Embrace (Evolve Series #2) (20 page)

“Hi.” She waves at them all then smiles at Dane. “Hey,
Dane.”

Dane’s staring at the floor while Laney’s staring at
him, and I’m done caring, back to staring at Whitley, who’s staring at Jenee.

“Um, okay, I’ll go first.” Bennett moves to the
center of the group cheerily. “Jenee, I’m Bennett. My roommate is Laney,” she
points to Laney, “girlfriend of Dane, that you know…how?” She follows up with a
smile as sweet as syrup.

“I work for him,” is what I think she said, but we’re
yelling over bebop noise and a wailing mosh pit again, so I can’t be sure.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Bennett’s shoulders relax. “That
makes perfect sense. So you may know my boyfriend, Tate, his brother.”

“I do.” Jenee lifts her hair with one hand and fans
herself with the other. “So,” she turns into me and almost yells, “I’m gonna
stay. I have a huge group of friends here, I’ll be fine. You go tend to your
girl. It was a pleasure, Evan.” She chastely kisses where my ear and face meet.
“Nice to meet you all. Bye, Boss.” And with that, she’s sucked up into the
dance vortex once again.

“Okay!” Bennett claps. “Avery, let’s go sit at the
bar with Tate. I’m sure that’s where Zach is.”

Dane grabs Laney’s hand. “We’re out.”

“Bye, Evan, thank you!” Laney rolls her fingers and
darts her eyes to Whitley then back to me, throwing me a wink of her own.

It reminds me, before the mayhem, that Laney and I
were best friends; always in each other’s corner. And she just said, “Go get
her, Ev. Be happy,” with a look. We were back.

 Don’t mind if I do, friend, don’t mind if I do.

She won’t hear me, a good seven feet between us, so
I wait patiently until Whitley’s big sapphires meet my radar on her, and point.
Turning my finger over slowly and crooking it, I beckon her over, fighting any
give on my face.

Chewing her bottom lip the whole way, she slinks
over to me. “Hi, Evan, how are you?” Her words are breathy, tone hopeful.

“Not so great, pretty girl. You scared me, again. I
don’t like feeling that you’re in danger and I can’t stop it. Where’s your
date?”

She opens her mouth, but I place two of my fingers
over it gently, no longing giving two shits where her date is. “You know what,
hold that thought. Let’s get out of here; my eardrums are bleeding.”

No argument or agreement, no “let me say bye to…” No
question in her eyes. Her tiny hand slips into mine and I squeeze, fighting our
way to the door, her body tucked tightly, safely, against mine.

“
W
here’s your date?” I ask again. Okay, I do
still give a shit and nothing would make me happier than to hear she’d left him
in there, alone, to leave with me.

“Nosey,” she grumbles under her breath, looking out
her window as we sit in my truck.

I haven’t started it yet. I’m kind of just enjoying
sitting here, knowing she’s within arm’s length and secure. There’s nowhere
else I need to be.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” I tease,
reaching over to tickle her side.

“Stop,” she squirms and snickers, “I said you were
nosey,
Nosey
. Where’s
your
date?”

“You saw her walk away. She stayed there ‘cause she
knew I had other things to take care of.” I wiggle my fingers, threatening to
tickle her again. “Now spill, woman.”

“Okay!” She scoots as close to her door as she can.
“He wasn’t my date, if you must know.”

Oh, I must know.

“And?” I want her to keep talking.

“Thad works for my father. He was sent to discuss
the changes my family will be facing. It seems my parents are liquidating
certain things in preparation for an,” she makes air quotes with her fingers, “‘amicable
division of assets.’”

“Your parents are getting divorced?”

“So it seems.” Her face is sullen, eyes downcast.

“And they sent a suit to tell you?”

She nods, the movement causing a tear to fall from
beneath the veil of her hair onto her leg.

I can’t take seeing her so sad yet trying to be
strong, stoic, hiding her pain from me. I slide across the seat in one motion,
wrapping my arms around her. She curls into me and her body shakes as her sobs
grow louder.

“Shhh, I got you,” I whisper against her soft hair
that tickles my lips. “You don’t have to be the happy, strong one all the time,
Whit. Let me have a turn to hold
you
up.”

Her head lifts off my chest, nose pink and eyes
shiny. “There’s no way I’m as good at being your rock. Am I?”

I scoff. She has no idea. “All the damn time,
woman.”

She grins slightly. “Well, you bring out the best in
me.”

“Right back atcha, pretty girl.” I wink down at her,
earning me another smile.

100% success rate—still undefeated with the wink.

“So, I guess that’s what happened with your beach
house? But splitting money doesn’t mean you don’t have any, so why
foreclosure?”

What the fuck, Evan?
Why are you asking shit,
making her examine the details?

