“What? You didn’t close the deal either?” Graham shouted over the Ludacris club thumper that had started playing when Keane got back to the tables.
“She was a friend from high school. That’s the only reason he interfered,” Tim answered, coming to Keane’s defense. Keane gave him a “good looking out” chin up. Sure, Tim had told him not to interfere, but when worse came to worse, starters stuck together.
“That shouldn’t count—hey, what are you doing?” he shouted, when Keane snatched the moleskin journal out of his hands.
Keane didn’t answer, just let Graham’s whiny-ass voice fade into the background as he checked to see if his suspicion about Graham not being the kind of guy capable of reflective thought panned out. It did.
This journal belongs to Salena Kumar. If found, please call…
There it was. The number he’d never been able to get in high school, written out in the neat handwriting Keane still remembered right on the front page.
And just like that, his heart started pounding again, with “More Than a Feeling” blasting in his head.
As it turned out, he didn’t post any points on the Spring Break Bang Off that night. Instead, he ended up texting Lena: “This is Keane. Shouldn’t have run off like fuckin Cinderella. Got your journal. You want it back, come meet me tomorrow. Lucky’s on Seabreeze. Noon.”
The journal turned out to be a diary. And Keane spent the hour before their noon meeting reading it, even though he was supposed to be doing inventory at that time. That was the deal he’d struck with the retired “uncle” who owned the bar, but never wanted to be bothered with any of the technical aspects of running a legitimate business. In exchange for his boring service, Keane could stay for free in the room above the bar and enjoy all the drinks he wanted to pour himself.
Keane needed the deal. He had stopped party dealing after a close call during freshman year. He’d been collared by a campus security officer and if not for his taking the offer of one of Keane’s front row Friends and Family tickets for the rest of his time at UBoss, he might have gotten kicked off the team.
Rule #2 still applied, so he’d said goodbye to the lucrative activity that almost got between him and the NHL and hello to college life on the barter system. Usually it didn’t matter. He lived in a frat where food always seemed to magically appear. However, the annual hockey team spring break trip had been a little trickier. The rest of the team paid top prices to stay at the Daytona Beach Benton Grand, but he was too poor to afford a 3-hundy a night room for a whole week.
So, he’d made up a story about his uncle making him stay at the bar to work. Family, right? Plus, it’s a fact of life that rich kids like nothing more on this earth than free shots, so everyone was happy with the arrangement. He shouldn’t be doing anything to jeopardize it.
But Lena’s diary was just too good to put down. In fact, a few pages in, he poured himself a bowl of peanuts and sat behind the bar to finish reading what had been written as a series of letters to her dead mother.
Apparently, Lena had gone on to Mount Holyoke, an all-girls school in Western Mass, and had spent her senior year in an actual real relationship with Band Nerd’s older brother. Some fuckhead named Rohan. But get this, Rohan had insisted on waiting until marriage to have sex. Several months into what sounded like a boring as fuck relationship, he’d asked her to come back to Boston for the weekend before Spring Break. She’d thought he was going to propose, and Keane noted she wrote a whole page about how happy her dad would be when she told him, and exactly zero words about whether she really wanted to marry dick she hadn’t test rode yet.
But as it turned out, that ass tool had called her down to Boston to break up with her. And he didn’t even come up with a good lie. He told her straight out his mom was too racist to accept a half-black Indian girl for her oldest son—especially now that she wasn’t speaking to the youngest one for coming out as gay. What in the entire fuck?
Lena was all angry and broken up about it for a couple of pages. And there was a lot of Dear Mama, how am I going to tell Dad Rohan dumped me? But if you asked Keane, she’d dodged a bullet. What kind of little bitch dumps a girl because his mommy doesn’t approve?
Keane flipped to the Sunday night entry from two days ago to see if she’d come to her senses.
Dear Mama, I’ve decided to be more like you. Instead of crying over Rohan, I’m going to try living on the wild side. With that in mind, here’s my SHAKE IT OFF Spring Break Bucket List.
Keane scrolled his eyes down to what he’d figured would be the usual good girl break-up list. You know, get your nails done, have a spa day, eat a fuck ton of Ben and Jerry’s like you seen them other girls do in the movies. But no…
ditch my V-Card
Keane nearly choked on his bar nuts, definitely not the opener of a good girl break-up list. He then quickly scanned the rest of the list.
2. look into therapist programs
3. learn to Dance
4. kiss somebody in public
5. have sex not in a bed
6. do something wild
7. wear a bikini
8. smoke Weed
9. say yes to everything that scares me
10.
He briefly wondered why she left number ten blank, but then playfully filled it in for her. He probably would have read the entire diary a second time, if not for the alert from his uncle’s over the top security system—hey, you can take the mobster out of Southie….
She was here.
Little Miss Shake-It-Off was at the door. Ripe for the taking. By him.
And, okay, admittedly, if you’re looking to hook up with a girl you fucked over back in high school, holding her college journal hostage probably ain’t the best look. But it was all Keane had, and hey, it worked. She was here.
Keane went to the front door but waited for her to knock, so he wouldn’t look too pressed. However, when the knock never came, he was forced to open the door himself.
