“Mhmm.” One, two, three more kisses. With a hefty sigh, I pull away. “Okay, let’s go,McDreamy.”
“Nope, not happening. Try again.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Braxton
RoadtripswithHadleyare…spontaneous as is.
Road trips with Hadley as my girlfriend are leveled up.
Who knew equipping her with the power to caress my bicep with her fingertips when she wanted something would be so dangerous? That action alone is the reason we are pulling into the parking lot of the hotel in Chesapeake, Virginia an hour late. Hadley needed coffee before we took off. Then, she needed more only an hour into the drive. The coffee dehydrated her, so then she needed water. That’s when the bathroom stops began.
And I gave in every time because of the feel of her soft fingertips tracing heart patterns on my bicep. I guess if I was smart I would have held off to see what more I could get out of her, as if I was a child on the playground tantalizing the pretty girl.On the way home,I think with a smirk.
“Wow, look at this place.” Hadley’s face is pressed against the passenger window, her chin fully in the air as she takes in the grandiose hotel seated on a hill with awe. I noticed it pulling in, and I can’t disagree. The structure is fascinating, like a medieval castle but modernized. The gothic-style towers rise into the sky, and I wonder how many levels the hotel has. I also make a mental note to ask about the history of this place. I’m curious if it really was a castle. If not, I need to find out who the architect was. This place is a work of art. I wonder if I could design something similar but on a family of five scale?
A door shuts, snapping my attention back to my surroundings. Hadley’s already out of the truck and reaching over to the truck bed to grab her suitcase. I jump out of the truck, grab my suitcase, and go to take hers from her hand.
She jerks away. “I can carry my own suitcase.” Her words aren’t snippy, just a statement, but they still cause my chivalrous side to ruffle.
“Doesn’t mean you should have to,” I say.
“Always the gentleman.” She smiles up at me but still keeps her luggage in her left hand. “But I’d like to hold your hand while we walk inside if you don’t mind.”
I want to grab her free hand and make it disappear beneath my own. “Your wrist is sprained. I don’t want to injure it further.”
“Then just be gentle with me.” She sighs, her eyes boring straight into my soul, and holds out her hand. Her words have a double meaning, I’m sure of it. The tune I’ve been writing with my guitar wafts across my brain. It’s Hadley’s song, and one day I’ll show it to her. But I’m still working on the lyrics. Her words, “be gentle with me,” begin forming a lyrical poem. I need to get inside and write it down.
I intertwine the petite fingers sticking out of the black brace with mine as if I am holding a withering flower, and we begin the uphill trek to the hotel—castle?—entrance.
Once inside, I immediately feel out of place. My flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots don’t belong in a place like this. I begin to think it truly was once a castle, though did America have those? History wasn’t my favorite, as I liked more hands-on subjects like wood shop. Hadley looks at ease, even though she is dressed more casually than usual. I still can’t get over the sight of her wearing my t-shirt tied up at her belly button. It pairs well with her faded, distressed jeans and black boots. Look at me, noticing a woman’s clothes. But then again, I always notice Hadley.
And now she’smine.
“Yo, bro? Who’s got you smiling like that?” Hadley asks, bumping my arm.
“I am definitelynotyour bro.”
“It’s a video.” She laughs. Of course. “But for real. What’s up?”
“You’re mine. After all these years, I somehow managed to win you over.”
“You never had to win me over. I needed to be better for you.” Her voice becomes a whisper by the end of her statement.
“All you need to be is you.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. Pink blossoms in the space where my lips were.
“Okay, well, no need to confess our feelings here in the lobby. Let’s go find—”
“Hadley!” A high-pitched woman’s voice cuts Hadley off. The way she makes Hadley’s name two drawn-out syllables lets me know we’ve just found Mary Anne, Hadley’s old coworker, friend, and the reason we’re here.
A short, curvy woman with wavy black hair bounds over to us, embracing Hadley in some weird dance hug as they jump and spin in each other’s arms. A man, a few inches shorter than me, catches up and stands behind the women.
“You must be David.” I hold out my hand. He shakes it firmly, a good sign. Mary Anne isn’t a close friend of mine, but I’ve been around her enough because of Hadley to know the woman is sweeter than honey. We were all a little concerned when she announced her engagement to David Lawson, a man she met online and had only visited a handful of times due to him living and working in Virginia.
“That’d be me. The lucky man who gets to call this firecracker his for the rest of our lives.” David’s hand is still in mine, but his eyes are locked on Mary Anne, who has abandoned Hadley in favor of wrapping an arm around David’s waist.
We release grips, and Hadley weaves her own arm through mine.
