by Kennedy Ryan
“Okay,” he cuts in, lips twisted in exasperation. “Bannini, I got it.”
Their eyes hold for a second. Hers concerned, his a little irritated but mostly indulgent.
“Alright, but you need to drink this.” She offers him a large cup and straw I hadn’t noticed her holding. “None of that food in there is safe. You wouldn’t be able to keep any of it down. This is sweet potato, lime, pineapple—
“I need to tell you something,” he interrupts, flicking a glance my way and then back to Banner before going on. “I hired a nurse to take care of me so you don’t have to do so much or come over all the time.”
Praise Jesus. I’m going to church every week from now on.
“A nurse?” Consternation wrinkles Banner’s expression. “Why? I can—”
“No, you can’t, Banner,” he says gently, firmly. “I need you not to for a while.”
She still looks confused, but I’m not. Zo needs to fall out of love with Banner and can’t while she’s there all the time being exactly the woman he wants.
“I personally think it’s a great idea,” I chime in, just in case they’re wondering.
They both shoot me a wry “I bet you do” look and turn their attention back to each other.
“You have done more than enough,” he says, taking her hand. “I couldn’t have asked for a better friend.”
“So you don’t . . .” She swallows and crystal tears bead the bottom row of thick lashes. “You don’t want me around? Is that what you’re saying?”
He clears his throat, and my joy at this new development shrinks when I see tears in his eyes, too. His voice is still thick with emotion when he speaks. “For a while, I think it’s best.”
Banner and I have something he can’t have with her, but he has something with her that is uniquely theirs. I scour my heart for jealousy, but there is none. How could there be? Banner is so pure in her motives, in her heart for him. He and I both recognize she would do anything for him as his friend. I don’t envy him the task ahead . . . getting over her.
I never could.
He puts the mask she brought him over his face and loops the string behind his head.
“There.” The mask muffles the word. “You happy now?”
Her smile up at him clears some of her tears.
“I’ll be happier,” she says, “if you drink some of this. You need your . . .”
Her voice peters out and she shakes her head, worry disrupting the smooth lines of her face.
“At least let me go over everything with the nurse,” she says. “There’s an app to keep up with your meds. And I have a regularly scheduled call with the hematologist who manages the multidisciplinary team. It’s a lot, and I just want to make sure the, um . . . transition is seamless.”
He simply nods, lifts the mask long enough to take a pointed sip of the concoction she brought over.
“I’ll make sure she speaks with you,” he says. “Now I’m going to go drool over all the food I cannot eat yet.”
He runs a glance over her face, lingering on each feature like he’s memorizing it, his eyes dark and sober over the white mask.
“Goodbye, Banner,” he says.
She just nods and watches him leave the terrace. It’s quiet for a minute, except for the laughter and music floating out to us from inside. I give Banner a moment to swipe a finger under her eyes.
“You want to dance?” I ask finally, softly.
Her eyes are still bright with tears, but she smiles and steps into my arms. We sway to the faint strains of a mariachi band playing something thankfully more mellow. The last time we danced Sixpence None The Richer was singing “Kiss Me.” That night, I did kiss her, and everything changed.
“I’m sorry I was upset that he’s getting a nurse,” she says after a few minutes of our quiet sway. “It’s not . . . it’s just—”
“I’m not mad.” I reach for her chin, lifting it so she meets my eyes. “I get it.”
Relief chases the worry from her face.
“I do think it’s a good idea, though,” I tell her, as if she didn’t know. “You need to devote as much time as possible to your job, considering I hear your new boss is a hard-ass.”
Her deep-throated laugh drowns out everything else for a second.
“Boss?” She loops her arms around my neck, slipping her fingers into my hair. “I’m pretty sure my contract says I’m an equal partner at Elevation. I did deliver on my promise to double your client list when I left Bagley.”
“That you did.” A smile stretches across my face, the kind I’m sure the Cheshire cat leaves hanging in Wonderland.
“You sure you don’t just want me for my clients?” She smiles up at me, the question free of sting. Her face, everything about her, so clearly confident in herself, in my love.
We’ve come far. Who were we at the beginning of this road? Two ambitious, lost kids who found each other. God, we were so careless, as you often are when you’re young. You don’t value the things most precious, assuming the rare is common. But it’s not. We weren’t common. In all the years that followed, Banner was my yard stick, and no one else ever measured up. No one ever will. There are many amazing women around. I know that. I’ve met them, but it’s not just who Banner is, but who we are together. Who I am with her. I’d never fit with anyone the way I do with Banner, even though from the outside looking in, we might not make sense.
“Do I want you for your clients?” I repeat the question as a whisper in her ear. “Should I dance you into the shadows over there and show you what I really want from you?”
She pulls back to stare up at me, her dark eyes a warning and a dare.
