Page 64 of Concealed

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“It’s a surprise,” he says.

“I hate surprises.” I try to keep the excitement out of my voice, but it bubbles to the surface and makes him chuckle.

“Funny way of showing it. You’re basically bouncing.”

When he pulls into Wings Out, my heart starts racing. There are small planes everywhere, and a few people are scattered around the runways tidying up equipment.

“Your idea of a surprise is throwing me out of a plane?” I squeak.

“My boss’ wife owns this place. He told me we have to jump or I’m fired.”

He looks so serious, but surely… he can’t be. What kind of a boss would say something like that? Maybe he wants Wyatt to prove that he’s brave, but jumping out of a plane and hoping some fabric will save you from certain death isn’t brave.

It’s insane.

Insane!

“Then I’m sorry, but I guess you’ll need to find a new job,” I whisper.

Wyatt laughs. “I’m kidding. I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie and am definitely going to check this place out, but I don’t expect you to leap with me. I just wanted to see what your reaction would be.”

Something about him makes me want to throw caution to the wind and justbe. With his eyes shining and face lighting up, I would say yes if he asked me right now.

Thankfully, he doesn’t.

“Want to go down to the boardwalk?” he asks.

“Definitely. Anywhere my feet can touch the ground.”

Rock music and the rushing wind are the soundtracks while we drive to a secluded cove on the beach. The tourists have packed it in for the day, and since it’s a weeknight, the locals have to work tomorrow.

“How do you already know about this place?” I ask.

“It’s not from spending time with my other girlfriend,” Wyatt replies.

I’m shrieking inside because he just implied that I’m hisgirlfriendand squashed my insecurities at the same time.

“I spend a lot of time driving Miss Daisy – I mean, Wallace – so I’m learning my way around. A bunch of high schoolers used this spot to get drunk the other night if you must know.”

“Did you lock them up?”

“I drove them home. Knocked on their front doors, woke their parents up, and let them deal with it. Everyone needs a break sometimes. And a mom can enforce a better punishment than I ever could.”

I interlace my fingers with Wyatt’s, which are still on my knee. “You’re a good man. And a good cop, too.”

“Thanks, babe,” he says, and his voice is thick when he squeezes my leg.

For a guy who has struggled to prove himself – to his family, his superiors, and even the media – I’m grateful that my acceptance and appreciation of him can touch his heart.

We walk to the beach and plop down on the sand, watching the sun set over the ocean. It’s unreal how quickly I became comfortable with Wyatt, but he sets me completely at ease.

In an effort to get to know him better, I ask about his childhood. He tells me what it was like to grow up with an absent dad who was more interested in womanizing and politics than being a dad.

“His new kids are young, and they’re just props. You always see pictures of them in the papers with my dad, but it’s to help his image and campaigns. He doesn’t care about anyone except himself. And I’m just the bad seed he wants to send away.”

“I have no excuse,” I admit. “I grew up in a stable home with two parents and a brother who love me. I just pick douchebags, I guess.”

---