To Be Your Only
Page 1
TO BE
YOUR
ONLY
rae kennedy
Copyright © 2020 by Rae Kennedy
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: raekennedystudio@gmail.com
FIRST EDITION
RAKE Publishing
www.raekennedyauthor.com
978-1-7333189-6-9
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER 1
I lick my fork clean of the decadent chocolate frosting and drop it on my plate next to the remnants of my second slice of cake. Yeah, I had two pieces of cake. No one is at the cake table tallying how many each person has. There is no cake gatekeeper. Besides, there were two different kinds of cake—the bride’s cake and the groom’s cake—and I can’t be expected to pick. Actually, I did pick, I chose both. And I’m the type of girl who likes to have my cake and eat it too.
And right now, the piece of cake I want is Wes.
“I’m going to go talk to him,” I say as I stand from the table.
Gracie—the Bonnie to my Clyde, the Thelma to my Louise, the Sid to my Nancy... Fuck, do they all die at the end? I can’t remember but I think they all die at the end. Anyway, Gracie—my best friend, who doesn’t die at the end—gives me a little squeal and a thumbs up.
“Peacock away!”
Peacocking, I can do.
I strut through the grass toward him. Strut would be a loose term here, because can one really strut while wearing heels in grass when your left heel sinks into the earth on every third step? Well, I’m making it work. Remember your training. Shoulders back, suck in the tummy. Oomph. Definitely ate too much potato salad.
Wes is standing near the dance floor, talking with Gracie’s older brother, Eric. Neither of them brought a date to the wedding—not that I’m surprised Eric doesn’t have a date. But thank God Wes doesn’t, because if I had to spend the evening watching him dance with someone else I’d probably tear my hair out. I already had to watch him date Gracie’s older sister, Court, for four years. Four fucking years—much to the chagrin of my tender, pre-teen heart.
And now, on Court’s wedding day, it is finally going to be my turn. I mean, they broke up five years ago and now she’s married—he can’t possibly pine over her any longer. Right? I’ve hoped and wished and dreamed these last few years that Wes would finally forget her and notice me, but he hasn’t. He sees Gracie as a kid sister and I am just Gracie’s friend, sidekick, the weird girl who always tags along and never shuts up. But not tonight.
Tonight is my night. Tonight, he is going to notice the shit out of me.
“Hi,” I say as I stand in front of them, directing my smile to Wes and trying to resist the urge to tell him how nice he looks in his suit.
Because he looks fucking fantastic. His suit is navy and the pants cling to his muscular thighs while the jacket makes his shoulders look even more broad. He isn’t wearing a tie, just a light blue dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of his toned, tan chest. But if I tell him about how I like his suit I will probably start spewing about how his shirt is the exact same shade as his eyes. His gorgeous, beautiful, perfect eyes.
“Rosenbaum,” Eric says.
I glance to him, narrowing my eyes. “Gallagher,” I return flatly before gazing back at Wes.
“Hey, Kyla.” Wes flashes me his bright white smile and my uterus flutters. It definitely does. That’s a real thing. “You look real nice tonight.” Wes glances down at my dress briefly before returning to my face. He’s too gentlemanly to blatantly ogle me, even though my boobs are right here. Like, they look amazing in this dress. Not going to lie.
“What are these?” Eric flicks my earring.
I reflexively smack his hand away and glower at him. “They’re peacock feathers.”
“Huh.” He looks at my earrings then down to my dress, definitely lingering on my legs and boobs. He shrugs. “They match your dress. It’s a good color on you.”
Wrong. This dress is the perfect color on me. It’s a deep emerald green that complements my dark auburn hair and fair skin to perfection. Anyone who has picked out as many dresses as me or been through the pageant circuit knows their colors. I look best in a Fall color palette, particularly jewel tones.
“Thanks,” I say, keeping my voice even, then turn back to Wes.
Ah, Wes. He makes the smile return to my face.
“I noticed you haven’t danced all night and neither have I, and I was wondering if you’d like to dance with me?” There, that’s how a normal person might ask someone to dance, isn’t it?
Wes opens his mouth to respond when Eric cuts in.
“I’ll dance with you.”
I tamp down the desire to growl at him. “I wasn’t asking you.”
I turn back to Wes, giving him a sweet smile.
“Are you sure?” Eric interjects, forcing my attention back to him.
Him and his stupid little smirk. He thinks he’s so funny. Funny looking maybe. Well, I used to think he was funny looking—short, wiry, bright red hair. But he has sort of grown into his looks. He’s still a head shorter than Wes but he has filled out quite a bit and his face is symmetrical or whatever. He has a nice-looking mouth—but I only notice that because I’m forced to look at the stupid little grin he always has because he’s constantly laughing at his own dumb jokes.
