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“What’s the rest of your week look like?” Bradford asks while running his thumb over my stubble.
An entire planner full of dates, times, meetings, and big names flashes through my head. Right now I should be in my office, taking calls from vital investors and clients. I should be barking orders at my assistant, complaining about subpar coffee, and intimidating my way into success.
The thought of it makes my chest feel tight. Maybe my old way of doing things wasn’t exactly good for my health. Or my assistant’s.
“Nothing, really. I’m a guest here with Gorlag, and he’s refusing to let me do anything in the name of southern hospitality. And I’m not allowed to work, even remotely. So I’m pretty much just wandering around Green Haven like an idiot with nothing to do.”
“Hmm. Sounds so horrible. I’m not too familiar with this town either. Maybe we could wander around like idiots together, then?”
I hesitate for a moment, really taking his words in. For all intents and purposes, Bradford has just asked me out on another date. He liked my company enough to want more. My pulse races at the thought. Could this really happen? Have we really reconnected so well?
“I’d like that. What about you? What’s your week like?” I ask, hoping it’s as empty and free as mine.
But Bradford sighs, blowing his bangs out of his face and flopping back down on his side of the bed. “I have a scheduled photoshoot tomorrow. Gotta take advantage of the landscape, you know? There’s a charity event in a couple days. Oh! And I promised my buddies I’d hang out with them before they leave town. They have another gig to get to, but I passed. I need a break.”
“Buddies?” I ask, a slight tinge of jealousy clouding my mind momentarily.
“Just some guys from the modeling agency. They’re all looks and no brain, nothing to worry about,” Bradford says, as if sensing my jealousy. He pokes me on the nose and smirks. “I don’t mix work with pleasure, Ragnar, don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t worried,” I lie. But his reassurance does a great deal to bolster my confidence.
“Uh huh. Anyway,” Bradford stretches out, his muscles pulled taut against his tanned skin. I feel a strong urge to cover every inch of it with my mouth, but refrain for the sake of conversation. “I’m free all day today. And I’d love to see more of this charming little town of Green Haven. So, what do you say? Wanna escort me and explore this place together?”
There’s something in Bradford’s voice, something unsure. Despite his aura of confidence, he’s probably also feeling kind of rocky about where this is going. And why wouldn’t he? After everything I put him through.
I need to prove to him I can be trusted with his heart. That I’m worth the effort of opening himself back up for. Flashing money and expensive gifts won’t be enough here. This has to be something I work at long term, a real commitment. Even thinking the word makes my brain fly into a state of panic.
I can do this. I have to. I look over Bradford, languish over his beauty, the fire in his deep brown eyes, and I feel a sense of motivation. I’ll do it, because he’s more than worth it.
“I would love nothing more than to spend my day with you,” I say firmly. The response makes Bradford’s eyes widen for a moment. I can’t tell if he seems shocked about my response, or the resolve with which I gave it. But he smiles nonetheless, pleased with it.
His smile is so bright, so full of genuine affection. I want to see it more, fill my entire day with it. Bradford makes me feel young again. Like I’m free and full of energy, ready to take on anything life gives me.
All lingering thoughts of work and responsibility, pestering at me despite my inability to act on them, are finally fleeing my mind. None of it matters. At least, not for right now. There’s just me and Bradford, and the little town of Green Haven. Nothing else exists but our happiness.
“So then, about that omelet,” Bradford says. But I have my own taste to indulge, just for a moment, as it’s my turn to press him into the mattress. I savor Bradford’s taste, catching small gasps of pleasure from him and keeping them for myself. Finally, when I’m satisfied, I pull back and nod my head.
“Of course. Breakfast first.”
Bradford shakes his head. “No. Showers first. No offense Ragnar, but we both smell like gym bros on cardio day.”
I laugh, but give my armpit a good whiff. He’s not wrong. “Alright. Shower.”
“Then omelets!”
I laugh and smile down at him. “Anything you want, Bradford.”
13
BRADFORD
Is all of this really happening?
The question keeps running through my head as I pull on my shirt and try to get my hair to look good in the mirror. There’s an art to doing this, one only a select few stylists have managed. I have it down to a science, and the familiarity of the little ritual helps me calm down.
This is definitely real. The tile of the bathroom against my feet is real. That one hair that never sits quite the right way is real. And Ragnar, in the next room, putting his clothes on is definitely real. The two of us have made sure of that.
I hear him whistling a tune outside. The whistling slowly grows louder and suddenly he pops into the bathroom. He stands behind me and wraps his arm around my body, resting his head on my shoulder.
