist flirting, I question, “Just this evening?”
Wyatt’s smile soars to his ears. “For a life time, Sweet Cheeks, but behind this grill for just this evening.”
I snicker at the retort.
“Have you ever been to a hibachi steakhouse before?”
“No.”
“Are you aware of how it works?”
“You cook everything in front of me?”
Wyatt’s frown is expected. “I do more than just cook. I give you a culinary experience.”
“Any occasion with you and food is a culinary experience…”
His cheeks start to flush causing him to warn, “Do I need to grab a pair of chopsticks and take you to the back to teach you a lesson?”
“Is that supposed to be threat because it sounded more like dessert.”
The coloring of his face reaches the same shade as his hat. “Can you comportarsi, so I can show you something amazing?”
“Already looking at it, Wy.”
His smile softens at the compliment.
“But go ahead, Chef, give me a new culinary experience.”
“My pleasure.”
Wyatt picks up two tools I assume he’ll be cooking with. He taps them on the stainless steel surface, tosses them wildly into the air, spins, and catches them without missing a beat. Afterwards, he covers the grill with a substance, and it sets the whole thing on fire. The large flame causes me to cringe and lean away.
“Relax, Sweet Cheeks. You’re not gonna lose an eyebrow.”
“Then explain where yours went.”
He chuckles while wiping down the area the fire has disappeared from. “An overzealous makeup girl who now needs a new job thanks to Tabby’s very vocal complaints.”
I lightly chuckle at the comment. “Was that the only hiccup during filming?”
“The main one. I managed to avoid eating too much undercooked meat. Few others weren’t so lucky.”
Wyatt pulls out a tray of rice and scrapes it onto the left corner of the grill. Next, he grabs another platter; this one filled with vegetables, and gingerly drops them onto the opposite corner. I watch out of fascination as he moves them around, eventually focusing his attention on the rings of onion. With a precise yet swift hand motion, he manages to separate and stack the rings on top of one another creating a volcano shape. He pours more of the liquid substance inside. Shortly after it begins to smoke, he lights the center of it on fire.
At that point, he dings the cooking tool along the side of grill, creating a bell sound. “Ahh! Tell the villagers to run!”
More laughs slip free at his goofy behavior. “Thought you’re not supposed to play with your food.”
“Oh, Sweet Cheeks,” he begins, at the same time he moves the volcano closer to the other vegetables, “if I’ve taught you anything about food, it would be the exact opposite.”
I playfully smirk knowing that’s the truth.
As much as he lives to cook, he lives to enjoy it. I think all the restrictions he suffered when he was a child are what give him the edge to be so whimsical now.
Wyatt chops the sizzling vegetables a little finer before grabbing an egg from the cooking station set up behind him. He lowers it to the steel and gives it a good spin with the utensil.
His eyes meet mine, and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Wanna play spin the egg?”
“Dork.”
He fakes offenses, scoops the egg, and does an impressive maneuver in which it cracks on the grill on just one side. “That’s what you just did to my heart…”
“More like your ego.”
Wyatt chortles and removes the shell, promptly cracking another egg on the grill beside the one cooking. I watch him scramble them. Squirt a bit of liquid on them. Devote his attention to not only making sure he’s precise with his movements, but making sure they have the flare that’s required to perform such a simple task in an elite restaurant.
He stirs the vegetables, occasionally flipping one in the air and catching it on the back of his utensil.
“Where’d you learn to do this?”
“South Haven Island,” he explains while moving the rice around, “from this guy, Dai, I met during a surfing competition.”
“Dai? Isn’t that the name of this restaurant? Dai’s Steakhouse.”
Wyatt grows a grin. “It is. His father owns, well owned, a little hibachi grill down there. When I asked for a private lesson Daigo agreed, but only if I could convince his son to truly take over the business instead of just fucking around with it. Needless to say I not only charmed Dai into following in his father’s footsteps but convinced him to expand. He asked for a great location, and I gave him this one. It had just gone on the market. I cooked here the first two weeks it was opened to help build buzz.”
“That’s wild…”
He motions his head for me to look down at his latest creation.
The rice has taken a heart shape and seems to be pulsing. “You always make my heart,” the words are paused by the missed pulse, “skip a beat.”
I roll my eyes in spite of the wide smile plastered on my face. “Corny.”
“But accurate.”
Wyatt moves around the rice to erase the design. He grabs shrimp and smoothly slides them onto the steel; however they don’t stay there for long. One by one he flings them up and uses his other hand to catch them in a small metal bowl. Once all have been caught he glides them back onto the grill, the grin on his face so endearing it would be impossible to frown. I watch the swift movement of his hands, doing my best to follow that rather than stare at the joy jumping across his complexion.
