“Is she single?” King asked. “I haven’t seen Oak in years, but, damn, the woman just gets hotter with age.”

  He was trying to bait me. King loved nothing more than to get a rise out of someone.

  “She’s single. Too bad she’s out of your league,” I muttered, shoving my pillow into a lump under my head.

  “Fuck, have you looked at me? Have you seen these abs? There isn’t a female alive who is out of my league. Even Oakley Watson. I’d make her real happy. Spread those legs and feast on her—”

  “Shut up!” I growled, hating the image he was putting in my head. “Go the fuck to sleep, King.”

  He laughed as his bed creaked from his weight. He’d gotten what he wanted. Me to react. To her. Damn him.

  “She still does it for you, huh?” he said as he cut off the light.

  Yeah. She did it for all straight men, it would seem. But they didn’t know her. They all saw her, and that was what they wanted. The face, body, smile, those fucking eyes. They didn’t care to get to know her. Dig deeper. Take the time to find out more about her. And as much as I wanted to believe that, over the years, she was a bitch, she had betrayed me, she was selfish and controlling, I was struggling to hold on to those beliefs. Every time I watched her with Sarah on those damn cameras, I saw someone who didn’t fit what I’d created her to be in my mind.

  She was kind, fun, patient, loving, and giving. Sarah was always smiling. They laughed a lot. They made huge messes and baked more shit that any household needed. Every inch of my house was decorated for Christmas. It was ready to be in one of those cheesy-ass Hallmark movies. Lights twinkled everywhere, even in my kitchen. And let’s not forget that Belladonna adored her.

  I reached in my pocket and pulled my phone out again. The living room camera lit up my screen, and Oakley was kneeling beside Sarah, trying to wake her up. The soft smile on her face and the way her eyes shone with sheer love for my daughter got to me in ways nothing else could. Sarah sat up and rubbed her face, then leaned in and wrapped her arms around Oakley’s neck.

  Oakley buried her nose in Sarah’s hair and closed her eyes tightly, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head before whispering something to her and helping her stand up. That was what a mother was supposed to be like. Not once in Sarah’s life had I witnessed Sylvia display that kind of affection to our daughter. She didn’t bake endless treats with her, or decorate for the holidays, or dance around the kitchen, singing off-key to songs.

  Sylvia had rarely made Sarah smile.

  “Is she naked? If she’s naked, you gotta share that shit, man. It’s only fair. We’re friends.” King’s voice carried across the room.

  I closed the app and placed my phone on the nightstand. “I was watching her get Sarah to bed.” I felt the need to explain myself.

  “Sure you were,” he replied, then chuckled.

  I didn’t argue with him. There was no reason for me to pretend like I still hated Oakley. Not after this week and what I had seen on my phone. Even when I had tried to catch her doing something or acting in a way that would renew my belief that she was a selfish bitch, I never did. Because she wasn’t. She was still the Oakley who had managed to get so deep under my skin when she was sixteen that I couldn’t see anything but her.

  I wasn’t that guy anymore. Life had gotten real. Things had changed. Shit had happened. Remembering that I could never go back—we could never go back—was the only way to keep me . For Sarah’s sake. She needed her aunt Oakley more. I could never do anything to threaten that.

  Nine Years Ago

  “Wilder Jones, are you ever gonna kiss me?” Oakley asked, standing so close that I could feel the warmth from her body, with her head tilted back, staring up at me with baby-blue eyes that could make a man do stupid things. Like kiss a girl who was too young for him.

  “Oakley,” I warned, gently placing my hands on her shoulders to move her back so I could catch my breath.

  Having her that close was hard. My willpower was weakening daily.

  “But I turned eighteen last week. I was so sure you’d kiss me on my birthday.” She pouted, then stuck out her plump lip even further.

  I groaned as my eyes solely focused on her full pink mouth. God, I wanted to taste her. Suck those lips and pull that bottom one between my teeth. I also wanted to see them wrapped around my cock—and that was an issue. I had to control this—what I felt for her. The things I wanted to do to her were not something a virgin could handle.

