Rough Ride

by Breezie Bennett

  “Hey, you know, I get that you’re embarrassed around him because of that night, and you feel like he rejected you. But maybe you’re…remembering it wrong. Are you sure that’s exactly what happened? He could have a totally different version of the story. Maybe you’ve been embarrassed and avoiding him for seven years over nothing.”

  I consider this for a brief second. “I don’t think so, Des. That cheek-burning sting of him turning me down is blazed into the fibers of my mind forever.”

  “Have you guys talked about it?”

  “No. God no. The last thing I want to do is relive it.” I shudder a little at the thought of reminding Andre of my teenage desperation.

  “Kendall! You so need to. Clearing the air about that awkward elephant in the room will make this entire process so much easier on you. He’s a chill guy. At least that’s what I’ve gleaned from the nineteen ESPN interviews I’ve watched in the past week.”

  I give her a stern eye roll.

  “And besides, you’ve probably completely blown it out of proportion in your mind. I bet it wasn’t that bad. He was young. Besides, who knows? Maybe Wyatt told him to stay away from you or something.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Point is, you should get his side of the story before it eats you alive.”

  I swallow, hating that she’s always right about stuff like this. “Clear the air, huh?” I repeat slowly. “I guess getting it out in the open wouldn’t hurt.”

  “I bet you guys would have a good laugh over it, and you’d find out that he remembers a completely different sequence of events. Therefore, easing your embarrassment.”

  I cock my head, wiping something that feels like a smudge from under my eye.

  “I suppose I could make a little joke about it, see where it goes.”

  “And who knows? Maybe that’ll break the virginity curse.” She waves her fingers around. “And Mr. Right will just show up on your doorstep the very next day.”

  “That’s enough ideas for now, love,” I say, patting her shoulder.

  “Or…” She taps her chin, looking out at the house, deep in thought. “Maybe it’s him.”

  “What’s him?”

  “Maybe he’s the guy to finally swipe your v-card! It was supposed to be him all along, but he was trying to be Mr. Hero Gentleman and not bang his best friend’s sister.”

  I choke on a laugh of disbelief. “Or maybe he just wasn’t into me. He wasn’t then, and he isn’t now. Besides…” I slide my phone out of my pocket and wiggle it in front of her face. “I’m solving my virginity problem as we speak.”

  “That dating app? Flicker?” Desta glares at me and crosses her arms. “That is so not you, babe. I don’t know about the perfect man being on that shitshow.”

  I puff out a sigh. “I know. But my virginity is really starting to bug me. I feel like maybe holding out for perfection is a huge waste of time. I’m twenty-freaking-five.”

  She smiles sweetly. “It’ll happen. It matters to you.”

  Maybe it matters too much.

  Desta glances at her watch. “All right. I’m back to design and staging plans for this baby.” She nods toward the house.

  “Yeah. I’m coming in to survey some progress.” I pull out my iPad and relish the idea of diving into work and temporarily forgetting all of this.

  Except, starting Monday, Andre Smoke is going to be an inescapable part of my job every single day. There won’t be any forgetting or avoiding when I’m working on his house constantly.

  Desta’s right. Clear air and a good laugh. And after that, this will be nothing but business.

  Six

  Andre

  “Holy shit,” I mumble as I pull up to the driveway of my house after a tough and sweaty workout.

  We blew the Falcons out at our first game yesterday, and I’ve been riding that high ever since. Playing in South Florida is like a whole new world, this team is an entirely new experience, and this city is hot and crazy and alive.

  And speaking of hot…

  “There you are!” Kendall jogs up to the driver’s side window of my Audi as the sun sets behind her and casts an orange glow on her skin.

  She’s wearing a white T-shirt with black leggings and Nike sneakers, holding her trusty iPad. Somehow, in the midst of my house being torn apart and demolished, her white shirt is without a single speck of dirt, and her hair is in a perfect ponytail with every strand in place.

