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“Are you two done?” Gaige snaps, making his brother laugh.
Tyler runs his hand down my arm as if he’s going to take my hand to walk us toward the front door of the house, and that must be Gaige’s limit.
“Do you mind?” he hisses at his brother, finally taking a stand and slipping in between us.
He situates his palm on my back possessively and hands over the gift. I’m thankful to have something in my hands as we enter the home. It makes things less awkward for me.
“When I suggested bringing her to Lala’s party, I never thought you’d do it,” Tyler whispers. I’m not sure I was meant to hear it, so I ignore the conversation as Gaige ushers me through the massive front door.
“Drop it,” Gaige says.
The house is lovely, just as I expected it to be, but it doesn’t have that cold and impersonal feel that my childhood home did. The center table in the entryway is stacked with gifts, and I feel a pang of disappointment that I have to relinquish my shield so quickly. Gaige takes my hand shortly after, his grip light but reassuring as we make our way out to the patio.
“This is beautiful,” I whisper as I take in the vast yard.
His parents take great pride in their space because flowers in every color line the yard.
“The gardener must stay incredibly busy.”
“This is my mother’s work,” Gaige says. “She’s never had a gardener.”
This is another difference between our families.
“And the wolves descend,” Tyler whispers as a group of people notice us. Tyler presses a kiss to my temple as if he’s known me for years. “It was nice meeting you, Leighton.”
He walks toward the group of women, intercepting them before they get to us.
“Don’t be nervous,” Gaige says, his hand giving mine a little squeeze.
“We never nailed down our story.”
He turns to me, a hand cupping my cheek. I swallow with the intimacy of it as I look up at him.
“We don’t need a story, Leighton. We met at work a couple of months ago. We hit it off. Things are amazing. It’s that simple.”
“Simple,” I repeat.
He nods before leaning down and brushing a kiss to my cheek. It’s a simple action, innocent, something no one would bat an eye at or witness and think anything of, but it feels personal, something meant only for the two of us.
My fingers tangle in his shirt, my need to drag him closer controlling my muscles.
“Leighton, are you purposely trying to get me hard in front of my family?” His voice is teasing, but I don’t find the humor in it.
It’s as if I’ve been drenched in ice-cold water. There was absolutely nothing sexual about my reaction, and that’s eye-opening. My need in that moment was emotional. His was sexual. We’re worlds apart right now, not even close as far as where our heads are at, and that’s incredibly sobering.
I take a step back, forcing his hand to fall away from me.
I give him a weak smile.
“No, Mr. Ward. My apologies.”
“So formal.” He winks, still thinking I’m playing a game. “That doesn’t help either.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Do you have an invitation?”
I look around Gaige to see a beautiful older woman approach. Gaige shakes his head, mirth shining in his eyes as he turns to face her.
“I spoke with you last week, Mom.” He wraps her in a hug so tight she squeaks but doesn’t complain.
“Might as well be a year. I miss you boys when I don’t get to hear your voices.” Her eyes close, holding on to him until he’s the one to step back. I know this woman would stay in his embrace as long as he would allow it. That’s what a mother’s love is supposed to look like. “Who is your friend?”
“Girlfriend,” Gaige corrects. “Mom, this is Leighton Redmond. Sweetheart, Caroline Ward, my mother.”
I hold my hand out as her jaw practically unhinges in shock, and even though her eyes sparkle, she doesn’t immediately take my hand. It’s awkward as my eyes dart to Gaige. He takes a deep breath, mouths I’m sorry, and then I have another pair of Ward arms around me. It’s my turn to squeak from being squeezed too tightly.
She takes a step back, her hands still on my upper arms as she looks me up and down as if she doesn’t want to let me go in fear that I’ll disappear.
“She’s real, Mom,” Gaige mutters as if his mother is acting utterly ridiculous.
“He’s never brought a girl home before.”
And I feel like an asshole for playing a part in this deception.
“She’s very pretty,” she says over her shoulder.
“Absolutely gorgeous,” he agrees, his eyes on me when the words leave his lips.
My cheeks heat. Attraction between us has never been an issue, but it’s nice to hear.
“And who is this?” a stately gentleman asks as he walks up, and I don’t even have to be introduced.
