Rough Ride

by Breezie Bennett

  Goddammit.

  I run my hands through my hair and look out over the horizon, squinting at the pink and orange glow of sunrise.

  My best friend and the woman I love might both totally hate my ass right now, but I’m Andre Fucking Smoke, and I can fix this.

  Kendall loves houses, and Kendall loves perfect. I think back on the conversation we had about her own dream house, when she said she wasn’t really a mansion girl. My massive, bougie, impressive crib was great, but it’s not her dream to live in.

  An image of the beachy cottage flashes through my mind. The porch swing and the blue shutters and the canal view in the backyard. That’s Kendall. That’s perfect.

  Without another second of thought, I jump up and practically sprint home, forcing myself to go faster with every stride, fueled by this brilliant new idea. It’s big, it’s a last resort, and it’s definitely a long shot. But she’s worth it.

  When I finally get home, I run straight into the garage and hop in my Audi, whipping it out of the driveway and feeling an electric sense of hope race through me.

  What did she say their name was? Oh right. The Hoffmans. Well, Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman, I’m sure you’re very nice, but you’re living in my girlfriend’s dream house, and I gotta do something about it.

  If I buy the house for her, she’ll get her dream. And then, if things go as planned in our relationship and she forgives me and believes me and trusts me again, I’ll get my dream, too.

  I follow the GPS to Coconut Grove, forcing myself not to speed and trying to figure out what the hell I’m gonna say to these people to persuade them to sell me their family-heirloom house.

  I know one thing, though. I really hope they’re football fans.

  “Turn right,” the electronic voice chirps, and I recognize the quaint, pristine-looking neighborhood from the night I drove here with Kendall. I don’t know the address, so I’ll have to do the rest from memory.

  I don’t care. I’ll drive around all damn day if I have to.

  “Blue shutters,” I whisper, slowly cruising down the streets and squinting at the homes tucked away behind palm trees and gates.

  Hell yes. I found it. Porch swing and all.

  Excitement jolts me as I pull up to the house and park on the street, checking the clock. It’s almost eight. That’s an acceptable time to knock on a random stranger’s door, right?

  I get out of the car and head up the walkway, my heart pumping hard and fast as I reach the front door and give it a firm knock.

  After what feels like an hour, the door slowly swings open, and a very confused-looking, middle-aged woman stares at me with wide eyes.

  “Can I help you?” she asks slowly, drawing back as her eyes graze over my body, and she realizes I tower over her.

  “Hi.” I offer my most charming grin. “I know this about to sound crazy, but I’m—”

  “Holy shit.” A man’s voice echoes from behind her in the house. “Is that Andre Smoke?”

  Thank. You. God.

  “Hey!” I hold out a friendly hand as the man joins his wife in the doorway, his jaw practically on the floor. “Nice to meet you.”

  “What are…what is…” He turns to look at the woman and then back at me. “Honey, did you set this up?”

  She laughs and shakes her head as she connects the dots and realizes who I am, then she stares at me in total disbelief.

  “No, no.” I smile. “I’m actually here to talk to you guys about your house.”

  “What on earth…” The woman looks around and blinks rapidly. “Are we being punked?”

  I chuckle. “No, you’re not—”

  “Well, what the hell are you doing standing there? Get in here.” The man steps aside and gestures for me to come into the house. “We’re big Riders fans in this house.”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” his wife adds, nodding toward the man. “You’re like…his savior.”

  I cock my head and laugh softly. “I’m just a football player. But it’s awesome that you all are fans, and once again I know this is insane and weird and it’s early, but—”

  “Well,” the man interjects, “what on God’s green earth is Andre Smoke doing in my living room?”

  The woman jumps in. “We’re the Hoffmans, by the way. I’m Louisa, and this is my very starstruck husband, Keith.”

  “It’s a pleasure, you guys,” I say. “Like I said, I’m here to talk to you about this house.”

