by Mae Wood
Ryan: And re: the whole blow job thing. No objections here.
Ryan: Welcomed.
Ryan: Encouraged.
Me: On my way.
I tossed my phone into my purse and put the car in gear.
“What’s my best bet for parking?” I asked when he answered his phone a little over an hour later.
“Parking where?” he said, his voice cool, professional.
Did he think I’d been joking? “Your place,” I said, very slowly so he’d understand that I was entirely for real.
“You were serious. About the sorry?”
“About everything. Ev-ry-thing,” I said.
“I’ve got ya,” he said, his voice rumbled from deep within chest. Oh, Ryan, you definitely have me.
“I know. Wouldn’t be circling your neighborhood if you didn’t.”
“There are some lots on Lombard. You still have a key?”
“Yeah. Race you there.”
I didn’t have to explain where there was. That it wasn’t his apartment. That it was his bed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ryan
I had no clue what was going on with Kenzie. It’d been a week since I’d heard from her, and now she was texting me while I was at work and she was talking about blow jobs. This definitely fell in the booty call category, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. Not when I wanted it too. None of that was a problem to me. My only problem was Greg. I dialed his cell and jumped to the heart of it when he answered.
“Greg, you’ve got to get out.”
“What?”
I didn’t feel bad. He was going to make up with Tamara sooner or later, so it might as well be now.
“Out of my place. Out.”
“Because I finished off the beer last night?”
I stared at the upholstered beige walls of the private phone booth in my open-plan office. I didn’t want to have this conversation. I’d been avoiding it. And now I couldn’t.
“My girlfriend is on her way over.”
He laughed. “I’ll pick up a case after work.”
“No, really. Kenzie is on her way.”
“I thought you broke up.”
“It’s a long story,” I said, scrubbing my face with my hand. “Don’t ask. I’m not sure I can explain it.”
“Welcome to the club,” he said.
“Ha,” I bit out.
“Hey, Mr. Meow is out for the season. Tore a ligament in his knee.”
“Ouch.”
“Can you goaltend tonight?”
“What part of ‘Kenzie is on her way’ didn’t I make clear?”
“Puck drops at ten, so it’s a late game.”
“I don’t know, man. Kenzie’s on her way. Maybe. Let me see what’s up with that. You just can’t crash at mine tonight.”
“You lived with me and Tamara forever,” he protested.
“It was like four months, and I had my own bedroom. You on the sofa is a mood killer.”
“Fine.”
On his agreement, I hung up and pushed out of the phone booth to get my computer.
Twenty minutes. If I was lucky, it would take her twenty minutes to find parking and get to my place. I ordered an Uber. I knew I shouldn’t disappear like this, but fuck it. Kenzie was on her way to my place.
“Personal matter,” I told my team. “I’ll be in tomorrow.” I didn’t even wait for a response before I walked to the elevator.
On the sidewalk, I tapped my fingers against my computer bag, anxious to get to her. The car couldn’t come quickly enough. I scanned the street looking for Brendan with a blue Mazda. I knew I wasn’t going to beat her there, but I didn’t want to waste any time. I could make it door to door in twenty-five minutes on a good day, and rush hour was about to begin. I pulled out my phone and called her.
“I’m on my way.”
“I just parked. Walking to your place,” she said.
“Pink suitcase?” I smiled, thinking of Firebrand Barbie wheeling her pink suitcase down a sidewalk.
“No pink suitcase.”
“So, you weren’t a Girl Scout.”
“What?” she said.
“You know, Boy Scouts are supposed to be prepared, so Girl Scouts probably are too.”
“Washer, dryer. I’ll steal your toothbrush. Not like I need pajamas.”
“Completely true,” I said, thinking about her naked and letting the conversation lapse into silence.
“No, I’ve got a bag. Just not the pink suitcase.”
“That’s cool,” I said, dragging my thoughts back to the here and now. “Also, heads up. My place is a wreck. Greg’s been crashing on my sofa again.”
“Is he going to be there?”
“No, he’s at work now and I kicked him out.”
“Is—”
“Don’t sweat it. He lives with his girlfriend, so it’s not like he’s homeless. They’re—”
“All drama, all the time?”
“Like a reality show. My car is here.”
“Okay.”
“No, don’t go,” I said, waving to Brendan of the blue Mazda and hopping into the back seat. “Hey, if you’re going to snoop again, I already told you—the tablet. Plus, my sock drawer.” At the phrase “sock drawer,” I saw Brendan’s eyebrows pick up in surprise.
“Dammit. I was going for the sock drawer last time.”
“Sock drawer,” I confirmed. “I’m predictable like that.”
“Good thing I’m not. See you soon.”
She ended the call and I counted the blocks to my place.
I stepped into my apartment and dropped my bag by the door.
“Kenzie—” I’d toed off my shoes and started to get naked when she appeared in the doorway to my bedroom.
“Stop,” she said. “My job.”
She didn’t have to tell me to stop because I couldn’t move. Didn’t have the brain cells for voluntary motion.
