Keep My Heart (Top Shelf Romance Book 7)

by Lex Martin

  Sylvia and I are walking toward the exit, reviewing plans for the week. I’ll talk, share some drills with those who play basketball, though I’m limited in what I can physically do, and participate in a beautification project in one of the rec rooms.

  We’re wrapping up when Iris calls my name.

  She’s walking toward us, her daughter on her hip. This isn’t fair. Both of them? If you ever want a man to keep dreaming, give him a glimpse of what could be.

  They could be mine.

  A wave of misplaced possessiveness rolls through me. The thought of them returning to Caleb’s house grinds my teeth together. The thought of Iris in his bed is physically painful, clenching my gut. They’re both Caleb’s, and I covet them.

  But one flash of that however-many-carat diamond on her finger reminds me how futile hope is.

  When they reach us, Iris glances uncertainly from me to Sylvia and clears her throat.

  “August, could I, um, speak to you before you go?” she asks, fixing her eyes on me and not straying to Sylvia.

  “Sure,” I say easily, like she and I talk every day. “See you tomorrow, Sylvia.”

  Sylvia interprets the comment as the dismissal it is and considers us speculatively before smiling, saying her goodbyes, and walking away.

  “You need something?” I ask abruptly. “My ride’s probably waiting.”

  She flinches at the impatience in my voice, and I feel like an asshole. Sarai wiggles on her hip and blinks at me with long, curly lashes. I bend until I’m level with Sarai and smile into her violet–blue eyes. I’ll regret this, but the kid’s as irresistible as her mother.

  “She’s gotten so big,” I tell Iris but don’t look away from the little girl staring back at me.

  “Yeah.” Iris laughs. Sarai’s dark curls have grown longer since I last saw her, and Iris brushes them back from her face. “It’s going too fast already.”

  Sarai reaches out and grabs a handful of my hair, pulling my face closer. It also brings me closer to Iris. I ignore the electric field our nearness creates and focus on Sarai. She drags her little hand over my eyes and nose, leaving a wet trail of exploration.

  “Oh, God.” Iris points to the wet patch I feel on my cheek. “She got you. I’m sorry.”

  When I allow myself to look at Iris again, the shadow is gone. Humor and affection light her eyes, for her daughter, maybe for me. If anything, she’s more beautiful than the girl I met in the bar a few years ago. There’s a strength, a maturity, a resolve—I don’t know what has added dimension to what she was before, but it stirs a hunger in me. Not just to taste her body, but to know her heart. To read her mind and share her thoughts.

  Fuck. I cannot make myself stop wanting this woman. And as Sarai flashes her little dimpled smile up at me, I want her in my life, too. I want too much. I want things I can’t have, things that aren’t mine, but that kid who showed up every Saturday before the community center doors opened, who was always the last to leave the court, he never learned to stop wanting impossible things.

  The humor fades from Iris’s eyes, the smile melts from her wide, sweet mouth, and she releases a ragged breath. She feels it, too. I don’t have to ask if she does. Her widened eyes and stuttering breath, the answering jerk of awareness from her body to mine tell me. But too much stands between us: another man and the gaudy ring on her finger, circumstances I don’t understand. We’re separated by an incalculable distance, but she feels so close.

  “I’m not engaged,” she says softly, catching me off guard.

  “What’d you say?” I glare at the ring on her left hand. “Then what does that ring mean?”

  “Caleb asked me to marry him, but I haven’t said yes.” Her jaw flexes and her eyes ice over. “I don’t plan to say yes, but he wants me to wear it for now—wants me to think about it.”

  “I don’t get it.” The more she reveals, the less I understand.

  “I know, and I can’t fully explain, but one day I will. I have to work this out on my own.” She drops a kiss on Sarai’s head resting on her shoulder. “Just know that she’s the most important thing—securing Sarai’s future is the most important thing.”

  “Securing her future? You mean money? Do you need money, because I can—”

  “Please don’t insult me. I’m not with Caleb for the money.” A quick frown pleats her dark brows. “I mean, money is a factor, but not the way you might think.”

