by Leigh Lennon
“Now that was the cheesiest joke I’ve ever heard, but I’ll give you an A for making me laugh.”
“And I’ll take it.” His face shifts suddenly, the seriousness written all over it, when he takes my chin and moves it to his gaze.
“I’ve liked you for a long time, Leela. And it’s not an excuse for what I did when I was younger, but I didn’t know how to talk to the girl I liked, really liked. Can you ever forgive me?”
Re-creating a dance in the middle of nowhere with lights and my favorite music is a start in the right direction. But I keep these thoughts to myself.
“I’m not sure.” I want to try to forgive him, but this is my defense mechanism talking. “By the way, what is this place? Are we trespassing?”
“Nah, this is my land. I’d bought it to build my parents their dream house, but come to find out, their dream house is the one they raised their family in. So I paid off their home but kept this land for myself, thinking I could build my dreams here one day.”
He’s done all of this for his parents? I’m floored.
“You should see it in the daylight, sweetheart. It’s gorgeous. On about twenty acres, it has a little stream not far from where I want to build the house. Some of the land is cleared, and some of it is wooded.”
The song ends, and he shuts off the music. “What are you doing?” I ask, and even though there’s no more music, we continue to sway back and forth.
“It was a ten-minute drive out here, meaning it’s a ten-minute drive back. So we had ten minutes here. Remember, thirty minutes.”
I slug him. “I don’t think my carriage will turn into a pumpkin.”
The smug look that covers his face is sexy as sin as he hits his phone again, and Pink’s “Just Give Me a Reason” begins to play.
I love this song, but it’s newer. How could he know how much it’s become an anthem for all I do?
“I know it’s not fair to ask you, again, but do you think we can ever start over?” He’s asking if I’ll ever give him a chance.
The blue in his eyes swirl like the ocean, and I’m blown away by his grand gesture.
“Okay, so you aren’t ready to answer me,” he begins when I don’t give him a reply. “And I understand. But would you kick me in the nuts if I ask to kiss you?”
Will his lips on my lips be my undoing?
His breath—a mix of tangerine, lemon, and mint— intoxicates my senses. His hands move from my body, but we don’t break contact. He cups my face as his lips open to meet mine. He brushes his tongue gently over mine with small strokes. I can’t begin to describe the sensation of our mixed flavors because there has never been anything similar. Once his momentum speeds up, so does mine, and the kiss isn’t sweet anymore. It’s heated with a burning necessity to further the desire to get lost in more of him.
I pull him closer into my embrace, and his erection pokes further into me. The aching need for more of him is visceral, but I inwardly scold myself. That would be moving too quick, but telling the throbbing need dictating my body is a whole other thing.
We’re fused together, and this feels all kinds of right with very little wrong. My heart screams yes, where my brain reminds me of all the times I cried because of this man. But he was just a kid. Kids can make mistakes that can be forgiven, right?
I need to get out of my mind because in all of it, I’m not enjoying him like I should, and hell, in the here and now, I want to enjoy every bit of his body against mine.
He begins to thrust his hips into me, and the friction is so much yet not enough. I graze my hand between us, just enough that my touch scrapes up against his erection. He emits a mewl inside my mouth, his reverberations spewing on my continued touch. He removes his one hand from my face, skimming his fingers over my simple black T-shirt to my very thin bra.
He breaks our kiss, though our lips still touch. “Damn, you’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I want you. Hell, I want you so much. But you’re so much more to me. You always have been.”
Pulling back, I fear I have given him too much now that I can think straight.
Kier starts, “Stop, please, before you say this is a mistake. Let me tell you one last thing.” I step away from him, a Taylor Swift song playing in the background. “I was good at many things growing up. And yes, that sounds arrogant, but it’s not meant to be. The one thing I wasn’t good at was talking to a girl I wanted but had intimidated me.”
In the frown I can feel invade my face, I know my eyebrows have formed a V. “You sure didn’t have a problem talking to or making moves on other girls.”