“Yes, I’m sure I know who I was talking to.” I scowl at him before looking back to Wes. “So, dance?”
He looks between Eric and me for a second.
“Uh, sure. I’ll dance with you.”
I beam and grab his hand before he has a chance to change his mind. “Let’s go. They just started a new song!” I turn and head to the dance floor with determination, Wes following behind, my hand firmly wrapped around his.
I lead him to the middle of the dance floor. The band is playing a slow song. The sky is black and strings of lights hang overhead as a warm summer breeze tickles across my skin. I wrap my arms around his neck, resting them on his muscular shoulders, and he places his hands lightly on my waist. It’s the perfect romantic moment for him to suddenly realize how wonderful I am and that we should totally be together. Seriously, fall in love with me already!
We sway gently to the music, surrounded by several other couples. Wes’s movements are small, little steps, a slight roll of his shoulders. It’s basically high-school-dance style slow dancing, but that’s okay because Wes is dancing with me and everything is magical. I take a step closer and swing my hips a bit to entice him to loosen up a bit. He gives me the cutest little smile and then looks out into the night as the music plays on.
And I think he just tightened his hands around my waist more
? Could have imagined it. I’m choosing to believe otherwise.
While he’s not looking at me, I take the time to appreciate his gorgeousness. I haven’t been this close to him since that time in eighth grade when he helped me up onto a horse—and then had to promptly get me back down again because I was terrified. His neck is thick and muscular, like the rest of his body, and tanned from working hard outside all day. His face is basically the definition of masculine beauty. The type of beauty every sculptor attempts to achieve. But they couldn’t possibly do him justice, so they should stop trying.
His chin is strong with a little cleft in it. His nose is exactly right with just a slight curve on the left side from when it had been broken during a football game his senior year—he still completed that pass, by the way. His eyes are baby blue, framed by the cutest blond eyelashes. His forehead is broad and masculine and his blond hair is short but when he lets it get a little longer, it starts to curl.
“You’re still working on the ranch for Gracie’s dad, right?” I already know for a fact that he is, but hey, got to start somewhere.
“Yeah, of course.” His eyebrows knit together slightly, like he’s confused by the question. Bah, of course he knows I know this.
“Just making sure, haven’t really been around the ranch much the last year since Gracie was gone at school.”
“Oh right, yeah. Gosh, it’s crazy that you two are old enough to be in college now. Did you go to university, too?”
“No, I stuck around here.”
“I know how that is. But it’s nice to be home, yeah?”
I nod. “It is.”
We dance in silence for a minute. We are at arm’s length again, even though I swear I closed some of this distance earlier.
“Are you still working at the diner?” he asks.
“No, I got fired.”
“Fired? Doesn’t your family own it?”
“Yeah. My mom fired me after I dumped the entire contents of a large strawberry milkshake over Jimmy Rogers’s head. Some may or may not have splashed onto Emmie Miller’s face as well. Mom claims the ‘accidental’ nature of it getting on Emmie is up for debate, but I staunchly maintain my innocence.”
Wes’s eyes widen. “Wow. Well, I’m sure whatever Jimmy did, it was well-deserved.”
“Oh, it was. He and I made out in the bowling alley parking lot”—okay, we did a little more than make out, but I’m sure my future husband doesn’t want to hear those details—“and then he asked me to go out with him that Friday night. I told him I couldn’t do Friday since I was working, but he said he had a family party Saturday—it was this whole thing. So anyway, come Friday night, he walks into the diner with his arm around Emmie, looking all smug, and when they asked for a strawberry shake with two straws so they could share I lost my shit.”
“Rightly so.” Wes nods approvingly. “Sounds like Jimmy has some growing up to do. Don’t waste your time on guys like that. When the right one comes along, he won’t treat you like second best.”
“You are so right.” I smile sweetly.
Now all I need is for him to realize he’s the right one. I’ve known it for years. We are destined to be together. He’s reserved and sweet and I’m—well, I’m not exactly those things, but we’ll complement each other. Opposites attract and all that. I know he’ll be the perfect husband and father... Not that I’m looking to get married and have kids quite yet—I’m only nineteen, almost twenty, but someday I’ll be ready, and I want him for my partner.
The song ends and Wes drops his hands from my waist and puts them in his pockets as he takes a step back. He stands there awkwardly for a second, giving me a shy smile, and I’m just about to ask if he wants to dance some more when Eric swoops in between us.
“I’ll take this dance.”
What the actual fuck?
He grabs my hand then wraps his other arm tightly around my waist so that our chests are almost touching. The next song is more upbeat than the last and he starts swinging me around and doing spins and shit. He’s only a couple inches taller than me, but with these four-inch heels he is firmly in shorter-than-me territory and it feels awkward as fuck dancing with him after having to crane my neck to look up at Wes.
