by Ashley Munoz
“Could you keep your personal life at home? This isn’t something we need to be subjected to.” I expected it from Henna, who’d actually stayed quiet, staring at her phone. It was Ryan who’d uttered those harsh words to me.
Fuming, embarrassed, and enraged, I pulled the car into the reserved parking space the restaurant owner had promised would be ready for us.
Biting my tongue and hitting mute on the steering wheel, I smiled at the couple. “Enjoy your evening. So sorry about the personal call—it won’t happen again. I’ll arrange to have someone pick you up and take you back when you’re ready.”
“No. We expect you to be here,” Ryan demanded in that cold tone while waiting for Henna to get out on her own. Such a gentleman.
“My shift ends in twenty minutes, so I won’t be available.”
“If it’s not you who picks us up, I’ll be sure to pass along to your manager and the owner of the resort how disappointed we were with their customer service,” Ryan said, fixing the button on the wrist of his suit jacket.
I would not cry in front of him. I would not cry in front of him.
“I’d need extended childcare for my kids, and I’m not sure that can be arranged,” I muttered as evenly as I possibly could.
“See that it can,” he replied, slamming the door on his way out.
I couldn’t hold them back any longer; tears broke out, streaming down my face along with a hiccup as a sob worked free. I had never hated Ryan for anything in our past, even when he’d responded the way he had to the news I’d delivered to him.
Even when he’d broken my heart into a billion pieces with that firm set of his jaw and that angry look in his eye…I had never, ever hated the man. But now…now I was starting to hate the fucker.
I parked the SUV and waited for the couple to come out of the restaurant. I knew the cafe closed at eleven, but they’d gotten a late start to their evening. Using my phone, I started working on a few emails and answering a few questions on upcoming design projects.
Before I knew it, an hour had passed. So, I started watching a television show on HitFlix, hating that the very man I was waiting on was the star of three trending titles.
Finally, near midnight, I walked into the restaurant, confused as to why on earth they’d stay open so late even if the two they were staying open for were celebrities. The lounge was dark as I walked in, the booths and tables empty…finally, after wandering through the entire dining room, I found someone in the back.
“Where are Ryan Prince and his date?”
The cook looked confused, but a few seconds later it seemed like a light bulb went off.
“They called the resort for a ride back to their villa…I think it was around ten?” the cook guessed, turning to wash a few more dishes.
My gut sank. My entire world seemed to shrivel up into a tiny wad of paper. Why would he be so cruel?
Choking out a thank you, I turned to leave, but not before grabbing a carafe of cold coffee and filling a to-go cup to the brim.
I probably shouldn’t have been driving toward Ryan’s villa. I knew it was a bad plan even before I started heading that way, but the rage simmering in my veins wouldn’t let me turn around.
When I pulled the company SUV into the extra space for his villa, I was thankful it was late so there wouldn’t be any witnesses.
I had already texted Judy to clock me out since the sports center automatic locks engaged after eleven, so I wasn’t even on company time while I diverged to the dark side.
A sick, twisted thought entered my head while I stomped toward their door: they could be having sex. They could be loud and moaning and it could ruin me to hear Ryan having sex with someone else…but the closer I got, the more I realized I just didn’t care anymore.
I rang the doorbell.
I silently prayed and hoped I was waking them up, or maybe Ryan was about to come and I’d just interrupted his impending orgasm. That would actually be better. I rang the doorbell again and again and again until finally Ryan swung the door open.
He wasn’t naked, but he did look sleepy, standing there in his low-slung sweats and white t-shirt.
I hated how handsome he was, and how badly I wanted to push him backward and start kissing him. What a shame such good looks were wasted on such a trashy human.
“Bex, what the—” Ryan questioned right before I flipped the lip up on the to-go cup and tossed the cold coffee in his face.
“There you go. You mentioned wanting to get coffee with me—figured I’d just cut to the chase and get it over with so you could enjoy the rest of your vacation.” I dusted my hands off. “And as for your conversation, you were right—you were owed one, but the last few days have shown me that you don’t deserve it.” I took a step back as his eyes did that simmering thing and that muscle in his jaw jumped.
Turning toward my car, I stomped away, only to turn back with my hand on the door. “I’m off for the next four days. It’s a shame I won’t be here to be your resort bitch anymore, but I’m sure you’ll find an easy replacement to tag along while you dry-hump your girlfriend in the pool. Goodbye, Ryan. I’m relieved to know I dodged one hell of a bullet with you.”
He stepped out of his doorway, onto the porch, wiping at his face and leaving behind a murderous expression. His lips parted, forming a few words, but I didn’t wait around to listen.
9
“So, let me get this straight…” Henna’s caramel hair swung to the side as she narrowed her focus on me. “You were in love with her back in college, and you’ve been treating her like shit because…?” She waved her hand, encouraging me to continue.
“She broke my heart,” I said around a mouthful of cereal, the crunch muffling my words.
“Right. So, ten years later, you find out she’s working here, and you request she show us around, and…oh god, Ryan.” Henna covered her eyes in disgust. “We practically dry-humped in the pool in front of the poor girl.”
