by Erin Rylie
“Do I have a say in it?”
“I mean, I’ll ask you, but we both know you’re going to say yes.”
She kissed his chest, feeling his heartbeat with her lips. “Of course I will.”
Epilogue
The sun beat down on Kelsey’s back as she walked around her backyard. Her home was filled with her family and friends as they celebrated Rafe’s official promotion to detective. With his training finally done and Carlos fully back to work, he would be starting his new job in a full-time capacity on Monday. Her best friend’s husband had been working for this for years, and though he hated parties, she couldn’t resist the urge to throw him one. He had helped bring her and Carlos back together after all.
She searched the yard for a familiar broad back. She hadn’t had a moment with Carlos since the party had started two hours ago. She’d been inside chatting with the girls over sangria while Carlos and the other officers he’d invited stayed outside grilling. Kelsey was not at all surprised to find her boyfriend holding court near the grill, gesturing wildly as he told some story, the lemonade in his glass tipping over the edge to fall on the grass. She leaned against the railing of the porch, a porch that she and Carlos had designed and built together earlier this year, and took in the sight. She couldn’t believe she’d found him, her imperfect person, her soulmate.
Carlos made her happier than she could ever even imagine being. He was incredible with James, treating her child like his own son. She smiled as he threw his head back and laughed, the sound full of joy. When he turned to the grill, teaching James how to properly check the temperature of a steak, she crossed the yard to wrap her arms around his middle, pressing a kiss to his back.
“Here, little man, you check this one for me.” Carlos handed the utensil in his hand to James before turning in Kelsey’s arms. He leaned down to kiss her nose. “Hey beautiful,” he whispered, one hand softly cupping her cheek as the other worked its way into her hair. Kelsey leaned up to kiss him, nipping his bottom lip until he opened for her. Their kiss quickly turned passionate, as most of their kisses did, and she suddenly wished the party was over so they could have some alone time.
Carlos growled and pulled away. “Kels, I’m wearing swim trunks. This is not an ideal situation.”
Rafe, clearly overhearing this comment, groaned loudly, “Can you two please take that inside? Literally, nobody wants to see that.”
“Well, of course you don’t want to see it, Rafe. I’ve had a locker next to yours for years; I know for a fact that what I’m packing makes you look bad.”
“I am not having this discussion with you again, dude. We are not measuring our dicks.”
Carlos shrugged. “I’d be scared to measure too if I were you.”
Having heard this argument before, Kelsey leaned back and smacked Carlos on the chest. “James is right there. Is this really appropriate?”
The squeak of the hinges on the gate to their backyard interrupted their ridiculous conversation. Carlos looked up and raised a hand in greeting. “Hey man, running a little late huh? Babe, you have to come meet my new partner.”
Carlos was finally warming up to his new partner and at Rafe’s urging had invited him to their little party. She was looking forward to finally meeting him after hearing her boyfriend complain about the guy for months now. Carlos did still refuse to call him by his first name—she didn’t even know what his first name was.
Kelsey turned around to greet Petrov. Her first thought was that the man was tall. He looked like a damn behemoth striding across her lawn. His hair was pulled into a man bun on the top of his head, and he had a full bushy beard covering the majority of his face. His full sleeves of tattoos on each arm added to his appeal; this man was every hipster’s dream guy. Feeling Carlos’s eyes on her, she blatantly checked out his partner. “Rafe wasn’t wrong, Carlos—you are definitely not the hottest—”
Carlos covered her mouth with his hand. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m not above withholding sex, Kels.”
She laughed and nodded her consent. She definitely didn’t want to lose her sex privileges. Though she doubted he could make it a full day without being inside her, she also didn’t want to risk it. In the time it had taken for this ridiculous conversation to transpire, Petrov had reached them.
“Hey man, glad you could make it. This is my girlfriend, Kelsey. Kels, this is Petrov. As you can see, he’s wildly unattractive.”
She reached out to shake his hand, doing her best to keep a straight face. “Well, nobody is as handsome as you, babe.”
Petrov gripped her hand briefly before returning it to the pocket of his cargo shorts. “So did Ramirez here need some reassurance after you saw me? That does tend to happen. I’m pretty sure he’s kept us from meeting for so long because he’s scared you’ll upgrade.”
Feeling Carlos’s warm body directly behind hers, she tilted her head back and kissed him on the chin. He immediately stepped closer and placed a hand on her hip, squeezing gently before planting a light peck on her temple.
“You can try to steal her if you want, but she’s obsessed with me. Can’t get her to leave me alone, really.”
Petrov snorted. “Yeah, okay. Given how frequently you slip her name into conversation, I would say you’re the obsessed one. You need to file a restraining order, Kelsey, you come right to me.”
Kelsey laughed at their easy banter. It was good that they gave each other shit; it was Carlos’s way of showing affection to his friends. “I’ll keep it in mind for the next time he tries to make me eat an ant.”
“James and I were being meerkats! And it wasn’t some random ant from our backyard—it was a five-star restaurant!”
“No. More. Ants.”
