by K. Street
“Your alluring charm? That’s quite the ego you’ve got there.”
“Whatever.”
“Let me get this straight.” He held his hand out in front of him and used his finger to tick off the list. “The bridesmaid you banged three years ago is dog-shit girl. And dog-shit girl is the chick Mimi tried to set you up with. And the chick Mimi set you up with is Ben’s granddaughter.”
“Yep. That about sums it up.”
His eyes went wide. “Shit.”
“What?”
“I can’t believe you banged Princess Pea.”
Princess Pea?
I almost asked him what the hell he was talking about until I remembered the conversation at Mimi’s. “Pea. That’s what Ben calls her. How’d you know that?”
“Years ago, Ben hurt his back, or maybe it was his hip. I can’t recall. Anyway, he was having a hard time getting around, and he asked me to pick up a birthday card for his granddaughter. After he signed it, he put it in the envelope. He addressed it to Presley something, but under that, he wrote Princess Pea.”
I eyed him. “How in the hell do you remember that?”
He shrugged. “When I was a kid, my mom used to read The Princess and the Pea to me and my sisters. The association stuck.”
I smirked.
“Not a word, DeLuca.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Also, is it just me, or is this some serious Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon bullshit?”
“I’m telling you, there is a reason this woman keeps popping into your life.”
“Like fate? Please tell me you don’t actually believe that garbage.”
“You bet your ass I do. I met Kendall in an airport lounge.”
“You were a commercial pilot. It isn’t unlikely you’d meet your future wife in an airport.”
“She gave me a fake name.”
That much I remembered because Carter had ordered a mini replica of the Sydney Opera House as an anniversary gift for Kendall last year.
Over the next five minutes, Carter gave me the condensed version of his and Kendall’s story. By the time he was finished, I was damn near convinced fate not only existed, but her name was also Maria Rosa, who happened to be a crazy clairvoyant inn owner in Rio.
All I could say was, “Wow.”
“You just proved my point.” Carter mocked. “Coincidence? I think not. Obviously, the universe is trying to tell you something. Take the risk, man.”
“I barely know her.”
“Doesn’t matter. The connection is there. She’s under your skin.”
That much was true.
I wasn’t the guy who did apologies. Or took long walks on the beach. I didn’t share the intimate details of the worst night of my life. And I sure as hell didn’t have impromptu picnics on the floor of my shop. Nor was I the guy who walked away from a sure thing. I could have easily had Presley beneath me, in my bed or hers. Refusing her invitation to come inside hadn’t been without difficulty. Not kissing her had taken every single ounce of determination I possessed. But I had known it would be so much more than a kiss. It would have meant something.
Something I wasn’t sure either of us was ready for.
“I have an idea,” Carter offered.
“Care to share with the class?”
“Smart-ass. You know the end-of-summer barbeque Kendall is planning? You should bring Presley.”
“When is it again?”
“A few weeks, I think. I’ll double-check the date with Kendall.”
“Sounds good. Maybe I will.”
I couldn’t wait that long before I saw Presley again. I hadn’t stopped thinking about her. Or wondering what it would be like to crash my mouth to hers. A few weeks was way too fucking long.
“You ready to get your ass kicked in a game of dodgeball, DeLuca?”
“Bring it.”
We rounded up the boys and made our way over to the dodgeball court.
If anyone was getting their ass kicked in dodgeball, it would be Carter.
Zeke was out cold, having thoroughly exhausted himself at the trampoline park.
I quietly pulled his bedroom door closed, leaving it open just a crack.
Turtle stood at my side. The dog tipped his head to look at me.
“He’s all right, boy. Come on. Let him sleep.”
The dog obediently followed me into the kitchen, where I started cleaning up the mess from dinner.
Once I finished, I poured myself a glass of iced tea, turned on the patio lights, and headed out to the pool deck with Turtle.
I dropped into one of the lounge chairs and stared into the starless summer night. It was moments like this—when the world was quiet, when I was still—that the emptiness hit me the hardest.
I allowed my life to be consumed by work and responsibilities. The busier I stayed, the less time I had for introspection. The more I focused my energy on Zeke and Mimi and the next project, the less time I had to fixate on the things missing from my life.
Things I pretended I didn’t want or need.
Mimi’s words from earlier in the day echoed in my mind.
“You’ve got to stop living your life in a holding pattern.”
Then, I thought about what Carter had said. How the universe was trying to tell me something.
I didn’t know Presley well, but I recognized there was something between us. Some connection I couldn’t explain. Something I wanted to explore. I knew in my gut, if I let Presley slip through my fingers, I’d regret it, and I already had enough regret to last a lifetime.
Turtle watched me through curious eyes.
“What?” I scratched the dog behind his ears. “Should I call her?”
“Ruff-ruff.”
“Fine. I’ll call her.”
Turtle wagged his tail.
I reached into the pocket of my athletic shorts, removed my phone, and unlocked the screen. Then, I dialed Presley’s number.
