Fangirl Down (Big Shots, #1)

She trusted this man. More than she trusted anyone besides her parents and Tallulah. But she wasn’t sure she trusted him to let her go so easily.

For now, though, she would let go, just a little more, and see where the wind blew her.

What choice did she have when Wells was looking at her like his next breath hinged on her answer? “Quality time sounds amazing.”





Chapter Twenty-Eight




Mimosas were not Wells’s drink of choice.

The flute felt breakable in his grip. Champagne was for women.

But hell if he didn’t knock back three of those suckers without noticing.

He was too wrapped up in the stories Evelyn and Jim were telling about Josephine to pay attention to anything else. The best part was Josephine blushing and begging them to stop. Goddamn, he wanted to hear it all again, but with her sitting in his lap next time so he could tickle her, kiss those pinkening cheeks and neck.

He really needed to get a grip on his hunger for his girlfriend. At least around her parents.

Girlfriend.

Had he bullied her into it? He’d been worried about that initially—and then he remembered that his Josephine didn’t get bullied into anything. If she’d agreed to be in a relationship with Wells, that’s because she wanted to be in one with him. End of story.

Although . . . maybe later, he’d just double-and triple-check.

God willing, it wouldn’t be on the DL forever. He didn’t know how long he could manage keeping the whole thing to himself. Even before they started dating, he’d been pretty obvious about his growing feelings. Warning Calhoun away from her like a possessive beast. Escorting her all over a family-friendly resort as if she might fall victim to an ambush.

And she didn’t even know about her birthday present yet.

Would he be able to keep things professional in public? At all times?

Professionalism wasn’t exactly his strong suit. Throw in the fact that he was officially dating a woman who made him feel purposeful and alive—not to mention hornier than he’d ever been in his twenty-nine years—and the ball of yarn could unravel fast. Even now, at brunch with her jovial but watchful parents, he was having a hard time stopping himself from yanking Josephine’s chair closer so he could hold her hand.

They weren’t keeping their relationship a secret from Jim and Evelyn, but Josephine wanted to let things settle after they’d walked in on him trying to drag her back to the bedroom for round two of sex.

That’s fine. That’s her right.

He didn’t have to like it, though.

“Why are you frowning at me?” Josephine whispered to him out of the corner of her mouth.

“I’m just concentrating on the story,” he rumbled back.

That wasn’t a complete lie. Resolving to hold the shit out of her hand later, when they were alone, he crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair, and listened to Evelyn and Jim’s story, amused by the way they traded sentences.

“Every single one of Joey’s teeth has been lost in some traumatic way,” Jim said, waving his hands around. “The first one came out the second day of kindergarten.”

“The children left school that day traumatized.”

“Like they’d just returned from war. Blood on their little shirts—”

“Older and wiser. They’d seen a thing or two.”

“And the second one came out during a soccer game. A ball hit her right in the mouth. We asked if she could be brave and walk off the field and she dramatically asked for a stretcher.”

Wells laughed. A real, loud laugh that made Josephine look at him funny. “She’s gotten a lot braver since then, I guess. Run her over with a golf cart now and she doesn’t even flinch.”

“Oh, come on, I more than flinched. I howled.”

“Not long enough to stop yelling at me,” Wells pointed out.

Josephine smiled. “Yelling at you always takes priority.”

Christ. I want to kiss her and never come up for air.

“We just about died, seeing that happen on live television,” Evelyn said, fanning herself with a limp cloth napkin, which couldn’t possibly be producing enough wind to be worthwhile.

“That’s when your whole turnaround started,” Jim said, tilting his head curiously. “You birdied damn near every hole after the accident. Why is that?”

“It’s a boring story,” Josephine said quickly.

“No, it’s not,” Wells disagreed, unable to keep his expression from turning cocky. “She had my name painted on her toenails. I caught her blue-toed.”

Josephine slapped her hands over her face.

“How delightful!” Evelyn split a glance between them. “But I still don’t understand why that would spur you into such a comeback.”

Now everyone was looking at him, waiting for an explanation.

Did he have one? That he could put into words?

“Well, uh . . .” He scrubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I guess I grew up needing just one person on my side, you know? Just one. I finally had that for a while—someone on my side—but that experience only taught me that people come and go. Not Josephine, though. And I guess her toes reminded me that . . .” He blew out a breath. “Having Josephine on my side is more like having a whole army. And I wanted to fight, too.”

Somewhere, ten miles away, a pin could be heard dropping.

Jim reached for his drink and took a long, healthy gulp.

Josephine stared at Wells with an unreadable expression.

Evelyn dabbed at her eyes with the cloth napkin. “Isn’t that lovely?” She whooshed a breath up toward the ceiling and refocused on Wells with glassy eyes. “You said you didn’t have anyone on your side growing up. Where were your parents?”

“Mom . . . ,” Josephine murmured.

“No, it’s okay.” Wells reached over and squeezed her knee under the table, his chest expanding to twice its size when she wove their fingers together. “When I was twelve, my parents got jobs on a cruise ship. I’d been a lot of trouble, getting kicked out of school, refusing to come home when I was told, fighting. They just needed a break, you know?” He tried to smile, but it never quite formed. “Anyway, after that, they were always traveling. The times they were home, they needed to blow off steam, I guess. They partied a lot. I started staying with my uncle . . . and one afternoon, my parents docked after a trip to Mexico and . . . I just didn’t go home. No one really addressed it. I just stopped going home.”

A wave of embarrassment caught Wells off guard. Why was he ruining this brunch—his girlfriend’s birthday brunch—by telling this sob story? The Doyles had never missed a milestone in Josephine’s life. Probably never forgot to pack her a school lunch even once. His backstory probably sounded pathetic to them. So he tried to make light of it to alleviate the heavy mood he’d caused.

“I mean, if anyone understands blowing off steam, it’s me. I’m sure you’ve seen the evidence of that on the news,” he joked, no longer sure he should be holding Josephine’s hand after reminding them he’d been in jail. Not exactly boyfriend material for their incredible daughter. But when he tried to take his hand back, she held on.

“Look what they’re missing out on,” she said for his ears alone, brushing a thumb across his knuckles. “Look what so many people have missed out on.”

Someone started singing.

Several someones.

Wells was so busy looking into Josephine’s eyes that it took him a moment to realize their table was surrounded by singing waiters and waitresses. They’d set a cupcake down in front of Josephine, a candle stuck in the center.

“That’s the sugar-free one?” Evelyn mouthed to one of the waitresses, not so discreetly.

Josephine gave Wells a playful eye roll, before continuing to watch him steadily.

When the birthday song had nearly reached its end, she leaned over and settled her mouth against his ear. “Have you ever had a birthday party, Wells?”

What was happening inside his chest?

Pressure built more and more, crushing his windpipe.

He gave a stilted shake of his head.

She didn’t let any pity show and she’d never know how grateful he was for that. “Blow the candles out with me?”