  Louisa gives her husband a surprised look. “This house? It’s been in our family for generations. We did a major update recently. But…what about it?” She snorts. “I’m sure you’re in some colossal Bal Harbour castle, no?”

  “You must think this place is a shack,” Keith says with a hearty laugh. “Honey.” He turns to Louisa, gesturing toward me. “Andre Smoke. Right here. In our house.”

  She nods and smiles, giving me a look. “Christmas came early this year.”

  “I’d be happy to sign a football or something,” I say.

  “How about my recliner?” Keith stands up excitedly. “It’s where I watch all the games.”

  “Absolutely not.” His wife folds her arms in front of her chest. “No one is signing a recliner. Now, will you please let this poor man explain to us why he’s here?”

  “I’ll cut right to the chase.” I swallow and look both of them in the eyes. “I want to buy your house.”

  Silence falls over the room as they stare at each other in shock.

  “You…huh?” Keith frowns.

  “Sweetie, this house isn’t on the market. It’s—”

  “I know,” I say quickly. “But there’s this girl…and she loves this house. Like, more than anything in the world. Houses are her passion, and this one’s her favorite in the whole area. And this girl, well, I love her.” The words feel right as they echo back to me, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve said that out loud. Ever.

  “A girl, huh?” Keith furrows his bushy brows.

  “That’s…” Louisa brushes a hair out of her face. “That’s insanely romantic and wonderful, and…I do love me some romance.”

  I grin and hold my breath.

  “But this is…this is our home,” she finishes, raising her hands. “We’re not gonna sell it just like that without even thinking it through.” She looks over at her husband quickly. “Right, Keith?”

  “I mean…” He pushes a pair of glasses up his nose and laughs. “I’m still trying to grasp what’s actually happening right now.”

  “I know it’s batshit crazy. Excuse my language,” I add quickly, holding up an apologetic hand. “But this is kinda my last resort.”

  “Hail Mary pass sort of thing?” Keith arches a brow. “Or I guess in your case, game-winning pick six?”

  I relax my shoulders a little and welcome the comfort of football. “Exactly.”

  The room goes quiet as I watch the shocked and confused couple try to make sense of the massive, famous NFL player sitting on their couch asking to buy their house that’s not for sale.

  Yeah, I get it. I’d be shocked, too.

  I decide then and there that there’s only one really good way to break the silence right now.

  “I’ll give you ten million dollars.”

  “You’ll…” The color visibly drains from Keith’s face. “What?”

  “Ten mi—ten mil—” Louisa holds a hand to her forehead. “I might pass out.”

  “I really, really, really want this house. If that wasn’t obvious.” I tilt my head and give them a half smile.

  “This place is worth one-point-two at the very most.” Louisa shakes her head slowly.

  “It’s invaluable to me,” I say, my heart pounding hard.

  “We…we’ll have to discuss it…” She turns to her husband, who still looks like his soul left his body when I said ten million.

  “Discuss it?” He looks at her after a long pause. “We’re not turning down ten million dollars and a chance to tell this story for the rest of our lives.”r />
  “You’re serious?” she asks me, narrowing her eyes. “This is serious? A real thing happening right now?”

  “Yes. I promise I am completely serious.”

  “A trust fund for Jude,” Keith whispers, then turns back to face me. “We have a grandson on the way.”

  “Congratulations!” I smile.

  Louisa breaks her hesitant suspicion and bursts into a bubbly laugh. “You’re right. Oh my gosh!”

  My chest tightens with happiness, and I stand up, clasping my hands together.

  “Andre Smoke.” Keith turns to me and extends his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “Hell yes, my man.” I give him a firm shake.

  “One condition, though.” He points a finger at my face.

  “Yeah?”

  “I want to see the Riders get a ring.”

  “Done and done,” I say on a laugh. “I’ll get your info, and my agent will sort everything out with you guys.”

  “I feel like I’m living in a movie!” Louisa claps her hands and hugs her husband and then hugs me.

