Alive At Night (Wildflower Series Book 1)

THERE WAS THIS SOCIETAL misconception that people were either created as early morning risers or late-night owls. That if they went to bed late, they hated waking up early. That if they woke up early, they never slept in. That their nighttime preferences had everything to do with sleeping and nothing to do with living.

I stayed up late because nights were when freedom existed.

And I was always so reluctant to give it up. To resign myself to the morning when the sun tended to bring an immediate agenda—one I had never known how to not stick to like glue.

I liked having my to-do lists, but sometimes I didn’t know how to live until everything was checked off.

Tonight was one of those nights, the ones I was reluctant to end.

Saying good night to Noah meant saying good morning to Julian tomorrow, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that after how he acted tonight.

Well, even if it weren’t for tonight, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go into the office tomorrow. Being around Julian the last few days had been exhausting. I didn’t know how else to explain it because I didn’t know where to place the feelings I’d experienced Saturday night. Or worse, Sunday morning.

Sunday morning.

I was between ninety and one hundred percent certain that Julian had kissed me. His lips on my skin, making me gasp. He’d found that spot, the one that caused all-over shivers and an unraveling in my gut.

Based on his reaction a second later—his accusations and unbridled irritation—he hadn’t realized who he’d been kissing. But that didn’t matter. The moment happened, and the memory clung to me. A constant reminder that Julian wasn’t that annoying boy from my childhood anymore.

He was a man, a full-grown man who was mind-numbingly attractive when shirtless and sleepy-eyed. The rumpled hair and the rippling muscles pinning me to the bed had only added to it. And just when I thought I might have been dreaming, his hips had shifted and—

Man. A man.

And on that Sunday morning in Julian Briggs’ bed, I was a woman who wanted him.

When he’d abruptly pulled away, I’d hated myself for feeling that way, but it was too late. And now it kept haunting me, worse than any Halloween horrors.

I’d learned the best way to hide from the dark was to bask in the light, and that was exactly what I was doing. Tonight, I’d clung to every little compliment Noah had tossed my way, every smile. Because I knew exactly where we stood and what our status quo was. And while Noah was still every bit a stranger, that was so much more comfortable than exploring something new that hid in the old.

Noah held open the door as we left the Bellflower, letting me walk into the night first before skirting around to bump me away from the curb and take his place beside me.

Poor guy had wanted to wait for Julian to come back, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his friend probably wouldn’t return. Plus that it was my fault. Only after Noah checked his phone to find confirmation that Julian had left did he give up, pay for our drinks, and insist on walking me home.

Sensing Noah’s confusion, I sighed. And admitted the truth.

“You know, he’s just mad at me about…this.”

I wiggled a finger back and forth between us, hoping he’d get the hint.

But Noah only frowned. “You think he’s mad at you?”

“He’s always mad at me.”

With a slow nod, Noah shoved his hands into his pockets. The bar had grown stuffy and warm, and Noah’s sleeves were now pushed up, highlighting the tattoos covering his forearms.

“Okay,” he said, drawing out the word, “but why do you think he’s mad at you this time?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “He thinks I’m stealing his friends. Just like I stole his sisters.”

“You think—” Noah cut off with a laugh. “I don’t know about that, Juniper.”

“Trust me,” I insisted. “He’ll definitely make some comment about it tomorrow in the office.”

Noah smiled. Genuinely smiled, and it confused me. “Kind of a twist of fate that you two ended up working together, huh?”

I wasn’t sure why everyone found this particular fact amusing when it was, in fact, incredibly irritating.

“We don’t just work together,” I corrected. “We share an office.”

Noah’s lips curved even further, his grin a reminder of how handsome he was—in and out of his jersey. “Like I said…fate.”

“Do you mean karma?” I asked, raising a brow. “Because I did have a rebellious streak when I was younger, so maybe this is retribution for my wrongdoings.”

Noah laughed, eyes twinkling as he looked over at me, but he didn’t seem entirely convinced. Luckily, he kept from arguing the point further, and we fell into a companionable silence while strolling through Boston.