  There are three trucks parked around the driveway, and dudes wearing flannels and carrying giant tools and pieces of wood walking in and out of the house. A dumpster in the corner of the driveway is already almost filled with what looks like drywall.

  I swing the car door open and try not to let my eyes take a painfully obvious trip down her perfectly toned body. “You weren’t kidding when you called it demolition day.”

  “Oh yeah,” she says, sounding a little winded and overwhelmed. Shit, I’d be overwhelmed, too. “Demo day is…something.”

  She glances back toward the house, her hair blowing in the breeze and tiny droplets of sweat glimmering on her nose.

  Some of the guys walk by and look at me, mumbling things to each other. Probably about who I am.

  I look up to see three men carrying splintered remnants of the brown wooden cupboard doors from the kitchen. “Are those my cabinets?”

  Kendall laughs, sensing the playfulness in my voice and obviously remembering that I was pretty clear about the fact that I don’t really give a fuck what she does to this house. “Gone with the wind. Kitchen’s gonna be a total gut, since we removed that wall. I’m gonna reconfigure the entire thing for efficiency, function, and of course, the Miami mansion wow factor.”

  “You already took a wall out?” I draw back in surprise.

  Kendall raises a slender shoulder, eyeing me. “It wasn’t load bearing. Change is happening, Andre!” The excitement and passion in her voice make me smile, and I follow her toward the house to check out the damage.

  “All right, guys,” Kendall says loudly, standing in the entrance of the house with the short-haired pregnant woman right by her side. “Let’s call it a day. We’ll move upstairs tomorrow.”

  I lean against the wall and study this captivating, blond-haired enigma, strong and capable and wildly sure of herself. Never less than perfect. And all of these giant men—swinging sledgehammers and breaking down walls—they all answer to her.

  “You’re a little powerhouse, aren’t you?” I tease with a nudge to her side.

  She tilts her chin up confidently, radiating fire. “I can be. When it matters.”

  The guys all pile out and get into their trucks, and Desta and Jackson follow, after saying goodbye to Kendall.

  Suddenly, the seven thousand square feet that were just filled with noise and talking and drilling and hammering are silent and empty and still.

  And she’s here. Taking pictures and making notes and drawing me closer and closer with every tiny gesture she makes.

  She walks out from the kitchen, brushing dust off her shirt and smiling softly. “Long day.”

  “You want a drink?” The question slips out before I have a chance to give it any sort of thought. “No wine, I promise,” I add with a wink. “See, I remember your secrets.”

  She purses her lips, something flashing in her eyes, making it seem like the question was a lot less innocent than it came off. Was it?

  “Okay,” she says finally.

  “Unless, of course, demolition day included demolishing the contents of my fridge,” I tease as we walk toward what used to be the kitchen.

  “Fridge is intact,” she says, a slight bounce in her step as she follows me around the corner. “We’re keeping livable conditions throughout the renovation so you don’t have to stay someplace else.”

  I swing the door open and grab two bottles of Yuengling, popping both tops and handing her one. “Well, I appreciate that.” I laugh softly as I look around the kitchen, one wall completely torn out, cabinets and
countertops gone, dust and wooden remnants everywhere. “It’s a good thing I don’t cook.”

  Kendall laughs, running her thumb along the side of the bottle and glancing down at her feet, then back up at me. When her gaze meets mine, a spark of electricity jolts me. I always forget how damn blue those eyes are.

  “Cheers to demo day.” I lift my bottle and tap it against hers.

  “Cheers, Andre Smoke.” The letters of my name linger on her tongue and send heat between us.

  “So, as much as I love chilling in the destroyed kitchen,” I joke, “wanna sit out on the beach?”

  “All right.” She gives an easy smile and nods toward the sliding glass doors in the living room, which are now visible from the kitchen. Right. Open concept.

  The sun is still setting as we walk outside, and the air is breezy and salty.