Just when I’m about to comment he’s been quiet for too long, he flips up a shrimp and it lands on the edge near him. He uses the tools to scoot it along and pretends to cry out, “Oh no! This little guy is being shellfish and trying to run away!”
Against my own volition a giggle greets his ears.
He sticks his tongue out at me and returns it to the others. After a couple more minutes, he sets down his flat tool on the grill, places half a lemon on the tip, and hits the handle so it flies into the air. There’s no time to worry about what’s going to happen next. Wyatt uses the other utensil, which is obviously some sort of grilling fork, to catch it. I gawk at the trick, and he winks once more. He squeezes the lemon on top of the shrimp, adds a dash of some seasoning, and begins to wrap up his performance. As soon as everything is cooked to perfection he relocates it to the plate in front of me. I quickly applaud his efforts, but soon discover I’m not the only one. At a table nearby, men who happen to be dining at one of the non-grill stations, have been enjoying the show. Wyatt gives them a graceful bow and thanks them for watching.
He insists I start eating while he wheels away the cart containing the empty dishes.
I decide to wait for him to return; not wanting him to miss my reaction to what I’m sure will be a delicious meal.
One of the men unexpectedly calls out to me. “That was a helluva performance.”
“Right,” I excitedly agree.
“Best one I’ve ever seen.”
My smile is polite.
“Too bad you’ve gotta enjoy the meal all alone.”
“Not all alone,” Wyatt suddenly retorts over my shoulder. “With the Chef who created it.”
The mildly attractive man lifts his hands in surrenders.
Wyatt plops down in the seat beside me and immediately reaches for the chopsticks. “Let me feed you the first bite.”
I smirk at the jealousy pumping through his glare. “Maniere.”
“Per favore, let me feed la mia ragazza a bite.”
He receives a nod and returns to modifying his grip on the objects.
His ease with all utensils is one to be envious of. Despite his best efforts in teaching me how to use chopsticks, I still find myself reaching for a fork and simply enduring the lecture he delivers at what an insult it is.
Wyatt can barely hold it together as he watches me part my lips to receive the first bite. Low groans are accompanied with a less than subtle adjusting to his cock. The moment the piece of shrimp lands on my tongue, a heavenly moan seeps free, and my eyes shut.
I do my best to relish in the delish flavors, but Wyatt’s grumbles are too much of a distraction. “Keep this shit up, and we’re taking this to go.”
My eyes pop back open at the same time I swallow the bite. “That was amazing.”
His expression fills with pride. “The food or the performance?”
“Both.”
“Worth the wait?”
“Definitely.” He prepares a scoop of rice yet stops when I ask, “What’s the special occasion that finally warranted a visit?”
“We’re celebrating a very important moment in our relationship.”
The announcement startles me. “Which one? The first time we met? Our first kiss? First time we hooked up?”
A cocky grin covers his face. “You do realize those were all technically the same day?”
Snickers collide with girlish groans at the realization.
Wyatt places the chopsticks down and states, “It’s a celebration of the first time I said I love you.”
“But you haven’t.”
He doesn’t disagree. Instead, he patiently waits for me to grasp the concept.
Too stunned to say anything, I let my jaw drop.
“I love you, Julia. And maybe it’s insane to fall in love like this, or maybe I’m just insane for waiting this long, but I knew when I said it, not only did I wanna mean it, I wanted it to be memorable, on a memorable night, during a memorable moment, because you are that special to me.”
“Just hearing you say it makes it memorabile, Wyatt.” I give him the sweetest smile I’ve ever given. “I love you, too.”
“Really?” His bright blue eyes somehow become even brighter. “You’re not just saying it because you feel like you have to?”
My head tilts sarcastically. “When have you ever known me to do something just because I feel like I have to?”
He can’t stop himself from chuckling. “Good point.”
Leaning over, I lock our lips in a soft, tender kiss. We both hum in relief.
As much as I want to deepen the kiss, I know we’re in a crowded restaurant with an audience, so I pull back and whisper, “Mio Dio, I’ve missed you.”
“Anche a me.” Wyatt lightly touches my cheek. “But you should probably eat now. You’re gonna need your strength.” His cocky comment is proceeded with him picking the chopsticks back up. “You won’t be getting much sleep tonight.”
“Making up for lost time?”
“And preparing for more.”
I avoid the offered bite. “Explain.”
He hesitates but places the utensils back down. “I’m leaving again tomorrow morning.”
“For?”
“Consulting job. It’s in Brickensburg.”