Yeah, not my finest moment, but I wanted to hurt Bexley, and whatever I had been doing the previous few days hadn’t been working.
“That’s why you got pissed and basically blew me off after she left the pool? And why you haven’t wanted to have sex since we got here?” she asked, connecting the dots.
I stayed quiet.
“You’re still in love with her.” She beamed, like she’d just solved the puzzle.
“I’m not in love with her, but I am still pissed at her,” I explained, finishing my food then walking it to the sink. Henna wasn’t happy about what I had said to Bexley the night prior, before the restaurant. Literally as soon as we’d sat down, she had wanted to go back to the villa, where she had promptly started packing.
She knew something was wrong, but more than that, she’d never known me to be that much of an asshole to anyone. Henna was self-centered about most everything in her life, but she wasn’t cruel to the working class. Her team of people had been with her from the beginning because she appreciated loyalty and paid well. She got to know their families, gave them bonuses when she could, and had even bought them each a new car the year before.
She had also happened to witness the coffee incident, overhearing Bexley yell all that shit at me. Afterward, she’d demanded to know what in the hell was going on.
I had told her I’d tell her this morning, while we waited for her driver.
“Ryan, don’t mess this up. You’re one of my best friends—I know that’s strange because of sex and whatever, but you are. I truly hope this works for you, but I promise you, you’re not going to win her back by being a dick.”
I stood up to hug her goodbye, seeing the black sedan pull up outside.
“I’m not trying to win her back. I don’t want to go back down that road with her.” I tried to explain, but even saying it felt strange.
“You can’t lie to me, Ryan Prince. I’ve been around you too long for that.” She laughed into my chest, only to pull away a second later. “My ride is here. You know I love you in m
y own way, right? Just not enough to declare anything or fight for you. Because even if I did, something tells me I’d lose to that girl.” She kissed me on the cheek before grabbing her luggage and walking outside.
She wasn’t exactly eager to stick around. She’d been getting tired of me even before I became a massive asshole, so we’d agreed to bring our little vacation to a close. Except, I had no plans of leaving—not until I knew everything I needed to know about Bexley.
Four days earlier, when planning to take Bexley to coffee, I’d entered the sports center where Bexley worked, asking one of the kids there if they knew when she’d be in for her shift. One of them had let it slip that she had asked for the evening off to go on a date.
My mind immediately went back to when we were on the tennis courts and she mentioned her new hair, how she’d gotten it done for the date Shay had set up. For whatever reason, that image of Bexley on a date burned me from the inside out, maybe because I also couldn’t omit the memory that she’d gotten waxed for that date.
Suddenly images of her writhing under some fucking stranger ran on repeat in my head, torturing me.
I’d been out of her life for ten years; you’d think I would have more than acclimated to the idea of her dating and having sex. I mean, she had two kids with another man, for Christ’s sake, but still—I was a jealous, wounded man.
When I saw Bexley again after her date, I just wanted to make her hurt. I wanted her to pay for the pain she’d caused, from ten years earlier and from the stupid date she’d gone on. I wanted her to feel the sting of rejection and having to see me with someone else. So, when she was in the pool with us, yeah—I fucked up and made out with Henna. I was such an idiot, but I couldn’t stop, not because of Henna, but because of her. I knew I was getting a reaction, especially when she got up and left, which was exactly what I wanted.
Then her little girl called her on the way to the restaurant, and whatever was left of my heart shriveled up and died.
Bella…a name I knew well. A name that was still sewn in pink stitching on the inside of my college letterman jacket, near the inside breast pocket. Bexley had sewn a boy name and a girl name…to help me stay humble, to stay grounded. She’d remind me that fame was a wave to ride, but family would be the beach I settled on—with her, with the kids we’d one day have.
She had picked Bella for the girl name we’d use if we were ever blessed with one, and Reese for the boy.
When she said the name out loud in the car, I swore she did it to hurt me, knowing it would be like an arrow to my heart. That was why I said what I said, why I wanted to cut her down as swiftly and harshly as she’d cut me.
The wound she’d created ten years before was suddenly gaping, and there seemed to be nothing at all I could do to stop it.
So, call it madness…call it a vendetta, but I wasn’t done with Bexley Black. Although I wasn’t proud of my next move, I did feel it was justified.
I slouched down in the leather seat of my SUV while waiting in the parking lot of the sports center. The sun was hidden behind a darkened sky, indicating a storm was likely on the way. I checked the dash clock and saw that it was nearly twelve thirty in the afternoon, which meant my contact should be walking out the front doors in…
I looked up, counting down from five to one in my head. Right when I got to one, I saw the glass doors swing open and the kid come trudging out with a piece of paper folded in his hand. He seemed the hungriest for cash, so I had leaned a little hard when I made him the deal.
A second later, my passenger door opened and the kid slid inside, slamming it shut.
“Here’s her employee contact info. I could seriously get fired if they find out what I did.” He rushed the words out through cracked lips, his big eyes darting around. I was parked far enough away not to cause concern, and my rig had fully tinted windows.
“Understood.” I handed over the envelope of cash while he extended the piece of paper.
I scanned the contents. “This is up to date?”
