Love Unbound

by Cassandra Dee

  Kyle leans back then, eyes flickering over my form. Everything goes soft and loose inside, and I blush.

  “So tell me about you,” that deep voice rumbles, blue eyes seizing mine. “What brings a pretty girl like you to OkEros?”

  I grow even more red.

  “That wasn’t me on the site. You know that. It was my dad.”

  He nods.

  “I know, but it only makes things more strange. Why was your dad on the site masquerading as you?” he asks curiously, blue eyes gleaming.

  I take a deep breath, ready to explain it all.

  “Well, my mom left a couple years back, and it’s just been me and Ralph since. And I don’t get out much between work and taking care of my dad because he’s sick.”

  Kyle interrupts for a moment.

  “I know, he told me over the phone.”

  “You talked to him?” is my gasp.

  Kyle nods enigmatically.

  “Yep. After we started messaging, he fessed up to masquerading as you. So I gave him my number, and we had a nice long chat on the phone. He told me all about you.”

  I’m stunned.

  “Why did you even talk to him?” is my stammer. “Why not just drop it? How did Ralph get you on the line?”

  The questions tumble out one after another but Kyle’s smile is enigmatic.

  “Let’s just say if I had a daughter, I’d do the same for her,” he says smoothly. “But we’re here to talk about you. Ralph told me you haven’t been on a date in over a year, and he’s worried you’ve given up on meeting anybody.”

  “He said that?” I sputter. For what feels like the fiftieth time since this whole disaster began, I heave a big sigh. “Great. Now you probably think I’m this charity case who’ll go out with anybody who gives her the time of day.”

  Kyle smiles again.

  “Sweetheart, one thing you’ll learn about me is that I always say what I mean. If I thought you were a charity case, I’d tell you so. Besides, this isn’t even about you, or me.” He pauses, a faraway look coming into those electrifying eyes. “It’s about your dad.”

  What in the world? What does that mean, it’s about your dad? What did the two of them talk about? And if this isn’t about Kyle and me, then why are we on this date, and on Valentine’s Day, no less?

  Before I can ask him any of these questions, Kyle hands the menu to the waiter and orders for both of us. At first, I’m astonished. Who is this man who thinks he can order for me? But frankly, after years of managing my dad’s care, it feels nice to let someone else take charge for once.

  Kyle sits back again, that long frame unfolding itself.

  “Ralph told me all about his bone cancer, and he mentioned Cedars-Sinai has this treatment that’s helped a lot of people out. The thing is, I know everybody at Cedars. The doctors there have been CMI customers for years. So I told him, let me make a phone call or two. I’ll get you as close to the top of the list for that treatment as I can.”

  I wasn’t expecting to hear those words. Any cancer patient or caregiver would agree, one of the worst things about fighting this disease is how often you feel like you’re going it alone, with no one in your corner and no one to lend a hand. But I never would have guessed, in a million years, that I’d find that helping hand on OkEros, of all places.

  Without even being able to fight it, grateful tears well at the corners of my eyes.

  “Kyle. I just, I don’t know what to say,” is my stammer. “I mean, yeah, my dad and I know all about this treatment. But he’s maxed out the lifetime limit on his health insurance, and I’m just a waitress making minimum wage,” is my teary confession. “Even if we were at the top of the list, it doesn’t matter. We can’t -”

  “I can. I can afford it. And I’ll cover it.”

  “What?” My mouth drops open in surprise, eyes wide. “I’m sorry? You’d pay for my dad? But…why? You don’t even know us. Why would you do this?”

  Kyle grins, as the food arrives. Mmm, yummy. It looks and smells heavenly, but right now the only thing I can focus on are the alpha’s words.

  “I just told you,” he drawls casually. “I can afford it. So why shouldn’t I?”

  “But I just…I’m so confused. I mean, we just don’t live in a world where people do things like this.”

  “Maybe we should,” Kyle replies matter-of-factly. Who could argue with a statement like that? I’m certainly not going to. This is an unexpected gift from the heavens after all.