Things with Noah were easy. We didn’t have much in common, but he still had that charm I remembered from college that translated into relaxed conversations and a sense of ease. It gave me hope for the wedding, which was close enough now that the ball of anxiety grew in my stomach every time I thought about it.

When he stopped in front of my apartment, Noah turned to face me. His eyes flicked over my face, and I grew warm, even considering the brisk fall air. Noah studied me closely, an obvious assessment that made me wonder what he was thinking. I probably wasn’t half as pretty as the girls he usually took out for drinks, but he was far too nice to ever let me realize that.

I opened my mouth to excuse myself, not wanting him to think I expected anything more than a whispered good night, when he cut me off.

“For the record, Juniper.” His voice was soft. “I would kiss you if I knew it wouldn’t cause problems with your coworker.”

“Oh, I—”

He put a finger to my lips. “Trust me on this one. Okay?”

All I could really do was whisper in reply.

“Okay.”

I was right.

I should have done more to keep last night from ending.

My morning so far had been unforgiving. So much so that I was tempted to call in sick. Or ask if I could work from home.

But I didn’t do either of those things. Giving up wasn’t on the to-do list for today. Instead, I picked up coffee for a handful of my colleagues—Julian included with his dreadful plain order—along with a menagerie of pastries before heading into the office. And after I’d delivered my morning treats to those who were already there—Julian was not, of course—I returned to my car. Two of my favorite houseplants, a peace lily and a pothos, sat in my trunk.

Julian would be annoyed. And that was fine. Perfect, actually. He could spend the morning pestering me about my plants invading our office, the donut powder coating our keyboards, and how I bought Cameron coffee again. He could scowl and call me all those flower nicknames he loved so much and forget about last night. He could forget about the weekend.

And we would forget everything.

Everything except what we already knew.

I’d still help him with the case if he needed it, but I enjoyed that kind of work, so it wasn’t a big deal.

“How was the rest of your date with Noah?”

Goddamnit. It had been hours now, and Julian hadn’t said a word about my plants. He hadn’t said anything about the coffee and donuts except thank you, and he hadn’t called me Daisy once. Not once.

Of course when he finally decided to open that annoying mouth of his, it was to ask that. He’d tossed the question into the office without even looking away from his computer. I barely heard it over my audiobook, though I had the volume low while I picked at my lunch.

The last thing I needed was for Julian to overhear and add my books to his list of things he pestered me about.

I pressed Pause and cleared my throat. “It wasn’t a date.”

Julian swiveled in his desk chair, seeming taken aback by my sharp tone.

“Okay…” He grappled with finding words for a moment. “Then, how was the rest of your night with Noah?”

I busied myself with watering the moonflower, using a desk-sized watering can I’d found at the farmer’s market last year. “I don’t want to talk about Noah.”

The rustle of movement behind me should have been my clue, but I still jumped when I turned to find Julian standing a breath away.

“Did he do something?”

A strange fire danced in his eyes. A tick jumped in his jaw. Anger flashed across his face. Anger at…Noah?

“He didn’t do anything,” I assured. “Not last night.”

Frowning, Julian took another step closer. I really wished he wouldn’t do that. Being so close to Julian made it hard to focus on…anything. Thinking. Talking. And frankly, I was afraid of liking it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he pressed.

All of this—it had been what I was trying to avoid. But clearly, it was unavoidable.

“It means he texted me this morning to let me know he can’t go with me to Sofia’s wedding anymore.”

My words lingered between us, hanging there. Julian sucked in a breath, almost like he needed to absorb what I’d said to make it true. Then his mouth opened and closed at least twice before he could say anything.

He was reacting better than Gemma had, although that was to be expected. Gemma had cursed Noah out in a string of text messages. But Julian was surprisingly calm.

“Why not?”

I shook my head. “Something to do with his football schedule.”

Julian’s frown deepened. “When’s the wedding again?”

“Not this weekend but the next.”

