Ipressed a fist to my stomach and leaned forward, desperate to catch my breath.“Damn, you’ve put a lot of pressure on me.”
Shecackled again, sounding more and more like an evil witch from a Disney cartoonmovie. “It’s only fair to warn you, I love that boy like my own. I want to seehim happy.” She leaned forward on her hands, bringing her head closer to mine.“But mostly, I don’t want to see him hurt. I think we have that in common.”
Shewas right. I didn’t want to hurt him. No matter what my feelings were for him.And to be honest, I was still trying to sort through them and give them names.They ping-ponged back and forth frantically between my head and my chest, neverlanding long enough for me to pin one down.
Myhead argued that we had a cruel and competitive past together and thatabsolutely nothing could come out of an attempted relationship between usexcept more cruelty and a hell of a lot more competition.
Butmy heart spoke in a language that didn’t involve words. It beat with the hopeof something my brain couldn’t yet describe. And it raced with anticipation formore of the kissing. More touching. More talking. More smiling. Moreeverything.
Theydidn’t agree, my head and my heart. And the feeling of my body being in suchstaunch disagreement made my stomach flip in protest.
Damn, Kaya, get it under control.
“You’reright,” I told Jo. “I care enough about him to not want to see him hurt. I’llbe careful with him.”
Shelifted a hand, pointing a stern finger at me. “I didn’t say anything aboutbeing careful. My Wyatt wouldn’t know the first thing about being careful. I’masking you not to screw this up. He’s trying, girl. He’s brought you to thisplace that is sacred for him, for all his brothers. He’s trusted you in ways Idon’t believe he’s trusted anyone since his mama died. Don’t be careful withhim. Just don’t fuck this up.”
“Yes,ma’am.” My response was immediate and triggered by the sharp tone of her voice.My eyes bugged at her curse word, surprised to hear it come from someone wholooked, even if she didn’t act, like a grandmother.
Hermouth broke into a satisfied smile. “That’s what I like to hear.”
“Jo,I can’t find anything wrong with that truck other than it’s a hundred yearsold,” Wyatt exclaimed as he rounded the corner, wiping his hands on his pants.“You’re going to have to take it to the mechanic if it keeps acting up on you.”
“Oh,”Jo answered. “I’ll figure it out.”
Sheturned around to reach for a crate of fingerling potatoes in every shape andcolor and I had just enough time to glare at her back. Evil woman. There wasn’tanything wrong with her truck. She wanted to get rid of Wyatt for a fewminutes, so she could lecture me!
Herlecture wasn’t going to work. Wyatt could take care of himself. He didn’t needscary mama Jo fighting his battles for him.
“Hey,”he said to me, standing close, popping my personal bubble with his height andbody heat and irresistibility. “Sorry about that.”
MyWyatt, she’d called him. Only he wasn’t. He wasn’t hers.
Istruggled to swallow and slow the rapid beating of my heart. But was he mine?“Hey.”
“I’mgoing to grab a few things from Jo and then I’ll be ready to go.”
Pickingup my cardboard flat of odds and ends, I distanced myself from him. “Go for it,”I said quickly. “I should be going anyway. I need to drop all this off at homeand change before work.”
Hisbright expression dimmed. “Are you sure? I’ll only be a second.”
“It’sfine. You’re fine.” I cleared my throat to get my mouth to stop saying dumbthings. “I just don’t want to be late. My boss can be a real pain in the ass.”
Hismouth kicked up in a half smile. “Yeah? Maybe I should say something to him.”
“Makesure he knows you mean business.” The fluttery, nervous beast inside me relaxedat our easy banter. This was more comfortable territory. This was familiarground.
Johad messed with my head with all her talk about fragile, committed, and damagedWyatt. I needed to disentangle myself from her delusion and remember that Iknew Wyatt, and we were only having fun. Or something like that.
Itwas impossible to date around with our hours. And the pressure and stress ofour job kept us isolated, clinging to things we knew and didn’t have to tryvery hard for. That’s what I was to Wyatt. And that’s what he was to me. End ofstory.
Hewalked me to the dirt path that wound between vendors out to the parking lot.“Hey, I know your parents are coming this weekend. You should bring them by therestaurant.”
Ismiled. As if. There were a lot of perks to working at Lilou. Not only prestigeand industry-wide respect, but excellent food and access to one of the bestkitchens in the region. However, just because I worked there didn’t mean I gotto drop in whenever I wanted. In fact, employees were only allowed to makereservations once a year. The waitlist was so demanding, Ezra didn’t want hisemployees taking up tables. And when we were able to get our names down, we hadto wait in line like everybody else.
“Areyou going to set up a table in the alley? Feed usLady and the Trampstyle? Because my parents might enjoy it, buthello, awkward party of one.” I pointed to myself, shuddering at the image ofmy parents making out with a plate of spaghetti between them.
Gross.And no thank you.