Firebrand Barbie in black lace. And what were those called? I shook my head, trying to clear it. My brain wasn’t working right. Stockings? They stopped in the middle of her thighs, drawing my attention to the panties that served no purpose other than to make me want her. And I didn’t need any help in the wanting her department.
She stepped forward, wiggling her hips and taking a slow spin to give me a full tour. Better than I remembered.
“You li—”
“Kenz—” My hands reached for her, but she clucked at me.
“Nuh uh.”
I dropped my hands back to my sides, my fingers twitching as I fought the urge to touch her, to feel the softness of her skin and the scratch of the lace.
She stepped forward. Her hands stretched to land on my shoulders. I leaned in for a kiss. Denied by a shake of her head and mischief in her eyes.
“Ev-ry-thing,” she said.
My answer wasn’t words. Some sort of groan-growl from me that made her laugh. She was high on the spell she’d cast on me, the power she had over me. Witchcraft, I thought for the millionth time. Her hands slid down my chest and her fingers went to work on my belt and pants, her arms forcing her tits together into a deep valley I wanted to get lost in.
With a clink from the buckle, my pants fell to my ankles and she slipped to her knees in front of me.
“Kenz,” I exhaled, my breath shaky with anticipation.
“Ry-annn,” she said in the way she knew I lived to hear. Keening and needy.
Her fingernails nipped at my hips and she worked my dick free. Her mouth was warm and playful. My thoughts grew even fuzzier until they disappeared and there was nothing but feeling, nothing but this woman. I threaded my fingers through her hair. The sun slanting through the window, burnishing it golden in its light. Slick and soft. Her hot mouth insistent.
“Kenz—” I groaned. “Kenz—”
Cool air rushed over me. “Yes. Ry-annn. Come. Please.”
Like I was giving her something she wanted as much as I wanted it. Heat blanketed me again and my legs shook. And I gave her ev-ry-
thing.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kenzie
“Ryan,” I shrieked as he scooped me up into his arms. Back on my feet, I tensed, expecting him to flip me over his shoulder and hustle us to the bed. Instead, his mouth was on mine, soft and lush. Our lips slipped and tumbled. I pressed my whole body against the length of his, urging him along, telling him without words that I wanted my turn.
“Slow down,” he whispered, his breath grazing the shell of my ear before descending in kisses, down my neck to my shoulder and back again to nip on my earlobe.
Wave upon wave of tiny sparks crashed over me, lighting me up. His kisses traced my jaw and found my lips again. He took his time like he had nowhere to be and all the time in the world to get there.
I couldn’t be that patient. It wasn’t my nature and I was past wanting. Need raged through me. “Ry-annn,” I begged, my legs trembling, threatening to give way as my vision blurred at the edges.
The world was a twirling kaleidoscope of feeling. I didn’t know what end was up. On my ass, on my back, on my stomach. We just were.
I awoke—the white walls of his bedroom graying in the twilight. I was snuggled into him, wrapped up in his arms and legs.
“Hey,” I said, trailing lazy fingers across his forearm. He jerked awake in surprise and I rolled to face him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You’re very scary,” he said, brushing my hair back from my face before kissing my forehead. “So scary. If we can’t make it through a call, how are we going to make it through the road show?”
“It’s me, you, and hotel sex.”
“It’s not just us. It’s the team.” His fingers drew languid circles on my back. “Me, you, Marlena, and at least one analyst to crunch, maybe a lawyer. Plus, the folks we’re pitching.”
“Still … hotel sex … Throwback sex.”
A shot of laughter echoed deep from his chest. “I hate to break it to you. We’d be throwing back to a month ago.”
Was that how long it had been? So much had happened, so much had changed. “When can we stop doing this?”
“What?” His palms froze on my back in confusion.
“Said that wrong. The sneaking-around bit. After the deal closes?”
“Yeah,” he said, firmly. “September.”
My eyes drew closed as I relaxed into him, my mind filled with thoughts of blue-skied September days in Napa. The grapes dark and ripe. The sugars developing. My first harvest and then the winemaking would begin.
“Yes,” I nodded against his chest, planting a kiss over his heart. “Crush.”
“We’re complete failures, you know?” I said the next morning while we lounged with coffee and cereal straight from the box in his bed. Lucky Charms for him. Cap’n Crunch for me.
“If this is failure, I should do it on the regular.”
“You know what I mean,” I said, throwing a bright blue Crunchberry at him. It hit him on the cheek and fell to the bed. He picked it up and ate it, and that crooked, naughty smile I loved so much showed up and my toes curled.
“Toss one to me again. I can catch it in my mouth.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Try me.”
I sat up straight—the sheet falling into my lap, and I tossed another Crunchberry at him, electric pink this time. It bounced off his cheek.
“Sorry. Boobs,” he said, as if that explained everything. I laughed because it probably did. He looked at the ceiling, breathing in and out. “Okay,” he said, his eyes steady on mine. “I’m focused. Try again.”
He caught it and I cheered. Even if this was a mistake, he was the best mistake I’d ever made.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ryan
I was slammed in the weeks ahead of the investor meetings, which meant I couldn’t escape to Napa. We got by on phone calls that almost always included phone sex, and more text messages than I’d ever sent in my life, but finally she was going to be with me again.
