Raging Heart On: Friends to Lovers Romance (Lucas Brothers Book 2)

by Jordan Marie

  "Sounds great." She smiles, pulling away from me. She takes a few steps before turning back around. She stares at me for a moment and I see a question in her eyes.

  "What?" I ask.

  "Thank you for this, White."

  "Anytime, Buttercup. Anytime."

  She nods, and then walks away. I stare after her for a minute. Even through her smile, she seems so sad. I wish I knew how to fix it. Kayla is one of the very few people I know who is genuinely caring and loving. There's nothing false in her. It doesn't seem right that she's having this much trouble getting the life that she wants. Especially since her dreams don't seem all that extraordinary.

  I shake off the thought and get busy dishing up our food and carrying it over to her coffee table. Then I hunt for that damn movie that she wants. I should be glad it's this one and not that other one she watches sometimes: You've Got Mail. That one makes no sense at all. What kind of people can fall in love just by talking to each other? That's not even possible and I can't see how people can pretend it is, even to watch a movie.

  CHAPTER 11

  KAYLA

  I change into my pajamas, throwing my hair on top of my head in a messy bun. The last thing I wanted tonight was company, but crazily enough, I like having White around. He makes the empty apartment feel less depressing. I spare a glance at myself in the mirror and for a minute worry about how big my tank and shorts make my hips look. Then I remember it's White and it wouldn't matter to him if I was stark naked. He doesn't think of me along those lines. That isn't allowed to make me sad anymore. No looking back. Besides, this afternoon at the bar, I came up with a decision and I'm going to stick with it.

  I go back out into the living room to find White already sprawled out on the living room floor in front of my coffee table, staring at the television. His broad back is braced against my sofa and he looks like an overgrown kid. I smile like I always do at seeing him like this. The White I know is so different from the one all the sports magazines write about, or even the White on the football field. I get a feeling I might be the only one to see him like this, completely. I like that he can feel that relaxed with me.

  "Move your big buns over. I'm starved." He looks up sheepishly, making room for me, a fork halfway up to his mouth. "Nice to see you didn't wait for me," I tell him, sliding onto the floor beside him.

  "Black? Really, Buttercup?"

  "What? I like black," I answer, ignoring him in favor of inhaling the food instead. The spices assault me and my stomach lets out a tiny rumble of need. I didn’t have time for food today; I was too wound up over today's meeting.

  "I'm going to take it upon myself to buy you new pajamas and clothes. Black won't be in any of them."

  "If you want to waste your money, feel free. I'd rather have a new television though."

  "What's wrong with your TV?"

  "It's too small."

  "Why does it suddenly feel like you’re the man in our relationship?” he asks me. “Besides, it's fifty inches."

  "Exactly. I want one of those sixty-five-inch ones, the kind that are curved for more pleasure."

  I smirk. He nearly chokes on his food.

  "You did not just say that."

  "I did. Was there something wrong with what I said?" I ask innocently.

  "You are a dirty girl, Kayla Graham."

  "Look who’s talking. Start my movie."

  "Yes, mistress. If you can manage to even enjoy it on such a small screen."

  "I'm about to share with you a sad fact of life, White. Brace yourself."

  "I'm bracing, but mostly because I'm afraid of you now."

  "Chicken."

  "Share with me your wisdom, wise one," he quips and I stick my tongue out at him.

  "The sad truth is that size matters in this world."

  "You don't say."

  I pat him on the shoulder like I'm feeling sorry for him, "I'm afraid so."

  "You know what else matters in this world?"

  "What's that?"

  "Being a smart ass. Keep it up and I'm going to paddle you."

  "Do you know that's the second time lately you've threatened that? I guess all those articles were right."

  "What articles?"

  "The ones saying that White Hall Lucas likes his sex kinky."

  "Oh God, please tell me you don't read those gossip magazines. And what are you doing reading about my sex life, Kayla? That's just creepy. I demand you stop at once."