He found her standing there in a pretty yellow shift dress and flip flops, her good girl hands wrapped primly around her beach purse.
Fuck, she was cute. “You just gonna stand there all day?” he demanded, trying to cover up all the “More Than a Feeling” popping off inside his head.
She reacted with a startled look. Guess, she’d gotten unused to straight talk after four years at her all-girls school.
“Hi…hi again? I’m here for my diary?”
“Yeah, I got it inside. Come on.”
Keane jerked his head, but she just stood there, looking like a frightened animal too scared to be alone with him. Normally he wouldn’t mind intimidating a girl. Especially this one. But he got a feeling this had less to do with him than what happened last night.
And he hated that she’d been scared. Even for a second.
“I’m an ornery bastard, but I’m not Graham. I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want.”
Keane expected her to accept his words. Maybe even thank him again for getting Graham to leave her alone. Instead she thinned her lips and gave him a skeptical look, “Yet here I am after getting no answer to my texts asking you to drop it off at my hotel’s front desk.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I’m not in the hotel delivery business, princess. You want this diary or not? I got shit to do.”
Again, not the best tact when you’re looking to be the number one on a good girl’s Shake It Off list. But again, it worked.
A few seconds later, she was standing inside his temporary lair.
Asshole or get assholed, he reminded himself as he watched her pick up the journal he’d left lying on the bar. Out loud he said, “Would’ve given it back to you last night, but you rushed off before I could let you know you dropped it.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled. Keane watched her look everywhere but at him. “And sorry for rushing off.”
“That’s okay. You’re here now,” he answered, still watching her closely. There was a skittishness to her, like she cou
ld take off at any second. He brought out a bottle of tequila, the official base of Girly Spring Break. “You want something?”
She raised her eyebrows. “It’s only noon.”
“Yeah, only noon in Daytona,” he pointed out. “Bet ya half the town’s already tied a couple on. How’s your friend doing by the way? She was pretty out of it last night.”
“You saw her?”
“Yeah, clocked you as soon as I saw you at the bar. Blast from the past. But I guess you didn’t see me.”
“No, I didn’t…” She still wouldn’t look at him. And it was taking all the patience Keane didn’t have not to grab her chin and make her look him in the eye.
“She okay?” he asked instead. “You didn’t have to take her to get her stomach pumped or nothing like that? That alcohol poisoning is a fucker.”
“No, she’s fine. I kept her hydrated and now she and her other friends are out for lunch. Probably tying one on just like you said.”
Lena gave him a tentative smile, but she was still wary of him. He could tell. And it made him wish he’d punch Graham’s teeth in last night, even if it violated his second cardinal rule.
“I talked to Graham. Made sure he understood I’d report him to the college board my fuckin’ self and beat him within an inch of his life if he ever tried that shit again. Got there as fast as I could, but I’m sorry I didn’t jump in sooner. Seriously, let me get you a drink on me.”
She shook her head. “Seriously, it wasn’t your fault.”
Keane clenched his hand around the bottle of tequila not knowing what to do here. Truth be told, getting girls to fuck him had only gotten easier in college. They showed up at hockey frat house parties like clockwork every weekend, and usually, “You want something to drink? Let me get you something,” was all the game he’d needed.
Up until now.
But Lena didn’t day drink, even on her Shake it Off spring break, and Keane didn’t know how to deal with that. Or how to talk to her. Fuck, why was this good girl making him feel like such an insecure pussy?
“Do you work here or something?” she asked, looking around the dark bar.
“Or something,” he answered. “Bar belongs to my uncle. He pays for my ticket down here, and lets me stay in the room upstairs, just so long as I do all the boring ass set up work before the bar opens and the spring inventory. He hates that shit.”
“Wow, a zero spend spring break. I’m impressed.”
“Yeah, you probably are impressed, ya nerd. But trust me, I’m not coming nowhere near bar work after the draft in June.”
“So, you think you might play professionally?”
“Know I will,” he answered, his cardinal rules humming inside his head.
“Well…good for you.”
Yeah, good for him. He could do a 360 spin to slap shot a puck into the goal, but he couldn’t figure out how to talk to this girl without a whole lot of awkwardness. Fuck, he wished she would just take the drink.
“I should get going,” she said instead, stuffing the journal into her beach bag. “If I rush, I can still make it to brunch.”
“Yeah, brunch is the most important meal of the day,” he joked. Even as his brain-screamed, Fuck she’s leaving. She’s just going to walk out the door and I’ll probably never see her again.
She hesitated, then said, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, alright,” he said, brain scrambling to think of something to keep her there. “But before you go, we should talk about it.”
“Talk about what?”
“High school. I was a dick to you.”
A lot of girls would have played it off, but Lena…her face read like CliffsNotes. He could see all the hurt she was still carrying around from that day in her eyes, as she gave him a stiff nod of acknowledgement.
There was probably a right thing to say in a situation like this. Sorry or some shit like that. But Keane had never been good at that sensitive shit.
And in that moment, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to follow up with was, “Here’s how I’m going to make it up to you. That Shake It Off list of yours—I’m going to help you get ‘er done. Starting with number one.”
