by B. B. Miller
There was not a single adventurous thing about it. No paparazzi, no screaming fans, no drama, nothing to do but just be, and it was perfect.
Now, the familiar sounds of Queen’s Night at the Opera album spill out the open patio doors, and I grin listening to Freddie croon about the love of his life. I recognize every groove on the record. They’re deep and worn with countless turns on the table. Abby was beyond excited about the house, but my vinyl collection had her seeing stars.
“If I lived here, I’d never leave.” She sounds wistful, her voice full of longing.
I drop my gaze over her delectable body, barely encased in a dark blue bikini that blows my mind. “You don’t have to.” She laughs and turns around to lean back against the rail. “Move in with me.” Her eyes widen, her mouth dropping open. “Speechless again, Miss Walker? I like being able to do that.”
Pushing off the lounger, I cross the deck to lean my bare torso against her, my hands braced on the railing on either side of her waist, and brush my nose over the curve of her neck. Her pulse flies under my touch, and fuck, she smells so good. Warm and inviting and like home.
I feel her shiver with excitement under my touch as I sing along with Freddie, begging the love of my life not to leave me.
She bites back a grin with a shake of her head. “That’s unfair,” she whispers, drawing her hand down my side. “You can’t bribe me with that voice. You know what it does to me.”
“Say yes. We can make love all day and fuck all night,” I whisper under her ear, slowly reaching behind her neck to pull the tie from her bikini top, freeing her glorious tits.
“And I bet you’re going to explain the difference between those two, right?” Her shaky breath fans my face, her palm making a circuit back around my shoulder.
“Are you asking me to?” Gliding both hands up her trim waist, I cup her breasts, holding her gaze as the calloused pads of my fingers tease her hardened nipples.
“I’m hoping you’ll show me.”
“I’m pretty sure I have several times already today.” I press a kiss under her ear. “Yesterday.” Slowly, I sweep my tongue along her lower lip. “Day before that.” Her breathing hitches and I lower to pull a nipple into my mouth. “Etcetera.”
She lets out a sexy little moan, and my voice mixes with Freddie’s against her tempting skin. The sensual feel of her hand trailing down my back electrifies me, pure, raw energy buzzing between us. “I can always use a refresher.”
“So greedy. Which would you like, then, hmm?” I mumble, pulling my thumb over her plump bottom lip, feeling the cool breeze from the ocean skim over us. She has no idea what she does to me, how much I need her.
“I think I’d like you to fuck me,” she whispers, sounding slightly embarrassed as she buries her face against my shoulder.
I lean back, cupping her chin with my hand, and tilt her head back so her eyes meet mine. “Don’t ever feel embarrassed about asking for what you want. Not with me, baby. You know I’d give you the world if I could.”
Tightening my arms around her, I hold her against me, watching the tide roll in, wishing I could bottle this feeling to take with me when we’re apart. Closing my eyes, I press a kiss to her temple, smiling as she practically melts against my chest.
Taking a firm squeeze of her ass, I start to work on the strings of her bikini, tugging them free as she grinds back against me.
“Kennedy? Son?” My eyes snap open as I hear the faint, but distinct voice of my father, followed quickly by another.
“Bro? You home?” Adam’s booming voice echoes through the house, floating out to us, and Abby tenses in my arms.
“Fuck’s sake. I forgot they were coming.” I groan, dropping my forehead to her shoulder.
“Your parents are here?” she whispers, pushing me back and turning to face me. Her eyes are wild, panicked, her cheeks flushed, hair a mess from the wind and my hands.
“And my brother and his fiancée.” I flash her a smile, and she hauls off and hits me in the chest.
“Oh my God, Kennedy! Look at me.”
“Oh, I am.” I rake my gaze over her, and she huffs in exasperation. “I’ll stall them.”
“I can’t meet your family like this!” Her voice sounds frantic, and I can’t hold back the laugh. I toss her my worn AC/DC T-shirt with a grin.
Glancing inside the house, I see Adam making his way into the living room, before heading down the hallway. Hovering in the kitchen, Sara sets down a large bag on the counter and I smile as I see Mom take a tentative look around, her eyes falling to the piano at the far end of the room. “You’ve probably got three minutes, four tops.”