  All right, Kendall Collins. You want perfection? It’s about to be staring you right in the face.

  Twenty-nine

  Kendall

  I sip my third cup of coffee, and as it warms my chest, I stare out the window of my office and try to break the hazy fog from a sleepless night. It’s almost noon, and I’ve gotten essentially nothing done today. Desta said I should take the day off, but I quickly shot that down as ridiculous.

  Now I’m kinda wishing I had listened.

  “Hey, you.” She smiles at me from the chair in front of my desk.

  I shake my head and blink. “How long have you been there?”

  She ignores my question and puts her hand on my phone, which I only recently turned back on. “Kendall. It’s time.” She slides the phone toward me on the desk.

  I stare at it for a while, taking a deep breath as my mind swirls and races with every possibility of how a conversation with Andre could go.

  None of those possibilities is good.

  “I still can’t believe it,” I admit quietly to Desta. “He sold the house. That house. Without even telling me. Without even thinking.”

  She pushes the phone at me again. “You don’t have all the answers.”

  My throat tightens with emotion. “I don’t want all the answers. They’re gonna hurt.”

  She sighs and shakes her head, standing up slowly to walk back to her desk. “You have to deal with it, Kendall. You can’t just run and hide. And personally?” She raises a brow. “I still think there’s some explanation. He’s a good guy.”

  I gather my hair over one shoulder and pick up the phone, standing up and brushing off my jeans. “Okay. It’s time.” I glance out the window at the blazing sun and blue sky. “I’m gonna take a walk. It’s nice out. I’ll call him.”

  She grins, and it’s amazing to me that she’s still that hopeful for me to have a relationship with Andre. I sure as hell am not. “I’ll be here,” Desta assures me.

  I nod and walk out the door, noticing prickles of nerves zipping down my spine. I head down the elevator and play through different scenarios in my mind, wondering how I can handle this in the best possible way.

  “Okay,” I whisper as the elevator doors glide open, and I step out of the building, letting the heat of the sunshine wrap me up like a comforting blanket.

  I click on Andre’s name and hover my thumb over the call button. Just one conversation. Just get it over with.

  “Kendall!”

  What the…? Is that Andre?

  Great. I’m seeing things now.

  “Kendall, hey! I was just coming to see—”

  Holy freaking hell. It’s actually him. Jogging toward me, waving rapidly, smiling. Smiling?

  “Andre…I…” I step back and cross my arms, reminding myself to keep my guard way up and not completely melt at the sight of that smile. My whole body feels shaky, and my head is light. This would have been a lot easier over the phone. “I was about to call you. We need to—”

  “I know we need to talk.” He places both his hands on my shoulders, and I hope he doesn’t notice that I’m practically quivering. “And we will. I promise. But I have to take you somewhere first.”

  “What? No. Why are you here?” is all that comes out of my mouth as I try to slip away from his touch and hate how hard it is to do.

  “I told you, I have something to show you.”

  What could he possibly want to show me? And why does he seem so damn happy?

  “Andre, you’re not fooling anyone. I know you sold the house. To some rich bitch lunatic who doesn’t even like my designs.” My voice breaks, and I clear my throat and step back, squinting at the sun to look into his eyes. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it? Why would you…how could you do that?”

  “Kendall, you have to understand. I had no idea. My agent did the entire thing because he thought I didn’t care about my house.”

  “You don’t care,” I retort.

  “Yes, I do. Because of you.” He seems kind of nervous and definitely like he’s in a hurry. “Now, can we please go—”

  “No,” I say, surprised by how stern my voice sounds. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Your agent couldn’t have sold your house without you signing off on it. I saw your initials. I’m not an idiot. You’re the homeowner, so don’t lie to me.”

