Finding Mr. Write (Business of Love Book 5) Read online

  “I hate to think about what a life without you would be like,” I said.

  Her friends continued muttering, and had I not been trying to win over the woman in front of me, I might have had half a mind to tell them to mind their own damn business.

  Briar smiled at me. “Are you hungry?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Are you hungry?” she asked again.

  One of her friends, a dark-haired tall girl who was quite beautiful, tugged on Briar’s sleeve. “You can’t just invite him in after what he did. You have to make him earn it.”

  “Yeah,” the blonde added. “Don’t make it too easy for him.”

  “Hush,” Briar said, that smile still lingering on her lips. “We don’t have to stay here. Let’s go someplace and sit down. Just me and you,” she added like this was necessary information I needed to hear.

  I was surprised but not going to let the opportunity pass me by. “Let’s go.”

  Much to the dismay of her friends, Briar grabbed her coat and scarf, pulled on a pair of boots, and stepped out into the hall with me.

  One of the girls, the one with the darker hair, swung around the doorframe and stared incredulously at Briar. “Are you actually going to go? You just got here. I thought we were going to stay in tonight and catch up. We haven’t seen you in two weeks and you’re going to blow us off just like that?”

  She spoke like I wasn’t even there, like I blended in with the puke-green color of the hallway walls.

  Briar swept her fingers through her red hair and let it fall over her right shoulder. “I’m sorry, guys. But this is important. Wes and I have a lot we need to talk about. Maybe…” She trailed off. “You know how I feel about this. I need to talk to him.”

  The girls stared after us as Briar turned her back on them and made her way down the hall. I followed hot on her heels, wondering how many unspoken things had just been exchanged between the women that went right over my head.

  You probably missed thirteen conversations they just had with their eyes, I thought to myself.

  The cold air outside bit into my cheeks and I bunched my shoulders up against the chill. Briar kept walking to the end of the lane her apartment building sat on before she turned to me and asked if I had a car.

  “I rented one at the airport.” I nodded down the lane a half a block. “The black sedan there.”

  “Not really your style.” She smirked.

  Was she already joking around with me? Certainly, that meant she wasn’t all that angry with me. Or perhaps she was waiting until she had me alone in the car before she laid into me.

  “They didn’t have a lot of options,” I said as we walked toward the car.

  “No chrome, no flashy accents, no bumper sticker that says ‘Caution, Writer behind the wheel,’” she mused. “Very incognito.”

  I clicked the button in my pocket to unlock the car doors. The headlights winked and the doors unlocked with a soft click. “Are you having a go at me?”

  Briar walked around to the passenger side and opened her door. “Having a go at you? Never.”

  I didn’t believe her. Not for a second.

  The first couple of minutes of the drive were quiet to the point of being uncomfortable. I wanted to break the silence but I didn’t have a clue what I should say. Driving to the restaurant, wherever said restaurant was, hardly seemed like the right time or place to bring everything up and start working through our issues. I had to wait.

  I hated waiting.

  We drove down several residential streets before emerging on a two-lane road with gentle S-bends. It took us into town, where Briar pointed out the place we’d be going for dinner in the historic and quaint downtown core. The place reminded me of something out of a movie set in a small town that was historic even in the eighties. I imagined kids grew up riding bicycles across town to meet up with their friends, where they’d likely have adventures in the surrounding forests or play in the backyards of one of their parents’ houses. This place definitely had more space than New York City.

  The restaurant matched the town with its own rustic charm. Lights were strung up in the rafters overhead and mason jars filled with water boasted floating candles in the shape of flowers. Briar and I weren’t greeted by a hostess and instead were able to choose our own table.

  Briar picked one by the window. She kept her jacket and scarf on and smiled at the waiter who arrived with waters. I wondered for a moment if she knew him. Everyone always knew everyone in small towns like this when it came to movies and books, which were my only experiences with such small places.

  She ordered herself a spiked cider and I asked for the same. After the waiter left, we sat across from each other like two people on a first date who were afraid to make the first move and get the conversation-ball rolling.

  “So,” she said slowly.

  “So.”

  “This was unexpected.”

  “I don’t think your friends like me.”

  “I don’t think they do either,” she admitted. “But to be fair, I don’t think they like anyone or anything that doesn’t align with their wants and needs.”

  I frowned, puzzled. “That doesn’t sound like a good quality for friends to have.”

  She shrugged.

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t come here to talk about your friends. I came to talk about us. If there is even a chance at an ‘us’ anymore, that is.”

  Briar rubbed her lips together. “I still want an us.”

  “You do?”

  She smiled at me. “Of course, I do, Wes! I was having so much fun with you. I mean, yeah, I didn’t expect to come to New York and meet someone like you. I thought I’d be on my own. Hell, I wanted to be on my own. But meeting you changed all of that. And that’s part of fresh starts, isn’t it? Rerouting? Changing course? Accepting the things you didn’t realize you wanted and just going with the flow?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “Well, you were the flow.”

  Her words made me smile. Before I had a chance to answer, the waiter came back with our ciders. Briar put in an order of flatbread for us to share and we were left alone again.