  “Oh yeah,” I say as soon as our feet hit the sand. “Now I remember why I accepted the Riders’ trade deal.”

  She tilts the neck of her beer bottle toward the ocean and the orange and pink sky above it. “Just for the beach. Has nothing to do with the zillion dollars they’re paying you.” She jabs my side.

  “It’s an added perk.”

  I glance over and study her profile as she looks out over the water. Everything about her is…natural. If she’s wearing makeup, it’s not much. Her cheeks are dotted with little freckles from the sun and tinted pink. She doesn’t need any help being perfect. She just wakes up and…is.

  She’s undeniably sexy without even trying. And why the hell am I thinking about what Wyatt’s sister looks like when she wakes up in the morning?

  “Demo day is always kind of a shock,” she says slowly, breaking the silence. “So I understand if you’re thinking, ‘Holy shit, your team just went in there and destroyed my multimillion-dollar house.’”

  I shake my head as I sit on the sand at the edge of the water. “Not at all. I told you, I have no ties to that house, or any house.”

  “I know, I know.” She squats and curls her legs carefully underneath her, obviously trying to get as little sand as possible on her black yoga pants. “Football is the only thing that matters.”

  Something sinks in my gut. Am I that shallow? “Well, no. Lots of things matter. Just not…houses. To me.”

  She turns to me, blond hair swaying in the wind and a picturesque sunset framing her face. I wish I had a camera.

  “You don’t have to talk about that.” She swallows and turns back to face the ocean. “I remember what happened.”

  I smile and bump my shoulder against hers to lighten the mood. “It’s fine, Kendall. You don’t need to tiptoe around the subject. We both know that my childhood home got absolutely destroyed and blown away like cardboard in those classic Oklahoma tornadoes.”

  “And you never had another house,” she says softly, her eyes warm and blue and inviting, dotted with sympathy.

  “Mom and Dad couldn’t afford one.” I shrug and take a swig of beer. “You know probably pretty well what an insurance nightmare something like that can be. And we weren’t exactly rolling in cash back in those days.”

  She turns around, looking back at the mansion behind us, a Floridian maze of glass doors and windows and balconies and decks. “Look what you have now.”

  “I have everything. Shit works out for me. It always has.” I study the colossal house. “Until a cat-five hurricane blows through here and wipes that bad boy away.”

  “Just because a house can be lost doesn’t mean you should always feel like it’s temporary. It’s okay to feel attachment again.”

  I chew on my bottom lip and watch the waves crash at my feet, digging for a change of subject. “So, why houses? Why is this the particular industry that called to you?” I look at her and tilt my head, surprised at how genuinely curious I am to hear the answer. “I’ve always known Wyatt’s sister is a brain and a half, but I’m still pretty damn impressed with what you’ve accomplished.”

  She rests her chin in her palm and narrows her eyes at me. “Says the ridiculously famous superstar professional athlete.” She takes a sip of beer and thinks for a moment.

  I smirk. “You don’t seem too fazed by my status.”

  She draws back and considers this, straightening her back and brushing a few grains of sand off of her knee. “I guess I’ve just known you for so long, I don’t feel like I’m sitting with a celebrity.”

  “Well, drink it in.” I give her a playfully cocky wink. “Because you are. Even though I apparently don’t impress you.”

  “You impress me, Smoke.” she says, a flirtatious smile on those sweet lips as she leans her shoulder into me. “Consider me fazed.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” I keep my gaze locked on her, knowing that even if I tried to look away, I couldn’t. “Why houses?”

  “Well, when I was in college and I had my first real apartment, I realized I couldn’t go more than two weeks without switching around all the furniture. Or redecorating. Or painting a wall or hanging something new or changing my quilt. The space you live in is so crucial to every aspect of your life, and it’s always completely customizable. It can be made into absolute perfection. Once you get it to be perfect, it’s a peace and happiness that’s hard to describe.” She pauses, biting her lip and thinking for a moment.

