Snowflakes in Seattle

Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

OLIVE

T he clinking of flatware on plates pulled me out of my reverie.

I’d been back in Seattle, on Wyatt’s rooftop deck, where potted plants were in bloom, the lake serene, and the day warm.

Just a daydream.

In reality, I was in a ballroom at a boutique hotel in Phoenix. There was no houseboat, no lake. No Wyatt.

Not anymore.

Sometimes, I swore I could smell that sinful “Come to Daddy” body wash. Our too-short text thread was my new bedtime reading, and though I knew it was crazy, I looked for his hazel eyes and curls everywhere. Oh, how I missed my sexy, scruffy old man.

I blinked, refocusing on my surroundings. Pear reached over and squeezed my hand as if she knew exactly where my thoughts had wandered. Or maybe because she knew I had never spoken in front of a crowd this large. Hundreds of people were in attendance at this awards luncheon, including my parents and a large contingent of staff from Blake Builds.

Being Valentine’s Day, the ballroom had been decorated in red and white, with clusters of balloons at each table and enough XOXO and heart confetti on the tables to clog the Salt River. The award recipients so far had been given single red roses along with their plaques like we were on The Bachelor.

The event was long and bordered on saccharine, and my nerves were shot. At least the lunch—pillowy ravioli, salad, and heart-shaped tiramisu—had been tasty.

Pear leaned over. “You’re next, Ol,” she whispered excitedly.

My bestie was beaming, her dark eyes twinkling. She’d been beaming since she’d arrived back from the Maldives with a few leaps of faith under her belt and a boyfriend on her arm.

My stomach gave a queasy gurgle. No mistake, I was super touched by this award. Community impact was the goal I’d been working toward without thought of recognition. I tried to lead by example at Blake Builds, hiring inclusively and improving old paradigms of leadership. A community that recognized the importance of elevating women in business was my kind of community.

Still, I wasn’t excited about giving a speech. No wonder my mind had gone to a magical place a thousand miles away.

The emcee, a local morning talk show host, began explaining the community impact award. Sweat sprung to life on my hands. I clutched the white napkin in my lap in a death grip. How was I supposed to talk when my mouth was Sonoran-desert dry? And why the hell did a speech scare me when skydiving, cliff jumping, and riverboarding didn’t? I heard my name and title, and forced a smile on my lips. My heart was pounding as I stood to boisterous applause.

I threw a wide, panicked glance at Pear, who was clapping louder than anyone. “That’s my girl,” she mouthed.

Nodding, I made my way to the stage, wobbling a bit in my wedges. I smoothed damp hands over my flirty yellow wrap dress, locally made by a small, woman-owned company, of course, because what were we celebrating here?

In a daze, I climbed steps, shook hands, and positioned myself in front of the mic on the podium. I could hardly comprehend the sea of bodies, couldn’t resolve any of the faces. Luckily, I’d practiced, so my speech started flowing. I don’t know what I said. Total fugue state. Hopefully I mentioned the Amanda Gorman quote about change. Hopefully I didn’t embarrass my parents or myself.

I was pulled back into the present by the summery smell of roses. A giant bouquet had been placed in my arms. Sighing with relief, I thanked the organization’s chair and the emcee, and made my way off stage. The turbulence in my stomach started to settle. It had been almost as bad as that Seattle flight that had brought me to?—

Wyatt.

No. Couldn’t be.

The man leaning casually against the ballroom’s wide doorway was just some other handsome, beardy guy. Those smooth waves and the windowpane suit with pink pocket square could not belong to my crush. No way he owned a pocket square. No way he was in Phoenix.

I was daydreaming again. Or unconscious.

Except the closer I got to my table, to him, the clearer the truth became.

Wyatt was here— here —in Phoenix, in this ballroom. With me. With pride, desire, and awe on his face.

The turbulence started all over again, and this time I welcomed it.

I barely glanced at Pear as I neared the table. I didn’t search for my parents in the crowd. No, I was glued to the mirage in the doorway. “Be right back,” I whispered, setting the bouquet and plaque on my chair.

I half-expected the image of Wyatt to fade as I moved closer. Instead, a smile crossed his face as he began to inch backward, out of the ballroom. Out of sight of the crowd. I nearly broke into a run. A few seconds and those arms could be around me. My heart started to beat madly, wilder than it had on stage. Wyatt was here. The man from my past in the present.

My body crashing into his was the best feeling in the world.

“My Olive.”

My aching heart healed hearing those words, as I leapt into his arms and he caught me.

“Old man,” I replied, my lips on his cheek. His solid arms held me tight as my legs went around his waist. I should have asked questions. I should have cared about the spectacle I was making, but I only cared about Wyatt.

“I’m so proud of you. So damn proud. I missed you so much. You’re just fucking everything, dream girl. My everything.”

I squeezed him tighter with all my limbs. “I love you,” I whispered.

He leaned back, staring at me, mouth open in surprise. He huffed out a breath as a disbelieving smile overtook his face. “I love you , Olive Blake. That’s why I’m here. There is no future without you, no Wyatt without Olive. You’ve given me all new dreams. That’s crazy, right?”

I nodded, pulling his face to mine, sighing as the taste of his lips awoke my senses. “So crazy. We’re nuts.”

“Oh, well. I’ll be crazy for you,” he murmured, swiping his tongue against mine. My back had come to rest against the wall. “I’ll give it all up for you, dream girl. Just tell me that’s what you want.”

I shook my head, stealing another kiss. “We’ll figure it out. First, I want you.”

I wanted more of this feeling of wholeness. Of rightness. Of fate finding its way.

He glanced around the foyer, where waiters scurried around with coffee service and trays of half-eaten meals. A wicked gleam lit in his eyes, a matching smirk not far behind.