  “So what does this mean?” I asked. “Do you want to come back to New York?”

  “I never wanted to leave in the first place,” she admitted.

  “Then why did you?”

  “I didn’t feel like I had any other options. I ran out of my work like an idiot. There’s no way they’re going to take me back, especially when I know full well how hard it’s been for them to find reliable staff. And I left my roommate. Sonia’s probably looking for someone else to take my room as we speak.”

  “Maybe not.”

  Briar shrugged. “It wouldn’t feel right to come back and just assume she’d be flexible for me again. I’d need someplace fresh to land and figure my shit out while we figure our shit out.”

  “Move in with me.”

  Briar paused with her drink halfway to her lips. Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry?”

  “Move in with me,” I said again. “You’ve seen how much space I have. And if you need a place to stay while you look for work, I can give you that. I can give you your own room, too, if you want to take things slow. We can do whatever works and—”

  “Wes,” she said firmly, “if I’m staying with you, then you’d best believe I’m staying with you. Know what I mean?”

  I grinned in spite of myself. “I think so.”

  She giggled softly. God, was it ever nice to hear her laugh again.

  “I still can’t believe you got on a plane to come find me,” she said. “I never thought I’d ever get a romantic gesture like this.”

  “Think again.”

  She looked down at the table and the happy wrinkles in the corners of her eyes disappeared.

  I reached out and put a hand over hers. “What’s wrong?”

  She lifted her gaze. Her eyes were glassy.

  What had I done wrong? Why was sh
e crying? Was it something I said?

  “What did I do?” I whispered.

  She sniffled and tried to laugh away her tears. “It’s nothing. I just… I’m really sorry, Wes. I feel so bad for slipping up and telling Callie. And now this Kelly Green woman knows who you are and I feel like I ruined something you can never put back together. I just feel so—”

  “Stop.”

  “I can’t help it! I feel like such an ass. I knew how important it was to you and I still—”

  I stood up, leaned across the table, and kissed her. Briar fell quiet. The restaurant around us faded to blurry nothingness and conversation became a muted buzz in my ears. Her lips were warm and tasted like apples and rum. She smiled against my lips, and when I pulled away, her cheeks were rosy pink and her tears were gone.

  “I forgive you,” I said simply.

  Her eyebrows lifted. “You do?”

  I nodded as I sat back down. “It was unfair of me to ask you to keep such a secret anyway. I forgive you. I swear. And I’m the one who should be sorry. I never should have told you to get out of my car. I should have heard you out. I’ve regretted how I handled things since the minute I drove away.”

  Briar’s eyes twinkled. “Does this mean we’re okay?”

  I grinned. “As long as you’re coming back to New York with me, I’m a happy man.”

  Chapter 33

  Briar

  So that was it.

  We were doing this thing. For real.

  My little heart could hardly take it.

  “I think it’s time to turn the tables on you,” I said, a sly smile playing on my lips while I watched Wes enjoy his piece of flatbread.

  He chewed with his hand in front of his mouth and arched an eyebrow.

  I sat up straight in my seat and rested my forearms on the edge of the table. “It’s my turn to play tour guide. I’m going to show you around my town tonight.”

  “Doesn’t everything in a place like this close at six o’clock?”

  I eyed him darkly. “Watch it, mister.”

  He chuckled. “I kid. I’d love to have a private tour of your town. I want to know what made you.”

  I felt as rosy inside as my cheeks did. “Good answer.”

  “Where are we going to start?”

  “My family home,” I said because that was the only reasonable place our tour could begin.

  I indulged in another piece of flatbread. After hardly being able to eat all day and only managing to make my way through a couple of spring rolls back at the apartment, the food was much needed. It hit the spot and the warmth that spread through me was welcomed.

  “Can I tell you why I was driving past your work on Tuesday night in the first place?” Wes asked.

  “Oh, you mean when I leapt into your car like a fugitive?” I teased, remembering the panic I’d felt as I ran from Kelly Green.

  He laughed. “Yes, exactly.”

  “Please do.”

  “I wanted to celebrate with you.”

  “Celebrate what?” I asked.

  “The publication of my new book. My publisher accepted it. I’m signing hard copies this weekend to send out to readers for the launch coming the first week of December.”

  I put down my drink. “Wes, that’s huge! Congratulations.”

  He grinned at me like a little kid. “Thank you. I wish I hadn’t sabotaged that night like a royal idiot but it feels just as good to share it with you now.”

  “We’ll celebrate properly after your tour.” I winked.

  Wes flashed me a devilish smile. “Don’t dangle the carrot in front of me like that, woman. If you want me to pay attention to this town, you’d best keep the flirting and sexy eyes to a minimum.”

  “Sexy eyes?” I giggled.

  “You know you do it.”

  “Do what?” I asked innocently.

  He pointed accusingly at my face. “The way you look at me. Like a sexy deer.”

  I laughed hysterically. “A sexy deer? That’s not a thing, Wes.”

  “Apparently, it’s my thing,” he muttered.