  If hope is the gap between what if and what is, her words, these few moments shorten that distance. I tentatively run a hand over Sarai’s soft curls. She giggles and buries her head in Iris’s shoulder, shyly peeking back out at me. God, these two could tie me in a knot with their hands behind their backs. Effortlessly.

  “I better go.” Iris looks at her watch, her eyes wide and panicked. “My ride’s probably waiting, too.”

  “You didn’t drive?” I walk beside her, holding the door open so she can pass ahead of me.

  She glances across the street and up the sidewalk in the direction of a large black SUV. Her eyes go wide and she swallows, looking back to me.

  “Don’t walk with . . .You don’t need to walk with us. We’ll be fine. My ride’s here.”

  She swings her head back to look at the SUV once more before flashing me a quick smile and wave.

  “I gotta go,” she repeats. “See you tomorrow.”

  Before I can reply, she dashes across the street. A huge body-builder looking guy steps out and helps her and Sarai into the back seat. He stares at me once they’re inside, his presence like a threat—like a warning. He makes me want to snatch Iris and Sarai away from him. I stand there frozen, feeling helplessly protective until the red taillights disappear around the corner.

  “Gus!”

  I turn toward the only person who calls me that. Jared is parked a few feet away. I’m still not driving much, so he dropped me off.

  I tap the hood of his low-slung sports car. “Dude, you’re such a poser.” I laugh and slide into the front seat, careful of my throbbing leg.

  “You’re just jealous of my whip,” Jared replies.

  “The fact that you used the word ‘whip’ in an actual conversation makes my point.”

  We share a grin, but Jared’s ebbs as quickly as it appeared. “Was that who I think it was?” he asks, never one to pull punches. “Walking out with you? The chick with the kid?”

  “Who?” I conveniently find something outside my window fascinating. “Was that who?”

  “Cut the shit. That was Caleb’s girlfriend, Iris DuPree, wasn’t it?”

  I swivel a curious look around to him. “How do you know Iris?”

  “I interviewed her maybe two years ago for an internship,” he says. “She’s sharp.”

  “Yeah, she is. Why didn’t you give her a job then?”

  “Because at the end of the interview, she threw up all over me.” Jared’s grin is rueful. “She found out she was pregnant. I offered her a job, but by then she was on bed rest and couldn’t work. I believe she was on bed rest almost the entire pregnancy.”

  Pregnant. Unable to work or earn money. Confined to the bed for months. No wonder she said she’d had hard choices to make. It sounds like she did the only thing she could do—stay with Caleb.

  It infuriates me. She barely knew me. Of course, she wouldn’t have turned to me, but I wish she had. I would have done anything to keep her free of him.

  “Please tell me this hasn’t all been about her. Tell me you didn’t provoke Caleb and jeopardize your career, a thirty-million-dollar contract for some chick?”

  “Some chick?” I lift one eyebrow. “You must not remember her if you think she’s just some chick.”

  “I do remember her. I know how she looks.” Jared shows his disgust in the scrunch of his brows. “You sound whipped. I assumed it was just pussy.”

  “Watch your mouth, Jared,” I snap and point a warning finger at him.

  “I didn’t mean any disrespect, but damn. She lives with Caleb. They have
a kid together. It’s really inconvenient if you have a thing for her, Gus.”

  “We’re friends.” I rebuke him with a glare. “And don’t call me Gus.”

  Jared knows I hate the childhood nickname and uses it to get on my nerves. I have enough on my nerves without adding him.

  “So this dirty play was about Iris?” Jared asks. “I saw her at the game with her daughter.”

  “Yeah, I saw her, too.”

  “Doing rehab here in Maryland—that isn’t about her, is it?” Jared shakes his head, not waiting for my answer. “And now you’re conveniently volunteering with her.”

  I tip my head back into the soft leather of the headrest, answering with only a sigh.

  Jared bangs a fist into the steering wheel. “Dammit, August. What part of ‘keep the hell away from my girl’ do you not understand? What’s Caleb gonna have to break next for you to get the message?”

