Just Ask

by Mia Downing

  For some reason, having an exit plan made going back to Bendura that much easier. It made him stronger, less terrified, because his idea wasn’t looking quite so crazy at this point, just difficult. But what in life that was really good was easy?

  But Sam needed a nudge. He leaned in and smoothed the hair from her forehead. “Think how much this would help your mom. You could be here, for her, and not be so stressed. You don’t need to work eighty-hour weeks, either. Just go to the office, make sure Hill Ltd. doesn’t implode. Twenty-five, thirty hours tops. I’ll do my end in Fiji for the time being.”

  Samantha’s blue eyes grew wider, as if she, too, were questioning her sanity, but her smile was broad and grateful. “Yes, I’ll come home to be you.” She hugged him tight, a laugh bursting from her lips.

  But then she sat up and met his gaze, hers stern and commanding. “I’ll do this only if you promise me you’ll go to your island and not be an ass. You go, be human, and tell Ryan exactly what you told me, and then some. None of this boardroom smoke and mirrors shit you’re so good at.”

  God, he was going to miss her. “Would you come visit? I’ll show you the waterfall, and you can ride Ryan’s horses. Snorkel naked.”

  “Horses, a waterfall, and naked snorkeling?” Her eyes took on a wicked gleam. “Maybe I will visit.”

  “Thank you, Sam.”

  “I love you, Jordan. I’m so happy you’re going to finally live your life. Blake would be so proud.”

  “I love you, too.” Jordan smiled as he hugged her closer. Admitting his love for her hadn’t been that hard. Actually, it felt really good. How would it feel to tell Ryan the same thing? “Blake is probably jumping like a fool up on cloud nine.”

  For the first time since he’d been home, in New York, he felt at peace. Probably because he realized where home was for him. He had to go back to Bendura and Ryan and rebuild that same peace. If Ryan still wanted him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ryan sighed as he fucked up the account sheet again, for the fifth time. The stable office wasn’t even toasty, seeing the air conditioner was churning along in the window, so he couldn’t blame the heat.

  Every time he started in, something would happen to drag his thoughts off on a tangent. The date at the top of the screen reminded him that Jordan had been gone two weeks with no word. The Murphy’s name dredged up memories of that first ride out to the waterfall, which led to memories of the second trip, which led to more memories that fucked royally with columns of numbers.

  So many memories of Jordan for such a short amount of time. Running naked down the beach. Laughing as they rode, snorkeled. Making love on the rocks, feeling so complete and one with Jordan right before he bolted with his tail between his legs. Granted, Ryan had let him. Hell, he’d done everything but shove him out the door, telling Jordan not to let it hit him in the ass on the way out.

  But Jordan had to make this decision on his own. Ryan remembered well the panic he’d felt before moving to Bendura. It was scary as shit to shift your life half way around the world to a land of spotty cell service and blistering summer heat every day. Jordan’s decisions were greater, though, because he’d have to go against his business sense if he were to call Bendura home.

  Never mind what it must be like for Jordan to realize he was at a sexual crossroads. That right there was messed up enough for a guy with his act together. Not that Jordan didn’t have his act together—he did. But Ryan sensed that all of these little things were enough to break any strong, sturdy camel’s back just by floating over it. No straws needed.

  There was a knock at the door and Ryan sighed. “It’s open.” He didn’t look up, because he’d finally gotten a hold of these fucking numbers, and he had to finish. “Give me a minute, please.”

  Whoever entered sat in the chair desk side, and Ryan caught a hint of familiar cologne mixed with something…tantalizing. He glanced up and blinked.

  Jordan sat in that chair, his ankle crossed over his bare knee right below his khaki shorts, sandals on his feet, his blue Hawaiian shirt obnoxious as hell. So handsome yet pale again, maybe a little thinner, definitely tense, though he tried to hide it.

  “Holy shit.” Not exactly what Ryan dreamed he’d say, and he’d gone through the gamut of first lines over the past two weeks. Holy shit wasn’t one of them.

  Jordan laughed. “Holy shit to you, too.”

  “You surprised me this time.”