“There.” He tipped his chin toward the stairwell door.

Like he had done with me after our first kiss, I practically dragged him through the door.

All was silent in the stairwell. We were alone.

Without hesitating, he backed me up against the wall next to the door. If it swung open, we’d be temporarily blocked from view. If someone came down the stairs, however, we’d be screwed. A thrill snaked through me, a heat kindled by the fire in his eyes and the dark desires in my own heart.

He’d remembered.

Strong, calloused hands snuck under my dress, rough and ready. Wyatt’s tongue teased mine as he removed my underwear without effort or words. My fingers were all over his face, lost in his hair, getting reacquainted with the pieces of him I’d fallen in love with.

My thong ended up in his pocket, and I was bare to the world in a hotel full of colleagues. That, and his firm grip on my ass, were hot as sin. Touching him again had cracked open the part of my heart where secrets and truth lived, where I let my dirtiest thoughts and deepest love dwell. I needed Wyatt to take me hard and fast and wild, right here. I craved more surrender at his hands.

But ladies first. My turn to dismantle and destroy.

Our kisses were desperate and messy, our sounds purely carnal. I had his belt off and his hard cock in my palm in record time. Seriously, I deserved another plaque.

“Damn, Olive,” he growled. He pushed off from the wall to shove his pants and briefs down his thighs. Wyatt Parker’s perfect backside and glorious cock were on display in public, for me. His mouth met my neck, sucking and biting. “I wish you were naked. I wish I could taste your tits and see how wet you are.” He dragged his hand through my slit to test the wetness, then circled my clit with slick fingers.

“Jesus,” I whispered.

He chuckled against my neck, and I shivered. Stars came alive in my blood as his fingers danced over my aching center. I gripped his cock harder, stroking softly in retaliation.

“Just like that,” he groaned.

Blatantly disobeying, I let go and flipped around, slapping my hands against the cement wall. I arched backward, grinding against his dick.

“Don’t you dare,” he warned. “Don’t you do it, Olive.”

But I did. I kept teasing, torturing, turning him on full blast with my movements.

“That’s it,” he growled, hand slamming down onto my hip as he shoved inside me. The other hand landed on top of mine on the wall, our fingers lacing together.

I cried out as he filled me, my gasps tinged with triumph.

“This what you wanted, boss?” he asked, jacking his hips hard enough to sink to the hilt.

“That’s what I wanted,” I breathed, bracing against the deep, rough roll of his hips. “Fuck me good, old man.”

God, he fucked me so good, pinching my nipples through my dress, circling my clit, gripping my hip. Then he pulled me away from the wall and held onto my hips with both hands as he slammed into me from behind. “Whose pussy is this?” he growled.

I couldn’t even answer, I was so lost.

“Whose?” he demanded, grabbing a handful of my ass with force.

I threw a glance over my shoulder. He was as lost to the moment as me, but I still saw love there. So much love. “Yours.”

“Fucking mine,” he agreed. He flipped me around and hoisted me into his arms, my back against the wall. I tried to kiss him but it was no use. I could do nothing but hold on while he fucked me. We just shared breath and shattered, his hip movements, his wild eyes, the wild moment, sending me off the cliff into freefall. When I hit the ground, I exploded into the most powerful orgasm I’d ever had, every inch of me, every atom of me, its own supernova, its own sun.

Wyatt tried to contain his shout as I pulsed around him, but he failed. His cry blew through my body and echoed up the stairwell, his grip on me tightening as his hips slowed.

“God, I love you,” he moaned, face buried in my neck. “Please, dream girl. Please tell me I can keep you.”

“Always been yours.” I found his lips, seeking gentle kisses as we both quaked through aftershocks. “The last six weeks have been hell. I’m no good at loving you from afar.”

His lips skimmed across my jaw. “Me, either. I hated it so much that I told my dad I wanted to leave Vertex.”

My head reared back, connecting with the wall. “Did you mean it?”

Wyatt cupped the back of my head, eyes full of concern as he dropped soft kisses all along my forehead. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

“What did he say?” I held my breath, hoping I hadn’t been the cause of a family feud.

Wyatt chuckled. “He told me to follow my damn heart and go get my girl. It’s what he did with Anita, and he told me he had no regrets. I expected more fallout, but it was fine. A whole lot of worry for nothing.”

“He could sell,” I mused, “and make a shit ton of money.”

Grinning, Wyatt pressed a warm kiss to my lips. “Already in the works. No freeloading for me, baby.” His smile faded. “But are you sure? You want me here, a permanent part of your life?”

“Put me down,” I demanded. He complied. I shimmied my dress into place and waited while he situated his own clothing. Finally decent again, I pivoted to push him against the wall. As I stepped between his legs, my hands found his cheeks, and I stared into his loving hazel eyes, willing him to feel my own sincerity. His hands came to rest on my waist, his gaze intent on mine.

“Wyatt Joseph Parker, for eighteen years you have been my happy place, this warm, kind soul in the back of my mind and center of my heart. I’ve made dandelion and birthday wishes for more time with you. I have always doodled my name with yours. For me, it’s always been you.”

He shook his head, and I could swear I saw tears in his eyes. “My little Olive. I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.” He pulled me into a hug, my head resting on his chest. We just stood there, tangled together. Eventually, his chest rumbled under my cheek. “Thank goodness for weird green fog.”

I giggled. “And Santa and his reindeer.”

“Hallelujah,” he agreed, and I heard the grin in his voice. “Let’s get out of here, boss. I’ve waited for this dream life and my dream girl long enough.”

Slipping my arm around his waist, I guided my man toward the door. “Sure. But there’s someone I need you to meet first.”