22. Josie

22

JOSIE

" I have a few things planned for today if you're up for it." Wyatt glanced over at me as he steered his car out of the parking lot.

"Definitely. What do you have in mind?"

"It's a surprise."

"Color me intrigued." I loved that he'd put thought into our date, that he'd made an effort. It was something I hadn't experienced in a long time.

"How'd you sleep by the way?" Wyatt asked, and I smiled in response, thinking about the surprise, late-night phone call. It had only lasted about an hour before we started drifting off to sleep. I'm not sure who fell asleep first, but when I woke up a few hours later my phone had died.

"I slept well. How about you?" I asked.

"Same." He glanced over at me, smiling. "Although I got a kick out of learning you talk in your sleep."

Instantly my cheeks burned, and I covered them with my hands.

Shit!

I wasn't someone who simply uttered the odd mumble in my sleep. No. I had full on conversations. More than once when I lived with Tasha, she'd woken me up from my constant chattering.

My ex even bought himself earplugs for whenever I stayed over, and the ghostly memory of his words echoed through my mind as I peeked over at Wyatt.

It's so annoying. Why can't you just stop it?

"I'm so sorry! Please tell me I didn't say anything embarrassing," I pleaded.

"Nothing embarrassing, I promise. Just what an amazing hockey player I am."

"I did not!"

"You definitely did. You were like, ‘Wyatt's the best player in the history of the game' ." His slightly higher pitch was a clear attempt at teasing.

Two can play that game.

"I think you must have misheard Wyatt instead of Gretzky," I teased right back.

"True. The two do sound similar."

I laughed, enjoying the fact that we could enjoy a joke together.

"In all seriousness, you didn't say anything bad. I only heard a mumble or two."

"I've been known to say weird things in my sleep. I once called Tasha's name for like ten minutes."

"Bet she loved that."

"Oh, she did. Especially at three in the morning. Poor Tasha—I don't know how she managed to live with me for years. Though just so you know, I don't talk in my sleep every night."

"Well, lucky for you, I don't mind either way."

I raised an eyebrow as I peered at him. "You're saying you wouldn't mind me waking you up in the middle of the night by talking in my sleep?"

"Not one bit. I happen to like the sound of your voice." Wyatt said it so casually, and yet, his words pierced my heart, sending a tingling warmth throughout my body.

"Aren't you a charmer?" I said lightly, trying my best not to let him see how flustered I was by a simple compliment.

"Just honest." He flashed that grin again, making my heart pound just a little bit faster.

We drove further into the city, low-set buildings giving way to towering skyscrapers. Even though it was a Saturday, the traffic steadily built up the further we drove.

"Here we are," Wyatt said a moment later, turning down a street before slowing into a parking spot in front of a black colored building. Glancing out the window, I couldn't see any signs of where we were.

"Where are we?"

"Come with me," Wyatt opened the door and got out of the car. I watched him stride around the front of the car before he opened my door, extending his hand. Grabbing my purse, I placed my hand in his, and stepped out of the car.

Keeping our hands interlocked he turned his palm to lace our fingers together. With a gentle squeeze, he led me along the sidewalk towards the black colored building in front of us.

"What is this place?"

"Wait and see," Wyatt said as he stopped in front of a non-discrepant door.

"Found the perfect place to kill me, huh?" I joked, looking around for any clues as to where we were.

"Scared lil rebel?"

"Sticking with the nickname?" I asked, though I secretly loved it.

"I think it suits you," he said as he opened the door and tugged me inside. Before us was a short hallway, dimly lit and barren. Honestly, it felt a little ominous. Wyatt led me down the hallway, pausing before an archway that led into another room. As he looked down at me, I thought he looked almost nervous.

"I hope you like it," he said softly. With that, he stepped through the archway and the room came to life as overhead lights flickered. As I stepped into the room, I realized where we were.

"Is this…" I fell silent as I took in the artworks displayed on the walls.

Gallery 460.

"How did you..."

"Last night, you mentioned how much you wanted to go to an art gallery, so I figured it was the perfect place to take you on our date," he said, squeezing my hand.