  “But it’s crazy. I mean, do you get anything out of doing this?”

  “Well, that’s easy.” Kyle leans forward, fixing me once again with that penetrating blue gaze. “I get you.”

  Shock shoots through my spine, making me sit up straight.

  “What do you mean?” I ask slowly. “What does ‘getting me’ mean?”

  He leans back, that blue gaze electric, and I go warm inside.

  “Sweetheart, I don’t want to make this transactional, but I booked your dad for treatment at Cedars-Sinai hospital.”

  My mouth drops open.

  “But that place has a waiting list.”

  He nods.

  “Your dad’s at the top now. He’ll be admitted within three months.”

  I gasp again before babbling.

  “It’s the only hospital that has the doctors and technology that Ralph needs,” are my words. “We’ve been on the waiting list for so long, but we couldn’t make any progress, everyone else just kept leapfrogging over us. Maybe then knew something we didn’t, or maybe my dad wasn’t sick enough,” I say tearfully when Kyle interrupts me.

  “You have me now,” comes his deep voice. “And with me on your side, sweetheart, your dad should be admitted pretty soon. I couldn’t kick out an existing patient, but I could put Ralph at the top of the list.”

  And tears begin falling from my eyes now, hot streaks decorating my cheeks.

  “Thank you,” is my whisper. “I really appreciate it, and all for a man you’ve never met.”

  But suddenly, an awareness dances down my spine.

  “But what do you get out of it?” are my slow words. “Is this what you mean when you said, ‘you get me’?”

  He nods enigmatically.

  “Sweetheart, all I’m asking is three months.”

  My mouth falls open.

  “Three months of what?”

  “Three months of going out on dates,” he growls, those beautifully sculpted lips turning up at one corner. “Me and you getting to know each other.”

  I gasp once more.

  “But-but you didn’t have to do all that if that’s all you wanted,” is my whisper. “You know that. You can get anyone you want, Kyle. You didn’t have to help my dad.”

  The billionaire leans back, self-assured and in total control.

  “Let’s just say it’s been an interesting turn of events. I met a man on-line who told me about his beautiful daughter,” he says with a quirk to his lips. “And because it was easy for a billionaire to help,” he rumbles once more, “why not be a fairy godmother and make things happen?”

  My eyes are round, hardly daring to believe the words.

  “So my dad gets top of the line treatment so long as I go out with you for three months?” is my whisper.

  Those blue eyes gleam once more.

  “That’s right, sweetheart. And I promise,” Kyle rumbles, taking my trembling hands in his large ones. “You do not have to sleep with me.” Then that knowing grin again. “Unless you really want to.”

  And suddenly, I go weak inside. Because this man is more than just a fairy godmother. He’s a mindreader because without warning my body goes hot and loose, burning up with want and need for this man … as well as gratitude.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  When I finally pull up to the house, I’m still a little dazed from my conversation with Kyle, but not so out of it that I don’t notice the light in Dad’s window. Knowing he sometimes nods off with the TV on, I tap his door lightly with my
knuckles instead of just walking in.

  “That you, Sarahbelle?” comes the hoarse rasp.

  Breathing the usual sigh of relief when I know he’s still with us, I enter. Ralph’s propped up in bed, looking thin and weak. But he’s smiling, fingers dancing over his iPad screen as he deals out cards for a hand of solitaire. “You’re getting in late. How’d everything go?”

  “Well, Dad, I…” I sit down on the edge of the mattress next to him, so I can see the cards he’s setting up, one by one. “I agreed to Kyle’s terms.”

  Ralph nods slowly.

  “Okay. So he gave you the whole sales pitch, huh?”

  “What? You knew he was going to ask me for three months?”

  “Sure. He had the whole thing worked out in his head. He even paid for the treatment while we were on the phone.” Dad puts down a five of hearts, then realizes he’s blocked himself from laying out any other cards this round. “Ahh, dammit…”

  I straighten my shoulders indignantly.

  “Dad. Answer me honestly. Did you sell me to this guy for your surgery?”