“We can’t,” she says, her voice firm but her eyes salacious. “We’ve made love in a lot of places and gotten away with it, but I think my niece’s quinceañera would be pushing it even for us.”
I dance her into said shadows, under an overhang of palm trees, a reprieve from what remains of the sun, and press her against the wall.
“Did you say push?” I press my erection into her. “This sounds more and more like an invitation.”
She expels a short breath, bites her lips, and closes her eyes as she subtly gives my dick an answering grind.
“I said no,” she says breathlessly.
“Scared your mom’ll catch us again?” My laugh is huskier now with the sweet curve of her hips against me. “I would not do it here or there. I would not do it anywhere.”
Her giggle is pure appreciation for my dirty Dr. Seuss.
“St. John’s was such a good trip.” She sighs, a rueful twist to her mouth. “Not sure when we’ll get away again. The season’s in full swing, and we’ll be at playoffs in a few weeks.”
I wish I could disagree, but our vacations will have to wait. I suspect the San Diego Waves will finally make the playoffs, so August could be negotiating the first post-season play of his NBA career. No way I’ll check out for any of that. And Banner will keep an eye on Kenan, too, and the other players we manage.
“We may not be able to go back to our island any time soon,” I say, slipping my hands down to cup as much of her butt as I can hold. “But I’m gonna fuck you in that orange dress when we get home.”
She nods a little jerkily, straining up to lick my neck. I want her to bite me, ring my throat with teeth marks so everyone at this party knows I’m hers, but she won’t. For all her wildness in bed, Banner’s too circumspect to shock her family. She has to keep us both in line because she knows I don’t give a damn.
“Are you sure we can’t just . . .” I grasp the hem of her dress, sliding it along the sleek line of her thigh. “In and out. Quick, I promise.”
“As titillating as the thought of you quickly taking your satisfaction and me not having time to come sounds . . .” she rolls her eyes and laughs “. . . it’s a firm no.”
“When have I ever left you unsatisfied?” I kiss the velvety scented curve of her neck.
“Never.” She lays her head on my
chest, placing one hand over my heart. “You satisfy me completely, Jared.”
My hands tighten on her butt and slide up to her waist, drift into her hair. I want to take it down. I love seeing her hair liberated, loose. Maybe that’s left over from an entire semester wondering how long it was, how it would feel in my hands.
“Blame this dress,” I tell her. “It shows off the sexiest parts of you.”
“Let me guess.” Her laugh rumbles into me. “The ass?”
I caress the dramatic curve from her back to her butt, rubbing my hand along her spine.
“No, this is the sexiest thing about you.” The laughter leaves my voice. “This gorgeous backbone.”
She pulls back to study my face in the shadows. With the sun setting, soon we’ll have to pick each other out of the dark like we did the first time we made love.
“Your strength,” I continue, pressing my fingers along the delicate bones strung up her back. “And this.”
I skim the curve of her breasts, but don’t stop there, not until I reach the skin left bare by the neckline of her dress. Until my hand rests on her heart.
“This heart of yours.” My laugh is full of self-deprecation. “That you somehow miraculously have given to me, it’s the other sexiest thing about you.”
She traces the line of my eyebrows, the slant of my cheekbones, my lips. I know what she sees. A good-looking guy with a not-always-good heart. Not a heart like hers.
“That’s just about the most perfect thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she says.
All my life I’ve been driven, in constant motion to always achieve the next thing. Right now, I find a rare moment of contentment just holding her and considering the stunning horizon on the verge of sunset. The golden hour always takes me back to dancing with Banner months ago, green-peaked mountains on one side, aquamarine ocean on the other. We weren’t merely dancing with our bodies but were negotiating the steps of our past, our present, our future. Figuring out how it would all come together. We were battling, our wills clashing as she tried to do what she thought was right, and me dragging her in the direction of what I knew couldn’t be wrong. I have that “just know” and it hasn’t failed me yet.
And standing here with Banner in the golden hour, the early evening is completely still. There’s not even a breeze, but I’m a weather vane, and I feel the winds shifting. I “just know.”
“I have another offer for you.” I make my voice sure, when for once, I’m not.
“Is it an offer I can’t refuse?” she asks, toying with my tie, a playful smile on those beautifully symmetrical lips.
“Uh, you could say no, I guess.”
“Jared.” She laughs and shakes her head. “The Godfather? Your favorite movie? ‘I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse.’”
She waves her hand, dismissing the joke I should have gotten.
“Never mind. You know I’m bad at jokes.”
“You are.” I exhale a sharp, nervous breath. “I’m usually quicker than that, though. Sorry. Uh, seriously. I have an offer.”
“Okay. I’m all ears.”