  "Hey, I can’t help it that you're plastered all over the front of the paper! I go there to work my morning crossword. It's not my fault."

  "I'll buy you a book of crosswords instead," he grumbles.

  "Giant print," I mutter, ignoring him for the television.

  I eat my food, choosing to ignore him for the magic that is Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts. I'm surprised when White reaches over and grabs my now empty plate.

  "You want more?"

  "What?" I half look at him, loving the part where Julia is in the tub when Spike comes in.

  "Seconds, Buttercup. Do you want them?"

  "Umm... no, but I wouldn't mind another pop."

  "Yes, oh Mistress of the curved television."

  "Yeah, yeah."

  "I'll help you get the television this weekend if you want."

  "Really? Are you sure? What about your arm?"

  "I doubt picking out a TV is going to hurt my arm, Buttercup."

  "I guess you're right. We can always get a stock person to load it up for us."

  "I can load a fucking television, Kayla."

  "Whatever, but we'll have to do it Sunday."

  "That's fine. I don't have anything planned. Why Sunday, though?"

  "I have plans, Saturday."

  "You do? I thought you broke things off with Tommy?"

  "I did. That doesn't mean I can't still have plans, White."

  "Well yeah, I know. It just surprised me. It's cool. We'll plan on it Sunday. I was just hoping you'd go watch the new Rock movie with me this weekend."

  "Well, normally I'd never pass up a chance to see the Rock. He is my future husband and all, but I'm going on a date."

  "Who with?"

  "You have a lot of questions. When did you get so nosy?"

  "When I found out that my best friend was getting married to an ass clown and I had no idea. So now I have this need to ask you everything. Therefore, I repeat, who is this date with?"

  "I don't know," I sigh, wishing I had never brought this conversation up.

  "You don't… Wait, let’s back it up here. How do you have a date this weekend and not know who it is with?"

  "Because technically it’s not a date. I'm going to Barney’s."

  "Well, Jesus, why didn't you just say that Kayla? I'll go with you. We can swing by there after the movies."

  "No, that won't work."

  "Okay after."

  "No. I mean you can't go with me. It would defeat the purpose."

  "The purpose?" he asks, and I take a breath to prepare myself.

  "I'm going there to get laid. Having you around as my wingman doesn't really work, since all the men would think they would have to compete with you."

  "That's crazy. We're just friends. We don't give off a couple vibe," he says carelessly, and has no idea how much that hurts my feelings.

  "Yeah, you're probably right," I agree, ignoring the pain in my gut as I admit that out loud. "Still, I'm going this one solo."

  "I don't like the idea of you having a random hookup. That's not who you are, Buttercup. Hell, you didn't sleep with Crenshaw for half a damn year."

  "I should have made him wait longer."

  "You should have made him wait, period."

  "There's no arguing with that.”

  "You're not a random-hookup kind of girl, honey."

  “How do you know?”

  "I've had those girls. Those girls are not you."

  "I've decided to be that kind of girl," I tell him, getting up from the floor and walking to the ki
tchen. There's no movie watching with this conversation, anyway.

  "What the fuck for?" he barks, following me like a dog with a freaking bone. Leaving me to wish again that I hadn’t opened my mouth around him at all.

  "Because I need sex."

  He stops walking and it might be my imagination, but he seems a little white—and I'm talking color, not his name here.

  "Okay, this conversation suddenly got weird."

  "You wouldn't let it go. So there you are. Can we drop it now?"

  "You just broke up with Tommy and before that it was Crenshaw. I mean not to get all up in your business or anything—"

  "What's to stop you, now?" I sigh.

  "Well, it's just that. I mean, that's not that long of a time to go without."

  "God, you and your double standards. You've had sex with three girls all in the same day before."

  "Weekend technically, which is two days. And that's different."

  "If you tell me it's different because you're a man, I will bash you over the head with this skillet, White Hall Lucas," I growl, rinsing the skillet off to put it in the dishwasher.