  She put both her hands on my chest. “Please, Wilder. Just one. If you kiss me just this once, I won’t ask again. I swear it.”

  The pleading in her voice as she begged me for what I wanted to do more than I wanted to take my next breath was killing me. I deserved an award. A big-ass gold award with a damn crown to go with it for not shoving her against my truck and devouring her right now. She’d enjoy it, and I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

  Her hands slid up my chest and behind my neck as she lifted herself up onto her tiptoes. “Just one,” she whispered.

  Jesus Christ, a damn priest wouldn’t be able to tell her no. As I lowered my head, my heart was slamming against my chest so hard it was all I could hear. The cherry scent from the sucker she’d been sucking on the drive here—which had been better than porn—wafted past me as my mouth hovered just above hers.

  I was going to do this, and I knew there was no going back. This would change our “friendship” to something more. Not that it had ever really been a friendship. Oakley had made it clear over a year ago that she was attracted to me. That she was waiting until she was old enough for me. That I was who she wanted.

  Not once had I told her the same or encouraged it, but I had held on to those words. Prayed like hell she’d meant them. I couldn’t see other women anymore. No one even caught my eye. It was just her. I needed Oakley. I craved being near her.

  My lips brushed hers, and her small intake of breath was my undoing. Her hands gripped my shoulders, and she pressed closer to me until her tits were against my chest. Reminding me how much I wanted to get my hands and mouth on them. When she opened her mouth, I didn’t hesitate. I invaded with a hunger that needed to be sated before I lost my mind. She tasted as sweet and intoxicating as I had known she would.

  When she moaned and her body trembled against me, I knew I’d not only lost my heart to this girl, but my soul was hers too.

  Seventeen

  Oakley

  Present Day

  When I walked into the kitchen the next morning, I was wearing my red plaid flannel pajamas. Now that I knew there was a camera in here, I felt the need to cover up more. Not that Wilder would be looking at me. He acted as if I were a sexless being. I had done it because I wasn’t going to give him a reason to not ask me to come stay with Sarah again. I would not be giving him reason to use the bad role model excuse.

  Belladonna nudged her food bowl at me while I started the coffee.

  “I hear you, girl,” I told her, bending down to get the bowl and go fill it with her morning portion of food.

  She stayed right beside me until I set the bowl down beside her water. When she began to devour the food as if she hadn’t eaten in days—which was so far from the truth—I went to get the supplies for pancakes out. I planned on making turkey-shaped pancakes. My favorite Instagram influencer had posted a how-to video about them yesterday, and I was going to surprise Sarah for breakfast. She’d stayed up late last night, so I figured I had another hour before she woke up.

  My phone began to ring, and I looked down at it on the counter, where I had laid it, to see Hamilton’s name lighting up the screen. I pressed Answer, then turned it on speaker so I could continue to work.

  “Good morning,” I said to him before pulling the milk out of the fridge.

  “Good morning, beautiful.”

  Smiling, I set the milk down and turned to get the oil. “Flattery before coffee is always a plus,” I told him.

  “Before? Did I wake you?”

  “No. I am brewing it now.”

  “Oh good. I miss you.”

  Pausing, I stared down at the phone. Truth was, I hadn’t much thought about him. That was a bad thing. Especially if he meant what he had said and he missed me. Maybe that was just him being polite.

  “What? You’ve not found another female to charm by now?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood and get out of telling him I missed him, too, because, well, I didn’t.

  “Oakley, you’re real damn hard to compete with. Trust me.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. Uh-oh. What did I say to this? I needed my coffee first. Glancing over at it, I was relieved to see it was done.

  “That’s flattering, but I learned long ago not to believe all the words that fall from a pretty boy’s mouth.”

  He had no idea how thoroughly and painfully I had been taught that lesson. I had said it in a teasing tone, but I meant it. Every word.

