THE WRIGHT SECRET (Wright #4)

3. Morgan

3

Morgan

“So, are you and Patrick finally…you know?” Steph asked me.

I laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“In high school, the puppy-dog eyes were annoying, but now, he’s just an i***t if he doesn’t see it.”

“He’s not an i***t. He just has no interest in me. I’m fine with it.”

Steph snorted. “Yeah. Uh-huh. I’ll believe that when pigs fly. You can’t fool me. I knew you long before you were CEO of Wright Construction. Which, by the way, congratulations!” Steph squeezed my hand and did a little jig.

“Thank you.” I was glad that we were moving the conversation away from Patrick. It was hard enough, being stuck in my head with the constant loop that he didn’t want me. It was another thing to talk to another person about it and realize how lame I sounded, still pining for him.

I took another long drink from the beer in my hand and turned my attention back to Patrick. He was talking to his parents and Thomas by the grill. Other people had shown up for Steph’s party a while ago, but it was still pretty small. I was glad it wasn’t a huge event.

As if he could feel me looking at him, Patrick glanced in my direction. Our eyes met, and I waited for him to make some stupid face or nod in my direction or just plain ignore my gaze. That was the norm after all.

But he didn’t do any of those things. In fact, he stared back at me. My body heated at that look. His eyes were saying a hell of a lot more than I’d ever seen there before. He swallowed hard as his eyes swept my body from top to bottom. And I wasn’t f*****g imagining it. When he had first come out of the house, I’d thought that look was a mistake maybe. But there it was again. Something had changed…and I didn’t know what it was. Or if I was reading into things.

When he hastily turned away, I tried to clear my head. This was Patrick. He didn’t see me that way. Though I’d always wanted for things to move forward, I never really believed I had a chance. Even when I was going to ask him out earlier, it had been more to put a final nail in the coffin. I’d assumed he’d turn me down, and then maybe I could move forward.

Now, I didn’t know what to think.

Patrick and Steph’s parents served burgers on paper plates with sides on a foldout table in the back. I mingled with some of the girls I’d gone to high school with. Even though many of them still lived in town, I never saw anyone. I didn’t really have time, and we didn’t have a ton in common. My life was work, and theirs were their families.

I picked up my fourth beer from a cooler when I felt Patrick’s presence at my side.

“Hey, lightweight. Are you going to be okay with that?”

I sent him a dazzling smile as I popped the top. “I don’t think I’ve had a drink since that night we got smashed at Louie Louie’s this summer. I forgot how good it felt to relax.”

“Good thing you’re not driving.”

“Oh God, you know I’d never.”

“I know. That’s why I’m sober as fuck.”

I laughed and nudged him. My buzz had loosened everything up.

Good-bye, inhibitions.

Patrick steadied us both by placing his hand on the small of my back. Something ignited inside me. All I could think about was kissing him. His lips weren’t far from mine. I just had to stand up on my tiptoes. I leaned forward into him until our sides were nearly pressed together.

“Patrick?”

“Yeah?” he said, his voice coming out strained.

“I’m glad I came with you.”

He released a strangled cough and then pulled back from me. He became suddenly infatuated with the shirtsleeves he’d rolled up on his button-down earlier.

“I’m glad you decided to come to the party. Maybe we should lay off the beer,” he suggested. He snagged a water from the cooler and passed it to me.

My cheeks heated when I took it from him, avoiding eye contact.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’d made that sound so freaking s****l. Why did I think he’d want to kiss me? God, I really need this water.

I started downing the bottle just as Thomas cleared his throat and drew everyone’s attention to him.

“Hey, everyone. I’m so glad that all of you could be here today for my lovely Steph’s birthday. Steph, could you come over here?”

Steph ran up to where he was standing with her arms raised high like she was Rocky. She winked at him, and he laughed.

“I know most of you don’t know me, but we both wanted to thank you for being here on this special day. And I’m especially glad that all of her friends and family are here in one place today.”

Then, he faced Steph and dropped to one knee. Steph gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as he produced a black velvet box.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“Smooth,” Patrick said.

“Stephanie Tara Young, will you marry me?” Thomas asked with a smile.

Tears ran down Steph’s cheeks as she nodded. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes.”

She pulled Thomas up to her and thoroughly kissed him. When she finally released him, he took the diamond out of the box and slid it onto her ring finger. Everyone cheered in celebration. Her dad popped open a bottle of champagne, and soon, we were all toasting the couple.

“Did you know about this?” I asked, sipping on the champagne.

Patrick shook his head. “I heard him talking to Dad earlier, so I guessed. But no one told me.”

“Pretty romantic of him to get everyone together like this for her.”

“Oh, yeah?” He shot me a questioning look. “Aren’t you normally president of Club Cynical?”

“Still am. Most of the people here I judged pretty hard when they got married and had kids. Hell, I felt that way about both Jensen and Landon.”

“But?”

“Well…since Sutton…”

“Right,” Patrick said.

I didn’t have to explain it to him.

My younger sister’s husband had died this summer. It was a tragedy like nothing else. They were young and hadn’t been married long. He’d left behind my now broken sister and their eighteen-month-old son, Jason. Sutton colored everything that I’d once found cynical with a new outlook.

“But I’m happy for Steph. Thomas seems like a great guy.”

“He is.”

Patrick nodded his head toward his sister, and I followed in tow. He picked Steph up when we approached and twirled her in a circle.

“Congrats, sis. I knew, someday, someone would love you,” Patrick said.

