by Megan Lowe
I wake to find Reed wrapped around me, his head resting on one of my breasts, a hand cupped around the other. I take a minute to study him in his sleep, this beautiful man of mine. His hair is all over the place, probably a result of me running my hands through it last night. His long, dark eyelashes are flat against his cheeks while his full lips, probably like mine, are bruised and swollen.
I can’t believe this man, this enigma, wants to marry me, have babies with me, grow old with me. I don’t know why I said I wasn’t bothered if we got married or not. Of course I am. I guess I was trying to protect that tiny vestige of my heart Reed Ryan hadn’t got to. Needless to say, he well and truly captured that last night and several times earlier this morning. But what did he mean when he said we were practicing for our boys now? I mean, what the fuck? I’m twenty-two and haven’t even finished uni yet. I know our whole relationship has developed fast, but babies? I thought I’d be well into my career before that happened, twenty-seven at least. But the way he was talking made it seem like he wants to start trying straight away. I’m not totally against it, but being a mum at twenty-three is not something I ever planned on. Maybe he didn’t mean now; maybe he just wants us to practice for later down the track, way later down the track. I do love him, but that love can keep for a few years yet.
In his sleep, he nuzzles my breast and I have to bite back a laugh. I know they’re not spectacular but Reed seems to like them, judging by the marks he’s left on them. In the end, that’s the only thing that matters. Some of the girls in my dorm have chests I’m sure their plastic surgeons are very proud of, and take every opportunity to thrust them in anyone with a dick’s face. Hmm, have any of them been with Reed? I discount that thought for two reasons. One, I’d like to think Reed has better taste than that, and besides, I really don’t want to know who or how many girls he’s been with, and two, if they had been with him, they’d be bragging all over campus. Reed Ryan is not a slouch between the sheets, and I get wet thinking about all the things he did to me last night. I shift slightly to help ease the throb between my legs; I can definitely feel where he’d been last night. Not enough to stop me from having him again though.
All these thoughts have me worked up. How long will it take for Reed to wake once I start playing with him? His erection is at my hip, so I reach down and grab him, grasping him firmly and moving my hand up and down.
In his sleep, he groans. “Bria,” he mumbles, but stays asleep.
I move a little faster, twisting this time, but still Reed sleeps. I’ll need to remember this for when we have kids. I won’t be the only one getting up at 2:00 a.m. for feeds.
I reach down and grab his balls, squeezing them gently, and finally his beautiful green eyes open.
“Holy shit,” he exclaims in his sleep-laced voice.
“Good morning,” I say, pushing him to his back and latching on to his neck, leaving a fresh mark to join a couple from last night.
“Mmm,” he moans, thrusting into my hand. He comes all over it, and like the first morning we spent together, I lick him off my hand.
“You know, if you had let me inside you, we could’ve practiced more for those boys of ours.”
I stiffen. “Yeah, about that….”
“You want their names, baby? I got ’em right here.” He taps his head.
“You mean for when they’re born, like, way down the track right?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’ve still got that shot thing and that’ll be good for a while, and then it might take time for my guys to do their job, and then you’ve gotta cook the kid, so we’re probably looking at least a year before you pop him out.”
“A year?” I ask, my voice getting high and squeaky.
“If I could get it done earlier I would, but contrary to popular opinion, I’m not God, angel. I don’t have a say on when these things happen.”
“I’m only twenty-two, Reed.”
“So?”
“I haven’t even finished uni yet.”
“So do you want to wait until you graduate? When’s that? December, right?”
“I’ve only just started working for your family.”
“If you’re worried about maternity leave, don’t. We’ll take care of you.” He goes to pull me into his arms but I put a hand to his chest and stop him.
“What?” he asks.
“I can’t do this.”
“What?” he asks again, his brows dipping.
“I had plans, Reed, dreams of my own. I’ve studied for four years so I can graduate with honours and have a career. A baby would put a major damper on that.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying this is all happening really fast.”
“What does that mean, Bria?” His anger comes through loud and clear.
“It means I need to stop.”
“For good?” Anguish replaces the anger on his beautiful face.
I grab his hand. “No, not for good, but I need time to think, to process everything. I want a career, Reed. I don’t want to be just a baby machine.”
“But you said last night, the two girls and a boy….”
“I know, and I do want them, and I want them with you, but I’m only twenty-two.”
“Do you love me?”
“With everything I’ve got.”
“And you want to marry me.”
“Absolutely.”
“But you don’t want to have babies with me.”
“I do, just not now. I’m not that girl, Reed.”
“What girl?” His voice is low with an edge of anger. I’m fucking this up, but deep down, I know it’s not right for me.
“The type of girl who gets married and immediately starts popping out the kids. That’s not me.”
“So what does this mean?” he asks, defeated.
“I just want us to take a breath. We’ve gone from strangers to planning our wedding in a week, Reed. That’s just crazy.”
“But I love you.”
“I know, and I love you, but even you’ve got to admit this has been fast.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he says, grabbing my shoulders.
“I just need a minute.”
“Are we breaking up?”