  “Pretty boy? I’m wounded. You don’t think more of me than that?”

  I filled my mug and took a sip just for the caffeine jolt before adding cream and sugar, then turned back to the phone. “Okay, fine. Beautiful man. Is that better?”

  He laughed then, and I relaxed. Good, he wasn’t being serious. I didn’t need him going deep on me. He was a model, for God’s sake. He took pictures in his underwear with half-naked women all day. Gorgeous females with perfect bodies, who I was sure flirted with him. Daphne had told me all about his wild exploits. It was one reason I’d agreed to date him. He would never want more than casual from me.

  “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” he asked.

  I frowned and stared at the phone. Why was he asking me that? I had no plans for Thanksgiving other than driving home. My dad hadn’t called and invited me over. He was still ignoring me. Wilder would want me out of his house as soon as my eyes opened.

  “Uh,” I said, “nothing.”

  My phone dinged with a text alert, so I picked it up. Wilder’s name was on the screen.

  “Hold that thought, Hamilton. I have a text from Sarah’s dad. I need to check it.”

  Opening the text, I hoped he wasn’t about to tell me he was coming home today and I had to pack up and go already.

  You have plans on Thanksgiving.

  That was all it said. I looked up and scanned the room. Had he heard my conversation on that camera of his? The phone dinged again.

  Look to the left of the chandelier in the far corner.

  I did as he’d said, and the phone dinged again. I dropped my gaze back to his text.

  That’s it.

  I picked up the phone and texted.

  Thanks. I can now tape a piece of foil over it.

  Grinning, I pressed Send, then looked up at the far corner and smirked.

  That’s just one of them, Oakley, and foil doesn’t mute the sound.

  I scowled at the camera before replying.

  Whatever. I’m on the phone, but you know that. Are you saying you won’t be home on Thanksgiving?

  I waited while the dots popped up to show that he was texting.

  I will, but I won’t make it until right before lunch. Plans have changed. I need you to take Sarah to my mom’s. My mom will force you to stay and eat. If you don’t stay, she will blame me, and she won’t feed me, and I want my mom’s turkey dressing and pecan pie.

  I reread that three times. He was telling me that he wanted me at his mother’s for Thanksgiving. I hadn’t misread that.

  Okay, I can do that.

  I hadn’t known what else to say to him. It had taken me off guard.

  What are you making for breakfast?

  I glanced up at the corner, unable not to, knowing he was watching me. I started to just tell him since he could hear me, then remembered that Hamilton was still on the phone.

  I pressed Mute, then said to the camera, “Turkey-shaped pancakes.”

  “I’ll have to check back in a bit and see those.” His voice came over the kitchen speakers, causing me to jump. Then, he laughed.

  “You can talk through the thing too?” I asked, still staring at the tiny camera.

  “Yes. I’ll call Sarah later. Make sure she has her phone with her today.”

  “Will do,” I replied.

  When he said nothing more, I unmuted my phone, then put it back on speaker. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to be gone so long.”

  “No worries. So, about Thanksgiving?” he said.

  I chewed on my destroyed thumbnail for a moment and almost looked at the camera. “I have to stay here through lunch. But I might be free that night. Depends on when I leave. It’s a five-hour drive after.”

  I didn’t want to be free. I didn’t want to go see Hamilton. I wanted to be with Wilder and Sarah all day. Admitting that sucked. More than likely, I would go home, depressed. Drink a bottle of wine and watch Christmas movies, alone.

  The moment with Wilder in the kitchen had stayed with me all of that day, making me question things.

  But the next three days, there was no more talking over the speaker or texting me. All contact he made was with Sarah. What I had thought might mean he wanted me around hadn’t been that at all. He really had just asked me to stay for his mother’s sake. It’d had nothing to do with him wanting me there.

  I mentally scolded myself for even letting my thoughts go in that direction. I should have known better. It had been nine years. The man he was now was not the man I had once known. I was also far from that girl who had loved him with every fiber of her being.