  Dad lets the iPad drop into his lap. He turns to me, his eyes watery but hard and serious. “Sarah, come on. If I needed a head transplant, I wouldn’t do that to you. Kyle brought up the idea, and before I could say anything, he’d logged onto the hospital website. He was gonna do this either way.” He looks me up and down, notes the thoughtful frown lines in my forehead. “What did you think of him, Sarahbelle?”

  I decide not to say anything about Kyle’s deep blue eyes and how they cut straight through to my soul and made me tingle inside. “Well, he certainly seems to think highly of himself.”

  Dad chuckles, a dry crackle, like clattering bones. “Yeah, he’s a confident S.O.B., all right.” The laugh devolves into a cough, one that starts out small, but soon has Dad’s chest and lungs rattling so hard it feels like he’s vibrating to pieces. I put a bracing hand on his back, keep him as upright as possible until he catches his breath. It’s a regular part of our routine together, one that’s getting more frequent as the weeks and months go by.

  “I’m telling you,” he finally manages to sigh out, “he’s a good guy. Now I just gotta make it three months until he can get me admitted. Make sure the man gets his money’s worth.”

  I smile gently, helping Ralph lie down before getting ready for bed myself. And that night, under the covers, I keep trying to puzzle out the psyche of a guy who would make the “deal” Kyle brokered with me this evening. The kind of man who’d pay for a potentially life-saving surgery for a man he’s never met face to face. The sheer, no-fear bravado to even suggest something as insane as the arrangement he’s whipped up between the two of us.

  And then I remember. Since he was a teenager, Kyle has been designing technology that saves people’s lives. With that kind of power at your command from a young age, of course you’re going to start thinking you can pretty much conquer the world. For people like Kyle, life follows a very simple rule: You ask for what you want, and the universe delivers. And as someone who’s wanted nothing more for the last two years now than just to see my father well again, to find a man with that kind of power, who wants to use it to give you the thing you want…

  I think about Kyle’s eyes. The way they locked in on me, the blue dazzling even in the dark of night. The way his bulk loomed, huge and massive, yet oddly familiar too.

  I find my fingers creeping towards the waistband of my panties, then think better of it.

  No. I said I wasn’t going to sleep with him tonight, and I meant it. Not even in my dreams.

  Besides, I find myself thinking as I slip off to sleep, you’ve got three months to decide if you really want to.

  *

  My first real date with Kyle comes three days later. When he texts to say he’ll pick me up at noon, he doesn’t tell me what he’s got planned. He just says: Wear clean socks. So at least I know for this date, the little black dress isn’t the way to go. I opt for a fluffy but breathable white sweater and jeans with just the right amount of snug. Lili saw them once, when I came into Perch on a day off to pick up a book I’d left in the break room. She called them my “bootylicious jeans.” Either way, I feel good when I wear them, so even if I have a bad time today, at least I’ll feel nice about myself.

  I’m up in Dad’s room, presenting him with his freshly charged iPad and some homemade beef vegetable soup, when I hear the car horn outside. Without even looking, I know it’s Kyle. Somehow, the horn of his car even sounds expensive.

  “Is that him?” Dad asks, tucking a napkin into the collar of his T-shirt.

  I look out the window, and it’s not a sports car. Instead, he’s driving a vintage Triumph Spitfire, gunmetal gray, top down like he’s got nothing to worry about in the world. And sure enough, the man flashes me a white smile, making me go soft inside.

  Oh god, the date hasn’t even started yet, and I already want him.

  “So it’s not him, then?”

  Dad has misinterpreted my involuntary shiver. “No, it’s him.” I catch Kyle looking up at the window through his sunglasses and give him a quick “just a minute” wave. I turn to Dad and take a deep breath that catches about halfway down to my lungs. “So how do I look?”

  “Sweetie,” he says, “you look nervous as hell.”

  I blush a little when I realize he’s right. It strikes me as funny that I would feel nervous at all. I mean, I’m just going out with this fellow because of what he did for Dad and because I owe him. It’s the right thing to do. That’s the only reason.

  Isn’t it?