Eleven
Presley
My phone rang somewhere from beneath the strewn stack of papers and open books I had spread across my bed.
I slapped my hands over the mess, trying to feel for it. I stretched toward the end of the bed. Just as my fingers wrapped around the phone, I lost my balance. The phone went in one direction, and my body went in the other. I landed on the floor with a thud. On the way down, I somehow managed to smack my ankle on the corner of the nightstand.
“Ouch. Damn it. Shitballs.”
I clasped my hands around my injured foot and tried not to cry.
I thought I heard my name, the sound faint and faraway.
“Hello?” I responded.
“Presley?” the voice said louder.
Definitely my name.
“Shit. Hang on. I have to find my phone.”
I let go of my foot and got on my hands and knees. When I looked under the bed, I glimpsed my phone all the way on the other side of the room, against the wall.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Seriously?”
I hobbled over to my cell and picked it up.
Ryder’s name appeared on the screen. I hesitated long enough to pull in a breath and attempted to calm my racing heart before I put the phone to my ear.
“Hi.”
A low chuckle rumbled through the line. “Everything okay over there?”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
“So, shitballs is how you normally answer the phone?”
“Maybe it is,” I sassed and then admitted, “I sort of fell off my bed.” The familiar flush of embarrassment heated my cheeks.
“You sure you’re all right?” Genuine concern replaced his laughter.
“Yes. I’m fine. Apparently, I’m just not very graceful.” I laughed it off. “Is everything okay with you?”
“Yeah. Everything is good.”
“Good. How’s Zeke?”
“Sleeping actually. We went to the trampoline park today. Then, I took him in the pool for a couple hours.”
; “I bet he was exhausted.”
“Definitely.” Ryder sounded amused.
“Why do I feel like there’s a story here?”
“What’s that saying? A picture is worth a thousand words. I just sent it to you.”
A few seconds later, my phone pinged with a notification. “Hang on. Let me look.”
I opened the message and busted out laughing.
Ryder had snapped an image of Zeke at the kitchen table. The little boy was sound asleep with his face covered in yellow sauce and something stuck to his forehead.
I zoomed in on the image. “Is that a noodle?”
“Yep. One minute, he was talking away, and the next, he face-planted in his mac and cheese.”
Our shared laughter filled my ears.
“Aww. Poor baby.”
“Not much of a baby anymore.”
We both fell quiet.
“Are you still there?” I asked into the phone.
“I’m here.”
Silence settled between us again for a few long seconds.
This time, Ryder broke it. “Presley?”
The way he’d said my name—low and rich, wrapped in warmth—made my heart flutter.
“Yeah?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
His admission made my belly dip the way it did when I drove my car a little too fast over a small hill.
“I’ve been thinking about you too,” I confessed as I settled against the headboard.
“Really?”
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why didn’t you kiss me last night?”
The second the words left my mouth, part of me wished I could take them back. The other part of me, the part that wasn’t afraid of the truth, needed to hear his answer.
“It wasn’t because I didn’t want to kiss you. Believe me, it took an insane amount of self-control for me to walk away. If I’d kissed you, we both know it wouldn’t have stopped there. When I said you deserve more, I meant it.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“It means, I like you, Presley—maybe more than I should—and I want to take my time with you.”
Of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing I’d expected.
“I like you too, Ryder.”
“My life is complicated. I can’t make you any promises.”
“I can handle complicated, and I’m not asking for any.”
The line went quiet, but I knew Ryder hadn’t hung up because I could still hear him breathing.
Finally, he asked, “Are you busy tomorrow?”
“I have some stuff to do in the morning, but my afternoon and evening are free.”
“Would you like to come to my place? Hang out with me and Zeke? We can relax by the pool. I’ll make dinner.”
The invitation made my heart flip. I knew how much of a big deal this was for him to ask me to spend time with him and his brother in their space.
“I’d like that. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. I want to see you.”
“Can I bring anything?”
“Just you.”
“All right.” I yawned.
“You’re tired. I’ll let you go. Have sweet dreams.”
“Thanks. You too.”
“Pres?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t wait to have my mouth on yours.”
His confession stunned me into silence.
“Good night, sweet girl.” Then, he disconnected the call.
The next afternoon, I stood on Ryder’s front porch with a small beach bag slung over my shoulder and an arm securely clutched around a glass trifle bowl, holding it to my chest.
I lifted my free hand, knocked on the door, and then waited for Ryder to answer.
My heart raced, and my palms started to sweat. I shifted the dessert and then wiped one hand on the black halter maxi dress I wore before shifting it again to wipe the other. Finally, I grasped the glass dish with both hands, holding it in front of me like a bouquet of flowers.
With each second that passed, I grew more nervous.
The other night had just been dinner. This was different. Being invited into Ryder’s home, into the personal space he shared with his little brother. This was so much more. Bigger somehow.
The dog barked.
“One second,” Ryder’s deep voice called through the closed door.