  “I didn’t go through the hotel.”

  “No?” He must not have, because Ryan had again asked for them to call over if Jordan made arrangements. He’d wanted to be prepared for this meeting, to be calm, cool, and collected when he signed away his end of paradise while inside he’d want to die a quick, painless death. He was greedy, wanting the guy and the island. He’d pay for being greedy.

  “No.” Jordan left it at that. “We have a lot to discuss.”

  “Yes.” Ryan swallowed, his throat feeling about two centimeters wide.

  Jordan tossed a folder on his desk in front of him, filled with paperwork that made Ryan’s stomach bottom out and sink. He was selling. Karma was a bitch.

  Ryan averted his gaze from Jordan’s. He tugged the file closer, opening it with a finger, afraid to read in black and white the words that would end his dream. He scanned, ignoring the lawyer mumbo-jumbo to get to the good stuff, and then his breath caught.

  No, Jordan was fucking crazy. He re-read the important paragraph, his stomach flipping over, wallowing in some weird, giddy emotion that still made him want to barf.

  “You want to sell me your half of Bendura for…” Ryan read that line again and snapped his gaze of disbelief to Jordan’s, calm and steady. “I think you’re missing a zero or three. Four or five, actually.”

  “No, that’s the right amount, ballpark. I’m willing to negotiate.” Jordan shifted. “I didn’t know what number to put there, and that will depend on something else that you’ll dictate.”

  “Okay.” Ryan knew this was too good to be true.

  Jordan settled back in his chair, looking every inch the haggling businessman despite the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt. “You told me I had to buy something for myself, as part of the challenge. Artwork or something. I know what I want to buy.”

  Jordan was definitely insistent. Ryan frowned and studied the contract again, looking for hints. “My painting isn’t for sale.”

  “I want Brownie.”

  “Brownie.” Ryan lifted his head and stared blankly at Jordan. His mind refused to process anything except the fact that Jordan was crazy. Jordan had gone home infected with some tropical disease that made him return to spout off insane things.

  “Brownie, the horse?” Jordan prompted. “I don’t know how much he’s worth, but I figure that amount should buy you a replacement and cover the costs to ship it from Texas. If not, I can pay more, and that’s what we’ll use as the number for the Bendura sale.”

  Definitely a tropical disease. “You’re selling me your share of Bendura for the price of a horse.”

  “If you agree, yes.” Jordan nodded as if they were talking cool millions and mutual funds. “I like Brownie and I missed him while I was gone. He’d be something I bought for me, and I don’t want to sell him. I don’t think horses make good investments, so he meets all of the requirements of your challenge.”

  Ryan’s chest somehow kept his heart trapped inside, which surprised him. The damned thing beat a zillion beats a minute, threatening to break free at any second. He fought to breathe deep. “Why? I’m just not getting it, Jordan. What’s the catch?”

  Jordan shot him a confused look as he folded his hands on his lap. “There’s no catch. I don’t want to own an island. I told you that way back in the beginning. I don’t want another hotel. I don’t want anything to do with Krakatoa Jr.’s impending lawsuits. I wasn’t lying about that. I just don’t.”

  “Then why me? Why for the price of Brownie? And he’s a fucking cheap horse, too. Trigger is worth twenty of Brownie.”


  “I want a horse, and I don’t need an island. I think Brownie, in my limited, humble experience, is a damned good horse. You have a horse, but you want the island to be in good hands. Your hands are the best. It makes perfect sense.”

  It still didn’t make any sense. Not to Ryan.

  Jordan shifted and lowered his foot from his knee so he could lean forward. “I don’t need the money from the sale, and frankly, I think this is what Blake would have wanted to have happen. You shared his dream. But if he had tried to leave you Bendura in his will, my family would have had a shit fit. They protested mildly when I got it, and they’ll have another shit fit when they find out I sold it, but they won’t know for how much.” Jordan sat back, satisfied. “But I can handle my family.”

  Ryan nodded, still in a daze, because it still wasn’t making sense. “Why me? You know I can’t afford what it’s really worth, and I know you don’t need the money. But this…it’s way too generous. I gave you a weekend of hot sex, and you’re giving me all this?”