He nodded. And then kept nodding. Until finally, he cleared his voice. And for some reason, I realized he was about to say something that would mess with everything. It would make it harder to ignore the new mixing with the old.

“I’ll take you.”

Silence followed, broken only by my heart, which felt like it was hammering loud enough for the entire office building to hear.

No.

He couldn’t have said that. Julian volunteering to spend time with me? No.

“What?”

“Look, I know I’m not an NFL quarterback or anything, but…” He sighed, throwing his hands casually into his pants pockets and rocking back on his heels. And then an unexpected little smirk broke onto his lips. “But I clean up pretty well in a suit. And I owe you a date.”

Of course. It was his damn sense of fairness. His pride. The deal. But it wasn’t really fair. He likely didn’t realize exactly what he was offering.

“You’ll…go with me to New York for the weekend?” I clarified.

His restrained, nonchalant demeanor immediately shifted like I’d known it would. “It’s in New York?”

“It’s in New York,” I repeated, an odd mix of relief and regret filling me as soon as I said it.

He wouldn’t come with me to New York. There was no way.

“Noah was going to go with you to fucking New York? For the whole weekend?” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Goddamn, Daisy.”

The first nickname of the day, and I didn’t even understand what it meant.

“It’s really okay, Julian,” I said, trying to slide away from him, scooting along the edge of my desk. It would be easier to have this conversation if I couldn’t see how blue his eyes were. “You don’t have to come with me. I don’t even think I’m going to go anymore, so—”

“If you want to go, you’re going.” He said it stubbornly, a finality in the words as he crossed his arms over his chest. “And I’ll go with you. If I’d known I was setting you up to spend an entire weekend away with a guy who you’ve just met, I wouldn’t have done it.”

“Oh, I—” My throat momentarily closed as I took in his insistence, his commanding presence that I usually found over-the-top and unnecessary, irritatingly so. But now…I didn’t know what to think. “And you’ll pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Skepticism laced the question. I wasn’t ready to accept this. A few hours ago, I convinced myself that I wouldn’t even be attending the wedding. In a moment of overwhelming rejection, I swore off taking risks—risks like fake dates and meeting new siblings.

But Julian shrugged, unfazed. “We’ve already had some practice pretending. What’s a little more?”

A lot more. Did he not realize that it was going to be a lot more?

My skin began to heat up when Julian crowded me against my desk, and I tried really hard not to think about those moments in his garage. In his bed. What it felt like when his—

“I know you, Juni,” he said, knocking over my defenses with the sheer tenderness in the sentence. It caressed my skin like his lips had that morning. I froze as he swiped a piece of hair out of my face. “If you think anyone could fake being your boyfriend better than me, you’re dead wrong. Name one guy who’s known you as long as I have. Who knows you as well as I do.”

I blinked. There wasn’t anyone. But that wasn’t my concern.

“Yeah, but you have to be nice to me.”

Julian smiled, and goddamn, it seemed genuine. “I can do that.”

“No, I mean the whole time, Julian.” Anxiety threatened to storm on me, waltzing straight over my already lowered defenses. “Not just in front of other people. I’m already nervous enough about this wedding without—”

“I’ll be nice.” There he went with that soft voice again, confusing all my senses. “I promise. But you have to do a better job pretending that you like me than you did in front of Greg Kennedy.”

I gulped, lifting my gaze only to get assaulted by the brightness in Julian’s. I fought the urge to look away, to shield myself. But his apparent sincerity washed away my last bits of doubt.

“I can do that,” I whispered.

The expression that blossomed on Julian’s face at my answer shouldn’t be allowed. Not in this office, not near me. It told me, in very explicit terms, that this was a terrible idea. And his next words only confirmed that.

“Should we practice?”

“Oh, I don’t think we have to practice.”

I needed him to drop this idea right now. It was a terrible one. Julian had to realize that, right? He’d been there, in that bed. He should understand why we didn’t need any more blurring of whatever lines existed between us.

