Danielle "Dani" Joyce has been working long hours and living paycheck to paycheck to keep her bakery, The Dough Divas, open. Spending all her time at the store, her only romantic outlet is to crush on regulars like Justin Waverly. She keeps her flir...
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After that, I ate my lunch in silence.
It then took half an hour to go from the sunroom to Wes's car.
If Wes had his way, we would have gone straight through the house and out to the driveway without looking back. However, no matter how he might feel or what he might say, I was still raised to be courteous, and I wasn't leaving without giving my goodbyes.
Admittedly, I had hoped that'd just be going up to Wes's uncle and aunt, thanking them for hosting and inviting me, as well as saying farewell to his immediate family members. Of course, I knew that's not how it would actually go. Once they caught me hobbling along next to Wes, the picnic rabble silenced, and all eyes turned to our corner of the lawn. Then they made their way over. Some at a restrained pace; others, particularly the younger crowd, in a full on dash. They wanted to know how I was doing, how big my ankle had swollen, and if I'd be sticking around for the rest of the picnic.
I could hear Wes biting back his words, grinding his teeth, and huffing with disapproval, but I was actually grateful for their company. It made it all the easier to forget how I had my arm hugged around Wes's torso, while his own hand settled beneath my armpit. He was doing what he could to keep me light on my one good foot, but that also placed his fingers dangerously close to a rather sensitive area. Now and then, through no fault of his own, the tips of his fingers grazed the side of my breast and a fresh wave of burning needles prickled my skin and glided up the side of my neck, raising my hair and burning my cheeks.
Eventually, though, we came to the side of the house and the driveway was in sight. People backed off, waving happily as we shuffled to the car. When he opened the door and slid me into my seat, part of me was grateful for the removal of his tantalizing fingertips and another part of me felt colder without him by my side. When he shut the door, I took a deep breath and wondered how long I could go before I'd come to terms with my feelings for Wes.
I watched the driver's side door from the corner of my eye, waiting for him to take his seat. However, when he didn't show up after a minute or two, curiosity superseded my nervous heart and I looked out my window for my missing chauffeur.
Some distance away, Wes spoke with his mother. She gestured with her hands, pleading with him. He scratched the back of his head and looked to the side instead of in her eyes. Eventually, he shrugged and gave her an answer. Betty seemed content with his response and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Then she went back to the picnic, and he returned to the car.
Whatever the matter between him and Betty was, he didn't feel the need to elaborate on it as we drove back into the city. Figuring it must have been nothing of importance, my thoughts drifted to other matters. Some of which involved hijacking the car from Wes, driving off to the countryside, and staying in a quaint B&B, where I could learn more about him without this constant cloud of his family hanging over his head.
I decided that since I couldn't ask the brother of my supposed fiance to whisk me off for a romantic weekend, I could at least clear away that cloud, so that what time we did have together was a sunny experience.
