ROUGH RIDE
South Florida Riders – Book Five
Breezie Bennett
ROUGH RIDE
Copyright © 2020 Mia Frisiello
This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights to reproduction of this work are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission from the copyright owner. Thank you for respecting the copyright. For permission or information on foreign, audio, or other rights, contact the author, [email protected].
ISBN: 978-1-7341760-6-3 E-BOOK
ISBN: 978-1-7341760-7-0 PRINT
COVER ART: The Killion Group, Inc. (designer)
INTERIOR FORMATTING: Author E.M.S.
Table of Contents
ROUGH RIDE
Copyright
The South Florida Riders Series
One – Kendall
Two – Andre
Three – Kendall
Four – Andre
Five – Kendall
Six – Andre
Seven – Kendall
Eight – Andre
Nine – Kendall
Ten – Andre
Eleven – Kendall
Twelve – Andre
Thirteen – Kendall
Fourteen – Kendall
Fifteen – Andre
Sixteen – Kendall
Seventeen – Andre
Eighteen – Kendall
Nineteen – Kendall
Twenty – Andre
Twenty-one – Kendall
Twenty-two – Andre
Twenty-three – Kendall
Twenty-four – Andre
Twenty-five – Kendall
Twenty-six – Andre
Twenty-seven – Kendall
Twenty-eight – Andre
Twenty-nine – Kendall
Epilogue – Andre
About the Author
The South Florida Riders Series
Wild Ride
Slow Ride
Easy Ride
Thrill Ride
Rough Ride
Sweet Ride
For a complete list, buy links, and reading order of all my books, visit www.breeziebennett.com. Be sure to sign up for my newsletter to find out when the next book is released!
One
Kendall
“Hello, my loves. Lattes for your Monday blues.” I smile brightly at Desta and Jackson, breezing through the office and handing them each a warm cup from Starbucks.
Desta brushes back her short black hair and rubs the small bump on her belly. “Baby loves espresso.”
Jackson rolls up the sleeves of his red flannel and gives Desta a kiss on the forehead, taking the coffee from me with a nod. “Baby’s gonna get that caffeine addiction from Mom and Dad, that’s for sure.”
I laugh softly and feel warmth fill my chest. Sunshine pours in through the windows and bounces off the glass. I glance around the tiny headquarters of Collins Renovation & Design. It’s not much—just the three of us and a thousand-square-foot office space we rented, but it’s mine. It’s ours.
I quickly straighten the stapler on the edge of Desta’s desk, eliciting a smirk and an eye roll from her. “Out of curiosity…” She walks around the front of the desk and grabs the stapler, setting it back down at an absolutely horrific angle. “Would the world explode if the stapler stayed like this all day?”
I glare at her and brush a piece of lint off of her top. “Yes. Actually, it would.”
She ruffles my hair, just to irritate me once again. “Crazy girl.”
Desta and Jackson have been my best friends since freshman year of college, and when they agreed to be the designer and construction manager for this pipe dream of a company, I envisioned a lot of happy days ahead.
I peer at the budget book on my desk, tapping the edges of it to neaten the pile. I sit down by the window and slump into my chair, an icy chill of worry quickly replacing the warm feeling of gratitude.
“We’re in the hole again this month,” I say on a sigh, letting my forehead fall into my palms.
Desta chews her bottom lip and toys with her nose piercing—a classic sign of Desta anxiety. “We need a big push. An astronomical push.”
“Guys, come on.” Jackson gives a relaxed smile. “When we win that HGTV contest for the best house flip in South Florida, we’re going to have a freaking line out that door!”
Desta pats her husband’s back. “Your optimism is inspiring, babe, really. But that contest is a shot in the dark. We would need one hell of a house to even score a chance to enter.”
“‘One hell of a house’ is right,” I add, sipping my latte and scanning the high-priced recent sales in the South Beach area listed on my computer screen. “And our renovation would have to be…”
“Let me guess.” Desta smiles at me. “Absolutely perfect. Like everything else you do.”
I nod, smooth my ruffled hair, and keep my gaze on the computer screen. “In the case of Mansion in a Month, we’d have to go even beyond perfection.”
“What about The Esplanade House?” Jackson asks excitedly. “There was an interested buyer last week—”
“Sold!” I blurt as my gaze falls on the word Esplanade and the words sold for $6.2 million next to it. “Six mil. It must have closed over the weekend.”
Desta practically jumps out of her seat. “OMG. A fresh buyer in the most desirable house in the area.”
“We have to pounce,” Jackson asserts.
I turn back to my computer and start typing furiously, noticing a tiny chip in a nail and making a mental note to fix it later. I search for any possible information on this house I can get my eyes on. “Buyer…buyer…buyer…” I whisper, scanning the screen rapidly.
“Who is it?” Desta and Jackson beg in unison, barely able to breathe at the anticipation.
