Page 176 of The Havenport Collection

Sylvie

“ S o this is me.” I directed Wyatt down the long stone driveway.

“Wow. This is quite a house,” he said, marveling at the large brick federalist style mansion. It was hundreds of years old, large and imposing. Sadly, it was not actually my house.

“Keep driving.” He drove slowly around to the back of the property, looking at the large trees and formal gardens. “This is me.”

“Wow. This is so cool. Is it like a garage?”

“Technically, it’s a carriage house. When this house was built it was intended to store carriages and provide living quarters for servants. But over time it’s evolved.”

Using the keypad, I opened the large white garage door and led him inside the bay.

I gestured around. “It’s not much, but this is where I store my equipment, give lessons, and record.

” It was cluttered, but I loved this space.

I had spent the past few years outfitting everything for my musical purposes.

Thick rugs I had found at secondhand shops covered the concrete floor, and foam acoustic panels lined the back wall.

There were a few old floral couches covered with blankets and various instruments and sheet music scattered about.

He stroked his beard and smiled at me. “This is pretty incredible.”

I shrugged, warm from his praise. “I’ve lived here for a few years. My aunt and uncle own the main house. They’ve been renting this out for decades, and it was open around the time I moved back. It’s not fancy or anything.”

“I think it’s awesome. I love that you have this special musical haven. It feels like you.”

“Thanks. My apartment is upstairs, but this is where I spend all my time.”

We unloaded my gear from his truck, and I placed my guitar on its stand then turned to face him.

He was so handsome; the flutters in my stomach turned into a hurricane.

It was after midnight, but I wanted to keep hanging out with him.

I shut the garage door to try and keep the heat in as we stood, staring at each other for a few minutes.

I could hear my heart beating in my ears. “Sit down,” I said, gesturing to my nicest couch, a faded green number that had seen better days but was at least comfortable.

I walked over to my record player and found what I was looking for. I slid the album out of the sleeve, smiling at him as I did. I dropped the needle and let the music fill the air. “You seemed to really respond to this song when I played it tonight.”

He nodded, staring at me with smoky intensity.

“Are you a Simon and Garfunkel fan?”

“Isn’t everyone?” he replied. “My mom played them a lot growing up. And I don’t know—that song, it just speaks to me right now. Where I am in my life.”

I sat down next to him on the small couch, our thighs touching, and watched as he carefully slung his arm across the back, shifting me closer to his wide chest.

“Where are you in your life?” I asked.

He ran one hand through his hair. “You know. Starting over, nervous and worried about failure. Unsure of myself.”

I loved how open he was, how free of pretense and artifice. Wyatt was just Wyatt. He wasn’t trying to look or sound tough or guarded. I asked him an honest question, and he gave me an honest answer. I was smitten.

I inched myself over until I was curled up flush against his chest. He instantly wrapped his arm around me, tucking me into his side.

I loved the feel of his strength and tenderness enveloping me.

I felt the rise and fall of his chest and let the music fill the silence.

I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. But the attraction I felt toward him wasn’t strange; it wasn’t disorienting. It felt perfect.

“Whoever that terrible woman is,” I said, looking deeply into his eyes, “she has no idea what she threw away, Wyatt.”

He blushed. “Her name is Rachel, and I wouldn’t go that far.”

I sat up and narrowed my eyes. “I would. Most girls would kill for a guy like you.”

He leaned in, his eyes hungry and determined. “What about you, Sylvie? Would you kill for a guy like me?”

I pushed up onto my knees, bringing us eye to eye. I bit my lip as I leaned in close, so close I could see his pupils dilate. “I certainly would.”

He let out a groan as he lifted me up and onto his lap with ease.

I felt his whole body tense and then his mouth was on mine, his lips firm and lush while his beard tickled my chin.

This was not a gentle or tentative kiss.

This was the kiss of a man who knew what he wanted, a man who wanted to know the taste, the touch, and the feel of my body.

His strong hands moved down my body, gently skimming over my breasts and settling at my hips where he pulled me ever closer.

Every nerve ending in my body lit up with desire, making me involuntarily moan.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, playing gently with his shaggy hair as I deepened the kiss.

He groaned again, moving me up against what I could only assume was a very impressive erection.

I loved this; I loved the feeling of his hands on me. I loved making him groan and growl.

I bit his lip, and before I could catch my breath he had flipped me onto my back and had me pinned to the couch. I wrapped my legs around him, desperate for friction. Wyatt may have been quiet and unassuming, but he kissed like a sexy beast. And I wanted more. A lot more.

He pulled back. “I’m sorry, Sylvie. I didn’t mean to take advantage.”

I laughed, catching my breath. “Take advantage? I’ve been silently begging you to kiss me all night. Even before I knew your name, I wanted to throw myself in your arms.”

He smirked, sexy and confident, and pulled me into his lap.

His large, strong hands were everywhere, in my hair, gripping my hips, and teasing my breasts outside my sweater.

We explored one another, teasing, testing, and enjoying every second.

Suddenly, I was no longer exhausted. This was the most alive I had felt offstage in years.

Eventually, we came up for air. “I should go. It’s late.” He gently kissed my temple.

“You could stay,” I offered. I wanted to get him upstairs and into my bed as quickly as possible.

He shook his head. “I’m a gentleman, Sylvie.”

I pouted. “Then when can I see you again?”

“Today? Tomorrow? Whenever. I have a shift at the brewery in a few hours. Why don’t you come over and we can figure out your car battery?”

I nodded, sad that we wouldn’t be getting naked, but relieved I could see him soon.

“And then maybe you can show me around town?” he asked with a wink.

Wyatt let himself out, and I watched his truck drive slowly down the long drive back out to Main Street. My heart leapt the whole time he was in view.

I had dated my fair share—short and long-term relationships.

I’d had plenty of crushes and even thought I was in love once.

But this? This was on another level. This man—this good, decent, beautiful man had just fallen into my lap.

And what I felt for him was so much more than a crush or lust. A few hours with him and I felt something…

significant. Something real. How could that even be?

To have this person, my person, just show up in Havenport on a random January night? It was fate. It was kismet. It was meant to be.

Too bad I was moving away in three weeks.