  "Kay—"

  "Besides, I didn't have sex with Tommy, not that it should be any of your business. And Bobby either, after about a month. It wasn't that great, which I guess is the real reason we broke up."

  "How the fuck do you get engaged to someone and never sleep with them?"

  "I know this is hard for you to understand, but some people can have relationships without sex being involved right out of the gate."

  "No one I know, but let’s forget all this for a minute. What's the all-fired hurry to have sex if you've gone this long without it? I don't think I'm following."

  "I want to get pregnant."

  "Oh," he says, his face completely confused, and then my words must hit him because he blinks. Then he blinks again. "You what?"

  "I want to get pregnant."

  "I don't think I'm following. No. Scratch that. I pray to God I'm not following. Are you telling me you're going to a bar to have a random hook-up with some guy you don't know, all to get knocked up?"

  I wince at the way he describes it. But, since that's exactly what I'm planning, I don't shy away from it. "That'd be correct."

  "That'd be correct," he whispers, like he can't believe it. "That'd be correct," he says again, but he's looking down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck so I can't really see what's on his face, or even guess what he's thinking. That doesn't last for long though because when he looks up, I have to be thankful there's a bar between us. "Are you out of your fucking mind, Kayla?" he yells. And, just so we're clear, when I say he yells, it's not just a little yell. This is the kind of yell you can hear across a crowded room. A very noisy, crowded room.

  "I want a child, White," I remind him, refusing to feel guilty.

  "There's other ways here, Kayla. Jesus."

  "Name one!"

  "Adoption."

  "Yeah I told you how that meeting went."

  "Then there's artificial insemination. I've read about that."

  "Yeah, I have too and there's no way I have the kind of money that would take either."

  "I'll loan it to you!"

  "No way. Absolutely not. You're not giving me money so I can get pregnant."

  "Oh, I see. You won't take money from me, your best friend, to get pregnant, but you will hook up with some random fucker at a bar."

  "Exactly."

  "I guess I should just volunteer to give you my dick. That way, no money is involved, and you will at least know I won't give you a disease that will threaten your fucking life!"

  "Will you?"

  "Will I what?"

  "You know," I whisper, unsure of how to say it. Warmth floods me at just the thought.

  "Give you my dick?" he growls coarsely, and I can feel embarrassment fill my face, heating it. This is too important to back down though, so I stand my ground.

  "Yes."

  "No. Absolutely not. Do you even know what you're asking? I'm not having kids, Kayla, and even if I do, I couldn't sleep with you. You're my best friend. You're like my sister, for Christ's sake."

  I can’t stop the flinch that happens from those words, nor the feeling of pain in my stomach.

  “I think you better go,” I whisper, feeling very alone and close to the edge.

  “Kayla. Buttercup, listen—”

  “Leave, White. I need to be alone right now.”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says after standing there silent for a few minutes.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” I agree, not really looking at him. I don’t bother to look up even when he walks beside me and wraps one of his hands around the back of my neck, pulling my head to him.

  “It’ll be okay, Buttercup. I love you. We’ll figure this out. Just don’t do anything rash.”

  “I won’t,” I tell him, and for some reason I feel like I’m dying inside.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he repeats and he must wait for me to reply. I don’t, but a couple of minutes later my door closes. I spend another two minutes of standing there, feeling as if there are parts of me lying scattered in pieces at my feet before I sink to the floor and let the tears out. Tears for what could have been, what never will be, and for the simple fact that I’ve always felt on my own, but after White reacted the way he did and left me, I’ve never felt more alone in my life.

