16. WYATT

16

WYATT

I straighten my new hat on my head before I exit my truck. The bill is stiff and needs working in. I know Wren will be happy I'm not wearing my old Newhouse one tonight. I've been tempted to force her into wearing it every time her little nose scrunches up looking at it.

This new hat magically appeared on the top of my dresser yesterday afternoon. I'll never stop wearing my old one, but I'll wear this one for her since she bought it for me.

Hart and I walk through the parking lot toward the front door of Ray's, a local honky tonk—Lauren and Sydney got a job here bartending last semester. Hart wasn't thrilled with the idea. I've heard him grumble about it once or twice.

But he knows Lauren is made of tough material. He learned early on in their relationship that his girlfriend can handle anything on her own. Drunk guys are a walk in the park compared to everything else Lauren has been through.

Koa on the other hand hasn't stopped getting on Sydney's case about her job. "I thought Koa said he wasn't coming?" I ask as we pass a red Camaro that looks a hell of a lot like my roommate's car .

Hart glances at Koa's car parked near the front of the lot. "I asked him if he wanted to go to The Armory." Hart smirks. "He didn't know we were coming here tonight."

"How did you know he was going to be here? Wait. Is this what he's been doing every night?" I ask, opening the front door. The music hits me like a brick wall.

Hart nods. Even with the music to hide behind, my friend will still choose silence in public places and around people he doesn't know.

"How long?"

Hart shrugs then nods towards the back of the bar. I guess I get to have my questions answered straight from the source. Koa is nursing a beer discreetly at a low top table. He bobs and weaves his head, keeping his eyes laser focused on the bar. On Sydney.

Earth to Captain Obvious.

"Is this seat taken?" I pull back a chair and sit down, not waiting for him to turn me away.

"Shit," Koa curses under his breath. "You said you were going to The Armory." He directs his statement at Hart.

"I lied."

"You're an asshole. When did you figure it out?" Koa asks.

"The day you told Sydney to do whatever the hell she wanted and stopped riding her as much about working here."

Koa drops his head. "Someone had to do it."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. I'm going to find mi brujita ." Hart disappears into the crowd.

A waitress comes by to take our order. I get a beer for myself and a tequila and Sprite for Wren. I'm not sure what Charlie drinks or I would have ordered her something too.

"Don't start," Koa says. I hold my hands up in surrender.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I think it's great you're looking after Sydney. I bet Nash appreciates all that you do for her."

"Maybe he asked me to check up on her." He raises an eyebrow. Like having Nash's permission to keep an eye on Sydney will negate all his possessive feelings over her, but sure let's go with that. "How about we talk about your current situation?"

I shrug. Then take a sip of my draft beer. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He smirks. "I'm talking about that." Koa points toward the door. Looking over my shoulder, my eyes bulge, my tongue rolls out of my mouth, and my heart immediately starts racing.

Lord have mercy .

Time slows to a halt. Every step Wren takes in my direction is excruciating. Her hair bounces over her shoulders and glows under the neon lights like a halo. She's wearing the jeans and boots we bought together last week and a white tank top that dips low enough to tease me with cleavage.

I knew Wren had a body under those blazers she wears. Shit, I saw her half naked with my own two eyes.

Seeing her in a pair of hip hugging Wranglers? It has my blood going south. Damn, she looks fucking hot right now. It's going to take all my willpower to keep my hands off of her.

Charlie leans over to whisper something in her ear. Wren's eyes catch on mine. There's a faint blush on her cheeks.

I stumble from my chair. Smooth. Real smooth . Koa snickers behind me. I don't even realize I'm walking in her direction until I'm standing in front of her.

She's not wearing her glasses. Suddenly I can't see anything beyond her blue eyes. I've always liked looking at them behind her glasses. I know her that way. I like her that way . But to see her eyes unobscured in their natural state is more breathtaking than a night sky full of starlight.

I wave a hand in front of her face. "Can you see me?" I ask, more to distract her from the fact I can't stop staring at her. Saying something dumb keeps me from telling her how beautiful she looks. "Last time you didn't have your glasses on you were walking around your dorm like a mummy."

She slaps my hand out of her face. I maneuver our hands until our fingers are laced together. Wren inhales a slow breath. "It's called wearing contacts. I can see just fine." Her eyes roam over my face, down my neck and chest.

"You look good," I say close to her ear so she can hear me. I rub my nose against her hairline and enjoy the smell of her shampoo. She shivers—it's so slight that if I wasn't attuned to her body, I wouldn't have noticed it.

"You look…the same. Nice hat." It doesn't sound like a compliment but if you are knowledgeable in Wrenguistics, you would know it translates into you look good too. You always look good .