“No!” I rush to reassure him. “I just need to catch my breath. You blew me away, Reed Ryan, and now I just need to get my bearings back.”
“So we’re not breaking up?” he asks again, seeming to need clarification.
“No, honey, we’re not. I love you, you love me, but you’ve gone speeding off up the track. Just give me a minute to catch up, okay?” I put my hand over his on my shoulder, and give it a squeeze.
“Okay.” He nods. “I can do that.”
I smile and squeeze his hand again. “Thank you. Um, do you know what Mav, Jax, and Liam’s schedules are like today?”
I really don’t want to do this now, but it can’t wait.
“Um, they um,” Reed mumbles and my heart constricts at the pain I’m causing him. “They, er, have morning workouts and then Mav and Jax usually go to our training compound and tool around and um, Liam might go as well sometimes.”
I feel like a total bitch for asking for this, but it has to be done. “Do you think you could call them and ask them to come here instead? They need media training, and since I don’t have class today, I was hoping we could do it now.”
Reed nods. “Right, I’ll text them and ask.”
We dress silently and go over to the diner for breakfast. It’s a sombre affair. I’ve hurt Reed and I hate that fact, but I have to stay true to me too.
A little while later, the three youngest Ryan brothers traipse into the diner.
Jax slinks into the booth and Liam pushes him over. “What’s up, sis?” The name causes my heart to clench. “Reed said you wanted to see us.”
“Well, you know I’ve come on board as Ryan Racing’s PR rep, and in that role I’m in charge of media relations. Our relationship with the press is crucial and so is the need for you
to know how to talk to them, behave with them, and control the image you project to the public.”
“Media training,” Mav surmises.
“Exactly. The plan here is to make you guys more professional, and in doing so we’ll hopefully attract the attention of sponsors and the like, which will increase cash flow and only mean good things for the team and family as a whole.” It’s easier to talk if I keep it professional, but seeing Reed so down guts me.
Liam and Mav nod and Jax shoots me a cheesy grin.
“This is really your thing, huh, sis?” Jax asks.
“What I’ve spent years and countless dollars training for.”
Liam kisses the tips of his thumb and index finger and points to the sky.
“You think?” Mav asks.
“Who else?” Liam asks. “How else?”
“Eh, point taken.” Mav tilts his head.
“Fits,” Jax adds.
I watch the exchange utterly clueless. “What was all that about?” I ask.
“It’s something we do to remember our ma and nan,” Reed says, his voice flat, “if we want to thank them for something.”
“So why did you do it just then?” I ask.
“Because they must have been working overtime when they sent you to us.”
His words cut me to the quick and it takes all I have not to break down and bawl right there.
“Right.” I clear my throat. “Well, if you guys are good, we’ve a lot of work to do.”
“Right you are, sister-boss,” Jax says and pushes Liam out of the booth. He sweeps an arm out. “Lead the way.”
We grab Pop on our way to the big house, taking Chris with us, and get settled. I take a deep breath.
“So, PR 101….”
Chapter Twenty-Two
REED
It takes all my self-control, while Bria talks us through her PR spiel, not to throw her over my shoulder, carry her to our room, and make sweet, sweet love to her all day. But I don’t even know if I’m allowed to do that anymore. I thought we were all good last night when she started talking about kids. I mean, she brought them up! Sure, I was thinking about them but she was the one with the plans. I’m so far out of my league here. I thought chicks liked when you started talking about weddings and babies and shit. Figures I would pick the one that doesn’t.
Her sweet voice lures me back to the present, and I’ve gotta hand it to her, the girl knows her stuff. It drives me crazy that when she refers to Ryan Racing it’s always we and us, not you. She’s a part of this, one of us, in a professional way anyway. But is that what she really wants? “A minute to catch her breath.” What the fuck does that even mean?
“The first thing you’ve got to keep in mind with the media is they’re going to try to look for a way to twist your words and read into your answers, make things that aren’t a big deal big, etcetera, etcetera.” We all nod. It’s killing me to sit here and pretend nothing’s wrong.
“The best thing to do is give short, simple answers, and no more ‘no comments.’ it makes it seem like you have something to hide. A reporter might ask a question you don’t like. For example: do we think the rivalry with Devil Racing is affecting our performance? We all know it’s bull, but they want to get a rise out of you. They want a reaction. A simple ‘we’re focusing on our own race’ will suffice. Please refrain from taking shots at Hunter David and Devil Racing or anyone else, got it?” Again, we all nod.
“I’d prefer you not duck questions. It’ll only draw attention to an issue you don’t want to talk about. Just keep it simple, short, and about us, how we’re racing, what we’re focused on; no one else comes into it. They don’t affect us and we’re not going to give them free publicity.”
We all look at each other, nodding and smiling. She gets it and it kills me a little more. This girl was born to be a Ryan, to marry one and give birth to a whole heap, but it feels like she's pulling away. Fuck, I know she didn't even say that but it doesn't stop me from rubbing my chest to ease the ache that’s taken up residence.