I’ve convinced teams to take risks on players they thought twice, three, four times about signing. I’ve persuaded brands to pay twice what they intended in a matter of one meeting, but I can’t come up with the words to convince Banner Morales to marry me? This is the most important pitch of my life.
“So, we have a lot, right?” I ask.
“I think we have everything we need.” She laces her fingers into the short hair at my neck.
“Not everything,” I say, taking advantage of the opening. “A wise woman once said I should be unafraid to want it all.”
“Technically, I was addressing a roomful of women who average about a third of their male counterparts’ salaries, and you’re a rich, white American male,” she teases. “So you have just about everything, but you were saying?”
I let out a short laugh.
“Did you just rich white male me?”
“I did just rich white male you,” she chuckles unrepentantly.
“I’ll let you get away with it just this once.” I shake my head at her and try to remember where I was. “So like I was saying, I want it all.”
I reach into her hair and find one of the pins anchoring it, taking it out. A thick dark lock spills over her shoulder.
“Jared!” she touches the hair still pulled up.
“I want to wake up with you every morning.” I steal another pin, freeing another section of hair.
“Which you already do.” She gives up and just angles a look up at me that is part deep love, part perennial exasperation.
“I want to kiss you every day.” Another pin gone. More hair falls. “Make love to you every day.”
“Also, what you already do . . . every day. Sometimes a few times a day. No complaining. I’m totally here for that.”
I grasp the final pin, slide it free, and watch the last of her thick hair fall around her shoulders. Enough of her makeup has worn off that I see her freckles. She looks so much like my girl from the laundromat.
“I want my ring on your finger.”
Even over the mariachi band still going strong inside, I hear her gasp. I feel her shock. She doesn’t speak, but just stares at me with wide eyes.
“I want four kids with you,” I continue, but hastily modify. “Though if that number is negotiable, I could go down. Like way down.”
“Uh, no, Jared, I—”
“Okay, four then. Whatever,” I concede with a frown, rushing on before she can tell me no, or not now, or I’ll think about it. Or any shit that isn’t what I want her to say. “Look, I know I’m a risk. I’m not . . .”
Him.
“I’m not Zo,” I continue softly, looking from the terrace floor back up to her shell-shocked face. “Or August or my dad. I’m not nice and selfless and considerate. I know how to charm people but can’t figure out how to like them. I get it.”
I regret all the times I told her I had no moral compass, nothing to anchor my conscience, because who in their right mind marries a guy who admits that?
“I know I said my compass spins.” Emotion makes it hard to get the words out. “But not with you.”
I push the hair I’ve freed back from her face.
“Banner, I’m set on you,” I continue. “And if you’ll have me, I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll love you every day for the rest of my life.”
That’s all I got. I just gave her more of myself than any other person on the planet has. I hold my breath and wait to see what she does with it.
She licks her lips and tucks a chunk of hair behind her ear before looking back to me. She cried for Zo earlier, but there’s no comparison to what I see standing in her eyes right now. The love, the devotion and unconditional acceptance I feel for her, looking in her eyes, I see it returned under a sheen of tears.
“That’s some offer,” she says, her voice deepened with the emotion redolent in her eyes. “And I have your answer.”
She reaches up and cups my face between trembling hands and, in the dying light of the golden hour, has never been more beautiful to me.
“I don’t deserve you, Jared Foster,” she says, softly, surely. “But I’m going to have you anyway.”
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Also by Kennedy Ryan
Other Books by Kennedy Ryan
THE BENNETT SERIES
When You Are Mine (Bennett 1)
Loving You Always (Bennett 2)
Be Mine Forever (Bennett 3)
Until I’m Yours (Bennett 4)
THE SOUL SERIES
My Soul to Keep (Soul 1)*
Down to My Soul (Soul 2)*
Refrain (Soul 3)
THE GRIP SERIES
FLOW (Grip #1) - FREE*
GRIP (Grip #2)*
STILL (Grip #3)
Available on Audiobook*
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Acknowledgments
I never know where to start with acknowledgments. That’s a good problem to have. It means there are so many people who have supported me that this part of the book proves almost as challenging as writing it. (Not really. No. LOL!) But it’s hard! Hard because I’ll inevitably, inadvertently leave someone out. I know I’ll inadequately express my gratitude even to those I include, but here goes.
Thank you to Jane, who taught me most of what I know about amyloidosis. You relived a painful time in your life with me so I could write authentically about Zo’s journey. Your fighting spirit and bottomless faith is like nothing I’ve ever seen. I love you so much, and you have my prayers as you continue your fight, you WarriorAngel.
Thanks to the #BeeHive at Social Butterfly who always hold me down, especially Sarah Ferguson (don’t hold the incident in the van against me! LOL) and my #NutbushBooty Jenn Watson. You ladies are always ready to do whatever it takes, think outside the box and be my human shield when necessary. You make BOSS look so good!