A Man Who Knows What He Wants Box Set 5 Page 7

  We pull up to Bryson’s little house. It’s small but even from the outside you can tell that it’s cozy. I can only imagine how much homes cost out here, not to mention I know we’re pretty close to the beach. He even has some surfboards leaning against the side of the house and a few more in a rack. No wonder the guy stays so fit.

  I feel like most firefighters I see are in their mid twenties. The ones on TV always seemed older, but in real life the ones I’ve seen are always so buff and fit and just very heroic looking…because they are.

  But even at thirty-one I know Bryson still has what it takes to handle any situation. The way that shirt hugs his body gives me a pretty good indication that he hasn’t lost a step physically since the first time I saw him.

  And the best part is that although I’m sure he’s lifting weights and doing gym stuff, I can see from his outdoor “toys” that he gets in a lot of his fitness in ways that are more fun, interesting, and taking advantage of the California weather and lifestyle.

  I definitely want to try to surf too! I want to try a lot of things here. And of course I want him to be my “guide.”

  He’s older, stronger, and wiser. And he’s so freaking easy on the eyes. Perfect actually. What more could I want?

  A lot actually. I want this to work out between us. No way I’m moving back home with my mom and dad. And no way I’m looking for a real job right now. I have to explore what we can be first, even if he has no intentions of anything other than a working relationship with his best friend’s little sister.

  It’s a new generation. Women can do whatever they want and go after whomever they want. They can be the pursuer as well as the pursued.

  I’m definitely not out to be an aggressive type of girl, but I’m also not going to miss any opportunities to present myself in a way that just might make me irresistible to him. And I’ve got the perfect swimsuits for when we do get in the ocean. Fireman like red, right? I mean his fire truck is red. His SUV is red. And the suit that I’m conveniently a little too full and curvy for in all the right places is…red.

  But this isn’t all just fun and games. There’s another life involved here. Two actually.

  I want to do everything I can to get Delilah’s life off on the right foot. I don’t know the entire story about what happened with her birth parents, but I know she’s already fighting somewhat of an uphill battle being adopted, and by a guy who doesn’t have any experience with kids. I have absolute faith that Bryson will do his best to figure it all out as quickly as he can, but still…there are just things that a women will be able to do for her that a man can’t.

  And my job is to be that woman.

  Be that woman for Delilah while showing Bryson I can be a somewhat different kind of woman…the kind he needs.

  He parks his SUV and I get to work on carefully helping Delilah out of her car seat.

  I pick her up in my arms and carry her to the door while Bryson is right behind me with my luggage as he reaches into his pocket for the keys to the house.

  It’s strange. I should still be feelings overwhelmed by everything that’s happening so fast but this moment feels unequivocally like something entirely different.

  It feels like a young family returning home from a vacation.

  And when Douggie barks and greets us as the door swings open I can’t help but notice just how perfect this feels.

  I feel way too comfortable before I’ve even taken a full step through the door.

  And now that I’ve got my foot in the door both literally and metaphorically, I’m going to do everything I can to stay in.

  Chapter Four

  Bryson

  I can’t believe how much of a natural Aubrey is with Delilah.

  And I’m extremely happy that Delilah is so comfortable around Aubrey.

  I was watching super closely to see how Delilah would react the first time Aubrey picked her up. Aubrey was very careful with her in the backseat, making sure to support her body and her head, and carefully placing her against her chest as she brought her inside.

  I didn’t hear a single peep out of Delilah. It’s a great first step.

  And Douggie looked almost happier to see Aubrey than he did to see me! What ever happened to the saying man’s best friend?

  But this is exactly what I want.

  I want everyone in the house to feel calm and relaxed around our new resident, and I want Aubrey to feel just as comfortable around us all. I want her to be herself.

  And the more I think about it it makes sense that both Delilah and Douggie fit in so well with her.

  Aubrey is a bit of an old soul. Not too much, but she’s always been more mature, both physically and more importantly mentally. She can relate really well with others no matter their age. And she’s happy to spend time with people who are older than she is. I remember her brother mentioning how much time she spent over at her grandparent’s house when she was growing up. How she enjoyed doing needlework with her grandma more than she did playing with kids her own age. And how she would help her grandpa make grape juice from the few vines they had in their backyard. Now it totally makes sense how she was able to make such good lemonade that first day we met.

  And today is the perfect day for me to return the favor.

  Before I know it Aubrey is getting Delilah changed. Wow, that was fast. I didn’t even know she needed it, let alone Aubrey knew where I kept the diapers and where I changed her. Is she this intuitive when it comes to everything?

  She gets Delilah into her crib, which is on wheels so I can actually move it throughout the house when need be, while I get Douggie some water and run him around outside a bit. He’s got a lot of pent up energy after I had to leave him in the house by himself for a bit while I ran to the airport.