“You guys…” Jackson swivels in his desk chair. “If we can get our hands on that house, the HGTV contest could be a very real possibility. We could save the company.”
“Save it?” Desta squeals. “We’d be freaking thriving, you guys!”
“AS, LLC…” I draw out the words slowly. “The buyer is AS, LLC.” I frown and pick a crumb out from between two keyboard keys. “The buyer is…a company?”
Jackson scratches his head. “Let’s do some more digging. It’s probably some movie star or something snagging a second home. Probably with intentions to renovate, considering how dated that thing is.”
Desta gasps sharply and bounces in her seat. “A celebrity! What if we flip Katy Perry’s vacation home? Or Jennifer Aniston’s? Or—”
Her string of dream clients is cut off by the sharp ringing of my office phone.
“Hold that important thought,” I tease Desta with a wink and pick up the phone, clutching it between my shoulder and my ear and sipping my coffee. “Collins Renovation & Design, this is Kendall. How can I help you?”
“Wow. Listen to you, sis.” My brother’s familiar voice crackles on the line. “So official. You’re almost like a real-life adult.”
I roll my eyes and lean back. “Shut up, Wyatt. Why are you calling on here, anyway? I have my cell phone.”
“Because since you’re a big-shot business owner, you’ve been known to ignore your cell phone, and I wanted to actually get your attention.”
I snort. “My NFL player brother calling me a big shot. I
ronic. What’s up?”
“Well…” His tone gets serious, and I frown, wondering what this could actually be about. “I take it you’re having some fun down in South Florida.”
“Uh…” I furrow my brow and toy with the phone cord. “I’m having a little fun. Mostly working, though. Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not, I’m not,” he says defensively. “Anyway, you know Smoke, right? My best friend?”
The mention of that particular name sends a hot chill racing down my spine and a rush of blood to my cheeks. I draw in a breath and try not to let Wyatt notice the effect the word Smoke had on me. “Yeah, duh. Of course I know Andre.”
How could I possibly forget the boy who was the object of the most soul-melting crush I’ve ever had? The boy who totally rejected me when I practically offered my virginity to him on a silver platter?
The virginity—oh God, I can’t even think these words anymore—that I still haven’t lost.
“Well, then, you also may know that he’s down in your stomping ground now since he got traded to the Riders.”
I swallow and shut my eyes. Yes, I’ve seen the news. I’m well aware that Andre Smoke is now within a fifty-mile radius of me at any given moment. A particular fact I’m trying to forget. “Yeah,” I say casually. “I heard something about that. Exciting for him.”
Nerves prickle in my chest as I try to figure out where Wyatt is going with this conversation—and desperately hope the answer is…nowhere.
“So you guys should hang out!” he declares enthusiastically. Completely and totally unaware of the spike in my heart rate.
I force a laugh. “Wyatt…I’m totally slammed with work. We have this huge—”
“Oh come on, Ken. He doesn’t know anyone down there. He needs a pal.”
“A pal?” I choke on the word. “He plays for the South Florida Riders. He’s basically revered as a football god. I’m sure he has no shortage of friends, not to mention adoring fans.”
Desta suddenly perks up with interest, her eyes widening at the mention of the NFL team. “What?” she mouths.
I wave her off and shake my head, pressing the phone to my ear.
“He has no idea what he’s doing down there, sis. He’s barely met any of the guys and team staff. He just got his agent to buy him this crazy-ass house before he ever even saw it. He could use a familiar face.”
Am I supposed to be feeling sympathy for the painfully sexy, insanely rich, hotshot football player who shut me down when I was eighteen?
“Wyatt, like I said. I’d love to, but I’m swamped right now.” I pick at a thread on my jeans and cling to an obvious change of subject. “But, wow, he bought a house sight unseen? Where is it?”
“I think it’s in North Miami Beach. Yeah, he basically gave his agent a budget and told him to pick one with a water view. Smoke doesn’t care too much about houses. He kinda detests them, actually. I’m sure you remember why—”
“I remember,” I say quickly, decade-old images of the destruction and ruin of the Smoke family’s home ringing clear as day in my mind.
I shake off the sad and dark memory of the tornado that tore through our hometown when I was a kid. Our house was fine, but so many, including the Smoke family, lost everything. “Wait…he bought a North Beach house?” My mind starts racing and connecting dots before I even know they’re there. “Do you know if it’s in Bal Harbour?” I ask, and, once again Desta pops up from behind her computer monitor and silently begs me to give her details.
“Hmm. Sounds familiar. I don’t know. It’s some bougie-ass place. Apparently, it needs work, so he got a decent deal. Why?”
I narrow my eyes and focus on my computer screen, wheels turning in my head faster than I can process. “Was it purchased two weeks ago?” I ask quietly, barely breathing. Bal Harbour houses don’t just pop on and off the market every day. Especially ones that need a renovation.
Wyatt chuckles softly. “Uh, I think so? He barely knows anything about it. Barely cares. Like I said, it was all handled by his agent.”