"My best friend got it for me." I squeeze her hand. "Thank you."

"Someone needed to save you from yourself. Is that for me?" She lifts her chin toward the table.

"It is. Come on." I tug her hand. "Charlie, what do you want to drink?"

"I'm going to go to the bar and find Lauren and Sydney," she says, grinning at Wren.

"I'll go with you." Koa greets Wren and says his goodbye in one swoop.

"You really know how to clear the room," I say, taking my seat.

"It's a specialty of mine." Wren's eyes dart around the bar as she sips her drink.

There's nothing fancy about Ray's. The bar is a horseshoe in the back of the building. The main attraction is the large dance floor in the middle of the room with flashing neon lights strobing all over the interior. None of the tables and chairs match and the floors are sticky. But the music's loud and the beers are cheap.

"So," she draws out. "Now that you have me here. What are you going to do with me?"

I lift my hat off my head and scrub my hair. It's a tactical move I've used once before on her. I need the diversion to give me time to rid myself of all the ideas that just flooded my brain.

What do I want to do with you? Where do I fucking begin?

While Wren is busy watching my biceps flex, I'm trying to figure out a way to get my blood to start circulating properly again.

"You said this would be fun. When does that begin exactly?"

The tempo of the music changes picking up to a nice dance beat. People are already lining up on the dance floor. "Right now. Down the rest of your drink." I chug my beer and wait for Wren to catch up. It only takes her a few long sips to suck down every drop of her mixed drink. It's a pretty sight seeing her lips wrap around the straw.

She's wearing her cherry red lipstick again. I have to close my eyes and picture my grandma in her bathing suit. Grandma Alice is a pretty lady but the image of her in her floral swimming skirt is a bucket of cold water washing away any thought of Wren sucking on my cock instead of that straw.

"Come with me and follow my lead."

"Where?" she asks, looking around the bar. "You can't be serious," she says, as I drag her on the dance floor. She crosses her arms as people rock stop and slide around her.

"Heel, toe, do-si-do, birdie," I joke, as I attempt to follow the moves of the person line dancing in front of me. I'm completely lost. I spin left when I should be going right. I grapevine into the girl next to me. She doesn't seem to mind as her eyes rake over my body.

"Need me to teach you a few steps, handsome?" the girl asks .

"He's good," Wren cuts in, grabbing my arm and pulling me into her chest. This isn't the first time she's acted possessive over me. I hope it's not the last. "Why don't you try following me this time?" Her lips are moving but I can't seem to compute anything with her soft curves pressed into me.

Wren maneuvers me right where she wants me. Then takes her place half a foot ahead. We take up the same amount of space on the dance floor that is typically allocated to one person.

Looking over her shoulder, she starts to direct me. Left foot. Right foot. Kick. Kick. Stomp. Wren does a half turn and we repeat the same movements. A few more rotations and I have the sequence memorized.

I'm too busy watching my feet, trying not to trip and make a fool of myself to notice what she's doing. I feel her though. She's watching me as her feet slide across the wood floor. I never would have guessed she would be the type of person to be able to keep up on the dance floor of a rowdy bar.

After a few more songs, the music switches over to something with a slower tempo. Dancers partner up for a two-step and start gliding around the floor in unison.

"Put your hand on my shoulder blade," she says, taking one of my hands in hers. My fingers scrape the bare skin of her back. I'm tempted to do it once more just to see her eyelashes flutter again. "When I step backward, you go forward." She keeps an eye on the dancers, timing their movements. "You ready?"

I nod and we begin to move. "Eyes on me. Your body knows what to do," she says, her gaze unyielding.

My body knows what it wants to do. I'll give her that. I want to find a dark corner in this place and pin her up against a wall.

By the chorus, I'm more confident in my steps and she lets me lead us around the dance floor. It's a heady feeling to have her relinquish control to me. She holds every aspect of her life in a tight grip, but she's giving me this.

Small refractions of light dance over her skin. My eyes dart in every direction chasing it like a cat. She is glowing and I want to bask in her. I want to get on my knees and worship this woman. Just the thought has me digging my fingers deeper into her back.

Her eyes shutter and she pulls me closer. It's not really that kind of dance but she doesn't seem to care. I don't either. I want Wren. So much, it's becoming a problem. I need to tell her, but how?

How do you tell your best friend you think she's the most beautiful woman you've ever seen? Not just because she's gorgeous on the outside but because you know all her insides are beautiful too.

Friends don't say things like that. Not when they're wrapped up in each other's arms slow dancing like they're desperate for each other.

Dancing like they want to say fuck it and not worry about the consequences .

That isn't Wren though. She weighs out every outcome. She doesn't have ‘fuck it ' moments in her life.