"But how did you get us in? This is the most exclusive gallery in the city! They only do a few shows a year, and viewing is invitation only."

"One of the managers for the team, his wife owns the place. So, I made a few calls." He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. Like this wasn't the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me before. I'd only told him about this place last night and somehow, he'd got us in less than twelve hours later.

"I can't believe you got us in here…I don't even know what to say." While I was amazed to be there, I was just as amazed by Wyatt, as if my heart wasn't already threatening to burst.

"Well, you said you wanted to go. Now we have the entire gallery to ourselves."

"Thank you." I turned in a slow circle, trying to take everything in all at once. To say it felt surreal standing there was an understatement. Before now, I would have killed for the opportunity to view the gallery. The invitations are so coveted that only those with connections or money usually secured one.

I felt the sting of tears, so before I could start making a fool of myself, I tugged on his hand, leading him towards the first painting on our right. Wyatt had booked out the whole place for us, and I intended on enjoying each piece.

Wyatt was quiet as he let me take in the paintings. I had no idea whether he had an appreciation for art or not, yet he patiently followed me around the room, quietly letting me enjoy the moment.

Wyatt stopped before a painting, his head tilted to the side like an adorable golden retriever. I pressed my lips together to stop my amused smile as I gazed up at the painting alongside him. The artwork was open to interpretation. To one person, it could look like a field of purple and blue flowers surrounded by willow trees with tufts of clouds in the sky. To someone else, it could look like a spiral of colors with no end in sight. Or it could look like nothing at all, just a blob of paint.

Gallery 460 was known for showcasing artists whose work required some level of thought and interpretation, a perfect mix of paintings and photography created to evoke something within the viewer.

"That's pretty…um…"

"Colorful?" I suggested.

"Yeah!" he said, attempting enthusiasm.

"I'm glad you are enjoying this," I teased, losing the battle with my grin. Wyatt gave me a wry look as we moved on to a gorgeous photograph of the night sky, brimming with endless stars and galaxies.

"You studied photography in Uni?" Wyatt asked softly.

"I did. I took a class my sophomore year and it was amazing. My professor really helped me realize that taking pictures was more than just a hobby."

"How did you get started at Fusion Weekly?" he asked, his hand still in mine as we continued slowly past each frame of artwork.

"I worked as a waitress at a pizzeria while I applied to any job that was even remotely related to my degree, when my soon-to-be boss, Lydia called me. She'd just started out, and the pay was terrible, but there was no way in hell I'd pass up the opportunity. It was the best decision I ever made. I get to meet new people, learn their stories, and then show it to anyone who reads the magazine." Realizing I was rambling, I stopped and gazed up at him with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. You love your job, and I like hearing about it." He squeezed my hand in his. "We can stay here as long as you want."

God, I want to kiss him.

I'd wanted to since the moment I'd opened my door, but now, with all the effort he'd put in, I couldn't hold back any longer.

I rose up onto my toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."

His surprised smile melted every bone in my body.

I sure could get used to that smile.

"That was incredible," I gushed two hours later from the passenger seat of Wyatt's car. True to his word, we'd spent as much time at the gallery as I'd wanted. Wyatt patiently followed me around, listening to me rattle off random facts about the artwork and the gallery the entire time.

"I'm glad you liked it."

"Like doesn't even cover it," I smiled.

"I'm glad to hear it. Now onto the next stop."

"Wait. There's more?"

"Of course."

While I'd hoped to spend more time with him, I hadn't expected him to plan out an entire day for us. The gallery itself already far exceeded my expectations for a first date.

As he pulled away from the Gallery, I reached out and grabbed his hand, placing it on my thigh, surprising the both of us. Though Wyatt kept his eyes on the road, his eyebrows raised, and I willed my thundering heart to calm. I've never been overly confident when it came to men, and I was certainly never so forward. If anything, I prided myself on self-control. Of course, that went out the window as Wyatt's hand shifted on my thigh and squeezed just a little, making me shift in my seat.

Josie now is not the time to be turned on.