  Jordan stiffened and his eyes narrowed. “I’m not paying you for sex.”

  Ryan sighed, knowing he was fucking this up. “I didn’t say you were. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t deserve this.”

  “Yes, you do. I want you to have control, not a developer who doesn’t care about the people who live here or even the people who return year after year to relax. I’m doing the right thing. Trust me on this.”

  How he could trust Jordan at this point, he had no clue. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head over the last two weeks, Jordan handing him the island, lock, stock and barrel for an insanely low amount of money wasn’t one of them.

  But that’s what Jordan was about to do. And then Ryan would be all alone. “What are you going to do with a horse? He’ll be hard as hell to ride in Manhattan, but I suppose you’ll make it work.”

  That sounded unprofessional of him. Snide. Ryan rubbed his hand over his face and manned up. “I’ll make arrangements for him to be shipped home to you. I can have Meg do some preliminary research on stables in your area, but you should probably check them out in person before making a decision.”

  “I’m not being clear, am I? Fuck, Samantha warned me about this.” Jordan cocked his head, as if trying to sort out what he was trying to say. “I don’t want to move Brownie I want him to stay here, and I expect you to charge me board and feed and whatever for him.”

  God, Ryan hated it when greenhorns decided to own horses. “He’ll need to be exercised, too. You won’t be able to make it here enough to keep him fit.”

  “I’ll exercise him daily, because I’m going to live here.”

  “Oh.”

  Jordan nodded, his face eager and excited. “I bought a house on the other side of the island, closer to the village. The beach isn’t as sweet as yours, but it will do. I can work from home, and I hired my friend, Samantha, to take over most of my duties in the New York office. I closed on the house yesterday, so it’s a done deal.”

  Jordan was here, sold him his share of Bendura for the price of a fucking cheap, lazy horse, and had bought a house. Jordan would work from home. Yes, his mind got all that. Jordan would be here, and Ryan would still be alone. Fuck Blake and his sense of humor. “Cell service is good on that side of the island.”

  Jordan nodded, the eagerness dissipating to nervousness. “Of course, I would be open to other options, like working at the hotel if I had to.”

  “Why would you work at the hotel if you have cell service at home?”

  “Because you don’t have cell service or internet at your house,” Jordan reminded him softly. “I want to spend time at your house. I bought a house so if you didn’t feel the same way, I would have an exit strategy.”

  Holy shit. Ryan sagged back in his chair, relief rendering him a pile of gelatin, useless and boneless. Jordan may not want an island but he wanted him, wanted to be with him. He, Ryan McCale, just got the guy and the island.

  It had to be too good to be true.

  Ryan narrowed his eyes and focused on the last part of Jordan’s words. “You need an exit strategy to stay at my house.”

  “Fuck me, I suck.” Jordan sighed and suddenly looked nervous as all get out. “I’m not asking correctly, am I? I need to ask.”

  Ryan nodded, trying to convince his lungs that inhaling and exhaling were natural things for them to be doing. “Yes, you need to ask.”

  “I know you don’t get me not wanting to own the island, but it’s not my dream. However, I do want it to be my home.” Jordan sucked in a huge breath, blew it out, and said, “I would like to try to build a relationship with you if you’re willing. Samantha told me you are the missing piece in my life, the one who made me human and complete. I know it’s not the fucking fresh air messing with my brain, because they were having a garbage strike in Manhattan when I got home, and fuck me, that was bad, even in February.

  “But I went back to the States and came to realize Blake was right. I needed a home. I needed to find peace, and he’d left me the oranges in his will so I could make the juice and the marmalade when I got done running like an idiot.”

  “Are you saying I’m fruit?” Stupid, stupid thing to say, but it was all he could come up with.

  Jordan laughed. God, he loved Jordan’s laugh, deep and genuine, worming its way through Ryan’s skin and muscles right down to his soul.

  “We can use the juice for your rum punch.” Jordan sat back in his chair, concern etching his face. “Did I fuck this up? Because I don’t know the first thing about relationships except I suck at them.”

