by Rebel Hart
I laughed. “I’m a mess, Eugene. I don’t think I could help anyone.”
“We’re all a mess, babe. And there is a lot of comfort in knowing someone has lived the same mess as you and climbed out of the rubble to make something of themselves. You could be that person for people. A beacon of light.”
“Sounds dramatic,” I mused.
“Sounds like Kimberly Renwick, if you ask me,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Talk to William about it. I bet he’d feel the same way as I do.”
I smiled. William probably would feel the same. And it would feel good to have these conversations with him. “I’m going to take things slow with William,” I said.
“You do you, girl. Slow has never worked well for me. Hence the morning after hair,” he said, pointing at his messy icy locks.
I snickered. “You should just keep a comb in your locker.”
“Why on earth would I do that? Every time I look in the mirror I get to think about—”
I held up a hand. “Stop.”
He flashed me a devilish smile. “Good call.”
32
William
I watched Kim’s throat as she tipped her head back and swallowed the last two mouthfuls of her Moscow Mule. She set the copper mug down on the bar and smacked her lips, appreciating the flavors dancing on her tongue, and then caught me staring at her.
“What?” She grinned.
“Nothing,” I said.
We’d been spending as much time as possible together over the last two weeks, and in that time she’d caught me staring at her at least four or five times a night. I couldn’t help myself. She was a walking, talking spectacle of beauty. Every word out of her mouth held my attention. Every breath she drew was magical. Every touch, every kiss set my skin on fire.
Every moment was worth soaking in for all it was worth.
I was a lucky man.
“You were staring again,” she said, swinging around on her barstool to face me.
Of course I was staring. What did she expect when she showed up to our date looking so damn fine?
“I can’t help it,” I admitted.
Kim smiled.
She was wearing a black dress tonight. It fit her perfectly and showed off her athletic yet feminine shape; the curve of her hips, the muscles in her back and shoulders, the roundness of her firm ass. It cut off mid thigh, showing off her gorgeous legs, and the neckline plunged lower than what she usually wore, cutting a line between her breasts, within which a single silver pendant hung.
Somehow she was grace, poise, elegance, and sex all poured into her little black dress.
It was maddening trying to maintain a conversation with her when my body was constantly whispering for me to steal her away someplace private so I could steal some kisses… among other things.
“Do you want another drink?” I asked, ready to call the bartender down to our end if she said yes.
She shook her head. “No. If I have another I’m going to slide right off this stool.”
I chuckled. “Well, maybe we should get some water in you then?”
She waved me off. “Oh please. I don’t need a babysitter. How about we head down the street for dinner? Our table should be ready soon, no?”
I checked my wrist watch. She was right. “About fifteen more minutes.”
“Let’s go. Maybe they can get us in early. I’m starving.” She patted her stomach as she slid gracefully off the stool.
I stood, buttoned my suit jacket, and followed her out of the bar, weaving behind her between tables and servers. A few men watched her as she passed. I couldn’t hold it against them. She was an incredible beauty and she had a smile that could knock a man right off his feet.
It had certainly knocked me off mine.
Out on the sidewalk Kim breathed in the fresh evening air and waited for me to fall into step beside her. She wove her arm through mine and our steps synced up as we made our way from the pub to the restaurant that was our destination for the rest of the evening. It was a trendy hole in the wall place with a name I couldn’t pronounce—something French, I believed. Word on the street was that it was the place to be, and after ten o’clock a dance floor opened up with live bands rotating every half hour.
As soon as Kim heard about it she wanted to go. She’d always been a good dancer. When we were younger she used to go to Dickie’s, and as far as I knew that’s where she and her friend still went if they were looking for a good night out in Long Grove. But this was Chicago, and we could do better than a casual place like Dickie’s.
We stepped into the dimly lit lobby of the restaurant. Kim looked up at the winking chandelier above our heads and gasped. “Wow,” she breathed. “How much do you think something like that cost?”
“Enough,” I muttered.
The hostess greeted us with a smile and brought us to our table. I pulled out Kim’s chair for her and she sat. She smiled at me as I settled into my seat.
“This place is really nice,” she said. “Like. Really nice.”
I nodded and looked around. She was definitely right. This was the kind of place you knew came with high price tags on its meals. Not that it mattered much.
Kim opened the menu and let out a startled yelp. “Will. It’s crazy expensive.”
“So what? We’re on a date. I wanted to take you someplace nice.”
She chewed her lip. “Still. I would’ve been happy with a burger.”
“Next time. Tonight we indulge.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” she mused.
When the waiter appeared to take our orders, Kim ordered herself a glass of white wine and some water to the table, which I sipped on when it arrived. She drank her wine slowly and delicately while we talked about how things were going with my team and how her job hunt was going.
As of yet nothing interesting had caught her eye, but she remained hopeful.
“I just hope I find something before your season starts,” she said, picking at the starter salad we’d ordered to share. “I don’t want to be kicking rocks and hating life at the rink while you’re away for games and on the road so much.”