Although maybe he hadn’t felt what I had this weekend. Maybe the large-and-in-charge thing that had landed between my legs was nothing more than a sign that Julian had a healthy, functioning nervous system and superior blood flow. You know, normal manly morning things. Or maybe he’d been thinking about the woman he seemed to think was in his bed—whoever was on his mind when he kissed me.

That might explain why Julian smiled at me and said, “I’d disagree.”

“Why?”

“Well,” he drawled, sliding in closer with his hands in his pockets. “For starters, you need to work on loosening up a little bit when I touch you.”

“I’m loose,” I said defensively, resisting the urge to smack the cockiness off his face. He was making it sound like I was the only one here who needed practice. “I’m relaxed.”

“Really?” His smirk didn’t let up.

“Yes,” I insisted, trying to prove it to him by perching on the edge of my desk nonchalantly.

My attempt to look at ease failed when I didn’t know what to do with my hands, though. Finally, I settled with folding them awkwardly in my lap, placing them tactically over the tummy roll that appeared whenever I so much as slouched.

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t loose. And goddamnit, he wasn’t even touching me yet.

Julian looked like he was trying really hard to hold in his laughter. And while I appreciated the attempt not to laugh straight in my face, it would have been better if it weren’t so obvious.

“You look ready to spring off that desk, Lily,” he said once he finally managed to swallow his amusement.

“Well, it isn’t exactly a comfortable position,” I snapped.

“Then stop shrinking away from me and come over here.” He raised a brow. “I won’t bite.”

He might not bite, but that didn’t mean getting closer to him was a good idea. We already had enough confusing moments dancing around in my head. We didn’t need to purposefully add more.

So I wrinkled my nose and snarked at him—my go-to first defense. “You don’t bite, but you do smell.”

Julian’s lips twitched. “Am I the only one who’s required to be nice in this fake relationship?”

“Yep, pretty much,” I said, giving him a satisfied nod.

“I think I’ll still survive.”

At least that made one of us.

When I didn’t reply, Julian held out his arms like he expected me to dive into them, and I stilled.

Okay, fine. Maybe I did need some practice with this. This being voluntary movement toward Julian Briggs. Presently, my body seemed to require a little coaxing. Or maybe that was my brain.

After sliding off my desk, I warily closed the distance between Julian and me, trying to ignore the odd, encouraging smile he flashed me. And once my face was in the perfect position to stare straight at Julian’s neck and his bobbing Adam’s apple, Julian closed his arms around me. A hand settled on the base of my spine. The feeling of it burned through my dress, but pleasantly so. I could do this. I could handle this.

But then Julian began trailing his fingers up the length of my spine like he was tickling keys on a piano, and I immediately changed my mind.

“Relax, Daisy.”

Easier said than done, but I took a deep breath and let myself lean into him.

“See?” Julian breathed. “That’s not so bad.”

When I didn’t reply, he added, “I bet I don’t even smell bad, do I?”

I shook my head, breathing in the masculine musk of his cologne. And then my eyes fluttered shut as Julian’s caressing hand put some sort of drowsing spell over me. It must be the lingering Halloween spirit from the weekend. It had to be.

“How late were you out last night?” he asked, voice soft, humor apparent in it.

“Not that late.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Did Noah walk you home?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“When?”

“Not long after you left.”

“But then you stayed up. Didn’t you?”

I nodded against his chest, hoping I didn’t get my makeup on his crisp, white shirt. If I did, he might revoke his kindness rule, and I was a little bit banking on that at the moment.

His chest rose and fell beneath my head in a steady wave. Hard and soft at the same time.

This wasn’t supposed to feel this good.

Shit, bad idea. Such a bad idea.

“When we go to New York, I’m going to make sure you get plenty of sleep.” His voice was husky. It had a soothing quality I didn’t ever imagine possible.

That woke me right up. Because I hadn’t thought that far ahead to realize that if Julian was my date to Sofia’s wedding, then we would be staying together. Sleeping together. Well, not sleeping sleeping together, but sleeping in the same room. And we’d already done that once, and to put it mildly, it would be dangerous to repeat.