Just once I wish she would and use it on me.

Thankfully the song ends before I can shove my foot in my mouth. I put some much needed distance between Wren and my growing erection. "I need a shot," I announce.

"Yeah, okay." She takes a step back and wraps her arms around her middle. Fuck. I'm messing this up.

Hope you like the taste of leather you idiot because you're going to be eating your boot.

I trudge behind her to the bar. Some guy with a black cowboy hat offers Wren his seat. I see now why Koa makes his presence known when Syd is working. This guy is creepy with his smarmy smile. He's looking at Wren like she's going to be his alarm clock tomorrow morning.

I don't think so buddy . If any man is going to be waking up to Wren in the morning, it's going to be me.

Stepping up behind Wren, I wrap my arm around her and glare at Slick Rick to back the fuck off. Wren doesn't protest. She leans into my chest and I smirk at the guy.

Once Lauren passes him a drink, he leaves and transfers his attention to a group of girls a few bar stools down.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Lauren asks, wiping down the counter in front of us.

"Two shots of tequila and two beers please," Wren requests. "What did you want?" She turns to me.

You . The word could easily slip from my lips.

"Funny," I say instead.

"I keep telling you I'm fun. You refuse to believe me," Wren says as Lauren drops off our drinks and scurries back to Hart at the other end of the bar.

"I never said you weren't funny. I said you didn't know how to have fun."

"Do you still believe that?" she asks.

Wren slides a shot in my direction and reaches across me to snag a salt shaker. The brush of her arm against mine makes the hair stand on end. The light touch is nothing compared to the vision of Wren licking salt off the back of her hand.

I clear all the desire from my throat. "I'm learning there is more to you than meets the eye," I say, watching her lips wrap around the shot glass and the way her throat moves delicately as she swallows.

"Your turn," she says, wiping lime juice off her lip with her pointer finger. I stare at her dazed, swiping my tongue over my lips. "Wyatt." She nods toward the salt and tequila.

Right. My turn. I would love to lick the salt right off her body. I would be satisfied with a small taste of her wrist at this point. Is this the level of pathetic I have succumbed to?

She watches with rapt attention as I lick, swallow, and suck down my shot. I grimace as the tequila burns its way down my esophagus. "How is this your drink of choice?"

"It's a nice mix of sour and sweet. Just when you think you know what you're getting it changes on you. I'm also a lot more fun when I drink tequila. Life of the party," she says in her usual deadpan delivery but with the addition of jazz hands.

Wren may think it's the tequila, but I've never seen her have more than one or two drinks when we've gone out before. The tequila is a smokescreen, an excuse. She doesn't need a drink to give herself some slack. She wants something to blame her behavior on the next day.

I know her. She doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do. Tequila happy or not.

"That's you alright."

"You don't think I can be the life of the party?"

"I…" I start to say. I don't want to offend her but… "No. I don't. I think you would pick a quiet night at home curled up on the couch, watching a movie, and drinking one of your flavored waters every time over line dancing at a honky tonk."

She takes a quick sip of her beer. "Dare me to do something. Anything. Dealer's choice." She turns her body toward me. Her thigh knocks against mine and my dick decides it wants to say hello. My brain is slow processing her question. The combination of her body near mine and the tequila is hindering the function of my cognitive skills.

She gives me a look that says ‘ Well, what are you waiting for? '

"Kiss someone," I blurt out, clearly not thinking with the right head. If I were, I would realize that I'm giving her my permission to put the lips I've been staring at all night on someone that isn't me. Not that she needs my permission to do anything. But I wouldn't have recommended it if my dick wasn't trying to monopolize the conversation .

"Kiss someone," she repeats, her voice soft. She licks her lips. I want to do that. Instead I'm left wondering how sweet that bitter tongue of hers really is.

"Pick anyone you want."

"Anyone I want?" she questions, her eyes never leaving mine. The neon lights of the bar dance off her white tank top creating a kaleidoscope of colors.

"Yep." I glance around the bar looking for someone I could stomach her kissing. Pickings are slim. Wren stands up on the rung of the bar stool and uses my shoulders for balance.

Her tits land a couple inches from my nose and I'm desperately fighting the compulsion to shove my face in her cleavage and suffocating myself.

There's a tiny lift to her lips as she searches the bar for her guy. She knows exactly what she's doing. I need to check her ancestry report. She has to have the devil in her bloodline somewhere.

Cool air skims the top of my head bringing my focus back to Wren. She's removed my hat and is flipping it around over my head. When she places it back on my head backwards, I'm a little lost.

Wren's palms slide down the side of my face until she's cupping my cheeks. Her thumbs graze my stubble and my eyes close voluntarily, savoring the feel of her skin on mine.