She glares at me, but I can see her holding back a grin. “You’re so going to pay for this.” Bristling with that feistiness I love, she ties the string on her bikini bottoms at her hip.
“Can’t wait, baby.”
I throw her a wink and step back into the house. “Dad? Adam? Did I hear you guys?”
Abigail
Holy fucking shit.
Part of me is mortified and another part—a part that has lain dormant for years until the force of nature that is Kennedy Lane burst into my life—is smug as shit about being caught with my pants down. Literally.
Checking to make sure my bikini is secure, I pull Kennedy’s shirt over my head. The damn thing hangs almost to my knees. I’m going to look like I’m naked underneath, but it covers me better than my bikini. Dragging my fingers through my hair, I try to calm myself as best I can. I look around frantically, as if a hair elastic is going to magically appear, to no avail. Oh well, no ponytail for me.
I hear voices coming closer as Kennedy greets his parents, and I know my time is up. There’s no way I can sneak around to the master bedroom from here without them seeing me. Squaring my shoulders, I know there’s only one thing to do—own it.
I step into the great room and brace myself, a winning smile on my lips. A thin woman with caramel-colored hair wrapped in a bun stares at me in shock. She retains the vestiges of what was once a great beauty, but I recognize how her grief has taken its toll on her. It’s a sight I’m unfortunately very familiar with. I see it every time I meet another sick child’s parent.
“Ah, there you are.” Kennedy gives me an encouraging smile and steps closer, slipping a hand around my waist.
“Mom, this is Abigail Walker,” he says, his voice ringing with a combination of pride and smugness as his eyes twinkle at my undressed state. “Abby, my mother, Helena.”
She’s dressed in linen slacks and a stylish scoop-necked shirt, looking neat as a pin despite having just stepped off a plane. Her eyes flicker down to my bare legs, and I try not to wince as her brow crinkles in a frown. Plastering a professional smile on my face, I extend my hand and step forward confidently. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Lane,” I say warmly, as if I’m wearing a business suit instead of standing here half-naked. “Please forgive my appearance—we were, um, swimming.”
The dark-haired woman standing to one side raises a skeptical eyebrow, although she looks amused instead of censorious. “Swimming, huh?”
“Yes, swimming.” I ignore Kennedy’s smirk at my blatant lie and stick my chin out, as if daring anyone to contradict me. “Kennedy’s been so busy lately; he must have forgotten to mention you were arriving today, otherwise we would have been more prepared.” I shoot him a look before smiling again at his mother, who regards me with wonder before scowling at her son.
“Good Lord, Kennedy. Please tell me you didn’t just spring your family on your girlfriend like a dirty bomb,” she scolds, as his father coughs into his hand behind her. Kennedy’s eyes widen in surprise.
“Hey, this is the first time you guys have been to visit,” he says defensively. “It’s not like—”
“All the more reason for you to have discussed this with her first.” After leveling him with another look that would have made a lesser man quail, she smiles politely at me. “It’s a pleasure, Abigail. And this is my husband, G
raham, and our future daughter-in-law, Sara. I’m not sure where Adam has wandered off.”
Graham is as handsome as his son, although the past few years have obviously taken their toll on him as well. But, his blue eyes are vibrant, and he smiles warmly as he takes my hand in his. “Nice to meet you, Abby. I’d like to say we’ve heard all about you, but . . .”
“But besides what Adam and the Internet has told us about you, we’ve heard very little,” Helena finishes, casting a meaningful glance at her son.
“Hey!” he protests, and I giggle as Helena rolls her eyes at him. “I told you about her.”
He’s cut off by a booming voice coming from the hallway. “Oh, there you are!” A giant bear of a man, who can only be his brother, enters the living room and stares at me in confusion. “Aw, fuck, man,” he mutters in disappointment. “You’ve got a groupie here? Don’t tell me you’re two-timing Abby?”
My smile becomes brittle as Kennedy takes two steps and smacks Adam on the shoulder. “This is Abby, fuckwit.”
“Boys,” his father admonishes, but his lips are quirking with restrained amusement.