“You’re right, but you were the only girl who mattered. And I didn’t try to keep up with you on social media because I never thought I was good enough for you. You deserved so much more than a dumb jock who struggled in school, passing by the skin of my teeth so I could play ball. You were so much more. And that may sound like an excuse, but hell, it’s the truth.”
I step back, putting a good foot between us, when he continues, a crooked smile spreading over his handsome features. “Will you come back and dance with me if I don’t kiss you anymore?”
I want to kiss more. I want so much, but for now, I’ll dance in his arms. Not sure it is where I can stay, but this is nice—too nice.
An hour later, he pulls up in front of my house and is out of the car and at my door before I know it.
“You didn’t have to walk me to the front porch,” I explain, but I’m secretly giddy about this.
“Yeah, I did. It’s what a proper gentleman does.”
I have a retort on my tongue, but he pulls me to him and quiets me with a kiss. “I knew you had some sort of smart-ass comment. Thought a kiss just might stop it.”
I walk toward the door, but he gently pulls me back to him. “Please, drive back with me tomorrow, Leela. I mean, I’ll beg if that’s what it takes.”
“A part of me would love to see you grovel, but I’m not sure I can. I can’t just rush into anything with you. It’s just too much and too quick.”
What I can’t say is, I don’t trust myself around him.
“Okay, but please just think about it?” There’s a plea in his eyes I can’t quite discern, and when he pulls me in for a chaste kiss and a little peck on the cheek, he hands me my bouquet.
“Thanks for being my date tonight.” He’s nervous to leave. I can see the vulnerability all over his face, and it’s cute.
“Good night, Kieran, and thanks, I had the best time.” It’s not a lie. I really had the best time, but then again, I’m not sure how to compartmentalize all of this. And as he leaves, I watch his brake lights as they drive out of view and wonder what the hell I’ve just gotten myself into.
Chapter 11
Kier
The sun flitters in from the outside, and I wake up with a smile. I grab my phone to ask Leela what time she’d like to leave, and my smile broadens at the first name on my lock screen. I open it up, happy to know she’s texted me already.
Sweetheart: Please don’t be mad. I had a great time last night. But I need to take a breather. I’d love to see you again, but I’m having a hard time trusting myself.
The grin overtaking my face falters, then it falls flat.
Me: I’m sorry you can’t trust yourself. And I know I hold all of that blame. Can we do dinner?
Setting the phone down, I stretch out on my childhood twin-sized bed. “Fuck!” I scream, but just loud enough my parents can’t hear from the other side of our house. Looking at the clock, I see it’s just six a.m., so I highly doubt Molly is home from her night on the town.
The phone chirps at me, and I pick it up.
Sweetheart: How about tomorrow night? I don’t want to go out. But that’s not to say we’re having sex.
Me: You’re a sassy little thing.
I send it, and it’s true. She’s so little, even with her signature high heels. I pick up my phone to send another text.
Me: I don’t care if you sit ten feet away from me. Any time with you i
s all I want.
I watch the dots reappear, and I lie in wait for her reply.
Sweetheart: I may regret this, but meet me at my house, and if I have to move because you begin to stalk me, I’m going to be pissed. I love my little home.
Her text includes her address and the time, telling me she understands I have early mornings. I don’t care if I’m a little tired for practice the next day. Proving to her I’m a new man is all that matters.
In my mind, I formulate a plan. If I can make it back to Seattle by noon, I’ll have time for my new pet project. I make the appropriate calls, then pop into the shower. My bags are at the door by seven a.m., but I know I’m not getting out of my house without a proper breakfast. My mom has it all for me—bacon, eggs, waffles, and fresh fruit. We chat over food and coffee, and when I hit the road a little before eight, I confirm my plans for the day. And for the first time, I not only have my love of the game but also a future I was never sure I’d be capable of.