“Where your parents live.”
“Yeah. A girl I went to high school with decided to open up her own bistro, and it’s not doing well. She asked could I give her some business advice, look over and taste some of her dishes, tell her what she’s doing wrong. I’m gonna go see what damage control I can do and…try to make peace with my parents.”
The latter stuns me into silence once again.
“Not for them, but for you and me. You’ve been working so hard to reestablish something with your family that I started thinking about what you said. How it would make me feel to have not said my peace before she dies. I think I could live with the unresolved resentment, but I’m not sure what kinda person it might turn me into, so rather than risk becoming someone else, I’m going to face it head on. Be the man I wanna be and finally prevent them one last time from possibly turning me into someone I hate.”
My hand reaches for his. “Do you need me to come with you?”
“While that would be incredible, you have a proposal to finish preparing for. A proposal you’re gonna land, and that we’re gonna celebrate when I get back.”
“After the wedding.”
He reluctantly nods. “Unfortunately, I fly back just in time for Pax’s bachelor party. We’re talking, land and head straight there.”
I sneer.
“But that night…” his lips wander back towards mine, “when I crawl into bed I’ll make sure you know just how much you were missed again.”
Our lips feather, and I complain, “You’ve yet to properly demonstrate just how much you’ve missed me this time.”
He groans against my mouth when I steal a small bite of his bottom lip. “You should eat while it’s hot.”
“It’ll reheat…” Wyatt starts to argue when I pull his lip between my teeth and drag his bottom lip to my tongue. “I won’t.”
There’s a short chortle followed by his surrender. “Then let’s get home, Sweet Cheeks…”
Wyatt swiftly boxes our meal and leads us to his car. Our ride home is short yet painful. We take turns teasing and torturing one another, licks and nips exchanged like some sort of undercover drug deal during every stoplight. As soon as we’re outside of the vehicle our bodies are melded together in desperation. The route to the apartment is sloppy, littered with pins against the nearest walls to let our tongues wrestle, and a near collision between the to go box and the floor. My feet have barely crossed inside before he’s tossing the box on the nearest surface and yanking my dress over my head. Our path to our bed is carved out in a series of steamy caresses and insatiable kisses. Clothes are left in our wake along with anything that could possibly distract us from one another.
I’m positioned on the edge of the bed beside a forgotten spoon, legs wrapped around Wyatt and his warm face peering down at me. He doesn’t continue our frenzied actions to fuse together. He suddenly slows down every movement as if needing me to watch how careful he can be.
How loving.
His hands glide down to gently grip my thighs before he guides himself in. Inch by inch he dips himself deeper, the stretching so intense my eyes squeeze shut. My pussy weeps gratification over his return and my climax, a climax I’ve been holding onto per his request for almost a week, threatens to appear prematurely.
A strangled growl is grabbed. “This is home. Sei a casa.”
Feeling the same way, I lift my hips to allow him to hit the hilt. The second it’s reached, the two of us moan in a satisfied unison. Together, we begin a gradual rocking, each collision resulting in a brush against my g-spot. The endless teasing of my sanity has me repeatedly bowing off the bed.
Curling my toes to the brink of pain.
Letting breathless whispers of his name break loose.
Wyatt maintains his grip, one on my leg while shifting the other to his chest. Once it’s there he lowers his thumb to my clit and his mouth to my big toe. He sucks at the same time he pinches the nub, and I can’t stop myself from screaming in ecstasy as my orgasm takes over. Undeterred by my quivering, he continues his sensuous, steady stroking.
His deep, delectable diving.
His ceaseless commitment to confirming his earlier claims.
He does love me, and his unwavering determination to prove it by making love to me has me dangling along the edge yet again.
My moans morph into panting that prompts him to suck harder on my toe. I begin to brazenly bounce my body on his dick, begging for him to go faster, begging for friction, begging for another orgasm to blow me into a million pieces only he can paste back together. Wyatt groans his objection yet maintains his unrelenting pace. He amplifies his efforts into receiving his orgasmic reward by increasing the pressure of his mouth as well as his thumb. In a united tandem, he tenaciously toys with the two until I’m soaring towards complete rapture.
A stifled cry of his name is all the warning given before I succumb to the pleasure.
Wyatt whimpers mine just above a whisper and joins me.
Our torrid eruptions smash against one another with so much force any air left in our lungs is eradicated. My nails claw uncontrollably at the mattress, desperate for something to cling onto, when his hands suddenly find mine. They fold together, and we simultaneously dissolve from being two carefree individuals into one united soul.
This is officially the most memorable night of my entire life just like Wyatt wanted…