  “I’m not sure if you’ve fucked up, yet. Keep going.”

  Ryan could tell Jordan wasn’t used to being nervous because it wasn’t something he was easily hiding. His knee bounced as he jiggled his leg, and he wiped his hands on his shorts. No doubt his palms were sweaty.

  Jordan said, “I didn’t know how to approach asking you if I could live with you. Though we joked about it, I wasn’t sure if sharing your space, your home, was something you’d need time to work up to doing, since…Mark. I can’t live in the hotel—too much Blake there. So I bought a house.”

  Ryan wanted to believe him, badly. “It’s not so you can run again.”

  Jordan shot him a small smile. “No. I have no issues with fleeing, as you’ve seen. I can run anywhere. But right now, there’s only one place I want to be, and that’s here, with you.”

  “God that’s sappy.” But Ryan loved it, maybe too much.

  “Sorry.” Jordan didn’t look sorry in the least, maybe because Ryan couldn’t hide how much his sappy words meant to him. Jordan grinned. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how much to profess and how much to hold back. I’m thinking if I’m trying to convince you to sell me a horse, I need to be honest.”

  “Honesty is working.” Ryan cocked his head, feeling as if he were in a movie or a dream or something very surreal. Uptight Jordan wanted to move here, with him. “Jordan, this is huge. How did you come to these conclusions?”

  “You told me I needed to start asking, so I started asking. I asked for opinions, I asked for help, and I asked myself what I wanted. Sam listened, shocked that I asked, and she told me I knew what I wanted, probably from square one. And I did. The moment I ran down your beach naked, I knew I had come home. I was just too afraid to see it.”

  Ryan had known then, as they raced along the sand, it had been big in Jordan’s book. He didn’t realize just how big until now.

  But the mention of Sam, his friend with benefits, stirred different emotions, one that left Ryan a bit possessive and territorial, as if he had a right to claim Jordan. “Sam. Your…friend. You saw her.”

  “Yes.”

  Ryan broke out in a sweat that had nothing to do with the heat. A flash of Jordan’s hard body intertwined with a female form invaded his brain, and Ryan dashed it away with a twinge of jealousy. He shouldn’t ask. He had no right to ask. But he had to know. “Did you—”

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nbsp; “No.” But the look in Jordan’s brown eyes was pleading, begging for understanding. “If I had, I wouldn’t have returned. I didn’t even have to kiss her to know where my thoughts were, because everything in Manhattan still reminded me of you, right down to the mounted police hanging out on the sidewalk.” Jordan studied his sandal, pulling at the strap at his ankle. “But she is my friend, Ryan. She listened and told me that I had the answers and I needed to start being as crazy in life as I was in business.”

  Relief washed over Ryan. He owed Sam a huge drink if she ever came to the island to visit. Hell, he owed her a horse, too. “You said she’s working for you.”

  “Yeah. I’ll have freedom, and she’ll get to be closer to her mom in Manhattan. She’ll run my business like a dominatrix, and she’ll be happy. I owe her happy.”

  Ryan just loved Jordan even more. “What did she say when you told her about me?”

  “She spewed whiskey all over my coffee table.”

  “That bad.” Ryan struggled to keep from laughing, because he shouldn’t laugh. But joy did strange things to a man.

  “That shocked. She never expected me to be smitten—I think that’s what she called it—and I know sure as hell she didn’t expect to hear a guy’s name. I should have waited until she set the drink down.”

  “Smitten.” As old-fashioned as it sounded, Ryan liked the way the word rolled around his mouth. Smitten urged the blood down to his cock, heating things in a lusty way and at the same time, his heart swelled up like a puffer fish, without the spines. He had to be the happiest man on Earth.

  Jordan nodded. “I like you a whole fucking lot, enough to move half way across the world to live on the side of an insurance nightmare called Tiny. So yeah, smitten works.”

  Ryan’s throat had issues with swallowing, just as many issues as his lungs had with the breathing. Maybe kissing Jordan would take care of it all, set him to rights. He scooted the office chair over, the arm bumping the arm of Jordan’s chair. “Come here,” he ordered softly.