Steph smacked him. “Jackass.”

I cracked up and pulled Steph into a hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I can’t believe it!” she cried, thrusting her hand out toward me. The diamond was pretty massive with a halo around it. It fit Steph perfectly.

“It’s beautiful!”

I moved over to congratulate Thomas as well. We spent the rest of the party talking about all the plans that would have to go into the extravagant wedding that Steph clearly wanted. I even got wrapped up in the wedding talk. I’d had to help Sutton with her wedding after all.

But, by the end of the night, I was tipsy and exhausted. I hadn’t had this much people time outside of work in a while. It was nice and made me want to go home and crawl into a ball to recharge.

“You ready to head out?” Patrick sidled up to me and seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, but I have a question.”

“What’s that?”

“I thought I was promised mashed potatoes.”

Patrick shot me an incredulous look. “I didn’t promise them. I said, if you were lucky.”

I batted my eyelashes at him, hoping I looked innocent. “Are you sure I’m not lucky?”

He searched my face for a second before answering calmly, “Maybe you are. I guess I could make you some mashed potatoes at my place.”

I tried to mask my shock when I gripped the empty beer I’d been nursing for a while now. “That’d be good. You clearly owe me.”

“Clearly,” Patrick easily agreed.

We said good-bye to Patrick’s family. I got a knowing look from Steph that I chose to ignore, and then we were bundled back up in his SUV. Patrick tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel to the song on the radio, and I tried not to glance over at him.

This was friendly.

Just a friend offering to hang out.

There was nothing different.

Except…there was.

I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe the flirting. Maybe the looks. Maybe the ease in which he’d invited me over to his place.

I knew that I shouldn’t question when something this unbelievable happened to me, but, well, this was me. If something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. I followed my gut in business. My gut was telling me that something was happening with me and Patrick.

My heart might be singing a happy tune. My brain might be telling me I was an i***t. But I was following my gut. I hoped that this wouldn’t all blow up in my face.

Patrick parked his car in the garage at his house, and I followed him inside. I’d been to his place before a couple of times with Austin or for some kind of party. I’d never been here with only Patrick. The house felt empty with just the two of us in it even though it wasn’t that big of a house. I’d always liked that it was a modest size and cozy with furniture you were meant to relax in rather than for decoration. It was too homey to be a typical bachelor’s pad, like Austin’s house had been before he sold it. Everything about it screamed Patrick.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, pulling off his jacket and tossing it onto the back of a chair at the breakfast nook. “Want a drink? I have all of that top-shelf bourbon that Austin got rid of when he stopped drinking.”

“Uh, sure. I didn’t realize he’d given that to you.”

“Most of it he got rid of.” He pulled down a fancy bottle with a long, skinny funnel top. “But some of this stuff can only be purchased through the company, so he gave it to me. I keep it all put away when he’s over, and he doesn’t ask about it.”

“Smart.”

Patrick poured us each a glass and passed one to me. I took a tentative sip of mine and cringed. I liked bourbon, and this stuff was smooth, but, damn, was it potent. Patrick tipped his back like a shot and poured himself another.

Guess he’s not leaving anytime soon.

I kicked off the heels I’d been wearing all day and sighed in pleasure. “Oh my God, I’ve been waiting to get out of those torture devices.”

“I like them.”

“Yes, well, that’s one of the reasons women wear them.” I took a steadying sip of bourbon. “Also, I’m short.”

“You’re not that short.”

“I totally am. And, in this business, I get looked down upon enough for being a woman. I couldn’t imagine if I didn’t wear heels. I literally wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the eye.”

Patrick stepped toward me. He was over six feet tall and towering over my small frame. He was close enough that I could feel the heat coming from his body. My face flushed, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t from the alcohol.

“How the hell could anyone look down upon you for being a woman, let alone for being short?”

I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, but it happens constantly.”

“Those people are idiots. Height doesn’t mean anything about how capable you are. And being a woman doesn’t change the fact that you can run this company better than anyone else. If anyone says or acts differently because of that, it’s their problem. Not yours.”

“I know,” I said. “I try not to let it bother me. I’m here because I earned it. I’m here because I f*****g deserve it. The rest can go shove it.”

Patrick smirked, a quick, flirtatious thing. “Fuck.”

“What?” I asked, trying to decipher what was going on behind his tumultuous blue eyes.

He shook his head, as if he couldn’t decide what the hell he was doing. He looked so torn. I couldn’t even imagine that everything I had ever wanted was staring me right in the face. I willed my hand to move, willed it to reach out for him.

Why is that so difficult?

With a short breath, I set my drink down, leaned forward, and placed my hand against his forearm. His eyes snapped back to mine. I wasn’t mistaking his look now. Patrick wanted me.

My heart fluttered. My stomach catapulted. My mind buzzed.

This was real.

This moment was real.

“Morgan,” he said, his voice strained.

His hand moved down my arm and to my waist. My breath caught on contact.

“Yeah?”

He didn’t say anything else. Just slipped his other hand into my dark hair and tilted my face up toward him. Our mouths were an inch apart. I could taste the liquor on his breath and feel the heat from him. We were barely even breathing as we stood frozen in that moment for a second. Both of us desperate to move forward and also terrified to break that barrier between us.

Desperate and frantic and excited and petrified and delirious.

His nose brushed against my own, soft and gentle. A question. As if he couldn’t believe any more than I could that we were standing here, on the precipice. That all we had to do was lean, and we’d free fall right off the cliff.