  The glint in her eyes when she talks about work is sexy and endearing and adorable, all at the same time.

  “And that perfection varies,” Kendall continues, turning to me with raised brows. “That’s why I like to get to know my clients, to make the home completely and totally perfect…for them.”

  I lean back, pressing my palms into the sand and feeling a warm admiration for that particular response. “Is everything about your life perfect, Kendall?”

  Her eyes darken for a moment, and I wonder if the question sounded way more loaded than I actually intended it to be. “I’d like it to be.”

  “Well, I know one thing.” I nudge her. “That house is gonna be insanely nice when you’re done with it.”

  “Have you even looked at my reno portfolio?” she asks on a soft laugh.

  “Don’t have to.” I hold the beer bottle to my lips and watch a wave splash onto the sand in what looks like slow motion. “I just have a feeling you won’t let it be anything less than…wait for it…” I lean close to her ear and whisper, shocked by the burning heat that comes with getting inches from her. “Perfect.”

  She sucks in a shallow breath through slightly parted lips, almost as surprised by my flirting as I am. “Perfect for you. Remember, every client is different.” The words slip from her mouth slowly and with a lot of thought, like she’s forcing herself to stay on topic, but can’t with me this close to her. I like watching her get flustered.

  I cock my head. “So what have you discovered about me? To make this my ‘dream house’?”

  “That I need to fill this place with spiders and ghosts.”

  I laugh heartily and watch her soft pink lips form a sweet smile. Even when she’s fucking with me, she’s adorable. “You’re a cruel woman.”

  “I don’t know, Andre. I don’t often have clients who tell me they want absolutely zero attachment to their home and could really care less how it feels to them, so…you’re a unique case.”

  “I guess…” I swallow, kind of hating how real this is getting, but also kind of digging it. “I guess I don’t really understand the whole ‘home’ thing. After what happened.”

  “It’s not just about a building. It’s the heart. The people. The memories and the potential for the future.” Her brows knit together. “But I get it.”

  The ocean sprays up again, and I feel a warm sense of peace and calm settle in my chest. Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe it’s just those beachy, Florida vibes. I’m gonna go with that.

  Seven

  Kendall

  I draw in a deep breath and inhale the salty warmth of the beach, attempting to find some level of calm. Yes, the most embarrassing nig
ht of my recent life is just about the very last thing I want to bring up now, but I know in my heart that Desta’s right.

  Just like she was right about subway tile backsplashes making a comeback and carpeted stairs being a “horrific fad,” she’s right about this, too. Getting it out in the open will, at least hopefully, get it off my chest enough where I can think about something else every time I look at him.

  I open my mouth to start talking, but lose courage pretty quickly.

  “What?” he asks, that stupidly sweet and sinfully hot half smile sliding across his handsome face. “You’re awfully deep in thought.”

  I puff out a breath and drop my forehead into my hands, wondering how I could possibly be the one to bring this up.

  An idea races through my head, and I don’t even take a chance to think it over.

  “I wanna show you something in the house.” I stand up quickly, flicking the bits of sand from my leggings and grabbing my now empty bottle as I gesture toward the backyard.

  He draws back in surprise, but quickly stands up to join me. “All right, then.”

  I don’t know why, but for some reason it feels like this will be easier to talk about in the designated secret room. I can’t believe I’m playing that silly little game, but it just seemed so much more private in there. Special. Alone. Like the conversations we have in there somehow won’t carry out into real life.

  When we walk into the house, I head down the back hall and into the study, which hasn’t yet been touched by the sledgehammers of my construction team.

  “Damn,” he says on a deep laugh. “You guys got to work in the secret room already?”

  “Uh…” I tug on the latch and slide the trick bookshelf out of the way. “Sort of.”

  “Really?” he asks, ducking his head and peering around the small, concrete space. “It doesn’t look any different—”