“Sorry, Whit, just thinking out loud, nevermind.”

“It’s okay,” she says through sniffles. “I’m not
involved, obviously, since my parents sent a messenger rather than talk to me
themselves, but I know my father. My guess is, he let them ‘
take
,’” air
quote fingers again, “the house so she doesn’t get claim on it, but I’d bet
anything he buys that cheaply priced, foreclosed property back under a business
name.”

Sneaky.
And maybe illegal?

“Damn, that’s some diabolical shit. What about your
tuition?”

Again, Evan, stfu
.

“That’s fine, covered and paid. My house too, paid
for and now in my name. ”

“Well, there’s something.” I run my hand down the
back of her head, embarrassed when I realize I’ve done it several times and
probably more than necessary. “It’ll all be all right, Whitley, you’ll see.
Parents split up, and it sucks, but you’re grown, have your own life, and
you’re amazing all by yourself.”

“Yeah?” She has no idea what it does to a man when a
beautiful blonde peeks up, all doe-eyed and innocent, heart-shaped face pinked
and lips parted, puffs of her breath hitting your neck.

“Yeah,” I assure her, pulling my eyes from the
glisten on her mouth and back to her eyes, “definitely. What can I do to make
you feel better?”

Please don’t let her say watch Moulin Rouge.
I’d be down for another tattoo, but not that movie. It seriously sucks ass.

“You could kiss me,” she says in a voice so quiet
couldn’t even be classified as a whisper.

And yet, I heard her in Dolby.

I
could
kiss her. And take care of her and
hold her hand and take long walks. Give her a reason to sing and hum every day.
I could quit fighting it, second guessing it, playing devil’s advocate on why I
don’t or shouldn’t feel what I’ve absolutely felt for a while.

That’s what I could do.

I run both my hands up the sides of her face, moving
back her hair to show me all of her ivory neck. “You sure are pretty, Whit.”

I lay my lips on hers, unmoving, locking gazes. Her
hands come up and lock around my wrists, tightening, holding me there.
Whitley’s lips move first, rubbing shyly side to side on mine.

“Kiss me, Evan,” she breathes into me.

Tracing the seam with my tongue, I take my time
learning her lips, her taste. She opens, letting me in. No begging, no me
wanting her more than she wants me, just the two of us together, joining,
finally
.
As our tongues meet, she whimpers, the sound crippling. Her hands move into my
hair, tugging, hungry, truly wanting me closer. And in that instant, another
crack heals and I feel closer to whole. Kissing her is electric, better than a
game winning touchdown.

My fingertips trail down her neck, her shoulders, her
sides, learning every dip, line, and curve that is Whitley. I end my gentle
exploration with hands gripped around her tiny waist, hauling her whole body
into mine. Releasing her sweet mouth, I nibble her jawline before feasting on
her neck, her pulse drumming against my eager mouth.

“Ah, Whit,” I growl, licking slowly up to her ear,
“damn, you’re sweet.”

She grabs my cheeks and pulls my face to hers, eyes
aflame. “You about done with the disaster dating thing?” Her chest heaves, her breaths
coming heavy and hungry.

Oh how this little pixie makes me laugh. “Yes, ma’am.
You forgive me?”

She twists her mouth, tapping her chin with a single
finger. “I don’t know. Seems like I should make you sweat it out since you made
me so crazy.”

“Only a crazy woman can love you like crazy.”

“You better be ready to give as good as you get,”
she warns, nipping my mouth and bringing to life another part of me I thought
for sure had died. The part that loves to cherish, the part that wants to be embraced,
and the part that yearns, has always yearned, to have that embrace returned.

“I’m a thorough kind of guy, Ms. Thompson. I’ll give
you something to hum about every chance I get, you precious little thing.” I
tap her nose airily. “And no more dating for you, either.”

“I told you, Thad wasn’t a date.” She wiggles,
burrowing closer against me.

“Yeah, I know, but what about the other night when I
asked you to hang out and you had plans? I assumed you had a date then.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well then—”

“I sat at home, Evan. I wrote a paper, took a bath,
and fell asleep watching a
Duck Dynasty
marathon.”

I’m elated to hear she didn’t have a date; I’d been
trying to ignore the fact that it’d been eating away at me wondering what she’d
done with who, since the minute she blew me off that night. But, now there are
much more important matters at hand.

“
Duck Dynasty
! Why don’t you ever force me to
watch that instead of singing bullshit or whatever?” I slap her bottom. She
squeals and jumps, landing her firmly in my lap.

“I didn’t know you liked that show. There’s a lot I
have to learn.”

“Whit,” I sneak a kiss, “I’m from Georgia. I hunt
and fish;
Duck Dynasty
is a pretty safe bet. In fact, anytime you have
to choose between beards or singing, what do you think my answer would be?”