  “That’s the thing,” he says quickly, holding up a hand, his eyes begging me to listen. “I wasn’t technically the homeowner, and that’s how this all happened without me knowing. The house was purchased by my ‘company,’ which was set up for tax reasons that I don’t understand. But Dickhead the Agent runs it, so it all went through him. Kendall…” He narrows his gaze. “I had no idea.”

  “Your company…” I frown, looking off to the side and getting flashed with a memory of when I first saw the listing of The Esplanade House.

  Buyer: AS, LLC.

  The dotted line on the papers said…AS.

  Holy shit, maybe he’s telling the truth.

  Relief washes over me like an ocean wave, but I force myself to stay strong and not just jump right into his arms like a child at the first glimmer of hope. I was hurt. I’m still skeptical. “You really didn’t know anything about it? How is that possible?”

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head with certainty. “He did the whole thing behind my back. Kinda fucked up, but I’m not a grudge-holder.” He glances behind him at his car, frantic almost. “Can we talk about this in the car?”

  “Where the hell do you need to take me so badly?” My anger starts fading more and more rapidly every second. It really could be true. The house was purchased by an LLC, and it could be sold by one easily.

  This man wouldn’t lie to me. I want to believe that. I need to believe that.

  “Just trust me, okay?”

  I draw back, shielding my eyes from the sunlight. “That’s a little hard right now, as you can imagine.”

  “Kendall, I swear I’ve never been anything but completely honest with you. And I know the house is sold. And I know how much that sucks. And I can’t imagine how you felt when you thought I did it behind your back, but that’s not what happened.”

  I chew on my bottom lip and puff out a breath, feeling torn and confused and more shocked than ever.

  But here he is. Standing in front of me. Strong and tall and with those eyes that make me feel like I’m the most perfect thing he’s ever looked at. The worry and passion and persistence written all over his face tug at my heart, pulling me toward him and begging me to let go and trust and believe.

  “Okay,” I say, barely above a whisper. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Hell yes.” He pumps his fist, and we rush to his car. He swings the passenger’s side door open, and I slide into the seat, wondering how the hell this is what’s happening right now.

  “Where are we going?” I try to lean over and peak at the GPS route on his phone,
but I can’t figure it out.

  “You’ll see.” He places his strong hand on my thigh.

  “I’m still mad at you.” I turn to him and glare. Although, in a quick and wildly unexpected turn of events, mad is just about the last emotion I’m feeling right now.

  Any shred of anger that was left in my heart seems to melt away as he cruises down the roads and warm rays of sun pour into the car.

  I watch the palm trees sway in the wind and take a long, deep breath, deciding that I want to let go of my fears and doubts. I want to believe him. He’s telling the truth. At the very least, I want to see where he’s taking me.

  “Can I at least get a hint?” I peer out the window as we take a turn onto a backstreet. “You owe me that after selling my pride and joy of a project.”

  He rolls his eyes and gives my leg a gentle squeeze. “No hints. I was as upset as you were when I found out, trust me.”

  Emotion tugs at me. “Really?”

  He draws back, turning to me with energy and passion in his expression. “Are you kidding? I was crazy about that house. You made me feel like I really belonged somewhere for the first time since…”

  He doesn’t have to finish that sentence for me to lace my fingers through his and almost shed a tear. “I guess I wanted to believe you felt that way. I didn’t know if you really, truly did. And when that horrible woman showed up and said the house was hers, my heart totally broke. It was like all the fears I had came true, and the fact that you kept it from me…or at least I thought you did.”

  “Totally understandable.” He swallows and takes another right turn.

  I get a little too lost in those indescribably gorgeous eyes to comprehend where we are, and feel the tension that’s been wound up in my body and heart all night long easing up by the second.

  “Well…” He draws out the word, squinting as he looks out the windshield, and I shake my daze and realize where we are.

  “Why are we in Coconut Grove?” My heart rate picks up as he cruises down the picturesque street I’ve spent hours fantasizing about living on. “Have you brought me to see my favorite house?” I smile. “That’s really nice, Andre.”