to her mouth and nibbles on the end.
“His loss is my gain.” I don’t think she could possibly know how sincerely I mean that.
She smiles, reaching for my hand. “You really love her.”
“I do.” My answer comes with zero hesitation. “And I love you.”
She nods, giving my fingers a squeeze while she clears the emotion from her throat. “I love you too, Wyatt.”
I bend to press a kiss to the top of her head, then stroke my hand over her back.
“Can you believe this all started with a dumpster fuck?” She spits a laugh. “God, when I walked out to meet our new construction guy, and saw you standing there…” She shakes her head.
“I wasn’t even sure I was gonna take the job until I realized it was you, all high and mighty in your pencil skirt and lace blouse.” I chuckle. “Such a stark contrast from the party girl I hooked up with in that alley. I almost didn’t believe it.”
“Then I opened my mouth.”
“And I knew.”
“Knew what exactly?” Her sly grin stretches ear to ear while she looks at me expectantly.
“That I was gonna have to fuck the hoity-toity outta your uptight ass.”
She chokes. “You took the job because you wanted to have sex with me?”
“I took the job because I saw a damsel in distress.” I give her a little jab with my elbow. “You needed saving, and I was just the man for the job. Don’t be twistin’ my words.”
“And your plan was to save me with your penis.”
I nod. “That sounds about right.”
Her look is one of stunned disbelief. “You’re a real prince, Wyatt Landry.”
“You’re welcome.” I give her the best bow I can manage from my seated position.
“So, why’d you stay?” She hedges. “After.”
“Because,” I drawl. “You flipped the script and made me fall in love with you first.”
“I love that.”
“You know, they say you find love in the least likely of places.”
She grunts. “We just happened to find it behind a dumpster.”
“Nah. That was unfettered lust. Love came later. We found that in a funeral home.”
“We’re just a real fucking fairy tale.”
I don’t know if my uncontrollable laughter is from what she said or how she said it. “Can’t wait to tell our fuckin’ grandkids,” I finally say, when I can catch my breath.
“Excuse me.” A very irate woman walks up, tapping me on the shoulder. “There are children present.”
“I’m so sorry.” I glance around at the crowd that’s collected while we’ve been sitting here lost in our own little world.
After that we stick to safer topics. Sports. The weather.
Until the telltale sirens announce the start of the parade.
As the first float nears, Whitney turns to the woman we upset earlier and her children behind us, offering them our spot. I’m assuming it’s to make amends for our potty mouths. But it could also be that she’s just that freaking sweet. Whatever the reason, it makes me proud to be with such a thoughtful woman. Especially when I see the kids raking in beads and candy galore.
“Thanks,” says their mother, whose face now has a megawatt smile in the place of her early grimace.
“It’s no problem,” Whitney assures her.
“Mount up, cowgirl,” I tease crouching so she can climb up onto my shoulders.
“What am I going to even do with you?” she asks, blushing while she moves to make her ascent. “I can’t do it.” She circles around me, sizing me up. “I’m gonna hurt you…or break my neck.”
“Sure, ya can. Put your hands on my head and then just froggy hop up.”
“Riiiiiight.”
It takes a few tries, and our uncontrollable laughter after every miss certainly doesn’t help matters. But before the next float arrives, her thighs are wrapped around my neck, her hands fisted in my hair.
And me? Well, I’m considering looking for the nearest dumpster, of course.
“Hey there, handsome.” I pound a fist on the open door of the old barn turned shop in order to be heard over the buzzing of his power tools.
At the sound of my voice, Wyatt kills the saw, lifting his dust covered goggles to rest on top of his head, and whirls around.
It’s a rather warm day for January, even in Louisiana, with it being in the mid-seventies. I’m extra thankful for that fact when I catch sight of him shirtless and dripping in sweat. I’m literally salivating. He’s in a pair of work jeans. They’re worn and sitting low on his hips. And his abs. Dear Lord Almighty.
The man makes filthy look like a snack.
“To what