A few beats later, it swung open.
Ryder appeared on the other side, wearing a pair of athletic shorts and a black T-shirt, his muscled arms on display.
Ryder’s heated gaze moved over my body in slow perusal before returning to my face. “I didn’t realize you wore glasses.”
“Well, contacts and swimming don’t really mix,” I explained. Then, before I could stop myself, I started to ramble, justifying my appearance, “I also have a lot of hair. On my head. Not body hair. I mean, of course, I have body hair, but I take care of all that. Because hygiene.”
Oh my God.
Just. Stop. Talking.
Amusement danced in Ryder’s eyes. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, and any moment now, I expected him to double over in laughter at my awkwardness.
“Here.” I thrust the chocolaty dessert topped with whipped cream in his direction and proudly declared, “I made a trifle.”
An image came to mind.
A particular scene from an ’80s movie. The one where the actress announced to an exceptionally sexy dance instructor that she’d carried a watermelon.
I mean, seriously?
I. Made. A. Trifle.
Ugh.
“Has anyone ever told you”—he paused long enough for a quick glance over his shoulder—“you’re fucking adorable?”
“Once.”
I recalled our conversation at the wedding reception.
“I’m digging the glasses and the”—he pointed to my messy bun—“hair. The whole package is very sexy librarian.”
“Thanks.” I blushed at his compliment.
Ryder leaned into me. “Breathe, Pres,” he whispered, and then he brushed his lips against my cheek, letting them linger.
My eyelids fell shut, and I did as he’d asked. Filling my lungs with air and the scent of him. Clean soap mixed with citrus and wood—a heady combination.
I slowly exhaled.
“Better?” His warm breath ghosted over my skin.
“Uh-huh.”
“Good.” He took the trifle from my hands and stepped out of the way. “After you.”
“Thanks.”
I stepped into his space, taking it all in.
From the exterior, Ryder’s home looked like many others in the neighborhood, though the interior was far from the bachelor pad I’d imagined. Painted canvases brought pops of color to the eggshell walls. Wide-planked gray hardwood spanned the open floor plan. Glass pocket doors offered an unobstructed view to the pool, where the dog barked, making his presence known.
Before I had a chance to set my bag down, Zeke burst into the room.
“Presley!” He barreled into me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
The action took me by surprise, nearly knocking me off-kilter. I recovered quickly, returning his hug.
“Hi, Zeke.”
Big green eyes peered up at me. “Are you going to swim with us?”
My gaze shifted to Ryder. He seemed just as interested in my response.
I turned my attention back to Zeke. “Do you want me to swim with you?”
“Yes,” they both said in unison.
I rolled my eyes at their silliness and released my hold on Zeke.
“I’m going to go put this”—Ryder raised the trifle dish—“in the fridge. Zeke, go get your trunks on.”
“Okay.” Zeke ran off.
I dropped my beach bag onto one of the matching sofas and ran the tips of my fingers over the buttery-soft leather. A large flat-scree
n television was mounted to the wall above a gas fireplace. Framed photographs were scattered on the shelves flanking the sides of the fireplace.
I stepped closer, lifting one of the pictures, and brought it near my face, inspecting the people in it.
A beautiful blonde sat on a wooden swing, holding a toddler on her lap. Behind her stood an older version of Ryder. Then, there was Ryder, brandishing his dimples. There was a lightness in his eyes, one that had been dimmed by time and loss.
I sensed Ryder’s presence behind me.
“You have a beautiful family.”
“Had.”
I replaced the photograph on the shelf and turned to face him. “Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean you aren’t still a family. It just looks a little different now.”
Ryder opened his mouth to say something, but the dog started barking again, then raised a paw, scratching against the glass.
“Turtle is a little excited. I’m going to let him in. Have a seat in case he jumps. I don’t want him knocking you over.”
“All right.” I strode around the coffee table and sat on the sofa, sinking into the plush cushion.
“I’m ready,” Zeke yelled as he ran back into the living room in his swim trunks.
He squeezed in beside me, tucking himself close.
My heart swelled. I knew if I wasn’t careful, I would lose my heart to the both of them.
Ryder slid the door open, and Turtle bounded inside, tail wagging. The chocolate Lab made a beeline for me and Zeke.
I rotated my wrist, angling my palm up, and rested my hand on my knee.
The dog sniffed my hand.
“Hey, Turtle. Remember me?”
His tail whipped back and forth, thudding against the table.
“You can pet him,” Zeke informed me.
Turtle dropped his head onto my knees.
I scratched him behind the ears. “Do you like that, boy?”
Ryder pointed at the canine. “Clearly, he’s starved for affection.”
“For real. I’ve never seen a more neglected pet,” I joked. “You are such a good doggie, aren’t you?”
He barked and then licked my chin, declaring his love.
“Ugh. Turtle, we do not lick people,” Zeke chastised.
Ryder tossed a mischievous grin my way. “Lies we tell children.”