The kid shrugged his shoulders. “She just started working here like a month ago, so I’m pretty sure it is.”
I nodded as he opened the envelope and thumbed through the cash there.
“You’d really pay a grand just to get some chick’s address?” he asked, his tone curious, almost doubtful.
“She’s not just some girl…so, yeah. And if you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you.” I put the car into reverse, not clarifying that I was only half serious. The kid laughed, shaking his head back and forth while exiting the car.
It was time I paid Ms. Bexley Black a visit.
The resort was a solid twenty minutes from where Bexley lived. The town was smaller in size than most in the area, but that didn’t detract from the fact that it was a popular tourist spot.
I drove west, cresting the hill, fields expanding on each side of the highway while green pastureland lay below a massive snowcapped mountain. Memories slammed into me of times I’d driven this same road while I was in high school or coming home from the rodeo. One time in particular was right before I was headed to college.
I had wondered if I would meet someone at school, and it was this small slice of curiosity that bled into the overwhelming thoughts of football that always consumed me. Heading to Seattle, I knew I wanted to go pro. It was my only focus, my only hope…until I met Bexley.
She was unexpected to say the least. We started seeing each other, agreeing it was just a casual thing, but one night she was at the campus cafe with another guy, that sugar-blonde hair swaying against her back as she danced. The guy attached to her gripped her by the hips, leaning in close to whisper something in her ear. It was when those red lips of hers slung to the side in a secretive smile that I knew I didn’t stand a chance. That night, I finally knew what all those country songs were singing about. I knew what it was like to feel as though someone had cracked open my chest and held my heart for ransom.
I remembered the moment her eyes connected with mine. She waited a second, still dancing…reading my expression, then she left her date, walked over to me, and wrapped her arms around me. Her whispered words still stuck with me all these years later.
“If you want this, want us…then take me out of here. There’s no halfway with me, Ryan Prince. If you say you’re mine, you won’t ever belong to anyone else.”
When she let me go and waited for my response, I slammed my lips to hers, not just to confirm that yes, I wanted her, but to prove to every guy in that room that Bexley Black was mine.
The slowing traffic brought me out of my thoughts and back to the present. My foot alternated between the gas and the brake so much that I nearly parked my rig and walked the rest of the way, until finally, my GPS said I needed to turn toward a side street.
Veering away from the town, I drove down a few roads, passing coffee shops, the local school—all red brick and dark green signage—and the cowboy-style restaurants and gift shops until a small suburban neighborhood came into view. I put on my blinker, turning into the subdivision, crawling along as my navigation system directed me to Bexley’s house.
Two minutes later, I was parked in front of a pale yellow house. It wasn’t huge, a modest two-story with a pitched roof that looked fresh and new. The downstairs had wide windows with white shutters, and a deep porch where a massive bench-style swing hung. A small green yard was fenced with a small white picket barrier, bridging the gap between the curb and her front porch.
I sat there watching the white door to see if Bexley would emerge, my stomach churning with jealousy that this was her life. This small glimpse of domestication was enough to have me driving away and never looking back…but for whatever reason, I couldn’t put the car into gear. I was frozen, just watching and waiting…needing to see her.
A moment later, the door swung open, and a kid, maybe seven or eight, trudged out. He had dark hair, cropped short, and he was lanky too, wearing a pair of shorts and a striped t-shirt. A black helmet rested in his hands w
hile he unhooked it and arranged it on his head.
This must have been the kid that had called her the first night I saw her. He walked to the side of the house and pulled out his bike. I shifted forward, watching where he’d go. He seemed too young to be riding all by himself, but what the hell did I know about kids?
He took off down the street, his red and black bike gleaming under the bright sun. It was already after lunch time, so that hazy, sweltering kind of heat was thick in the air and baking the street.
My eyes darted between the front door of Bexley’s house and trailing after the kid as he zoomed down the street.
I scanned the street for any oncoming traffic, and I saw a pair of brake lights a few driveways down, nestled in between two houses. A black truck was reversing…I waited for him to stop, to acknowledge the kid speeding toward him, but he didn’t slow.
Shit.
I shoved the gear of my SUV into drive and floored it, heading toward the driveway to hopefully get the driver to keep his rig in the spot until this kid noticed it was moving. Still not seeing that Bexley’s son noticed the reversing car, I laid on my horn.
It all happened too fast. There was a crunch and I was shoving the car into park in the middle of the street, running toward the kid who was lying on the ground.
“Oh my god!” the guy driving the truck yelled as he exited his vehicle.
I crouched, careful where I placed my hands. The kid’s eyes were screwed shut, and his leg was smashed under the bike. Its front tire was bent and twisted the wrong direction.
“Is he okay?”
I narrowed my eyes, unsure why my heart was racing like it was. I knew he was okay—there wasn’t any blood, and he hadn’t been hit by the car—but this freckle-faced kid belonged to Bexley, making me feel strangely protective of him.
“Can you call an ambulance? I want to be sure he’s okay,” I said softly to the guy to try to keep him calm. “Hey, buddy, can you hear me?” I said, gently patting the kid’s cheek. Thankfully, he’d had his helmet on.