“Nice to meet you,” I say as graciously as I can, while Adam just gapes at me. I shift awkwardly on my feet, the state of my dampening bikini bottoms becoming uncomfortable. “If you all will please excuse me a moment, I’d like to, um, rinse off the sand and saltwater. Kennedy, why don’t you get them settled in, and I’ll join you in a few minutes?”
“Sure you don’t need help?” he says teasingly, taking a step toward me, but stops in his tracks when I narrow my eyes at him. “Let me show you guys the guest rooms first,” he continues gingerly, looking somewhat sheepish.
I smile at him sweetly and, with as much dignity as I can muster, glide off down the hall toward his bedroom. As soon as I’m out of view, I tear down the hall and just manage not to slam the door in my haste. Leaning back against it, I finally release the laughter that has been fighting its way out. That was . . . not as bad as it could have been. But I still plan on making Kennedy pay for it later.
I can’t wait.
After the fastest shower in history, I rejoin them in the living room, dressed in more appropriate twill capris, flat sandals, and a sleeveless, pale blue button-down. I pause for a moment at the threshold of the living room when I see that Kennedy isn’t there, but at the welcoming smile of his father, I proceed and take a seat in the lone remaining armchair. It feels a bit like I’m on trial.
Adam beams at me. “Now you look more like your pictures,” he teases, casting a sly glance at Kennedy as he strides in barefoot, his hands full of water bottles. “All that bare skin confused me; I’d thought we’d walked in on some kind of orgy for a minute.”
“Only in your dreams, Adam,” Sara, retorts dryly. She nods at me in greeting, her eyes appraising. Her clothing is clearly designer, but casual, and I instantly like her no-nonsense persona. “So, Abby, are you from California originally, or are you a transplant like Kennedy?”
“Born and bred,” I confirm. “I grew up in Half Moon Bay, just a little south of where I live now in San Francisco.” Kennedy hands water bottles to his father and Adam, and then walks over to give me a bottle, too, before sitting nonchalantly on the arm of my chair. I catch Helena watching with undisguised interest as he circles his arm around my shoulders. Thank God he found some jeans and a shirt to put on, so at least I won’t be tempted by his abs in front of his mother.
We make the kind of small talk that people do when they’re trying to get to know each other, and I willingly share stories of growing up on the California coast as the daughter of a policeman. Helena and Graham watch me like I’m some kind of rare bird, while Sara is reserved, but friendly. Adam is the most open and gregarious, however I have the feeling they are all evaluating me on one level or another. I’m the first woman Kennedy has introduced to his family since that idiot broke his heart years ago, which secretly thrills me. I can’t blame them being cautious. He was hardly a saint before he met me, and the kind of girls he’d been with were as interested in his checkbook as they were in his cock.
But that was before.
They’re chuckling at my description of my dad’s touch of fanboy-mania when I took Kennedy to Napa. “Your parents sound awesome,” Adam laughs. “Will we get to meet them at the concert?”
I hesitate, not sure if Kennedy had thought that far ahead, but he squeezes my shoulder supportively. “Absolutely. They’ll both be there,” he chimes in. “Frank’s main sport is football, but he’s a NASCAR nut, too. He was telling me that last win of yours was a thing a beauty.”
Adam’s eyes light up, while Sara gives a playful groan. “Thanks for that, Kennedy. Just what his ego needs.”
“Can you tell us a little about your organization and this concert, Abby?” Helena asks with a hesitant smile. “It’s been so long since we’ve heard Kennedy play live, I’m not sure what to expect.”
I can feel Kennedy tense beside me, so I casually rest a hand on his thigh and launch into a brief description of What’s Your Dream. My enthusiasm is hard to temper when I begin describing the concert particulars, and Kennedy eagerly jumps in to add his own comments about some of the acts. Eventually, we begin talking over each other and laughing, not realizing how focused we are on each other until his father laughs at Sara’s comment.
“Rock the Dream is plastered all over your brother’s car now.” Sara nudges Kennedy in the arm.