  I go back inside and show Aubrey to her room. My house is a two bedroom and the Spanish layout is such that our rooms share a wall. I’ve never bothered to put a door on my room favoring that open style where the doorways just kind of curve at the top like a half circle, but I did hang a door on Aubrey’s a few days ago. No way could I invite her here and not offer her any privacy in the little personal space she has.

  I leave her to it and let her know I’ll make us some lemonade so we can relax and get to know each other a little better once she gets a chance to freshen up. She’s very receptive to the idea and I get to work on putting together the perfect picture of summer’s best drink.

  But all the while I’m chopping lemons all I can think about is how she’s in my house right now. Not more than twenty or so feet from me taking off her clothes then standing nude under the cool water of the shower. I picture the drops beading against her skin as she runs her small hands over that perfect body of hers. Damn, I wish those were my hands.

  The knife comes down crooked on the lemon and cuts into the top of the cutting board missing my thumb by mere millimeters.

  Focus Bryson. Focus.

  I continue preparing our pitcher and just a few minutes later I’ve got it put together.

  I turn to take it out back into my small backyard, but as I turn I’m immediately greeted by the sight of her in front of me.

  She takes showers faster than I thought possible for a girl.

  “Hope you don’t mind my turban,” she jokes. “I just had to wash my hair after being on the plane. I’m not a hypochondriac or anything but being in close quarters with so many people it’s best to remove any and all germs I can. Especially now that I’ll be around such a young child so much.”

  I nod, trying not to let my eyes run down her body.

  I’m totally impressed. I would have never thought about that. Granted I wash my hair every time I take a shower, mostly because I’m a guy and washing my hair is no big deal. It’s what we do.

  But here she is thinking about Delilah’s health and well-being. I like that. I really like that.

  And what I like even more is the way her face looks so fresh. Her skin is so immaculate. So perfect. So taunt after what must hav
e been a cold shower. I can even see a few droplets still on her chest. And she’s put on a fresh white top and what appears to be loose fitting linen pants. She’s a little bit blocked by the island I have in my kitchen, but I can kind of see around part of it.

  She looks like she belongs on a Greek island or maybe Mallorca right now. Not in my kitchen, not that I’m complaining one bit.

  She screams relaxed summer sophistication and my cock is screaming that it wants out of these pants that are trying, and failing, at keeping my very obvious erection from making me look like a high school boy with a lust he can’t control.

  And that’s how I feel. But this is so much more than lust. This is a feeling that I’ve felt ever since I laid eyes on her for the first time. The way you know someone’s not only right for you physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. There’s no drama when it comes to her and she connects with people who are older.

  What in the world could be better for me?

  Ab-so-lutley nothing.

  She’s perfect. Oh so perfect.

  Chapter Five

  Aubrey

  Bryson hands me a glass of lemonade and I sit down in a chair in his backyard next to him.

  That light breeze runs across my face again. The branches of the tree above me sway ever so slightly as they provide the perfect shade from the sun overhead.

  And the lemonade…it’s the perfect combination of sweet and sour. Lemonade is a hard drink to get right because it depends heavily on personal taste.

  And my personal taste is completely in him and these surroundings.

  I absolutely love his house. It’s not some big McMansion where half of the house goes unused. It’s smaller. I can imagine generations passing through these halls, brushing into each other…sitting close at the dinner table…just a whole lot of love, closeness, and togetherness. Exactly what anyone would ever want.

  “I’m off the next few days,” he says. “I took a few days off to help you get acclimated to the area and to Delilah.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

  “I didn’t want to throw you feet first into the fire, no pun intended.”

  “Yeah, I can see there are a lot of differences here compared to what I’m used to.”

  The main difference that I’m finally next to you having a one-on-one conversation.

  “It’s an incredible place to live. There’s the Santa Barbara bowl for open-air summer concerts. There’s the university, which puts on events from time-to-time. There’s a lot of art that comes through here, thanks to the number of wealthy people that call Santa Barbara home. And of course there’s the ocean, and the laid back beach life that goes with it. You see the family with their golden retrievers down by the shore every night. It’s like a postcard, or a stock photo for a ‘happy family.’”

  We both laugh a bit and then he takes a sip of his lemonade. I do the same, finding myself mirroring his behavior unconsciously.

  “Speaking of happy family, how are things going for you and Delilah.”

  Bryson body goes still as he looks off into the distance. He doesn’t reply right away.

  “It’s good,” he says. But his body language finishes his sentence by giving off an “all things considered” vibe.

  I still don’t know how Delilah came to him or why he’s raising her in the first place, but I would like to know at some point. I feel like it would help me understand the dynamic between the two of them as she gets a little older and more importantly it will help me understand Bryson more.

  And of course if and where I can fit in here.

  “That’s good,” I say.

  “It is,” he says. “She deserves to grow up happy. It’s what her father would have wanted.”

  The first clue, but I don’t want to push.

  “I think you deserve to know what happened…what you’re getting yourself into, so it’s best I tell you upfront.”