  “I know, I just, this is all still kind of strange.”

  “Well, just remember. You’re going out to have a good time. And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

  “Thanks Ralph,” I say softly, nodding to the iPad. “And don’t set me up with any more men while I’m out.”

  “I won’t,” he says, letting a mischievous grin creep over his face. “Unless I find one who’s free three months from now.”

  I laugh a little at Dad’s joke, give him a goodbye peck on the forehead and head down and out the door.

  “Some ride,” I laugh lightly, slipping on my own shades as I climb in. “What’s next? You show up in the Batmobile?”

  Kyle smiles offhandedly at this.

  “Naw, I only have the two cars. I just thought it’s a nice day for February, figure we’d get some sun along the way.” He makes sure I’m settled in, my door closed, before he takes off. As he eases the car down my block, he glances at my feet and sees my “good” tennis shoes. “You wear clean socks like I told you?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know why you’re so worried about my socks. Are my shoes okay? Should I have worn deck shoes or -”

  “No. I just wanted to make sure you don’t get stared at when you change shoes.”

  Change shoes? What is he…

  That’s when I notice the leather bag nestled next to his hip on the seat by the driver’s side door. You only ever find one thing in a bag that size and shape.

  “We’re going bowling?”

  “Something wrong?”

  I laugh lightly.

  “No. You just seem like a serious guy. Bowling is all about old people having fun. Didn’t know it was you.”

  Those blue eyes gleam.

  “You don’t know a lot about me Sarah. You’ll see.”

  I laugh again because finding out more about this mysterious man is right up my alley, and I can’t wait.

  As we hit a red light, Kyle tilts his shades down, the better to fix me with those penetrating blue eyes.

  “Something you’ll learn these next three months, Sarah: Having money doesn’t mean that you have to live a certain way. It doesn’t mean I have to eat at fancy places, or wear expensive clothes, or any of that stuff. In fact, things doesn’t matter at all.” He smiles. “I eat at taco trucks because it tastes good. And now, today, I think bowling sounds fun.” The light turns green, and his eyes are
back on the road. “Do you like bowling?”

  I quickly realize that there’s a lot more to this man than fancy things. He seems to understand that the best things in life are free, even if all around him are the trappings of incredible wealth.

  I nod shyly.

  “Sure, bowling’s okay.”

  Truth is, I’d probably like bowling a lot better if I was even slightly good at it. When we get to Lucky Strike, where Kyle’s reserved a lane for the afternoon, he doesn’t make a fuss when I ask the manager if we can have one with bumpers. Even so, I send almost as many shots around the pins as through them. Kyle shells out an extra few dollars so he can use the bumperless lane to the right of ours to bowl his own frames. I should have known what to expect the minute I saw that gold “280” stick pin on his bag. He’s a brilliant bowler, dropping the ball to the lane with supreme precision, picking up strikes and spares seemingly at will. Even so, he does leave an occasional pin or two hanging. Just like that little “280” suggests, the man’s not perfect. But he’s the next best thing to it.

  After our games, we order a couple of beers and a plate of chicken nachos. I pick around the edges of the platter, trying to avoid the fattening melted nacho cheese and sour cream. Kyle has no such worries, washing down each hearty mouthful with a sip of beer. He’s not a sloppy eater, but a very enthusiastic one. Just like the high school kid he was when he set on the road to billion-hood.

  “I have to ask,” I say, clearly envious, “how can you eat like that and stay in such good shape?”

  “I work out for an hour, first thing every morning. Lats, delts, Soloflex, bench press. Run five miles on the treadmill every other day. Plus, I’ve got metabolism like a hummingbird. Just blessed with it, I guess.”

  I heave a deep sigh. “Boy, that must be nice. Feels like everything I eat, I carry for the next ten years. And I really don’t even eat that much. I’ve just always been, you know…” I search for the nicest way I can think of to call myself fat. I settle for “…on the thicker side.”

  Kyle’s eyes again glide down over my full hips, the curve of my backside against the vinyl-covered booth seat. “So you’re blessed, too, then.”