“Specifically in relation to the explosion, we’re not allowed to say anything to the media. It could be seen as interfering in the police investigation. In this case, we say we’re shocked and look forward to getting back on the track. We’re cooperating with race officials and the police. If any charges are laid and the case proceeds to court, we’ll also be limited in what we can say, but I’ll be here and we can cross that bridge when we get to it. Most of the reporters know this, but they’ll still try and get something out of you.”
“Like Bob the c— clown,” Pop says, spying Chris in the corner playing.
“Right. For the most part, I’ll be with you, but I can’t be everywhere all the time. The most serious press requests will go through me and I will be there.” For us, but will she be for me? It doesn’t escape my notice that not so long ago, I never would’ve reached this stage in a relationship, or even been involved in a relationship to begin with. I know I need to give her the space she's looking for, but it's so fucking hard.
“You sure you’re okay with not being paid?” Pop asks. “This is a big role you’ve taken on, a lot of work.”
My girl, and she still is my girl, flashes Pop a kind smile. “Ryan Racing is a family business, right?”
Pop nods. “And I’m family, right?” My heart soars at her words.
Again, Pop nods. “So there we go.”
“But—” Pop begins.
“No buts, I’m family. These guys”—she gestures to me and my brothers—“don’t get paid, do they?”
“No, but—”
“So why am I different? Reed and I have a future. I have a future with Ryan Racing I hope, so I don’t see the difference.” It warms me that despite her pause button, she thinks we still have a future.
“Pop,” I say.
He turns to me. “You know she deserves to be paid, Reed.”
I nod. “She does, and so do these guys. Look.” I stare straight into her eyes, leaving her in no doubt. “I will be making Bria a part of this family. She’ll be mine to love and look after, so let her return the favour. We have no problems using Liam, Mav, and Jax’s talents, no problem using Park and me before them, so let’s use all of our family’s talents. PR is Bria’s.” Because she will be a Ryan, I add silently. I know my good thing and I’m not letting her go. I’ll give her a minute, but I refuse to let her get away.
“Fine,” Pop agrees, “but this means you’re stuck with us, all of us,” he says to Bria.
She beams. “I think I can handle that.” I smile at her and squeeze her hand.
She throws us some practice questions and does some more fine-tuning before Pop has to go back to the diner for the lunch rush.
“Pop,” she says in a quiet voice, “I wonder if you could take Chris with you. This next part is a bit… sensitive.”
“Oh right, come on, buddy.” He holds out his hand, which my nephew dutifully takes.
“Okay,” Bria says after they’ve walked out the door, “this bit is probably not suitable for young ears.”
“You gonna be talking to us about sex?” Jax asks and wiggles his eyebrows.
“I am,” Bria says, deadly serious.
“Uh oh,” Mav says under his breath.
“You guys might think that I’m trying to ruin your fun. I swear I’m not, but you guys, all going well, will have a spotlight thrust upon you and that comes with certain… benefits. I’m not saying don’t partake in these benefits, but be careful. Unless those benefits are illegal, in which case I will cut off your balls and keep them in a jar by my bedside, you got me?” We nod solemnly.
She continues, “Okay. Girls. Liam, I apologise for this, and Reed, if you get any ideas, I will kill you.”
“No worries, angel,” I say and kiss her cheek. She’s the only girl for me and so she has nothing to worry about.
“Please, for the love of God, don’t tape anything, or have sex in a public place where people can see you. We don’t need that
getting out. Sponsors don’t tend to like those sorts of things. Also, use condoms. Don’t trust that the girl you’re with is clean and on birth control. This next bit might sound odd, but go with me. Use condoms you’ve bought yourself. A pinprick is almost undetectable but easy to do. We don’t need some girl coming out of the woodwork claiming you knocked her up then left her and your child to fend for themselves. On that same line, take your used condoms with you. Don’t leave them in her rubbish, or somewhere she can go and pick them up. If taking it with you isn’t an option, and I know this is gross, wash it out and then toss it. We don’t need some nutjob using a used condom as a turkey baster.”
“Oh fuck,” Jax says.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but if all goes well, your profile will start building and some women will see you as a pay cheque. I don’t want that to happen to you, to the child, or this family. I love Chris, and I know you guys do too, but we don’t need another Emma situation but with a bigger media spotlight.”
“Fair enough,” Liam says, and Jax and Mav nod.
“Liam, I know you don’t hide your sexuality. I certainly wouldn’t hide a man as fine as Mason either, sorry, honey,”—she pats my knee and I grab her hand and lace it with mine—“but I don’t think we need to flaunt it. I don’t want anything to detract from your racing. What do you think?”
“Fine with me,” he says.
“I don’t want to ignore or hide it, but it’s not a big deal. You’re gay. It has nothing to do with how you perform on the track. You’re not a gay rider. You’re the series-leading rider, end of story.”
“Sounds good, sis.”
“Okay, so now the awkward part is out of the way, here’s the stuff we can have fun with.”
Jax lets out a whoop.
“I set up professional Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram accounts for you three and Ryan Racing last night. These accounts are not for personal use. No talking to friends or flirting with girls, giving out personal information, or confronting keyboard jockeys. These are a way to give fans a glimpse into your life in a manner we control,” she says when she catches Jax and Mav grinning at each other like idiots.