“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”—Jane Austen, Emma
One year later
Wyatt
LA was a strange town. The sun was always shining, the freeway was always a zoo, and the people were either extremely friendly or not. I loved it. Sure, I missed the changing seasons and the quiet country roads within a short distance of the big city back home, but I had no regrets. Okay, I had one. I wished I’d moved sooner.
I stepped behind Jamie and nuzzled his neck. “Did you drink all my coffee?”
He turned to face me, setting his arms on my shoulders. “Yes, sir. I drank it all. And threw the rest away. All of it. I didn’t leave you a drop. Was that bad?”
My grin spread like wildfire. I switched positions to lean against the counter before pulling him between my legs. I slid my fingers under the elastic of his pajama bottoms and boxer briefs, then smacked his bare ass. “Very naughty. How are you gonna make it up to me?”
“Hmm. I’ll figure something out,” he purred, kissing my cheek. “After the beach party.”
I hung my head and groaned. “It’s December. That ain’t right…even in California. What are we doing again?”
“Clay is hosting a brunch to celebrate the new book. Mimosas, waffles…”
“Bloody Marys?”
“Yep! It’ll be fun.”
“Hmph. Probably will be, but I need caffeine to people.” I grabbed a mug from the open shelving in our kitchen and fixed him with a faux-stern look. “If you really drank all that coffee, I’m taking you over my knee, baby.”
He widened his eyes theatrically. “Damn, that’s hot.”
I snickered at his blissed-out expression as I poured a cup of java. “Is the party for the sexy book or the band…what’s their name again?”
“Zero. And they’re going to be there. Clay’s over the fucking moon. He hasn’t stopped talking about it all week. I think he has a crush on the guitar player. He wants to introduce you to him because apparently the guy just bought a fixer-upper in the Hills. I told Clay you were busy, but I don’t know what his timing is like and hey…it could be fun to remodel a rock star’s house.”
“Could be,” I agreed before taking a sip.
But Jamie was right. I was busy. In the past year, I’d sold my share of one company and started another. I hired a couple of employees with contacts in the area and found myself neck-deep in work within a few months. I had high-end renovations in progress up and down the coast and plans to add a team of contractors in the new year. But I was hoping to get started on the small West Hollywood bungalow Jamie and I bought last month. It was awful…small rooms, low ceilings, moldy hardwood flooring, and there was a jungle in the backyard. It would be a fucking dream home when I was done with it. With any luck, we’d be ready to move in next summer. After our wedding.
I asked him to marry me a couple of months ago in Vintage Ridge. We flew to North Carolina a day before my folks were due to arrive. We laughed when it started to rain. Not a real storm like the one the night we met, but it seemed perfect anyway. We feasted on wine and cheese and crackers and talked about where we’d been and where we wanted to go. And somewhere in there, I got down on my knee and asked him for forever. Thankfully, he said yes.
I’d always considered myself a levelheaded, practical man, but I believed that life had a way of guiding those who paid attention. And those who knew when to let go and when to stick to the script.