“What are you doing?” I screech as he dips me so low my head almost hits the dance floor.
He leans over me, his face close to mine and looks at me with a mischievous glint in his honey-brown eyes. “Fuck me, but I think we’re dancing, Rosenbaum.”
I roll my eyes as he lifts me out of the dip and spins me around again. It makes the skirt of my knee-length dress twirl around and, yeah, okay, that’s kind of fun.
“No shit, we’re dancing. I meant why are you dancing with me?”
“Oh. I didn’t realize I was supposed to answer the question you meant to ask instead of the one you actually asked.” He starts doing this shuffle step so I have to follow him back and forth and then side to side. I think we’ve taken a tour of the entire goddamn dancefloor.
“You’re annoying.”
Taking both of my hands, he turns me around again, this time whirling me in close so my back is to his chest and our arms are crisscrossed across my stomach.
“I think you meant to say charismatic.” He spins me out away from him so we are facing each other again.
“I actually meant to say you’re a pain in the ass.”
“Charming.”
“Infuriating.”
Eric just smiles and pulls me in closer, slowing his steps, one hand firm on my back and the other laced through my fingers. “To answer your question of why I’m dancing with you, when you so eloquently pointed out to Wes and me that we hadn’t danced with anyone all night, I thought you were offering to help alleviate us of our loneliness.”
I try to hold back my eyeroll again, but dammit, I can’t. “I wasn’t—”
“Right. You were just offering your company to Wes, then?”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Oh, come on. It’s obvious you have a crush on Wes. So what, are you finally making your move on him?”
“Something like that. Not that I want to talk about it with you. But since you’re obviously so interested in my life, I’ll have you know that Wes and I would be perfect together. He just needs to open his eyes and look at me. I mean, hello, I’m right here in front of him.”
The song ends and Eric dips me low one more time, holding me there for a moment to lean in close again. So close I could count the freckles on his nose if I wanted. His gaze flickers to my mouth for a split second.
“Yeah, must be frustrating.”
CHAPTER 2
I hold my hands up, pulling my fingers through his hair on both sides of Grandpa’s head to measure the length.
“That looks nice and even, Pops.”
I straighten and spray more water over his head then run a comb through his silver locks. Grandpa used to have thick, dark hair, almost black. It’s thinner now, mostly white with flecks of gray but it’s still handsome when I style it. I part it on the side like he always did and comb his freshly cut hair away from his face.
“You look dashing. Now, let’s do your face.”
He makes a small noise, almost like a gurgling grunt in his throat. Alarmed, I look to make sure he’s all right, but he has a serene little smile on his lips and he gives me a shaky nod and lifts his chin.
I lather the shaving cream along his jaw and neck and reach for the straight razor from his shaving kit.
“Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. Gracie. Well, she decided—in a crazy turn of events—to run away with the band from the wedding rather than tell her parents she lost her spot in her summer school program. They think she’s away at school when she’s actually traveling on tour around the country all summer with four sexy rock stars. Can you believe it, Pops? Gracie—my Gracie, who is always so sweet and innocent, the perfect daughter and friend and student—just running away? And everyone always says I’m the bad influence in our friendship.”
I think he likes me talking to him, anyway. He always enjoyed our conversations when I was little. He’d let me ramble on and on while he picked me up from school or took me to lessons or practice when mom was working, and he never tried to change the subject or tune me out like other adults.
“Okay,” I continue, “so perhaps I did encourage her to go and have fun. And I helped her pack. And I drove her to their motel so she could leave with them in their scary van.” Ohmigod! Is this how Gracie dies at the end? If she does, it would be my fault. I’d never forgive myself, and it would officially be known for all of history that I, Kyla Jean Rosenbaum, am the bad influence in any and all relationships.
Jeanine pokes her head into the room. Today, her bright blue scrubs have little whales on them. “Kyla, dear, are you going to be around for a bit? I need to leave soon but Susan isn’t quite here for her shift yet.”
“I’ll be here.”
“Great, thank you so much.” She waves and smiles at Grandpa and raises her voice, “Bye, Jerry. I will see you tomorrow.”
Grandpa turns his head slightly and his eyes blink rapidly a couple times, but other than that, he doesn’t seem to acknowledge her departure.
“Oh! Pops! I forgot to tell you the best part of the whole night. Wes and I danced. A slow dance. It was amazing and romantic and I swear to you he is the nicest, most perfect gentleman there ever was. I hope you get the chance to meet him soon.” I always tell him about Wes. I think he should know how wonderful his future grandson-in-law is and I can tell he likes hearing about him.
I wipe off the excess shaving cream with a hand towel and inspect for any missed spots.