“I don’t need you to tuck me into bed, Julian.”

“Someone clearly does.”

“Should I have asked Noah to do it last night?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Julian snapped, his tone low—so low that something burned inside me.

“Noted.”

“You’re tense again,” Julian muttered, which I thought was hypocritical considering how rigid he suddenly felt against me. His breath brushed the top of my head as his touch grew firmer—like he was trying harder to comfort me when, in reality, it made my head spin. “Does the thought of a good night’s sleep freak you out that much?”

“Of course not.”

It had nothing to do with sleep.

Julian released me, but he did it slowly. First, his hand dropped from my back. Then his arm released its hold around me. And finally, he stepped away.

I’d hoped that the step away would help me breathe better, but here I was, still thinking about sharing a hotel room with Julian.

Indecision reared its ugly head as my brain analyzed my options in a rapid-fire fashion. It quickly came down to only three: share a room with Julian for a weekend, go to the wedding alone without knowing anyone else there, or don’t go to the wedding at all.

I sighed.

Sharing a room with Julian, it was.

“Gracias por su tiempo. ¡Qué tenga un buen día! ¡Hasta pronto!”

I ended the call with my client, feeling eyes on the back of my neck as I put the phone down. Sure enough, I found Julian watching me when I spun in my chair. He leaned against the door frame, arms folded over his chest. Before I could call him out for being creepy, he tilted his head and smiled.

He’d smiled a lot in the last week and a half. I half wondered if I needed to let him know that he didn’t need to start being nice to me until the weekend, but at the same time, I didn’t want to jinx anything. Or give up the smiles.

“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish.”

“Really?” I matched him, cocking my head to the same side. “And here I thought you claimed to know me better than anyone.”

“I didn’t say better than anyone,” he corrected. “I said better than any other man.”

I hated that that was true. It was an indicator of all my failed relationships. The guy who knew me better than anyone shouldn’t be my best friend’s brother.

Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms over my chest and gave Julian a pointed look. “Well, my last boyfriend knew I spoke Spanish, so…”

His eyes flitted over me quickly before meeting my gaze. “Evan?”

I raised a brow, surprised he knew his name. I nodded.

“So he knows more than me, huh?” Julian clarified.

“Yep.”

I said it definitively.

And like a challenge.

Julian, of course, accepted.

“Guess we’ll have to change that.” He grabbed his chair, pulled it toward my desk, and then sat. We were close enough that our knees nearly touched, and Julian folded his hands in his lap like he planned to interview me. “So, when did you learn Spanish?”

I should have known that interviewing me was precisely what he planned to do.

I cleared my throat. “In high school.”

His brows furrowed momentarily. “I remember you taking French in high school.”

He was right. I did. But what an odd thing to remember.

“My parents and I learned together at home. And then I continued in college. Did you know there are over half a million Spanish speakers in the Boston area?”

“I knew there were a lot, but I guess I didn’t know it was that many. You learned in undergrad?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Did you take courses?”

“No, I did it on my own time.”

That seemed to stump him. “Would have made sense to get credit for that on your transcripts.”

“Not all of us had a full ride in undergrad, Julian,” I scoffed. “Those extra credits would have cost a pretty penny.”

“Good point,” he said.

“Good point?”

Had he just agreed with me?

“Yes, Rosie. Good point. I might not have had to pay for my own tuition, but I know how much college costs. I’m paying for Gianna’s degree.”

“I—you’re what?”

“We’re getting off topic.” He waved my confusion and disbelief away. “So why did you choose to learn Spanish in your free time?”

“My birth dad was Mexican American. I thought maybe I’d feel…closer to that part of myself if I learned the language and more about my heritage.”

Julian’s slow nod was an understanding one that put me a little bit at ease. His voice shifted slightly when he asked his next question.

“Have you met him?”