Her eyes widened and her shoulders stiffened. “You…you read my diary?” she sputtered.
Keane scrunched up his face. “Course I did.” I mean what was she expecting?
Apparently better. Instead of answering, she threw him a bitter look, then turned and walked away.
“Wait, Lena, hold on. Just hear me out,” he said, running to stop her.
She stopped but only because he got in front of her, blocking her way.
“I know I was a rat bastard to you in high school,” he rushed out before she started thinking he was like Graham. “I was going through some shit.”
Understatement. But Keane wasn’t the type to go into the finer details of the shitshow his home life had been those two years. Pretending like he was King of the School at Boston Glenn while having to go back to that shithole he called home on weekends to keep his dad from wailing on his little brother. “I liked you, though. I liked you a lot. From the day you got between me and Band Nerd’s lunch money.”
“Band Nerd,” she repeated, her eyes blazing. “Vihaan had a name. He was a scholarship kid just like me. And you.”
“Yeah, I know he had a name, but…”
Keane wasn’t one of those saps on TV. He never saw himself pouring his heart out to a girl. There was never any reason. However, the look on Lena’s face was giving him a bad feeling that if he really wanted to be her number one, then he was going to have to get real with her.
So, he used a tactic he’d never tried before. The truth. “I was jealous, so I didn’t bother to use it. Didn’t stop being jealous till he showed up to prom with another dude. But I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I acted.”
Silence. She stared at him; her big eyes wider than he’d ever seen them. Even that day in the hallway. “Is this a trick?” she finally asked, her voice tight.
“What? No!”
She shook her head at him. “Because if it’s a trick, it’s a really horrible thing to do. You are so privileged. So, so privileged, because of your talent and your looks. You could seriously have any other girl in Daytona right now. Why pick on me? Play these mind games?”
“Exactly! Why would I pick on you? Trick you?” he answered, spreading his arms defensively. “Girls come easy to me. Why would I put myself through this shit if I didn’t want you?”
And no, he didn’t do details or vulnerability or any of that pussy shit. But in this case his voice dipped low as he told her straight out, “Six years I been wanting you. Ever since the first time we met.”
More silence. And now she was really looking at him, her eyes searching his face like he was a puzzle she had to figure out. “You really want to have sex with me? Help me ditch my V-card?”
Was she fucking kidding? He dipped his head down so that he could look her straight in the eye as he answered, “Yeah…yeah, I do.”
“But why?” she asked. Like he’d offered to crash her car, not be her first time.
“I already told ya,” he answered, his own mind as clear as hers was confused.
They were standing so close now. Even a millimeter closer, and she’d feel just how much he wanted to be her first against her belly.
“One kiss,” he whispered. “One kiss will prove I’m dead serious. I know I’m the high school idiot and you’re the smart girl who knows better, but can I kiss you?”
Second shock of the evening…she nodded. She actually nodded yes.
Ho-ly Shit. Six years of wet dreams. Four of regrets. Both his dick and his heart started pounding like war drums.
No way was Keane going to give her the chance to have second thoughts. He fucking devoured her, covering her sweet lips with his and kissing her like he’d been dreaming about since day one of meeting her.
It was probably too much. In the back of his mind he wo
rried about overwhelming her. But no…she kissed him back. Just as hungrily. Like she’d been waiting six long years for this exact moment, too.
They kissed like that and for a while all Keane’s rules fell away. Who cared about getting assholed or the NHL or anything fucking else? This…was all he wanted. He’d do anything for this.
But she pulled away. “Keane, wait! Stop!”
Keane blinked, something dangerous inside of him commanding him to go on, but no…it was Lena. He didn’t want to hurt her, never wanted to do anything to make her look at him the way she had that morning in the hallway, when instead of asking her out, he’d dicked her over in front of the whole school.
With a shuddering breath, he made himself release her and take a full step back.
But instead of running off, she asked, “Is Keane your first name or your last?”
“My last,” Keane answered, probably looking as confused as she did when he told her he’d been liking her for six years.
She nodded. “What’s your first name?”
Keane inwardly jerked at the question. He never told people his first name. If they wanted to know it, they had to look it up, then wait to get punched if they ever dared to call him that to his face.
But for Lena he answered. For Lena, he confessed, “Desmond.”
If he was expecting her to be a lady about it, he was sorely disappointed. She snorted. “Desmond. That’s kind of nerdy.”
“Yeah, why do you think I go by Keane?”
Still grinning, she asked, “May I call you Desmond?”
“Fuck no. Why would you even ask me that?”
Her expression suddenly sobered. “Because if I’m going to have sex with you, I kind of want to be on a first name basis.”
He stilled, now the one unable to believe the words coming out of her mouth. “You serious?”
“Yeah…yeah I think I am.” She peeped up at him, her big brown eyes shy, even as she said, “My first time. I want it to be with you.”
How had he never noticed just how fucking disgusting his room above the bar was before he opened the door a few minutes after getting the yes from Lena? Back at UBoss, Puck Girls came by their rooms daily to tidy up, like a maid service—but one that was totally willing to spread their legs if you asked nice.
Ruthless Tycoons: The Complete Series (Ruthless Billionaires Book 3) Page 82