“Okay, okay,” she giggles, “lesson learned.”

“You guessed strawberry shortcake, my favorite
dessert, but missed this? Crazy girl.” I move for her mouth, already starving
for another taste, but her body goes stiff as she gnaws her bottom lip,
climbing out of my lap and scooting away.

“Hey,” I reach out and rub her leg, “what just
happened?”

She won’t look at me, head turned to the window.

“Whit, talk to me, please.”

Her head shakes. “I had almost forgotten, so it’s
not like I lied. I’m sorry.”

What am I missing here? Did she steal the strawberry
shortcake or something?

Her mutter is lined with worry. “I didn’t guess
about the shortcake. Or the fishing. Laney fed me some info a while back. I’m a
big, fat fraud.” Her fist goes to her mouth and she bites her knuckle. “I’m not
in tune to you; I’m a cheater.”

Do not laugh, Evan. The lady thinks it’s serious,
you take it seriously.

“Woman,” I say, watching as she turns her head to me
but her eyes dodge mine, “come here.” I pat her spot in my lap.

She’s unsure, thinking I’m mad, so I give her a
smile and pat my lap again. Hesitantly, she crawls back in and I wink at her,
letting her know I could care less. So she got the DL on me, so what. She cared
enough to put her info into play…so I see no problem here.

“You worry too much, sweet girl. I love that you wanna
know my secrets. I love that you wanna know me.”

“Really? Okay. And just because she told me a few
little tiny things doesn’t mean our connection isn’t real.”  The whole sentence
came out in one rushed ramble with no pause for breathing. It was adorable.

“Really and agreed. Now relax.” I kiss her forehead,
still fighting the urge to snicker at her. “Ask me anything you want, anytime.”

“Will you take me on a date?”

She needed no time to think about that one.

“You bet your sweet ass I will.”

Chapter 22

Kiss Me

~Evan~

D
ate #1 (none of the rest count)

Conspirator- Fate

Girl- Whitley

Stats- little blonde hummingbird, biggest blue eyes
you’ve ever swam in, Junior

Problems- nothing we can’t solve together

“Hi.” She opens the door, perky and smiling. Her
eyes slowly survey me from head to toe, dressed in Timberlands, jeans and a
long sleeved white Henley, and I hope she likes what she sees.  “Sorry,” she
blushes and scoots out of the way for me to enter, “come in.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I kiss her cheek, “I can wait all
night. These are for you.” I pull a bunch of daisies tied together with twine
from behind my back. I hear her breath catch and trembling fingers take them
from me. I figured your first real date called for a whole bunch of flowers,
not one at a time like I usually hand her.

She’s really nervous; thank goodness I’m not the
only one.

 “What were you so deep in thought about?” I ask
her.

 “What to wear.” She glances down to her shorts and
tee. “I’ve proven I’m an epic failure at dressing correctly for the occasion,
so I was waiting for you. Where are we going and what should I wear?”

Oh, that smile of hers…did I mention it already?

 “I’m not telling you, and wear whatever you want.
But, you’d probably be fine in jeans.”

“I can do that. Make yourself at home, it will only
take me a minute.”

“Do you want me to put those in water for you while
I wait?” I glance to the flowers, still clutched to her chest.

 “Sure, thank you.” She hands them over slowly,
seeming to not really want to part with them just yet. “There should be a vase
in the cabinet above the fridge.” She turns to go down the hall, but I catch
her by pulling on the hem of her shirt, dragging her back to me.

“Don’t be nervous, pretty girl. We’ve been on plenty
of dates. We may not have called them that, but we always have a good time
together,” I breathe huskily in her ear and watch the goosebumps pop out over
her bare shoulders and arms.

“I’m glad we’re calling them dates now,” she admits sweetly.

I run one knuckle down her neck. “Me too. Now gimme
some sugar before you run off.”

She kisses the tip of her finger then touches it to
my lip. “That’s all for now,” she teases me.

“Go get ready. Quickly,” I hiss, trying to swat her
bottom and missing as she scampers away.

I
found this spot on accident, just out
driving by myself one day, thankful to find somewhere relatively close to
school where I could hide way. But now, I don’t want to keep it my secret; I
want to share it with her. No more will it be the place I sit to stew on old
memories, but the paradise where I make new ones.

“Stay put until I come get you, okay?”

“Okay.” Whitley grins, giddy at the prospect of a
surprise.

I chuckle to myself and shake my head as I climb
out; she’s so easy to please, so easy to make happy, but I plan to be the man
who takes her from agreeable to delighted all the time.

The truck bounces a bit as I unload all the stuff
out of the back of it, but she never turns around; I know she wants to prolong
the surprise. I hate to think she holds on so tightly to times like these
because she’s not used to people doing them for her.