Before Carlos had the chance to respond, the sound of glass shattering carried from the deck to their ears. When she looked for the source of the sound, she found Becky staring at Petrov with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.
“Reese?”
Carlos’s partner let out a strangled sound and moved as though he wanted to take a step toward Becky. Kelsey’s hand snaked out and grabbed his elbow. If this was the Reese who had broken her friend’s heart, there was no way he was approaching her. Shit, they needed to diffuse this situation before Ryker came outside.
Becky had had custody of her son for a few months now. They were still settling in, getting used to each other, and the last thing either of them needed was for Reese to realize that he had a child. That level of drama wouldn’t be healthy for anyone involved right now. Becky had finally decided that once she and Ryker had made it to a year together, she would let him decide if he wanted to meet his father. It was a big decision to place upon someone so young, but Becky had explained that she didn’t want to make a choice for Ryker that he wasn’t ready for.
Carlos must have realized the severity of their tenuous situation, because he patted Reese on the back and with a hand on his shoulder tried to steer him toward the gate leading out of the backyard. “Hey, let’s go take a walk, man.”
Reese stayed firmly planted where he was. “Becs,” he rasped.
She moved to go back into the house, but was stopped in her tracks when Ryker exited through the sliding glass doors. “Mom, can I have another cupcake? Sophie said it was fine, but I wanted to make sure.”
“Mom?” Kelsey only caught the whispered question because she was standing so close. Becky turned to Ryker to answer him and send him back into the house, but the damage had been done. Reese studied him carefully, most likely taking in his dark hair and green eyes. The little guy looked a lot like his father, and it was obvious that Reese was trying to figure out how old he was.
With Ryker out of earshot, Reese spoke up. “Becs, how old is your son?”
She flinched and the color drained from her face. Her mouth opened and closed multiple times, and Kelsey wanted to wrap her friend in a hug and save her from this mess. Unfortunately she felt rooted to the grass in her backyard
, unable to move.
When Becky failed to answer the question, Reese asked it again, louder. “How. Old. Is. He?”
Her response was quiet but carried across the lawn. “He’s nine years old.”
Reese’s knees buckled, Carlos gripping his partner’s arm more firmly to steady him. Reese didn’t even seem to notice, his gaze still locked on Becky.
“Say it, Becky. I need to hear you fucking say it.”
Becky took a deep breath and stood up straight, squaring her shoulders. “He’s your son, Reese. Ryker is your son.”
Coming Next
Now that Carlos & Kelsey got their happily ever after, stay tuned for the next book in the Houston’s Finest Series, Wanting to Love You featuring Reese and Becky!
Keep scrolling for a prologue sneak peek!
Add to your TBR here!
About the Author
Erin Rylie is a Montana born, Texas raised New Jersey transplant with a degree in hospitality. At 29 years old, she decided it was finally time for to pursue her real passion in life - writing. She’s been writing princess stories and LOTR fan-fiction since she was in middle school, so the transition into romance has been fun!
When she’s not writing, she is reading (fantasy, sci-fi and romance are her favorite genres) or working. She is currently obsessed with Brooklyn Nine Nine which should tell you all you need to know about her sense of humor.
Finally, she is 100% an old cat lady. Her cats, Socks and Kaz are little weirdos and she loves them more than most people.
Find my website here
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Wanting to Love You Prologue
“I don’t give a shit what you want to wear, Rebecca. Your father has an event tomorrow night and we are going to look like a family. You’ll wear the white dress and nude heels I picked out, or so help me -”
Her mother stopped speaking, taking in a calming breath and smoothing her hands down her pristine dress. When she was fully composed, every inch Vanessa Waters, Senator’s wife, she returned her gaze to Becky.
“You’re going to wear that dress, Rebecca. And make sure you’re up early so we can do something about that atrocious hair of yours. Its a fucking mess, I don’t know where the hell you got it from. There must be some frizzy, frumpy redhead hiding somewhere in your dad’s family tree.”
Becky fought the tears welling in her eyes. After seventeen years living in this house with this woman, she’d like to pretend her mother’s words didn’t affect her, but they did. God, did they. She dug her nails into her hand, the bite of pain helping her hold back her sadness. She knew she’d have cuts in her hands from her fingernails when she got up to her room, but she couldn’t show her mother even an ounce of weakness.
“Yes, Mother,” she replied, in what she thought was an even and calm tone of voice.
In response, her mother flicked her manicured nails and turned away, as though spending one more moment of time with Becky was a complete and utter waste. Leaving her parent’s bedroom, she walked down the hall at the most steady pace she could manage. When she got into her room, she shut the door with a quiet snick, careful not to slam it even a little. Slammed doors were another of her mother’s pet peeves.
Instead of giving into the need to throw herself on the bed and sob into the mattress, Becky maintained her calm gait, entering her bathroom. Once she was standing in front of the sink, she unclenched her hands, and looked down at her hands numbly. She could see the bleeding half moon impressions her nails had left and couldn’t seem to find it in her to care. She washed her hands in the sink, clearing away the blood and grabbed a towel from the rack, pressing it to her hand to staunch the flow of blood.