  We shared a laugh and bickered over who would pay the bill when the waiter returned with the debit machine. Wes won out and I pouted about it across the table from him. Once the bill was paid, we left our table and made our way outside.

  Even though Waynesville always felt too small for me, like a shoe that didn’t quite fit right, I still loved how beautiful it was in the fall, especially at night. It smelled like home. The trees lent a crisp, pine-fresh scent to the air. In the winter, the main drag always closed down for foot traffic, as it did for festivals and special events. I wished Wes had come during one of those times when Waynesville really shined.

  We strolled the street and peered through closed shop windows. Wes joked that he’d been right and things did close early around here.

  “Everyone goes home in the evenings,” I said. “Family is the biggest value in Waynesville. And community. People are all in their living rooms by the fireplace by now, probably sipping tea or port or something.”

  “You could be a writer, you know,” Wes said pointedly.

  I laughed and rolled my eyes. “I’m a horrendous speller.” I smiled at him. I loved how he talked about writing. “What did you do before you started writing books?”

  He shot me a sidelong glance as we walked back to his car. “You’re going to laugh at me.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Can I guess?”

  He chuckled deep in his chest. “You can go right ahead, but you’ll never get it.”

  “I like a challenge.” I gleamed.

  What might Wes have been good at before picking up a pen and falling in love with the written word?

  “Was it a desk job?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  “A physical job?”

  He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking.”

  “You filmed pornos, didn’t you?”

  Wes threw his head back and laughed. His breath fogged in the air and I reveled in the sound of his laughter and the way his eyes crinkled.

  “Is that a no?” I asked.

  Still chuckling to himself, he shook his head. “It’s a no.”

  “Physical, but not in the way I’m thinking?” I wondered what that might mean. “A dog walker?”

  “Come on now,” he said, mirth still dancing in his eyes. “I made decent money before I started writing. How else do you think I was able to quit my day job and commit to writing full time?”

  None of this was adding up in my head. I couldn’t think of a single reasonable gig that checked these boxes, even though I was sure there were hundreds of options.

  “How good was good money?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “It was more than I should’ve made. I can tell you that.”

  We reached his car and he opened my door for me. I sighed dramatically as I slumped against the seat and gazed up at him as he smiled down at me from where he stood on the curb. “I don’t know,” I said. “Just tell me.”

  He lifted his chin and with false bravado said, “I was a male model.”

  A long moment stretched between us.

  I snorted into my hand, slapped my knee, and cackled like an old witch in a kid’s movie.

  Wes looked entirely exasperated with me. He closed my door and I continued to laugh as he made his way around the hood. I was still recovering as he got behind the wheel and scowled at me. “It’s not that funny.”

  “It’s pretty funny.” I wheezed. “I can’t picture it! What kind of photos? Editorial?”

  “A little of this, a little of that.”

  “Nudes?”

  “Absolutely not.” He put the car in drive. “Now where the hell am I going, woman?”

  “Straight ahead. Third street on your left. I’ll tell you where to go from there, Tyra.”

  He kept a straight face but I could tell he was try
ing not to smile. “I have so many regrets right now. I think I preferred Shakespeare.”

  “Your preference makes absolutely no difference to me. I think I like Tyra. It has a bit more flair.”

  “Karma is a real thing, you know?”

  I continued picking on him between giving him directions to my old family home. When we pulled up in front of it, I leaned across the console to peer up at the house through Wes’s window. “There it is,” I said. “I lived there my entire life. From when I was just a baby to when I turned twenty and moved out for the first time.”

  The house had been built in the seventies. My parents bought it three months after they got married and two years before they had me. Those two years gave them time to make it into their dream home. My dad built a wooden swing on the old tree in the back. Mom painted all the walls robin-egg blue, her favorite color. They replaced the old front door with a big yellow one that still sat on its hinges today, reminding me of sunshine.

  “It’s quite charming,” Wes said.

  I sighed happily. “It is, isn’t it?”

  I could feel him watching me. “But this isn’t what you want for your life?”

  I shrugged. “I think I was always just afraid I’d end up in a house like this that felt like a cage, not a home. Does that make any sense?” Wes stared blankly at me. I smiled. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. I just know how lucky I was growing up. My parents didn’t fight. They didn’t put their expectations for happiness on me. I had a stable, safe, happy home. We talked to each other about anything and everything. I trusted my parents more than I trusted myself. And I guess being raised that way while all my friends’ parents got divorced and I saw strong couples I’d thought were as invincible as my parents fall apart made me a bit jaded.”

  “Even though you were one of the lucky ones?”

  I nodded. “How could I get that lucky twice, Wes? I never believed I’d find a man here to love me the way my parents did. I needed bigger fields to roam around in. I had to figure out who I was. I’m still doing that. I mean, I can see myself coming back here far in the future because this was a great place to grow up, but for now? For now, I want to be with you in New York City.”

  Wes put his hand on my thigh. “I know we’re just at the beginning of this thing but I want you to know that if you ever want to come back here to put down roots, I’ll leave New York behind.”