Her lips press gently into mine and my whole world tilts. Anyone I want? Me. She picked me. She's kissing me. What does that mean? Does she want me? Get out of your head idiot. Kiss her back .

Wren jerks back and I blink my eyes to get out of this haze she's put me in.

"I shouldn't have done that." Wren misinterprets my stupidity as lack of interest. She drops down in the stool and covers her hand over her mouth.

"You're right," I say. Her sharp intake of breath is like a needle in my heart. I tip her chin up. "I should have done it." Wrapping my hand around her neck, I pull her towards me and softly brush my lips against hers.

Her hands find my side and she grabs hold of my shirt, pulling me closer to her. I lick the seam of her lips and get her to open up for me. When the sweet taste of her hits my tongue, I want to claw my way closer to her.

Wren tastes bittersweet with the mix of lime and tequila from her shot. Sweet and salty just like her. I need more. I wrestle her for control until she finally yields letting me explore her mouth slowly, savoring every moment of this kiss. It could be the last one I get from her. The only one I get .

I nip at her plush lower lip, playing with her and giving her a moment to breathe before diving back in for more.

She pulls back, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath. I rest my forehead against her. "I'm having fun now," she says. My lips curl into a smile.

"Would you like to have more fun back at my place?" I kiss her again.

Her head reels back. "Does that line really work?"

"I don't know. Never used it before." I shrug. "I don't bring girls home."

"You can't bring girls home."

"Even if my room didn't look like an EF5 just blew through, I wouldn't. I don't like people in my personal space."

"We can go back to my dorm then."

I shake my head, pulling her closer until she is flush against me and press my dick, that is borderline begging for her at this point, between her thighs.

"I want you in my bed tonight," I say, enjoying the little whimper that escapes her lips.

"Okay. Let me tell Charlie we're leaving." She hesitates a moment. The wheels in her brain are turning. "Are you sure?"

Am I sure?

"I don't want you to wake up tomorrow morning and have regrets," she adds.

"Birdie, if you aren't in my truck in the next five minutes I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here. Let's tell our friends we're leaving and then you're all mine."

We find Charlie hanging out with Koa, Hart, and a couple of other guys from the baseball team.

"Oh hey you two. Having a good time?" Charlie asks. She glances down to where Wren and I are holding hands.

"So much fun we're going home," Wren says dryly. I don't bother fighting off my grin. "Can one of you make sure Charlie gets home?" Wren is asking Hart and Koa, but several of my other teammates eagerly volunteer as tribute. Charlie preens under all the attention.

"You can't leave yet. Lauren and Syd are about to do their dance thing at the bar," Charlie says. I couldn't care less about Lauren and Syd right now. "You don't want to miss the big guy watching Syd dancing on the bar, do you?" Charlie nods toward Koa who is glaring at her.

I peek at Wren to see what she wants to do. Her eyes troll up my body and get hung up for a minute on my crotch. "Five minutes, birdie. Then I'll have you screaming my name all night," I whisper in her ear.

"Fine. Five minutes," Wren agrees.

It was not five minutes. It was more like thirty minutes and two more rounds of shots for Wren. I stopped drinking so I could drive us back to campus after my second beer.

Was it funny watching Koa snarl and flash teeth every time Sydney kick-stepped around the bar with another guy? Absolutely?

Do I regret staying? One thousand percent.

Halfway through the drive home Wren passed out against the window. I should have known better. She has a strict bedtime of ten o'clock every night. Add in the extra shots she's not used to drinking, it was a recipe for disaster.

I put my truck in park in front of my townhouse. "Birdie. We're home," I say. I unbuckle her seatbelt. She groans as I maneuver her into a position where I can pick her up.

Her limbs cling to me like a koala bear as I make my way through the house and downstairs to my room. "I hate the way you smell," she mumbles half-asleep into my neck. Did I forget to wear deodorant? I know I got a little sweaty dancing. Not as bad as I do playing a game.

"Your smell. It gets stuck in my nose. And I hate it," she groans quietly. I gently lay her down on the bed and start to take off her boots. "I hate that I love it so much," she whispers. I squeeze the sole of her boot until my knuckles turn white. "I'm sorry. I'm so tired. I ruined it."

"You didn't ruin anything. Let's get you to bed." Reaching underneath her, I pull the covers down.

She snuggles into the pillow and takes a deep breath. "This pillow smells like my best friend." Wren sighs. "I wish things could be different," she whispers into the pillow before shutting her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

I stare down at her speechless. She is half asleep mumbling nonsense.

What does she mean? Different how? And if it's different good, why can't it be that way?