Yet, there was no ignoring Wyatt's big hand, perfectly placed on my inner thigh. The fact I wore jeans did nothing to prevent me feeling every inch of his hand on me. Or from my mind from tumbling into the gutter. My imagination soared as I thought of his fingers inching upwards until he touched me through my jeans.

I wonder if he could feel how wet I am through denim.

My mind was so engrossed in my fantasy, that it took me a few moments to realize Wyatt had parked the car. Clearing my throat, I felt the heat rise into my cheeks again as I pulled myself back to reality, and my eyes widened as I realized where we were.

"Rick's!"

"I know we were here a few days ago."

"Don't care." My mouth was already watering thinking of Rick's food. I reached for the door, but Wyatt's hand tightened on my thigh, tugging my legs away from the door.

"Don't even think about it."

Before I could question what he meant, Wyatt turned the car off and got out. I stayed seated as he moved around to my door, opening it. Once again extended his hand, helping me out of the car. The butterflies in my stomach started up again.

Suddenly ravenous, I tugged Wyatt towards Rick's truck. It was perfect timing—there was no queue, and the moment we stepped up to the window Rick's head popped up.

"Hi there, little lady," he greeted with a smile. "Back again?"

"I think I've turned her into an addict." Wyatt moved behind me, his front pressing against my back as he placed his hand on my hip, sending my heart fluttering. Rick's eyebrows rose slightly as his eyes lingered on Wyatt standing at my back.

"Well, you are always welcome Josie."

"What about me?" Wyatt joked.

Rick shrugged. "What can I say? She's prettier than you."

I laughed aloud while also blushing a little.

"The usual?" he asked.

"Yes please," I nodded.

"For both of us," Wyatt added dryly.

"Sounds good, kiddos. I'll bring it out to you." Rick waved us off as he turned to start on our order.

"I think you've replaced me as Rick's favorite customer."

"Well, you can't win everything," I joked, taking a seat at the same table we'd sat at on our first visit.

Our table.

"Has Rick ever mentioned expanding his business?" I asked, noting, like always, how many patrons sat around, treating themselves to Rick's amazing food.

"Not that I know of, but considering how busy he always is, I think he'd make a killing if he did." Wyatt said.

After my second visit to Rick's truck, I'd toyed with the idea of featuring him in Fusion Weekly . Rick's food truck was exactly the type of thing readers looked for when they bought a copy of the magazine. It might even prompt him to consider expanding, though I knew I'd need to ask Rick whether he was interested before running it by Lydia.

"I can see your mind ticking over there," Wyatt said as he smiled at me from across the table.

"Sorry," I smiled sheepishly. "I was thinking of interviewing Rick for the magazine and have all these ideas."

"Don't apologize, I like seeing how passionate you are about your job. Plus, that's not a bad idea, I'm sure he'd love to do it."

"You think so? I'd hate to put Rick on the spot by asking him."

"Ask me what?" Rick suddenly popped up beside us, our food in his hands.

Despite my enthusiasm, I suddenly felt a little shy to ask him.

The last thing I want is for Rick to think I'm taking advantage of him or his business.

"Josie wants to ask you something." Wyatt nodded at me with an encouraging look. Rick put our food on the table and patiently waited for me to say something.

I cleared my throat and shifted in my seat so I could face him. "I work for a magazine called Fusion Weekly . We highlight events, business and restaurants. I was wondering if you'd be interested in featuring in an issue. There'd be an interview, photos."

"Would you be the one interviewing me?" Rick asked as he crossed his arms over his burly chest.

"Absolutely. I'd take the photographs, too."

Rick stroked his beard, looking off into the distance as though deep in thought.

After a moment, he nodded, a smile sweeping across his face.

"Sounds good to me."

"Really?" I sat up straighter. "Here, I'll give you my number and we can set up a time that works best for you." Grabbing my purse, I pawed through it for a piece of paper before Rick placed his order pad and a pen in front of me. Giving him a grateful smile, I quickly wrote down my number.

"Perfect," he said, still smiling as he gave me a little salute and walked back towards the small line of patrons forming outside his food truck.

"Look at you."

I turned back to Wyatt with wide eyes as he grinned at me. He looked like was…proud. Just like that, I felt like I was on top of the world.