Sorry to mess up your embroidered towels, Mother.
Once the bleeding had stopped, Becky looked in the mirror, taking in her appearance. Her hair was a frizzy mess, but she liked the untamed red curls. Unlike her mother’s perfectly coiffed blonde hair, Becky’s hair had volume, and character.
Heaving a heavy sigh, she turned on the shower, stripped out of her pajamas and climbed in. She still had time before school to blow dry her hair straight if she rushed. Becky knew her mother would throw a fit if she tried to leave the house with her hair curly and untamed. When she was finished showering, she wrapped a towel around her body and started the painstaking process of straightening her hair. She poured a dollop of straightening serum in her hand and worked it through her hair before brushing it gently. Then she blow dried it carefully, using a large barrel brush that her mother had purchased for her during their last trip to the hair stylist.
Once her hair was dry, she sprayed it lightly with a frizz free styling spray and ran a straightener through it. Her hair presentably tamed, she carefully put on the approved amount of makeup and moved to her closet to get dressed. Her mother had organized her closet into sections. There was one section for school appropriate clothes, another for daytime events with her father, and finally, one filled with dresses for the nighttime events and fundraisers she was required to attend.
Below each section of hanging clothes, her mother had even placed a shoe rack with approved footwear for each occasion. She pulled the first outfit her hand landed on from its hanger: khaki pants that had been altered to fit her perfectly and tapered at the ankle, a chambray button down that was to be tucked in, and a black and cream striped cardigan. She fastened the brown belt she knew that her mother liked paired with the outfit, and fastened a plain string of pearls around her neck. Simple ballet flats completed the outfit.
Her morning routine completed, she studied her reflection in the mirror, making sure that her clothes had no wrinkles and not a single hair was out of place. Finding her ensemble perfectly put together and perfectly fucking boring, she grabbed her backpack (designer, of course) and left the house to head to school.
Deciding that it would look better for a Senator’s daughter to attend public school, her parents had enrolled her in Memorial High School - the school her home was zoned to, yes, but conveniently the most elitist high school in Dallas.
Unfortunately, being a Senator’s daughter didn’t exactly make her an approachable person. She was required by her parents to take all AP classes, and was heavily encouraged to maintain a four point oh GPA. The one time she’d gotten a less than perfect score on an exam, her mother had slapped her so hard that she’d been forced to miss school for a few days while the hand print on her face faded. It just wouldn’t do for a Senator’s daughter to show up to school with her mother’s handprint on her face.
Because of her prim appearance and constant focus on academics, most of her classmates ignored her. The ones who did find the courage to approach her found her too boring to befriend. She was, of course, acquainted with the children of other local politicians, but she was by no means friends with any of them.
Becky’s day passed pretty quickly, her classes a blur of monotony that she hardly focused on. She always learned better when she studied on her own, so she rarely paid too much attention in class. Instead, she spent her class time day dreaming of a different life. One in which she was actually loved by her parents and was free to pursue things that actually interested her.
By the time lunch rolled around, she could feel her stomach clenching in hunger. In her hurry to leave the house this morning, she’d neglected to grab anything for breakfast and she was starving. She pulled her lunch from her backpack and had to hold in a groan. As usual, her mother had ensured that their cook prepared a basic salad with grilled chicken for her lunch. Just once, she would love to eat a school lunch. She heard other kids complaining about them, but at least they got to eat burgers. Lucky assholes.
She had just begun to dig in to her bland meal when she heard a tray hit her empty lunch table. Becky looked up in surprise and promptly lost her breath. The kid
now sitting at her table — a table she had never shared with anyone else — hardly looked like he was young enough to be in high school. For starters, he was tall, towering over her even while seated, and had broad shoulders and muscles so defined she could make them out through the material of his raggedy t-shirt. His features were far too chiseled for a seventeen year old and he had the most piercing green eyes she’d ever seen.
She followed his gaze to the tray he’d set down on the table and watched in surprise as he pulled a small brown bag from his backpack as well, emptying a Tupperware container of cookies, a bag of chips, and a sandwich onto the table.
Instead of asking why he’d decided to sit at her table when there were plenty of more interesting options in the cafeteria, she found herself blurting the only question currently on her mind. “Why did you get lunch from the cafeteria if you have a packed lunch?”
Those stunning green eyes lifted to meet her own plain brown ones and the stranger smiled, revealing a dimple in his right cheek. “My mom never packs enough food for me. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, so I buy myself a lunch and eat both.”
“You buy yourself a lunch?”
“Sure,” he shrugged. “I work after school so I have my own money. I save most of it, but I’m a growing boy — I need a big lunch.”
“Of course,” Becky muttered, returning her attention to the meager salad in front of her. She swore there was less chicken on it every week. The damn salad was mostly lettuce with maybe a quarter of a chicken breast on it and only oil and vinegar for dressing.
“I’m Reese, by the way.”
“Why are you sitting with me?”