I nod and smile warmly at Adam. “And thank you for that. The extra attention that has garnered is making a difference.” I look up at Kennedy, and my heart skips a beat to see his deep blue eyes gazing back at me. “This dream fulfillment has become the biggest thing we’ve ever done. Kennedy has been wonderful—his involvement has gotten us places in just a few weeks that would have taken months otherwise. The concert will end up helping hundreds of kids, not just Parker.”
“It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, son.” Graham’s deep voice resonates with a paternal pride. “We can’t wait to see it.”
Kennedy swallows nervously, shifting next to me. “Well, all those guys owe me favors . . . It’s about time for them to repay,” he jokes, but I can see in his eyes how much his father’s praise means to him.
“It’s not just the concert,” I blurt, suddenly wanting them to know how much of himself he’s poured into this. How it’s not just a simple calling in of favors. “Kennedy’s been working with Parker over Skype while he’s been on the road.”
His parents’ eyes shoot open in surprise. “You have?” Helena asks him shakily, but Kennedy only swallows thickly, his hand clutching my shoulder like a lifeline. In turn, I squeeze his leg slightly, letting him know it’s okay.
“He encourages Parker with his guitar lessons and generally gives him something to look forward to. The nurses say it’s really made a difference in how well he takes his chemo. I think Parker’s mother wants to nominate Kennedy for sainthood.”
Kennedy barks out a harsh laugh. “And, I think we all know that would truly be a miracle,” Kennedy says wryly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “I’m the least saintly person I know.” Looking back at his amazed family, he shrugs the praise off.
“It’s the least I can do. I’m shuttled around in private jets, anything I want at my fingertips, while he’s stuck in a shitty hospital bed with a life-threatening disease that’s affected his whole family. If spending a few hours with him on Skype will make him feel even a little better, it’s worth it.”
His mother sniffs, her face blotchy, and Kennedy squirms with embarrassment. Even Graham looks teary for a moment and I’m suddenly struck with the fact that it must be years since they’ve seen Kennedy being so open and involved. I quickly think back to the first time I met him in the Fairmont; the man I know and love now is light-years from the train wreck he was then. If that’s all they’ve seen for years, then it’s no wonder they’re looking at him like some kind of fog has lifted from them all.
Adam breaks the awk
ward silence by slapping his hands on his thighs and standing. “Hey, is it okay if we walk down to the water? I kind of want to check out the swimming area Abby was talking about earlier.”
“Yeah, sure,” Kennedy says. He stands and holds a hand out for me. “How about it, baby?”
“Actually, I think I’m going to go check out the kitchen and see what I can pull together for dinner.” Since I didn’t know about guests, I’m not sure what we have left in the way of food. Kennedy’s kitchen was as barren as the desert when we arrived a few days ago, and we only picked up enough for the two of us.
“Hey, don’t sweat it. If we don’t have enough, I’ll have something brought in. Or we can go out.” He lowers his voice to a murmur. “I don’t expect you to cook for my family. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you they were coming.”
“It’s okay.” I smile softly. “I’ll check it out, and if we’re out of luck, we’ll let your Mom decide. Okay?”
He turns to face his family, my hand still in his. “Mom? Dad? How about a little sea air?”
“Oh, I’ll help Abby,” Helena says quickly, rising to her feet. “But I’m sure your father wants to join you, don’t you dear?” A look passes between them, and Graham immediately stands. “Yes, definitely,” he agrees with enthusiasm.
Adam leads them out onto the deck, exclaiming at the view, and I turn to head into the spacious kitchen. I busy myself surveying the contents of the refrigerator, wondering what I can pull together at such short notice, when I hear a noise behind me. “These might help,” Helena says softly, holding out the bag I saw earlier. “We brought a few groceries with us. Graham has a sensitive stomach these days, so I thought it wise to bring what he needed. I hope that was all right.”
“Of course,” I say in surprise. “Kennedy wants you to be comfortable here. I’m sure he’d want you to bring whatever you need.” We share a smile and she unloads the bag. “Hmm, how about a nice pasta alfredo?” I suggest as I eye the contents. “My mother has a great recipe that’s creamy yummy, but not too rich, so it doesn’t sit in your belly like a bomb all night.”