Page 34 of One Week Wingman

It’s something I can relate to, all too well.

“I wasn’t always the suave, charming man you see before me,” I tell her lightly. Even though I’m not anywhere near drunk enough for these kind of confessions, there’s something about laying here in the dark treehouse that loosens my tongue. I find myself admitting something I never would usually share.

And especially not with a gorgeous woman.

“What do you mean?” Roxy crinkles up her forehead in a frown.

I sigh, sitting up so I’m leaning against the opposite wall. Which makes our legs overlap in the small space. “When I was younger… Well, let’s just say I did my share of comfort eating,” I tell her. “Sent away to boarding school, filling the gaping void inside with extra chips and sticky toffee pudding, and all that jazz. I was pretty awkward. And miserable. And definitely not catnip to the opposite sex. I didn’t even kiss a girl until I was seventeen,” I admit, feeling the faint echo of insecurity, all over again.

“No!” she cackles with laughter.

I tense.

“Sorry,” Roxy goes wide-eyed. “I didn’t mean… I just, can’t imagine it. You’re always so…You.”

“Thank you, I think,” I reply dryly.

“You know what I mean. So… What happened?” Roxy asks curiously. “To get you from that, to… this.”

I shrug, like it hadn’t been a mammoth challenge to escape the old version of myself. “I came out here for a study abroad program in college, and met the guys, and realized it was time to get my shit together. Diet, workouts, and sheer bloody determination did the rest.”

“And then the women came flocking,” Roxy teases.

“Something like that,” I smile back, but it feels a little hollow.

The truth is, they did flock. Once I dropped the weight, and figured out how to dress properly, I realized I could get any woman I tried. The English accent, plus my dry sense of humor turned out to be catnip, and just like that, I was the man I’d always wanted to be.

Successful, charming,wanted.

And yes, my therapist has pointed out that perhaps spending my childhood unhappy and unloved might have something to do with my inability to settle down. Always needing to prove I’m worth something, that I can seduce the next woman on the horizon.

Never letting any of them get close enough to know the real me.

It’s why I’m ready for this new chapter with the Modesto Vineyard—and why my friendships with the guys mean so much to me. Charlie, Dash, Austin, Flynn… They knew me before I was the dashing bachelor, back when I was still that awkward, wisecracking kid who kept a stash of candy bars hidden in my backpack. And they liked me all the same.

I wonder sometimes, if I will ever feel that way with a woman. Really, truly myself.

Roxy snorts and I look up. For a terrible moment I think she’s laughing at me, but it’s actually a snore.

I reach over and gently jostle her shoulder. “Rox. You’re asleep.”

Eyes still closed, she shakes her head. “M’not. Just resting…”

I laugh. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to get into my pants right now,” she says sleepily. “But OK.”

I smile. “I’m afraid you have two choices, “I tell her, “Either you climb down this rope ladder, and I can carry you the rest of the way inside. Or I roll you off the edge. And then, well, we’ll probably be heading for the ER.”

“Fine.” Roxy lets out a huff, and a yawn, crawling over to the ladder. Thankfully, she makes it back to solid ground in one piece.

“So close!” I cheer her quietly. “Just a little ways left to go.” I loop one arm around her waist, half steering, half-carrying her towards the house.

“Are you patronizing me?” she asks, looking up at me. Her face is illuminated in the moonlight, smiling and open. Something in my stomach thuds.

“Yes.” I reply.

“At least you’re honest.”

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