I don’t know how I managed to arrive at LongHorn Steakhouse before he did, but I’m sitting at a table watching Wyatt McDreamy, I mean McDowell, walking towards me. He has on a pair of dark blue, distressed jeans and a plaid, long-sleeved shirt. And the way he walks is as sexy as the rest of him.
I think back to the way he would walk up to me after his football practices in high school. I would smile anytime he approached me because he was special to me. But then life happened. Reality happened. His mother happened.
As he gets closer to my table, well, our table, I can’t deny the fact that he is one handsome man. Even in this restaurant, he’s turned more heads than Clay Matthews wearing a Speedo. Goodness...
I feel my face flush at the very thought of having dinner with him tonight.
He finally reaches the table and says, “Sorry I’m a little late.”
“That’s okay. I’m just glad you showed up.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“No...I...um…never mind.” I’m not accustomed to his deep voice, straightforwardness and raw, rugged sexiness. He’s definitely changed. Matured.
When the waitress comes by, not only do we go ahead and order our beverages. I also order a steak, prompting Wyatt to order one as well. I want to eat as soon as possible so I can get out of here.
The waitress walks away and he says, “So...I’m sorry about your father. I know you two didn’t have the best relationship, but I still want you to know that I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
For what seems like forever, we stare into each other’s eyes like we’re in a contest, seeing who’ll blink first. We’re reacquainting. Remembering. When I feel my heart thudding, I look away.
“Have you been by the house?” he asks.
“No.”
“I did as much as I could to help your father keep it up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I used to go over there and help him with the grass and stuff.”
I frown. “You did?”
“Yeah. I did.”
“Why?” I inquire.
“Well, I have my own landscaping business now.”
“So my dad hired you?”
“No. I volunteered.”
I nod and glance around the place, watching other people and couples share dinner. They’re laughing, having a good time and meanwhile, I’m nervous and uncomfortable. I hate this feeling.
“Your father missed you, you know,” Wyatt says.
“Sure he did,” I respond in a grumble.
“No, really. He did, Geneva.”
“And what part did he miss the most? Using me for a slave? Or a punching bag when he was in a drunken stupor?”
Wyatt’s chest rose in and out quickly and I watch him frown as his face turns a shade of red. “You told me he never struck you.”
I close my eyes tight and will myself not to cry. “Let’s just deal with the issue at hand. Do you think that us living in this house for three months is a good idea or not?”
After a long pause, he says, “I don’t know, Geneva. What does your fiancé have to say about it? I’m sure you talked to him already, right?”
The way he said fiancé suggests that the very thought of me having a fiancé irks him. “He didn’t have a problem with it,” I respond.
“Really?” he asks, taking a sip of water afterwards.
“Yeah, really. Why?”
“Because there’s no way I would let a woman that I love live with another man. But hey, that’s just me.”
How do I respond to that? I can’t even offer any defense to support Darnell because I agree with Wyatt. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that if I don’t do what my father has outlined in his will, then my inheritance is going to some charity.
“Are you going to do it or not, Wyatt?” I ask him, because if he’s not going to cooperate, then there’s no need in having this discussion. I may as well pack up and go on back to Atlanta and work in my struggling, soon-to-go-out-of-business spa.
“Do you want me to do it, Geneva?” He stares again, more focused on my lips this time.
“Yes. I want you to do it. After everything I’ve been through with my father, I deserve an inheritance.”
He nods. “Then it’s settled.”
When the food arrives, we eat quietly, glancing up at each other every now and again. Each time our eyes meet, I feel a flutter in my lower belly. And even lower...
He decides to end the awkwardness between us by initiating small talk. “So you live in Atlanta?”
“Yep.”
“What about children? Have any?”
“No. You?”
“Nope. No children for me,” he says, then takes a sip of water. “What do you do in Atlanta?”
“I own and operate a spa.”
“Interesting.”
After taking a sip of sweet tea, I place the glass back on the table and ask, “Why is that interesting?”
“Because that’s not the field you wanted to go in. You wanted to be a teacher.”
I smile at the thought of that. “I did want to be a teacher...”
“What happened to your dreams?”
“They went in a different direction, Wyatt. Things change. People change.”
“Yeah. I know that all too well, Geneva,” he says, zeroing in on me again, even as he moves the fork to his mouth.
I pick up a bottle of A-1 sauce and pour a little of it in my plate. With every move I make, I feel Wyatt’s eyes on me. Stalking me. For the first time in my life, I wish I had the power to read another person’s mind so that I can know what he’s thinking. I could listen to his thoughts and learn what he thinks of me right now, at this precise moment.
“Why did you leave me?” he questions.
The way the question comes out sounds like he needs an answer...like he needs closure so that he could put it all behind him. After ten years, I didn’t think closure would be an issue, especially for a man. Men are usually the ones who bounce back quicker than women. Who can easily forget a woman, especially one who hurt them. I guess such isn’t the case this time.
I pull in a deep breath, watch him wipe his mouth with a napkin and respond with, “It was easier that way.”
He frowns. “What was easier?”
I promised myself that I would never tell Wyatt what his mother did to me. So I tried to finagle my way out of this one by answering, “Running away from my father was easier.”
His frown deepens. “But, in turn, you ran away from me, too. Was I not there for you when your father was out of control and being a tyrant?”
“You were, but—”
“But it didn’t mean a thing to you, right, because when we went to that courthouse and got married, you already knew in your mind that you wouldn’t stick around.”
“Wyatt, please...I can’t go there with you, okay. I can’t.”
He forces an eerie smile to ease the wrath settling in his eyes. “Did you ever really love me?”
“Wyatt, I—”
“A simple yes, or no will suffice.”
I hold his gaze for longer than I should then respond, “Whether I did or not is not relevant to why we’re here.”
He looks at me with challenging, arrogant eyes, and then a smirk appears on his face. “We’re going to be living together for three months. I’ll have plenty of time to get the truth out of you, Geneva. Plenty of time.”
What did I do to deserve this? I wanted to run to my car and drive back to Atlanta as fast as the speed limits would allow. But I couldn’t run away again. It was time to face the music, even if the tune sucked.