A few minutes later I have it all set up and open
her door. “Whitely,” I take her hand, “you can get out now.”

She turns to face me, eyes squeezed closed. “I
didn’t peek, I promise. Should I keep them closed?”

 “You are precious.” I kiss the end of her nose. “Open
your eyes, I don’t want you to fall.”

With a small pout, she opens her eyes and uses my
hand and shoulder to climb out. It’s once her feet are firmly planted that I move
her hair and slide the one daisy I’d kept behind her ear. It pales beside her
beauty. “Shame for the flower really; never had a chance.” I wink and lead her
by the hand through the dark to what I hope is a surprise of her dreams.

On the ground is a blanket surrounded by lit candles
with a picnic set for two. Music plays softly from my phone hidden behind the
picnic basket, and as my arms sneak around her waist from behind, I can feel
her pounding heartbeat against my chest. 

“Evan,” she sighs, “it’s beautiful.”

“
You’re
beautiful, Whitley Thompson, inside
and out. And I need my ass kicked for taking so long to tell you.” Brushing her
hair back, I touch my lips to her ear. “I’d have taken you out somewhere, but I
kinda wanted you all to myself. That all right?”

“More than okay.” She turns, meeting my lips. “This
is perfect,” she murmurs against them.

I scoop her up and cradle her in my arms, carrying
her to the blanket where I gently set her down. “As you can see,” I attempt
some sort of sexy accent, “we have champagne and cheeseburgers with,” I reach
into the basket to reveal the grand finale, “chocolate mousse for dessert.”

Her beautiful giggle cuts through the night air,
more brilliant than the stars above us. “May I propose a toast?” she asks,
holding up her glass.

I grab my glass. “Ladies first.”

“To finding your first choice,” she delivers
faintly.

“To overcats and admitting when you’re wrong.” I
clink my glass to hers and wink.

We both take a sip, Whitley’s eyes serious and locked
on mine. “Wrong? About what?”

“A lot of things,” I explain with a mocking laugh,
“some good, some bad.” I stand, offering my hand to her, which she quickly
accepts. “Mostly worrying more about what I’ve always known instead of what I’ve
always wanted.”

What I’ve always wanted. Someone to meet me halfway,
to be the other half of my team. A bubble of our own that no one bursts
through, where we’re equally important to one another, we both know it, we both
trust it, putting it before all else. When I lean in to kiss her, she’s already
up on her toes to grab it and give it back to me, with passion. When I walk in
a room, she smiles like her day just got better, and my eyes seek and find her
first in the crowd.

Honestly, I really don’t ever compare the two, but I
do realize something now. With Laney, I put her up on a pedestal, then spent
all my time trying to get her to come down and see me. Whitley walked right up
to me, out of anyone and everyone in the room, and asked me to sit beside her.

She’s been right beside me, literally, ever since.

I feel her next to me now; lost in my thoughts, I
pulled her body flush against mine, one hand curled around her waist…and there
she stays, content and silent. “Dance with me, pretty girl,” I croon, my voice
low and sated in her ear.

“Mmm,” she hums, slinking her arms around my neck,
her little body fitting perfectly into every bend of mine.

Every spot we meet incinerates me, teases me. Her
head lays against my chest as we sway so slowly we’re almost not moving. “Kiss
Me,” by Ed Sheeran plays softly, my new favorite song. Goddamn it feels good. Right.
This moment, probably made for girls to swoon about, rocks my soul. The deep,
carnal beat of the song matches the one in my chest and the one in her throat
where my thumb rubs lazy circles.

When the song ends, her head rises and she asks,
cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. “Evan?”

“Huh?” I murmur into her hair, where my mouth has
decided to rest.

“Just checking if you were still with me.”

“Oh, I’m with you, Whit,” I agree, now looking at
her, “and you’re with me. There’s no reversing this spell.”

Gradually, it kicks in, a glow moving across her
face. “So no more dating?”

“No, there’ll be lots and lots of dating.”

She tenses in my arms. “Um…”

I don’t drag it out too long. I didn’t intend to
tease her but know exactly what she
thought
I meant when she goes rigid.
“Just me and you. Lots and lots of dating…each other.”

“That was just mean,” she grumbles, pulling out of
my wrap on her and crossing her arms across her chest.

“I’m sorry,” I say, knowing this is so not the time
to laugh. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that.”

“Hmpff.” Her bottom lip pops out and she tries so
hard to stay mad.

“Whit,” I step to her and pull her closer, “forgive
me.” I nuzzle her neck, teasing her with my tongue. “Please.”

“Convince me,” she replies, then gives herself away
with the moan.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She can stay mad all night.