“We still have time,” I said. Although we didn’t have all that much time. I’d be on the road in four more months. In less than two my schedule was going to get really tight as pre season began. Travel would already be the name of the game and there was no telling how many nights a week I’d be out of town.
“I know,” she said. “It just worries me a little is all.”
“What part of it?”
“Honestly?” She searched my eyes.
“Honestly.”
She looked down at the plate between us. “I’m scared that I’m going to get jealous that you get to play and I’m still stuck at square one. I know that’s petty.”
“No it’s not. It’s understandable. But we can make this work. I’m sure of it. So long as we both want it to. And I know I want it to.”
“So do I.” She smiled.
“Then it’s settled. We’ll make it work.”
“Cheers to that,” she giggled.
She sipped her wine and I sipped my water.
When our main courses arrived we picked at each other’s plates, sampling a little bit of everything. For once I was the one to catch her staring at me when I looked up with a mouth full of ginger beef. “What is it?” I mumbled.
“Have you talked to Keith recently?”
I shrugged. “He’s still keeping his distance.”
Keith had been avoiding me for the past two weeks. Ever since he called and found out Kim was in bed beside me things between us had been a little… icy. He felt like I’d gone behind his back. He’d been angry with Kim too, but they seemed to have found their footing. I, on the other hand, was still suffering the brunt of his disapproval.
“I’m sure he’ll come around,” I said. “I’m going to respect his space and not push him. When he’s ready we’ll talk it out. Don’t worry yourself over it.”
“I wish he wasn’t being such a baby about the whole thing.”
“Babies grow up,” I pointed out.
She laughed into her wine glass. “Have you met Keith? He’s as immature now as he was the day he came out of the womb.”
We shared a laugh at her brother’s expense as we finished dinner. We chased the food down with more drinks, or rather, Kim did. I stuck to my water, and by the time ten o’clock rolled around we’d forgotten all about the live music and dancing. We didn’t clue in until the serving staff came out and pulled a bunch of tables off to the side of the room to make space for a dance floor.
A band took to the stage. An upbeat swing rhythm filled the room and other couples, most of them significantly older than Kim and me, took to the newly cleared dance floor. Kim watched with bright eyes as men twirled their partners around the dance floor. Skirts swished and fanned out as the women spun.
I nodded across the table at her. “Want to join them?”
“I can’t do that,” she breathed.
“You won’t know unless you try. Besides. I’m the one who leads. You just have to trust me.” I stood up and moved up beside her, holding out my hand.
She blinked at my hand and then looked up at me. “I don’t know.”
I flicked my fingers in a come hither motion. “Come on, Kimwick. Don’t get cold feet on me. Let’s dance.”
She slapped her hand into mine. I guided her to her feet and then out onto the dance floor, where she turned to face me as I let my other hand fall to her waist and she lifted hers to my shoulder.
Then we began.
She followed my steps with intense concentration in the beginning. But by the time the first song ended she had the hang of it. The music continued to flow as the band struck up the second song, and I got bolder, spinning Kim away from me and then twirling her back in, where she let out a surprised gasp as she curled into my chest.
I dropped my head for a kiss.
She smiled against my lips. I could feel the heat in her cheeks.
“People are watching,” she whispered into my shoulder.
“Let them.”
I spun her out again. Her laughter bubbled out of her. No doubt people were watching. Who could ever see a girl like her on a dance floor and not watch? She was spectacular. So was her joy. I spun her again and dipped her low, leaning over her to steal more kisses and earn more laughter. I pulled her back up and she gazed into my eyes, that same, slightly tipsy smile playing on her perfect lips.
For a moment I thought she might say something. She didn’t. The music slowed and I held her closer. We swayed together, matching the romantic, somewhat whimsical flow of the song. She sighed against my chest and I rested my chin on her head.
I missed my best friend, but I wouldn’t give his sister up for anything. Because one thing had become perfectly clear to me in these last few days.
I was in love with her.
33
Kimberly
“My feet are killing me,” I groaned as the elevator rode up to William’s penthouse.
He was leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, one knee raised so the sole of his shoe could rest against the wall. He’d dressed up for our date and he looked more dashing than ever in his bespoke black suit. He’d opted not to wear a tie to make it a little more casual, and after we’d both broken a bit of a sweat on the dance floor when the beat really picked up he’d popped the top two buttons of the collar of his shirt, exposing some dark hair and enough chest to get my heart pounding a little faster.
“Take them off,” William said, nodding at my strappy black heels.
I stuck up my nose at the idea. “Ew. No. Not until we get into your suite.”
He moved toward me. “How about you just get off your feet, then?”
I gave him a flirty little smile. “How do you suggest I do that?”
William grinned and scooped me up in his arms. I giggled wildly as he threw me over his shoulder, my legs braced against his front while I hung down his back. He gave my ass a firm slap that echoed in the elevator, and I squirmed playfully. “Put me down you brute!”
