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30 minutes out. Any dinner requests?
I stare down at the screen and smile. The past week and a half with Braydon as my boyfriend—yeah, it still sounds weird—has been interesting. Since we spend time together sporadically, it’s been a great way to ease us both into the whole relationship status. For different reasons, neither of us wanted more than sex for years.
Then we met, and the constant pull between us was too hard to ignore.
Alessandra
Catalina’s?
Braydon
Tostadas?
Alessandra
Yes, please. With rice, black beans, chips, salsa and guac.
Braydon
Text me the number and I’ll call it in. It’ll probably be ready when I get there.
I text him the number to Catalina’s Cantina, followed bydrive safe.
This weekend will be the first true test of ourrelationship. After wrapping up the story and talking with his father, Braydon scheduled some time off. He took tomorrow (Friday), Monday, and Tuesday off, giving him a long weekend. With me. In Lake Lavender.
Once the days were set, he called and let me know he’d be here and all mine for five days. When he mentioned calling the bed-and-breakfast after he got off the phone with me, I told him not to worry about it. Without overthinking, I told him to stay at my apartment. If we were doing this—a romantic relationship—I didn’t want to half-ass it. Most couples in a happy, healthy relationship wouldn’t sleep apart. And considering the amount of sex we’ve had, why should we?
After Lucy drops off the goods from the bakery, I set the alarm, lock up, and head upstairs.
The cork pops from the wine bottle when a knock sounds at the door. Setting the bottle and opener on the counter, I amble to the door and peek through the peephole. On the other side, Braydon stands tall with his shoulders back and eyes scanning the ground below. Not necessarily on alert, but still on the lookout for anyone out of place.
A buzzy warmth expands beneath my breastbone at how this man wants to keep me safe. Of course, my friends and family also want me unharmed. But Braydon having this urge to protect me, it isn’t the same. His desire for my welfare resonates deeper. Sinks in my bones and bathes me in solace.
Disengaging the lock, I twist the knob and open the door. “Hey, Care Bear. Get in here with that deliciousness.” I step aside, let him in, and take the bag while he toes off his shoes.
He empties the bag and sets dinner up at the small dining table. I pour us each a glass of wine and join him. We dig in and don’t come up for air until a few bites later. We do a little catching up—I tell him how busy the café has been with people flocking in for the summer festival, and he shares the date of the next issue of Washington’s Hidden Gems and how giddy his dad is over the story. The evening is all so… normal. Dinner and conversation and existing in the same space. Something I have never had. Something I am starting to love.
“The festival is this weekend?”
Hand over my mouth, I nod while I finish chewing. “Mm-hmm.” I swallow then take a sip of wine. “Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. Some are the same as the centennial event—rides, food, games, and local vendors. Several of the shops on Main will have abbreviated hours to let staff work at and enjoy the festival.” Though I expect some of the same fried treats, I anticipate new items such as melon and popsicles and ice cream.
Pushing the beans around his plate with his fork, a slow smile tips the corners of his mouth. “You know we’re going, right?” White teeth brighten his smile. “Only makes sense. It’s how we met in the first place, just not in the summer.”
Insert swoon here.
“I’d love nothing more.”
After cleaning up dinner, we curl up on the couch and watch a movie. Midway through, I yawn and Braydon snuggles me closer. I don’t make it another five minutes without yawning again. A long, busy workday, good food, wine, and burrowing in the crook of Braydon’s arm is the perfect equation for heavy eyes.
Saying nothing, he picks up the remote and powers off the television. He kisses my temple, rises from the couch, and takes our glasses to the kitchen. As if we have done it hundreds of times before, he offers his hand and I slip mine in his. Plant my feet on the floor and stand up. We wander to the bedroom, turning off lights as we go.
The soft glow of the bedside lamp lights the room enough to see as we strip our clothes away—I his and he mine. And for the first time, we crawl into bed without groping and kissing and kneading one another. He lies on his side of the bed and I curl into his side. The soft, slow touches of our fingers the only language we speak as we drift to sleep.
The last thing I remember is Braydon kissing my hair. “Sweet dreams, firecracker.”
CHAPTER28
BRAYDON