  I snap narrowed eyes over to him. “I’d like to see that motherfucker try to break something else.” I adjust my seat, leaning back, worn out from the few hours at the community center. “There’s more going on than meets the eye. She’s wearing his ring, but she tells me they’re not engaged.”

  “Maybe she’s playing you both. The only thing better than having one rich man strung out on you is having two.”

  “Shut the hell up. If you’ve met Iris, you know she’s not like that.”

  “She seemed like a nice girl. Driven. Bright. Sharp. I wanted her on my team,” Jared admits. “That doesn’t mean she’s not trouble.”

  “Well if she’s trouble, it’s trouble I want to get into,” I tell him, defiance in the look I level at him from the passenger seat. “She made sure I knew she wasn’t engaged for a reason. She doesn’t want me to give up.”

  “But you should.”

  “But I won’t.” I shake my head. “You don’t get it.”

  “What I get is that because of your preoccupation with Caleb’s baby mama, your leg is broken, your career is up in the air, your team may trade your ass, and everything you’ve worked for your whole life is in jeopardy. For some pussy.”

  “It’s not like that. She—”

  “Oh, so you don’t want to fuck her?”

  Of course, I want to fuck her. What am I? A eunuch?

  “Not just that.” I try to stop it, but my lips twitch at the corners.

  “It’s not funny,” Jared says, but when I look over at him, his lips are twitching, too. We both give in and chuckle.

  It gets quiet while we zip through the familiar streets. So many Saturdays through the years he brought me to the community center in his beat-up Camry. We talked about my far-fetched dream of playing in the NBA. Of him managing the biggest names in sports. Of how we’d sit on top of the world together.

  Now, we’re in his Porsche. I’m a baller, a brand with one of the highest-selling jerseys in the league. One of the fattest contracts a rookie’s ever gotten. And I’d risk it all for a girl? I know what he means, but I want more than basketball. I want a life beyond that. I’m not saying that life is with Iris, but I am saying I’ve never felt with anyone else what I feel with her, and I have to chase that as hard as I chased basketball. What I felt today, what I’ve felt every time I’ve been with her, it’s real and it’s special. It’s worth chasing. If I don’t try, I’ll always wonder.

  What if the thing that seems like an impossible dream is within my grasp?

  Iris

  I shouldn’t have told him I wasn’t engaged.

  It’s selfish and reckless to encourage August. At least until I get out from under Caleb. At some point, I know I’ll have to ask someone for help, but it will be at the right time when I have the tools not only to escape from Caleb, but to keep him out of our lives. Until I have that, I should be so careful about every step I take, and indulging myself, my yearning for what I see in August’s eyes and feel in his touch . . . It’s anything but careful. If Caleb is capable of half the things I think he is, recklessness could get August hurt even more than he already has been.

  But August’s expression when he saw Caleb’s ring . . . Devastation? Betrayal? Disappointment? Defeat? It was all those things on one handsome face. And maybe it was the defeat I hated most—the thought that he would give up on whatever it is that blooms between us like a flower, opening up a little more each time we’re together.

  I can stand back and objectively say it shouldn’t feel this powerful, whatever is between us. We haven’t spent that much time together, but from that first night, August felt like a milestone in my life. Like a turning point—like a hinge parts of my future swung on. And if he gives up, we’ll never know what we could be when all the obstacles are gone. When Caleb doesn’t stand between us.

  “Two hours,” Ramone says from the front seat, his stony stare a warning in the rearview mirror. “I’ll be back in two hours.”

  It’s unnecessary, Ramone’s abrupt reminder that time at the community center is merely a furlough from my prison. I’m at the house every night alone, and it’s bliss compared to how it is when Caleb’s there. But I’m lonely, and I felt it most starkly last night after seeing August. Time with him resurrected my senses and summoned butterflies in my stomach I thought were long dead.

  Without responding to Ramone, I climb out of the back seat and load Sarai into her stroller. I don’t look at him once before I start across the street and enter the community center.

