Chapter 20

Winnie

M y picnic with Jack is long and luxurious, and I don’t fully realize how exhausted I am, physically and emotionally, until I find myself waking in my bed, morning light streaming through the window. After a moment of confusion, I realize I must have fallen asleep in the truck, again, and Jack carried me inside, tucking me into bed without waking me. This thought is so sweet that it sets off a flurry of butterflies in my chest, which carry on flapping throughout the day, keeping me feeling fluttery and light even after I join the others at Gram’s house for the demolition.

While Jack and I had been picnicking, the others worked hard, removing fixtures and gutting all the cabinetry. I’m not one to be left out. Grabbing my tool belt and a sledgehammer, I pitch in, memories of my turbulent childhood hitting hard. But the guys are never far from my side, ready with a hug or another swing of the sledgehammer, keeping me from falling apart .

Once I begin knocking down walls, it’s hard to stop, and the next couple of days pass in a blur of hard work, sweat, and pure focus.

By the time the sun has dropped, I drop, too. My muscles are too sore, and my body and brain are too drained to do anything after dinner other than pile up with my boys on the couch. They take turns preparing the meals and cleaning up after, a practice from Anna’s family organization days that they slip into so easily it’s as if they’ve never been away. Then we watch movies until we fall asleep, exactly like the old days.

After having a chance to kiss each of them, the fire in my belly and the need between my legs has only intensified, but this is all uncharted territory, and I’m eager to see where everything will go next. The atmosphere in the house since we came to our new agreement hasn’t been awkward at all, as I’d originally expected. Instead, there’s a mixture of nostalgia and anticipation, familiarity and trust.

How do couples who have been best friends for their entire lives start relationships in their thirties without jeopardizing their friendship? I don’t have a clue, especially not when it comes to couples with our circumstances. And yet somehow, perhaps because of all of our years of friendship, it’s working.

By the late afternoon on our third day, the demolition phase is nearly complete. I’m covered in a light layer of dust. I walked face-first into at least two spiderwebs. I either forgot to put on deodorant or it stopped working hours ago.

“What are you still doing over here?” Gavin asks when I come downstairs from where I’ve been pulling out the last of the socket fixtures before taking a sledgehammer to the walls.

“Well, gee, Gavin, I’m so happy to see you, too!” I reply .

“No, I just mean–”

Then I blink real hard and say, “Whoa.”

Gavin is wearing a sharp, tailored suit and tie, which accentuates his height and that ridiculously sexy muscular physique of his.

“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous,” I blurt out in a too-loud whisper, before clapping my hand over my mouth to keep my internal thoughts in check.

Get a grip, girl. I’ve seen him in a suit countless times…

But tonight he looks like never before. He exudes effortless elegance. His chiseled features and piercings are doing things to me that they’ve never done before. I’m drooling. I feel my panties dampening.

And he’s mine!

“Prince Charming has come to sweep you off your feet,” Gunnar says. “He made reservations at La Douche Baguette, over in Ashbourne. I think you two were going to dine on escargot while discussing the finer things in life and–”

“Bite me, you pleb,” Gavin said. “The restaurant’s actual name is Chez Margeaux and you’re going to love it, Pooh Bear. But I think Gun’s planning on taking you to the Gas n’ Go for their three dollar hot dog lunch special or–”

I clear my throat to interrupt him before someone makes some inevitable comment about weiners.

“BOYS! I think this,” I wave my hand back and forth between them, “breaks some sort of rule. Also it’s not endearing. Also… why are you ready and I’m… not?”

I’m so very not .

“Cruz was supposed to tell you to go to your room at our house an hour ago,” Gavin says.

“Oh, shit!” There’s a thud and Cruz, who is knocking down cabinets in the bathroom, peeks out looking sheepish, and rubbing the top of his head. “Bro, I swear I legit forgot. I wasn’t trying to salt your game.”

“How long do I have before we have to leave?” I ask Gavin.

“Twenty minutes?”

“Oh, my God!”

“Twenty-five if I speed a little.”

I drop the sledgehammer I’m holding with a resounding thud and take off running out the front door and across the street.

I don’t have anything to wear to Chez Margeaux.

“Excuse me, coming through, out of my way, girl in crisis,” I cry, pushing past Mason and Max who are sitting on the porch steps of the Hammer house. I squeeze between them, because pole vaulting over their shoulders wouldn’t be within my physical capabilities, even if I had a pole.

Shit shit shit.

Where’s Goldie when I need her? Ugh, and Sam and her magical powder puff?