In the locker room, the television is on at the far wall near the players’ lounge. It’s the news, and I’m not greeted with Leela’s beautiful features but the loud mouth of the annoying Connie Weston. I watch the news more now than I ever did, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl who’s always owned my heart.
But Connie’s yammering bothers me, and I know why. She’s intent on stealing the show. Leela has never mentioned her, but I know a people climber when I see one.
Will walks by and snaps me with a towel. “Ow, asshole, that hurt.” Even with jeans on, I can feel the sting.
“Oh, hell, please tell me you don’t have eyes for that snake.” He points at the screen.
“Fuck, no, I’m just watching this piece while wishing another reporter is on the screen.”
He gives me a hearty laugh. “Yeah, don’t fall for the likes of Connie. When the Strickland murders case broke, again, my brother and his old partner were a part of the takedown.” I already knew that. “And Connie came after my brother, trying to steal the story from Leela. Connie would show up at my brother’s house and try to bombard his wife. Leela and the other detective, Wells Shanahan, had a past relationship, so Connie tried to claim Leela couldn’t do her job. But Leela’s always dealt with her stories in the most professional way.”
“What, wait?” I ask.
“Yeah, Leela and Wells Shanahan were an item at one time. But don’t worry, he only has eyes for his new wife.”
This fills me with rage. How dare someone have eyes for my sweetheart? Yet I can’t exactly say I’ve been celibate in the past.
My mind is racing when Will speaks again. “Have you been following this man?” He points at the screen. “He’s going from area to area, talking about being kinder to others. I’m not sure how he’s not been found out yet, but his intentions are pure and good. And he doesn’t want to further his own career.” He slaps me on the back. “Now that guy is a great man who wants to atone for his past sins.”
I stare straight ahead without replying to his statement because he’s fishing. “Have a good night, brother,” Will calls from behind me, and I know I will because I’ll be with Leela. I don’t look back at Connie Weston as she continues to drone on as I leave the locker room.
My only thoughts are on Leela. She’s the only reporter who matters.
Sliding into my Tahoe, I receive a call from the service that’s helping me with my extracurricular activities.
“Hey, man,” the voice calls on the other end. “One of the men in the security detail was given a note from—well, you know who’s been trying to break this story. She’s asked for exclusive rights to interview you. Also, there’s a middle school in the area that has been really working on the same type of campaign you’re trying to instill. They’ve had a lot of cases at their school. I’ve talked to everyone involved, and we think we can accommodate both without sacrificing your privacy.”
I sit in my SUV, attempting to let this sink in. Can I take the risk? The whole time, I’ve wanted to save others from themselves, showing them being mean isn’t the way to make your mark in this world. This goes a step further. Mean isn’t the word I’m aiming for. It’s cruel, harsh, and punishing behavior toward others that I’m trying to change. It isn’t long before I can answer him.
“I’ll do it, but I need to make sure my privacy won’t be invaded. I don’t have a personal agenda here.” My agenda is to make my mark on the world, but not to do so in this way as Kieran O’Hennessey.
Her house is adorable. Set on a road with a slight hill, I park near her sidewalk and engage the parking brake. The house is surrounded by a small white picket fence. I open the gate, and a little French bulldog comes running toward me.
“Poppy,” an unfamiliar voice calls out, “for now, I won’t make you attack.” I look down at the dog who doesn’t look like an attack dog as Poppy rolls on her back, begging me to rub her belly. “But if he hurts Auntie LeeLee, you can attack, and I’ll kick him in the balls.”
I’ve not looked up from the adorable Frenchie at my feet, but with her words, I know it’s Venezia, Leela’s sister.
Poppy rolls back around and runs to her mama, and when I look up, I see a resemblance to her sister. Venezia is taller with straight black hair.
“Zia, I don’t think it’ll have to come to that,” I promise.She approaches me. “I hope not. I’d hate to hurt your chances for children down the line,” she warns, and I laugh as she stares daggers at me.
She picks up Poppy and walks by me as I give the cute dog a little pat on her head. “Your mama is mean,” I say, and Zia’s glower continues.