  When I pulled up to Wilder’s mom’s house, there were already four other vehicles outside. I glanced over at Sarah, who was over-the-moon excited about my being with her for Thanksgiving.

  “There are a lot of people here,” I said to her.

  She nodded, smiling brightly. “Yeah, that’s Uncle Scott’s Jeep and Mrs. Jojo’s red convertible. The blue car is Honey’s, and the gray truck is Pop’s.”

  Great. I only recognized Honey as what Sarah called Wilder’s mom and Pop as what she called Wilder’s stepdad. I’d had no idea there was an Uncle Scott.

  I nodded and reached in the backseat to get out the turkey-shaped charcuterie board we had made. This was the first time I’d driven Wilder’s Range Rover. But we’d needed the room to store the food safely and put Belladonna in the back. Wilder had put in a net screen that kept Belladonna in the very back of the car so she wouldn’t climb over while he was driving.

  Belladonna barked at me, as if to remind me I needed to get her out too. I was glad that Sarah had asked about bringing her. I’d hated the idea of leaving her alone at home all day.

  “I’m coming to set you free,” I assured her, then turned to Sarah. “You take in the tray of cake pops,” I told her.

  They also looked like turkeys. At least, the fudge-centered ones did. The pumpkin ones had pumpkin pie centers. We had stayed up late last night, working on them. Wilder had told Sarah we didn’t need to take anything, but I wasn’t going to a house for Thanksgiving and not bringing something. I was from Georgia, for crying out loud. It was what one did.

  “Some of our turkeys look like chickens,” Sarah said, giggling.

  I laughed, looking over at the tray of cake pops. She was right. The turkeys hadn’t turned out as well as the pumpkin ones.

  “But they’re yummy.”

  “Yes, they are!” she said happily while Belladonna jumped down from the back of the Range Rover and ran over to the closest patch of grass to pee.

  Sarah headed for the front door, and I followed her. I only remembered meeting Wilder’s mother at Sylvia’s funeral. I knew she had been at their wedding, but that day was not one I liked to think about. I’d been a mess emotionally and blocked out most of it. The front door to the Spanish-style home opened up, and Azalea Shelton stepped outside with her arms wide open, beaming at Sarah, who went as quickly as she could to her grandmother without dropping the cake pops.

  Azalea was in her late fifties with a short brunette bob and brown eyes that were so much like Wilder’s. The bohemian dress she was wearing hung loosely on her tall, thin frame, and her earrings were feathers that almost brushed her shoulders.

  “My best girl in the whole wide world!” she exclaimed, then clapped her hands as she looked down at the tray of treats Sarah was holding.

  “We made these last night, Honey. The turkeys kinda look funny, but they are the best ones. They have fudge inside,” Sarah told her.

  “Then, I’m going to sneak one right now,” she whispered loudly and took a turkey cake pop from the tray.

  Belladonna finished her business and ran past me to get in on the action at the front door. Her bark caught Azalea’s attention, and she lifted her eyes to see the exuberant dog headed for her. Laughing, she bent down and met Belladonna face-to-face.

  “So, you’re the famous Belladonna I have heard so much about. I think we will be fast friends, you and I. To make sure of it, I have some special treats just for you inside.”

  I liked this woman. A lot. I was also instantly thankful that Sarah had this. A real grandmother. This was not the kind of reception she got from Cleo. Most holidays were very formal, and Cleo expected everyone to be dressed in their Sunday best, but no one could wear shoes in the house, and Belladonna was never welcome. She would be “in the way.”

  Azalea stood then, and her eyes met mine. Her soft smile as she took me in made me feel welcome. “You are just as stunning as I remember,” she said. “We’ve never gotten a chance to chat and visit. I was thrilled when Wilder said you would be coming today.”

  “Thank you for having me,” I replied. “I didn’t know what all you were making, but Sarah and I thought we’d make something extra to bring.”