I race up to my room, fling open the door, and flick on the lights. I suck in a sharp breath, my eyes immediately filling with tears.

My feet are rooted to the spot even though I want to run to the bed and pick up the dress that’s been carefully laid out across the duvet and hold it up to myself and spin around with it like a six year old who has just been given her first fairy princess costume.

The steps I do take, finally, are small. Timid.

It’s probably the most gorgeous dress I’ve ever seen, a soft, floaty wrap dress in deep blue, adorned with glittering sequins.

There’s a piece of paper laying on top of it. A note. I pick it up.

I know you don’t usually wear dresses, but I hope you’ll make an exception this time. I’ll pick you up at 5:30. ~ Gav

Gavin Hammer bought me a dress.

The lump in my throat is immense. I want to sit down on the edge of the bed and cry from the emotion filling me all the way through.

But then I remember I don’t have even a second to waste.

I get ready as quickly as possible, and when I’m done, I somehow manage to feel like a sensuous goddess. The dress clings to all the right places, the sequins catching the light with every step, highlighting every one of my curves. The flared sleeves add elegance but the plunging neckline adds pure sex appeal. Gavin is going to lose his mind. Hell, I almost lose my own mind when I see my cleavage.

The girls look fabulous.

When I descend the stairs, hoots, hollers, and wolf-whistles fill the house in a sudden burst. My cheeks warm, but the way my boys are all staring at me, adoration and lust radiating off them all, has me engulfed by flames.

Gavin’s eyes are shining, full of appreciation as he pulls me into his arms, drops a soft kiss on my lips .

“You’re stunning,” he says, his voice so husky he has to clear his throat. It’s impossible to keep restraining myself from dragging him up the stairs to my room and stripping his suit straight off him.

As if he can read my thoughts, he takes my arm. “Let’s go, Pooh Bear.” And then he adds, low in my ear, making me shiver, “I promise we’ll play later.”

The rain doesn’t make its presence known until we’re nearly at the restaurant. The day has been clear, the sun blasting at our backs all day, but now ominous clouds have gathered, releasing a steady drizzle that soon turns into a relentless downpour.

We arrive at Chez Margeaux, and a valet takes over, his umbrella large enough to keep me fully dry, thankfully. Despite the storm raging outside, Chez Margeaux envelopes us in warm, golden light, which spills from delicate chandeliers overhead. The enticing scent of fresh herbs and rich sauces wafts around us.

“It’s incredible,” I say, wishing I could give him a kiss to thank him right now.

Instead, we follow the hostess (Maria) to our table. The soft hum of hushed conversations mingles with a clinking of silverware on fine china, and a cascading waterfall wall at the back of the room, but no one makes a fuss over Gav as we pass.

“Here you go,” Maria says. “Your server tonight is Henri, and he will be here to take your drinks order shortly. Bon appétit! ”

The moment we sit, Gavin reaches across the table and takes my hands in his. “Let’s leave all the work stuff behind for now and focus on only us tonight.”

I nod, and a smile tugs at the corner of my lips.

As we wait for our food, we dunk bread in herbed oil and balsamic vinegar, and share stories from our school days, laughing and getting to know each other all over again. The best of friends for all our lives, but now he’s telling me secrets, about all the times he wished he could have acted on his feelings for me. He even confesses that he got his first piercing because he wanted to make sure every time I looked at him, he knew I was seeing him, never, ever mistaking him for Gunnar.

As we savor each spoonful of our French Onion Soup, I’m sure that I have never had such a warming and delicious night out before, and I don’t want our date to end. By the time we’re done with our plates of Coq au Vin, I almost dread going back to the house, where we will surely be accosted by the others. Not maliciously, but all of our true alone time will come to an end, nonetheless.

Our phones light up in unison as we’re sharing the last bites of a sumptuous Crème Br?lée.

Gavin checks his phone and frowns. “It’s Jack. The storm’s getting worse. Roads are flooded. He says if we don’t leave soon we might not make it. “

I read the text on my phone, from Max, and it echoes the same news.

“A bridge washed out nearby. We’ll have to leave via the north side, if the roads are still open. ”

But Gav shakes his head. “We can’t risk driving back in this weather. It’s too dangerous. We’re stuck in Ashbourne.”

I flash him a worried look but Gavin’s expression doesn’t match. In fact, there’s the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s almost like you planned this.” I say, narrowing my eyes.

He laughs. “I did. I thought a freak flood washing a bridge away would be a nice touch, so I hired the storm.”