  CHAPTER 12

  WHITE

  Fuck. I think I messed up. Kayla's ignoring me. There's one sure way to know when a woman is mad at you and that's when she keeps telling you she's fine. If I hear that she's fine one more time, I might go insane. She's been avoiding me all week and now it's Saturday night. She wasn't at her apartment, so I'm pretty sure I know where the hell she is. I need to paddle her ass. The problem is, the more I think about doing that, the more my mind wanders, and the more I think of Kayla in ways I never have before—in ways I shouldn't. This morning, that was all too clear because I dreamed about her all night. If I don't get a grip on myself here, I'm going to end up ruining our friendship. That can't happen. Kayla is one of the few people in my life besides my family that I don't think I could survive without. I need to back the hell up and get my head on straight—which might be easier if I would quit jacking off every morning in the shower to the memory of her ass in my hands.

  I don't know what's going on with me. I thought it was just a matter of getting laid. I haven't even managed to do that. Last night, I turned a woman away who would have given me exactly what I wanted: sex with no strings. One thought of Kayla's beautiful smile and there was just no interest there. My damn cock has been hard all week, except for when I needed him the most.

  I pull into Barney's, scoping the parking lot immediately for Kayla's brown Kia Sorento. The place is pretty crowded tonight, so it takes a bit. For the first time in my life, I start to feel real panic, all because I can't find her car anywhere. She knows I'd look for her, so chances are, she picked another bar. Since we're in Dallas, that leaves only a couple hundred or more possible locations. There's no way I can find her. What the fuck am I going to do?

  I reach for my cellphone, pull up my texts, and pray Kayla stops being so stubborn.

  "Where are you?"

  She doesn’t text back, so I try one last Hail Mary and call her, praying she answers.

  “What?” she answers and relief floods through me, warring with my anger.

  “I asked where you were,” I remind her. She doesn’t answer, and I barely resist throwing the damn phone. "Kayla you either tell me now, or so help me, I'll hunt you down and when I find you, you won't like what I do to you."

  I’ve never been one to panic, but I might be close right now. I’m having visions of Kayla meeting a serial killer and being hacked into little pieces. The thought of anyone hurting her, making her cry, or touching her in any way terrifies me. My heart is about to beat out of my chest and that's just from my imagination. Shit. I should have just tied her ass up so
this didn't happen.

  Preferably to my bed… without clothes… ass up…

  I tear my mind away from thoughts of fucking my best friend yet again, and let out a sigh of relief when she finally answers. Kind of.

  "Why? Are you going to threaten to paddle my ass again?"

  "It won't be a threat. Where the hell are you?"

  "Drinking."

  "Kayla, I'm warning you."

  "I'm fine, White. I don't need a father. I had two of those and neither one was worth much. I'm not in the market for another one."

  "Tell me where you are right now."

  "I'm sitting at a bar having a drink. I've had several. In fact, I'm getting ready to have another one. I'll talk to you later."

  "Damn it, Kayla. Tell me now or you'll regret it."

  She doesn't answer. In fact, she hangs up. I cuss for a good five minutes and feel pretty fucking useless. Then I decide to do something I have no right to do. It doesn't stop me. I scroll through the names on my phone, tap one of them, and wait as it rings.

  "You know it's going to be a bad day when the brother you never hear from calls you," answers Black.

  "Fuck you. You know you love me."

  "Whatever. How is my older brother the football star doing?"

  "You do realize there’s not that many years between us, right?"

  "Sure. But I am much wiser. Oh the things I’ve learned through the years…"

  "Like how to tie your shoes?"

  "Very funny. Seriously, how's your shoulder healing up? Mom said they put you off the team for another six weeks."

  "It's healing up. The owner is just being cautious," I half lie. The truth is, even working out, I feel a weakness in it that I'm starting to worry won't leave.

  "You should have them try one of those new cryogenic chambers everyone is talking about."

  "Cryo-what?"

  "Apparently they make you a human ice man and it’s supposed to promote healing and generate recovery time."

  "And freeze my ass off at the same time?"

  "Well, everything has drawbacks."

  "I'll look into it, maybe if I get desperate. Right now I've got a bigger problem."