“You mess with my sister, and I’ll come after you, O’Hennessey.”
“Zia, can you stop threatening the poor boy?” Leela calls out from the large front porch.
“We’ll see, but for now, Poppy and I are going out for a romp at the dog park. I’ll be back, and if my sister is crying, I’ll come search you out.”
Poppy and Zia leave, and as she backs out of the driveway in her truck, she doesn’t break her stare on me.
“I forgot what a tough cookie your sister is.”
Twisting my body around, I take in Leela for the first time tonight. She’s in her signature navy blue attire for work. Underneath her navy blue jacket is a tight emerald green top with high-waisted pants. She takes off the jacket, and it’s a good thing because seeing her in this makes me sweat. It has to be eighty-five degrees outside.
“Wow, sweetheart, you look great.”
She lets out a nervous laugh. “Be sure to take it in. I’ve not had a chance to change, and I’m about to put on some yoga pants and a tank top.”
Her bubble butt in a pair of tight yoga pants has the governing member of my body coming to attention. At least the zipper of my jeans hides my hard-on.
“Come on in. I’ve not been able to get dinner started yet.” Leela cooking for me is a treat. “I can order something for us if you’d rather not cook,” I offer.
She waves me off. “No, I enjoy cooking.” I won’t argue with this.
I ascend the three steps to her front porch and extend my hand to hers. When she allows me to pull her toward me, I lean in, sweeping my lips over hers.
“Listen…” She pulls back, and I miss her touch. “About yesterday, I just…”
“No, don’t apologize, please. I’m not into something quick with you. I’d rather build from the ground up.”
She staggers back. “Really, you’re not just about sex?” she asks and seems both surprised and disappointed.
“Let me rephrase. I’m all about sex with you but not at the expense of not being able to build to something more than just sex.”
“Now, that makes sense.” She closes the distance between us and leans in on her tiptoes, reaching my face. “Do you think we can recreate the kiss from the other night?”
“Yeah, sweetheart, this won’t be an issue at all.” The sweetness of our kiss from Saturday begins, and I wrap her in my arms, my hands on her delectable bubble butt
. I want to kiss her like I did the other night, but I didn’t think it out all the way, not with her entire neighborhood as witnesses.
“Do you think we can go in?” I ask.
She pulls my hands, and I go with her.
The second we walk over the threshold, she scoots out of my grasp, but it gives me a chance to take in her own space. The craftsman-style house opens up to the cozy living room painted in light browns with a large leather sofa taking up a portion of the room. Against the wall is a large television with a couple of smaller antique-looking tables, housing many pictures of Leela and her family. The walls are full of colorful photographs, mainly landscapes, but in the middle of the room is a large picture of Walter Cronkite. I find this as acceptable as the picture of Emmitt Smith I have over my desk in my spare room.
“This is cute, sweetheart.” She makes it to the steps right behind the living room.
“Make yourself at home. I’m going to change.” She begins to turn to go upstairs but stops. Walking toward me, she cups my face. “This is me letting you in. Please don’t hurt me.”
She renders me speechless as she drops a kiss on my cheek. She’s up the stairs before I can reply. This girl—she’s everything.
I’m sitting on the couch making arrangements with my security. I can hear footsteps descending the staircase, so I quickly end the conversation, turning around to Leela. She has her hair pulled up and is in a black tank top and bright pink yoga pants.
“Come join me in the kitchen while I cook?” she asks, and I’m right behind her. I’d been serious when I said sex was the last thing on my mind. Well, I’m a guy, so it’s on my mind, but I don’t want to rush her.
“Would you like some wine? I mean, I’m Italian, so I need it while I cook.”
I shake my head. I may drink alcohol again one day, but it had gotten out of hand for me. Plus, it’s a team pledge to abstain from drinking during the season.
“I don’t drink during the season,” I explain, but I leave it at that. I don’t yearn for alcohol. Watching every bit of her is all I have on my mind anyway.