I shook my head. “He died while my birth mom was pregnant with me. They were newlyweds, and my mom…”

I struggled to finish the sentence because I didn’t really know what went at the end of it. I didn’t know what exactly happened, and while it was hard, I tried not to let myself think too much about it. Because I likely wouldn’t ever know, and the speculation helped no one. Besides, I had landed exactly where I was meant to be—with my parents in Whitebridge.

“Juni…” Julian’s expression shuttered. He leaned forward. One finger brushed over the top of my knee. “Have you met her? Your birth mom?”

“No.” I sighed. “I wonder…well, I don’t know.”

Julian waited patiently, clearly hoping I’d continue. So I did.

“It was an open adoption, but there hasn’t been much contact. All I really know is that Isabella has minimal health history concerns, and she’s a white woman with Western European ancestry—German, I think, a lot like my parents. They were the ones who wanted me to know about my background while still respecting Isabella’s privacy since she rarely reached out.”

Julian’s single finger made another soothing pass over my knee, and I had to steel myself beneath the intensity of his gaze.

“I know more about Sofia because we follow each other on social media,” I added because talking was easier than thinking about Julian. “She’s a couple years younger than me, born once Isabella remarried. I’m not sure what she does for a living, but considering how her wedding is at a five-star hotel in Manhattan, I’d say someone in that family is making good money.”

Julian didn’t ask about the wedding. I thought he might. I thought it might get us off this track of my family history. But instead, he asked, “And you haven’t met Sofia either?”

A phone rang in the office next to ours, the only interruption to the silence that lingered between Julian and me while I thought about how to best answer that question. I bit down on my lip, chewing on it. Julian’s attention dipped to my mouth before flicking back to my eyes.

“No,” I whispered finally. “I connected with her when I was living in New York for law school, thinking maybe I’d get the guts to ask if she wanted to meet. But I never did. And I know it’s probably ridiculous that I’m going to her wedding even though we’ve never met and that I’m trying to make such a good impression, but—”

“It’s not ridiculous. I wish I’d known all of this. I wouldn’t—” He stopped, rubbing a hand over his face.

“That’s what happens when you let my college boyfriend know more about me than you,” I teased, trying to lighten the dark look on Julian’s face, the one that frankly shocked me after his hand dropped. “Guess it’s a reminder to work harder on it from here on out.”

“Guess it is.” Julian’s face was set, eyes blazing. It felt like he’d taken my teasing joke and turned it into a promise. One that wasn’t a joke at all. “Are you packed for the weekend?”

I nodded.

“You still want to leave right after work tomorrow?”

“If that works for you.” I tried to roll my chair back—put some space between the two of us—but I quickly hit the desk behind me. “Although I know that means we won’t get into Manhattan until well after dark, and we might hit rush hour.”

“That’s fine.” Julian shrugged, and to my immense relief, he wheeled himself and his chair back to his desk. “More time for me to increase my bank of knowledge on Juniper St. James. Since it’s apparently lacking.”

“You know I was just kidding about—”

“I take getting to know my fake girlfriend incredibly seriously.” Julian tossed me a smirk over his shoulder. “Don’t ruin my fun.”

“Oh, now it’s fun spending time with me?”

This was a new development that I didn’t know how to handle. Although, I also didn’t think it was true.

“That depends. Are you going to get donut powder all over my car?”

“No, donuts are a morning thing, Julian.” I rolled my eyes. “We’re going in the evening.”

He chuckled while packing his messenger bag, clearly intending to head out after he was done irritating me. “Are you going to bring another one of those damned plants?” he asked.

“No, you know very well that’s an illogical question. Why would I bring plants—”

“Are you going to make me listen to your audiobooks for over three hours?”

I gasped. “How do you know about my audiobooks?”

Julian stood, throwing the strap of his bag onto his shoulder and crossing the office to leave. But before he did, he swiveled and grabbed the top of the doorframe, leaning in as though whatever he was about to say was a secret he’d been holding on to for a long time.

“You need better headphones, Daisy.”

And then he smiled knowingly and walked out the door.