“I’m protecting your weak feet from your own senseless shoes.”
“They’re not senseless.”
“Agree to disagree,” he mused.
The elevator doors opened with a chime and William strode into the foyer of his penthouse. He did not put me down like he said he would. Instead he kept me slung effortlessly over his shoulder while he kicked out of his shoes. I pounded feebly on his back with closed fists and he playfully bit my ass in response.
“Hey!” I cried.
William moved down the stairs and through the living room and down the hallway toward the bedroom. Then he brought me into the bathroom where he sat me down on the counter and gave me a sweet kiss.
Then he dropped to a crouch in front of me, took my right foot, rested it on his knee, and began unbuckling the straps of my heels.
“My Romeo,” I cooed.
“I try,” he said. He removed the shoe and set it on the floor. Then he went to my left leg. I rested my heel on his knee and he removed the straps, and then ran his hand up my calf to my knee. “Does it hurt?”
My knee always hurt. “Not really.”
“Are you lying?”
“It’s always uncomfortable,” I admitted. “But tonight is a good night.”
He nodded solemnly and then stood. I shimmied off the counter and opened the drawer he’d cleared out for me last week. It had become quickly obvious that there was no point in me packing an overnight bag every single time I came over to spend the night. It made much more sense to have my makeup remover, skincare, and a change of clothes here for those nights- which were pretty much five days a week. The only nights I didn’t stay in Chicago lately were when I had to be up at the crack of dawn to work an opening shift at the rink. Even then William would sometimes fight for me to stay with him and offer to wake up early and drive me all the way back to Long Grove.
I poured some makeup remover onto a sponge and began wiping away my eye makeup. William stood back and watched. This had become a little ritual of ours. If we hadn’t been out dancing we’d probably both be sipping green tea as we wound down for the night and got ready for bed. That was the good thing about dating an athlete; he took care of himself and consequently he took care of me. I had already lost count of how many mornings I’d woken up to a five star breakfast in his kitchen, complete with a green smoothie to boot. Everything William did for himself he had now started doing for me.
That could be annoying sometimes, especially when he was reminding me to hydrate—an endless cycle of constantly drinking water whenever he was around—but I couldn’t deny that I felt like the best version of myself these days.
I ran the water and wet a face cloth before using my gentle foaming cleanser to remove any remaining foundation. Then I applied my serum and moisturizer, tied my hair up in a little bun with a blush velvet scrunchie, and turned to him. “Ready.”
“Still up for that last glass of wine?”
I nodded. “I am if you are.”
William wasn’t much of a drinker. He never had been. I knew it was in part because he didn’t like how the alcohol affected his body, but I also suspected there was more to it than that. Even when we were young he’d never been the teenage boy who wanted a beer. He’d gone to parties every weekend and never come home drunk.
I believed it was because of his father and what alcohol had cost their family.
But tonight William had told me on the way home that he wanted to share a glass of wine with me in the living room before we turned in for the night. I liked the idea of being cuddled up next to him on his sofa sipping wine while the city lights flickered and glowed all around and below us.
I followed him down the hall into the living room, where he told me to sit. I sat and waited for him to return with a bottle of merlot and two stemless wine glasses, which he filled up abou
t one quarter of the way before claiming the spot next to me on his sofa.
“I hope you had a good night,” he said as he swirled the wine gently in the glass.
“I had an amazing time.” I drew my knees up and curled up beside him, snuggling in close enough that I could smell the lingering scent of his citrus and clove cologne. William rested his elbow on my knee and leaned in close. How had so much changed in such a short amount of time? How had we ended up here? And how had we missed each other and what we could have been for these past years? “I’ve never felt the way I felt tonight. I mean. Like a… like a real woman.”
He arched an eyebrow. I hated when he did that. It made my panties wet every damn time. “How do you mean?”
I sipped my wine and proceeded to run my finger along the rim of the glass. It hummed softly between us. “Well. For starters I don’t really date. Before you I’d gone on maybe three this whole year, one of which I had Jade bail me out of with an emergency call because he was a bit… handsy.”
“Yikes.”
“Tell me about it. But those guys never made me feel like a woman. You know? Sure, they took me out, but I never felt safe with them. Or feminine. I felt like if push came to shove I’d be the one who had to stand up and defend us. I guess that’s part of our sport coming through. Some of them were intimidated by me too, I think, which made things uncomfortable.”
“Well, for the record, you can be a very intimidating woman. You used to scare the hell out of me.”
“Used to?” I asked.
“And still do,” he laughed.
I grinned. “Better. Where’s the fun if there’s not a little bit of fear?”
“A girl after my own heart.”
That’s the idea, I thought.
I polished off my wine, set it down on the coffee table, and returned to the spot where I wanted to be more than anything else: by William’s side. He draped an arm around me and pulled me in close so he could press his lips to the side of my neck.