  His fingers tap across the arm of his chair in succession before suddenly stopping as he grips the edge.

  “There was a fire here in the city. It was pretty bad. When we arrived there was a screaming mother who was being held back from going inside the home to get her child.” He exhales hard. “Me and one other firefighter went in. We knew we didn’t have much time before the house collapsed or there was a possible explosion. We took different floors. I wound up finding the dog. My partner wound up finding the child. Amazingly we got both out, but Dave…he just took in too much smoke. The baby crib had been placed right by a window and to this day I still don’t know how that child survived, but somehow she did. Dave did a great job bringing her out. If he wasn’t so good at his job he would have saved her, but then lost her bringing her back through the house. But he didn’t. He’s that good.”

  He pauses and takes a drink of his lemonade.

  “So he gets her out. The paramedics start doing their thing and the mother is completely freaking out, as she should be. One second she’s ecstatic, so happy that we got her baby out, the next she’s wondering if her child’s going to make it. In the meantime Dave kind of steps aside while nobody’s really watching him. He’s not making a scene or anything, he never did, and all the smoke he inhaled started to catch up with him. He collapsed on the front yard and then we had the paramedics working on two people.”

  He taps the bottom of his glass three times on the armrest and looks off to the side, away from me. “Somehow the kid made it, but Dave didn’t. And the irony and one of the reasons why Dave is such an amazing guy is that he saved a child for someone else, but in the process he left his own child without a father. And her mother left a week after Delilah was born. Some guy she’d met from Paris on the Internet had convinced her that a chance at a life there was better than the one she had here. The one that sure seemed good to me was worth throwing away for him. Apparently the plan was to sneak away without Dave knowing and have Delilah there with this new guy, but then at the last second the new guy decides he doesn’t want someone else’s kid. Dave’s wife goes ahead and gives birth but the second she’s back on her feet she’s on a plane. Unbelievable.”

  I recognize that Bryson doesn’t mention Dave’s wife by name and that he’s talking about Dave in the present tense, “is such an amazing guy,” like he’s still alive. I can see these wounds are still very fresh.

  I know Bryson needed a babysitter, but now I see that his life is probably overwhelmed in a lot of different areas too.

  “So Delilah is Dave’s little girl,” he says. “More lemonade?”

  He tips back his glass and takes mine from my hand heading back into the kitchen.

  I feel the tears stream down my cheeks. This situation is a lot heavier than I thought. As much as I’ve always wanted Bryson for his looks, his charm, and all the other masculine traits he has the fact that he has this very human, sentimental side just makes me want him that much more. He was so loyal to his friend, even to the point of adopting his child…a little girl. And from what I can gather from the brief time I’ve been here I don’t think he has a lot of experience or knowledge when it comes to this.

  But he’s trying. Is he ever trying.

  He’s doing his best. And even though he might be a hot mess right now, it’s something I can relate to. Half the time, okay more than half, I have no idea what’s going on with my life and I feel like it’s a complete wreck…and it’s almost always because of my own doing and my own decision making…or lack thereof.

  Bryson made a decision that he knew would be challenging. That he knew he wasn’t prepared for. But he had to. He’s a man of conviction and honor and I’m so honored to be able to be around a man like him.

  I go to wipe the tears from my face with the back of my hand but suddenly a tissue appears out of nowhere.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking it as I dob at the wetness.

  Bryson sets my topped up glass down next to me and sits back down.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

 
“It’s okay,” I say.

  “It’s just that you’re an adult and you deserve to know. You’re involved now…if you want to be that is. If not I won’t hold it against you one bit. I’ll personally pay for your ticket back home or anywhere in the country you want to fly.”

  “No, no. I’m staying.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “But you realize I’m in way over my head here and I’m going to need a lot of help.”

  “Well figure it out…together,” I say.

  His hand closes to me comes off his armrest and he extends it in my direction. I extend my hand as well and place it in his.

  I feel his hands size first, and then notice it’s warmth. He squeezes my hand tight and I feel a lot of things but most importantly I feel like we’re connected.

  We’re in this together and we’re going to figure it out. And I already figured out long ago that this is the man I want by my side no matter how big the challenge. And I’m ready to show him he made the right choice by choosing me.

  Chapter Six

  Bryson

  I knew she was the right choice.

  I look up at the white stucco ceiling in my room. I’m having one of those moments when you realize you’ve faced a major crossroads and you made the right choice.

  She’s the right choice.

  Perfect in fact.

  Just seeing how much she’s grown when she got off that plane. She isn't a girl anymore. She was a stunning young woman.

  And then today in the backyard when I dropped a bomb on her she handled it with elegance, ease, and a spirit that said she’s ready for this challenge.

  How did I get so lucky?

  And to think she’s not more than ten feet from me in the room next to mine. I hope she’s sleeping peacefully…that she’s finding her accommodations suitable. I want to check on her, but that just seems too creepy. Imagine if she woke up and found me looking in at her.