I’d never seen Kenzie in a suit before she walked into the conference room at our New York office. Her hair was tied back from her face in a neat twist. She greeted me with a knowing nod and a “Ryan, good to see you.” We didn’t touch, not even a handshake hello.
I’d been out a few days before her, mainly to meet and greet the New York managers whose support I’d need for a promotion, and I’d gotten back to the hotel late after drinks the night before and found her in my bed where we’d said a very different hello.
The plan for the von Eck pitch was straightforward—meeting with potential investors in the afternoon and then a dinner with a few special prospects that evening. Per Se with von Eck wines—a taste of Napa’s best restaurateur and best vintner in Manhattan. The dinner was where Kenzie was supposed to shine, where she was supposed to get folks to open their checkbooks, where her love of the land and the wines they produced would come through. My girl was going to crush it. Straight outta da park.
“Kenz, you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“You’ve got this,” I said.
“Anything changed?”
“No. Everything got blessed by the lawyers. No more changes or we have to start from scratch. We’re ready to roll,” I said, pulling back a chair at the table for her.
“Lean on us, McKenzie,” said Marlena.
Damn. McKenzie. I’d said McKenzie, right? McKenzie, McKenzie, McKenzie. I tried to drill it into my brain, tried to create a separate person who was McKenzie Balfour.
She sat in the chair and her hand brushed against mine. I snatched it back. McKenzie Balfour, McKenzie Balfour. It was my new chant.
Marlena gave me a cool eye and I settled in at my place, flipping through my deck, the talking points, and the deal terms, even though I knew them cold.
The meeting flew by in a blur. Questions about the call terms, about the pricing, about the plans for the expanded estate production the new land would allow. Jokes about taking the return in cases of von Eck’s signature Drachenfutter blend or getting a discount. Marlena and I had done our part, loading the bases for McKenzie Balfour to bring the deal home.
We had a few hours until dinner, and while we offered McKenzie Balfour a space at our place to work, she said she was happier in her hotel. Marlena and I walked McKenzie Balfour to the elevators.
“Ryan,” said Marlena as soon as the elevator doors slid closed. “Why don’t we go back and talk?” She was being breezy, and breezy Marlena did not mean that everything was cool. It meant the opposite. Everything was shit.
I followed her quick strides back to the conference room. As soon as the door shut, she turned on her heel.
“I don’t expect this shit from you. I expect better,” she snapped.
“Did I—”
“You know exactly what you did. You cannot flirt with clients. Period.”
“Marlena—”
“No, Ryan.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Just no. I don’t want to hear excuses. I just need it to stop. It stops now.”
“I’m not—”
“I’m not stupid, Ryan. No one in this room was stupid. So, when you two cast little smiley-face glances at each other and her eyes go all heart-shaped, someone will see. Someone will notice. I noticed. They will write her off for being young and think she’s a stupid girl who can be taken advantage of. You’ll damage her reputation before she’s even far enough along to have one. And they will remember this about you too. They may not remember anything about this deal in two months. They may not remember your name in a week, but when they hear it, they will remember that you were flirting with a client. They’ll remember that our team—that my team—eye fucks clients.”
There wasn’t anything I could say. She’d worked up a head of steam and hit the nail on the head. I had to take my lumps.
“Okay.”
“You’ll go to dinner tonight, but I’m swapping you out for Jordan for the LA meeting.”
“What? You can’t sen
d Jordan. It’s not her deal. She’s an analyst. She’s like twenty-three. She doesn’t know shit about shit.”
Marlena stared at me, letting my words hang in the air before the full weight of them bore down on me. Oh, holy hell.
Marlena was right. I was wrong, and I needed to salvage this fast.
“She’ll learn it,” Marlena said, perfectly composed. “She’ll pitch it and she won’t flirt with the client in front of investors. Now, I’ve got to make that change. I’ll let you explain it to McKenzie, but I expect you to have your act together at dinner.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Whatever that was, let me be clear—it is over.”
I repeated a mumbled “Okay” because saying anything else was going to result in her firing me on the spot. With a nod, she left.
I packed up my things and walked to the hotel, the merciless August sun making me sweat in my navy suit. I wanted to talk to Kenzie, to tell her everything that had just gone down, but I didn’t want to ruin her game face. I had to suck it up.
I went to the room number she’d texted me and I knocked.
“Hey,” she said, opening the door to me with a huge smile.
Sunlight through the window struck the edges of her hair. I wanted to run my fingers through that silken gold that pooled around her shoulders. She stepped back from the door and I walked in behind her, latching it in place.
“Got some bad news,” I said, starting out with the plan I’d strung together. “I’m on antibiotics. Sinus infection.”
“Ugh. Those are miserable. Flying must have been super painful.”
Damn. Not so good at the lying. “I’m toward the end, so it wasn’t bad. Anyway, I can’t drink tonight.”
I don’t trust myself around you, I didn’t say.
“We’ve got a couple of hours until dinner, right?”
My phone pinged with the tone I’d set for my boss. “Marlena,” I said. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Okay, if you have twenty, thirty minutes, I’ll be here.”