“Uh-huh…” I whisper as my eyes fall on the words on my screen, squinting as I bring them into focus.
I try to ignore my coworkers’ eager gazes and incessant eavesdropping as I zero in on the name of the Esplanade buyer blaring on my desktop screen.
AS, LLC. No way. Could it be?
“Ken? You there?” Wyatt asks, bringing me back down to earth. “Think I lost you.”
“No, no,” I say quickly, blinking and taking a shallow breath. “Wyatt, what is the name of the house?”
“Huh?” He gives a confused laugh. “You mean, like, the address? I have no fucking idea.”
“Not the address. The name. Bal Harbour houses all have names.”
“Oh shit. Now that you mention it, I remember Smoke making fun of the ridiculous thing his agent called the house when we FaceTimed the other day. Escalade or something?”
“Esplanade,” I whisper, my heart slamming in my chest.
I can barely stay still in my desk chair anymore. I hop up and clutch the phone tightly, calming Desta’s pleas for information by giving a big thumbs-up.
“You know what, Wyatt?” I turn and face the window, savoring the warmth as the sun beats down through the glass, and hope and excitement buzz through my body. “I’ll hang out with your friend. You’re right. Everyone needs a familiar face.”
“Aw, that’s great, Ken. I’m sure you guys will love catching up. Besides, maybe he can get you some dope season tickets or something.”
Yeah. Or something. Like a chance to renovate and upgrade and perfect his iconic house so it can be featured on a nationally televised contest.
“Tell him to head over to my office this afternoon. You know where it is.” I steady my voice and laugh at Desta, who’s eagerly whispering to Jackson. “We can have a coffee and…catch up.”
“Sounds great. I’ll let him know. All right, little sister, I got Vikings shit to do.”
“Of course. Go tackle people,” I say with a laugh, leaning against the window and envisioning the glorious perfection that is the Bal Harbour Esplanade House. “Love ya!”
The call clicks off, and I slowly hang up the phone, still feeling the entire world shifting under my feet.
“Girl!” Desta snaps her fingers. “You better spill that piping-hot tea. Right. Freaking. Now.”
“Okay.” I walk over to her desk, brushing my hair behind my ears. “Long story short, my brother’s best friend just moved to South Florida to play for the Riders.”
Jackson shakes his head in disbelief. “I always forget your brother is just randomly an NFL star. And so are his friends. It’s Andre Smoke, right? The cornerback? He’s, like, a huge deal.”
“Yeah. But he’s…” I wave a hand dismissively. “Not important.”
Desta snatches her phone and does a frantic Google search, gasping and holding the phone up. “Um, hello? Hot?”
“Is he?” I force a smile and a look of remote interest. “I’ve known him for so long, I guess I never noticed.”
Oops. Little white lie. But now is not the time to relive the horror and embarrassment of my classic case of the Brother’s Best Friend Crush. “What’s important, however, is the house he just bought.”
“The freaking Esplanade House!” Jackson exclaims, reaching both his hands out to high-five me and his wife.
“We’re gonna get it,” Desta squeals. “We have to get it.”
“You have a perfect in with the owner. His high school, and lifelong, best friend is your brother.” Jackson runs a hand through his shaggy hair.
Desta nods excitedly in agreement.
“Doesn’t matter about my ‘in.’” I shake my head, returning to my computer. “He’s just a potential client. A wealthy homeowner.”
“Whatever you say.” Desta lifts a shoulder. “As long as we get that damn house.”
She’s right. I click on the picture of The Esplanade House on my listing site to zoom in. It’s going
to be…perfection. And I live and breathe perfection.
Not only is it a mountain of history and inspiration and the recipe for our greatest reno yet, it’s the ticket to saving my business and helping my best friends.
And the only thing standing between me and that dream is a six-foot-three, dangerously hot defensive lineman who stole my heart when I was in middle school and never completely gave it back.
Two
Andre
“Yeah, bro, I’m on my way to meet her right now.” I shake my head as I hold the phone to my ear and push down on the gas pedal of my Audi R8.
“Cool, cool,” Wyatt says on the other end of the phone line. “Don’t make it obvious, though. Or weird. Just be chill.”
I laugh heartily. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”
“Yeah. That’s fair.”
Wyatt Collins has been my closest friend since I knew how to intercept a pass. We played ball together all through high school and stayed close when I got recruited by LSU and he headed to Oklahoma State. When we got drafted into the NFL the same year, he went up to Minnesota, and I played for the Browns, where I built a hell of a name for myself.
But now, I’ve ended up in this tropical, sunny paradise of South Florida, where the roads are lined with palm trees, and it’s never colder than seventy degrees.
I glance around at the colorful scenery. “Don’t worry about a thing, my man. I know you’ve had your concerns about your little sister being down here in SoFlo all by herself.”
Rough Ride Page 1