  Ms. Audrey takes Sarai with a gentle smile, and Sarai is crawling around with the other babies before I’m even out of sight. The socialization is good for her. I wish there were more opportunities for that, but Caleb won’t hear of it, much less pay for it. That would leave too many factors out of his control.

  Torrie and Shelia are already in the rec room when I arrive. Today, I made a little more effort, wearing black wide-legged linen pants and a pink and black sleeveless top. My hair is down my back, freshly washed. My makeup is simple but heavier than it was yesterday. In other words, I tried. As much as I may not want to admit it, knowing August would be here today, I tried. It must be evident because Torrie and Shelia both raise their brows when I walk in.

  “Mmmm-mmm-mmmph.” Torrie flicks the large gold hoop in my ear. “Oh, you fancy, huh?”

  Shelia looks up from the board games she’s setting out for the kids to play when they return from the gym.

  “Little upgrade, I see,” Sheila adds. “Is this for us or for Mr. Rookie of the Year?”

  I force a disdainful laugh. “August and I barely know each other.” I make myself meet their eyes directly.

  “Looked like you knew something,” Torrie says, “the way he ran out of here after you, and y’all were all booed up.”

  Reckless. Careless. I have to do better today. “Nope. Nothing to it.” I consider the table filled with games. “So are we playing games after August talks with them?”

  “Oh, he’s with them now in the gym overseeing some drills,” Shelia says, looking at me slyly. “He’ll probably leave after that so looks like you got all dressed up for nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t call this dressed up . . .” Her words sink in, and disappointment follows. I don’t even bother finishing my denial.

  So I won’t see August today. It’s for the best.

  I’m still convincing myself of that when the kids pour in, sweaty and laughing, from the gym. I put on a bright smile and serve the bagged lunches they’ll eat before the games start.

  I’m passing out Gatorades when a deep rumble of laughter raises the hairs on my arms. I snap my head around, searching for the source. August sits on one of the tables, one foot on the bench and his injured leg stretched out in its cast. He laughs at something with the kids clustered around him and throws his head back. His hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it, and with those dark, caramel-kissed curls, his skin, bronze melded with gold, and his teeth flashing white in the strong planes of his face, I literally cannot take my eyes off him.

  I’ll give myself three seconds to l
ook at him.

  One.

  Two.

  And then he looks up, and our eyes hold. I’d love to pretend this is casual. Friends with a dash of attraction. Slightly forbidden, but mostly harmless. There’s an undeniable truth, though, when my eyes connect with his. When our eyes meet, it isn’t casual. He and I together are mayhem. When he looks at me, I can’t pretend otherwise.

  I turn away before Torrie and Shelia pay even closer attention, and walk over to the game table and pretend to arrange UNO and Monopoly and Taboo.

  “You like board games?”

  I jump at his question, dropping a deck of cards all over the floor and at August’s feet.

  “Ugh.” I sink to my knees to gather them. “Such a klutz.”

  He squats awkwardly, scooping up cards.

  “August, no! Your leg.”

  I grab his arm and carefully coax him upright, which brings our bodies almost flush. When he looks down at me, his stare mirrors the feelings, the desire pulsing through my body. That stare is hot and hungry and curious. It wonders how I taste. Asks how I’d feel crushed against him. It imagines a first kiss I’m not sure we’ll ever have.

  “You look pretty today.” His words are polite enough, but the air between us is thick and carnal. One wrong word could slice right through it.

  “Thank you. I . . .” I encounter Sylvia’s inquiring eyes just beyond his shoulder. I turn my head and collide glances with Torrie and Shelia. “Why is everyone watching us?”

  August casts a discreet look from the corner of his eye, and the dark line of his brows falls.

  “I think they see the same thing Caleb saw at the game that night.” He surreptitiously links our pinky fingers. “They see I can’t stay away from you. That I don’t want to.”

  “August.” I reluctantly untangle our fingers, sweeping the room to see who might still be watching. Everyone seems to have found other things to occupy their attention, but we should separate. “I’m gonna go restock the drinks. I’ll see you later.”