Easy Ride (South Florida Riders Book 3)

by Breezie Bennett

  I swallow the thoughts and images of Chase and watch as a wave splashes onto the sand. “Right now, I’m just happy to be lying on the beach with my favorite cousin.” I give her a cheesy grin to lighten the mood.

  Melody rests her head on my shoulder and lightly kicks a pile of sand, not getting my please lighten the mood cue. “How are you feeling about all of that craziness? You told me you guys did the ol’ deed, but you spared gory details, and frankly, I’m offended. And hella curious.”

  I puff out a breath, shutting my eyes and letting the heat of the sun wrap itself around me. “I don’t even know, Mel. It was…” I open my eyes and watch the water, feeling a rush of emotion and turning to my eccentric yet highly compassionate cousin. “It was incredible. Mind-blowing. Unbelievable.”

  “More than just physical,” she says quietly.

  I purse my lips and gaze back out at the sea. “I tried to shut my feelings off. To squash that little seed of a crush before it grew into something else. But I couldn’t. There was this…passion. This intensity. It felt so special and real. It was palpable. But then I wonder…” I bite my lip and fight the emotion in my throat. “Is that just how he does it? Because he’s…Chase?”

  “Well, shit monkeys, cuz. You fell for him after all.”

  “I don’t know if I necessarily fell. I just—”

  Suddenly, my phone vibrates and lights up next to me on the beach towel.

  “Speak of the damn devil,” I say slowly as my eyes scan a message from Chase. The first communication I’ve had with him since I left yesterday morning.

  Hey, Nit Whit. Having some shoulder issues. Kinda worried. Can you make it over tonight? Need my nurse/good luck charm/favorite homie. :)

  Hope sparks in my chest at the thought of our friendship staying preserved through all of this messy weirdness. That hope is instantly met by a wash of fear and confusion.

  What if friendship is never enough again? What if I can never truly shake these feelings?

  “Gimme!” Melody snatches the phone, and her eyes widen as she gasps dramatically and reads the text.

  “I should probably go.” The words slip out before I can think clearly. “I mean, what if he’s really hurt? No one else knows about this injury—”

  “Injury, my ass!” Melody hands the phone back to me with a look of wild excitement sparking in her expression. “What if this is fate? He realized you’re the one!”

  I snort and mindlessly play with a pile of sand under my feet. “You’re insane, Melody.”

  “You have to go.” She grabs my shoulders and shakes me vigorously. “You have to! What if Chase is your guy? What if Chase is your forever?”

  “Chase. Chase, who I’ve singlehandedly watched bang his way through South Florida? Chase, who had two homecoming dates? Chase, who is physically incapable of feeling anything beyond ‘who can I shove it in today’?”

  “You said you thought he felt it, too. When you guys slept together. What if he really did? He adores you more than anything in the universe. Plus, he’s a Taurus.”

  I frown and stare at her.

  Her jaw drops, and she raises her brows at me. “They fall in love the hardest. Duh.”

  I gather my beach bag and tie my hair up in a bun. “I’m gonna go. To help him with his shoulder.” I give Melody a stern look. “And for no reason other than that.”

  I stand and pick up my towel, shaking the sand off and fighting the swarm of butterflies that released in my stomach at the spontaneous plan to see Chase tonight.

  “Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Melody teases in a singsong voice. “Maybe you’ll just have to do a little more…” She gives an exaggerated wink and holds up air quotes. “‘Practicing.’”

  I shove her playfully as she stands up to walk back to the townhouse with me.

  “No matter what we’re feeling or thinking or…doing,” I explain to Melody as we walk down the sidewalk, “Chase is still my best friend. And when we started this whole big mess, we agreed our friendship would not waver. I have to hold up my end of that. Before we got physical, I’d be there for him in a second, no questions asked. So that’s what I’m doing tonight.”

  Being there for my best friend. For his shoulder. Not his deep-brown eyes, or his sinful mouth, or any other unbelievably flawless part of his body. Or his heart.

  “Mm-hmm. Okay.” She flips her pink hair and arches a brow. “You’re sleeping with him again tonight.”

  “Mel, I’m going out with Peter tonight. All my attention is completely focused on that. My lessons with Chase are over and done with.”

  My own words stab my chest with sharp jabs of disappointment, but I know it’s what’s best. My heart has never been the most discerning decision-maker, and every synapse of my brain is way too familiar with the habits of Chase Kennedy to ever even think about going for him.

  Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the tiniest little achy excitement swirl down my spine at the thought of us doing it one last time tonight.

  For practice.

  Twenty-nine

  Chase

  I clench my jaw tight and look out over the skyline. The sun is still shining bright. It’s only early afternoon. Leaning against the glass, I shake out my hair, still damp from the shower I took after texting Whitney.

  I stretch my shoulder to see if there’s any real pain, or if I’m just so completely fucked up in the head that I had to pretend it hurts to get her to come over. Just to see her.

  Babyface is right. I need to bang her another time to figure out what’s going on with me. Or with us, or whatever. All I really know for sure is that it’s amazing, and I don’t want it to end. I also know that I feel like some weird, new version of myself. And I don’t want to go back to how I was before.

  Which is freaky, but kinda nice. Maybe I’m not as much of a jackass as everyone thinks I am. Maybe I can have feelings and make something that lasts. Maybe it’s Whitney. Maybe it’s been her my entire life, and it just took getting physical for me to realize it.

  I pace nervously around the living room.

  I’m fucking pacing. Like a fourteen-year-old girl waiting for the cute senior boy to come pick her up for prom. Jesus Christ.

  I slump down on the couch and pinch the bridge of my nose. I wish I could stop seeing that stupid Volvo backing out of the driveway when I was thirteen and hearing echoes of my dad telling me, All that love bullshit isn’t real.

  I’ve had fun. I’ve been around the block more than a few times. But now, all I want is my freckle-cheeked best friend, who knows every layer of me like the back of her hand and makes my mind and body and heart spark with fireworks.

  I hear the door handle click and stand up to walk toward her.

  “Hi, Six.”

  Whitney has a flowery sundress on with blue bikini straps pulled around her neck underneath it. She’s pink and glowing, like she’s been kissed all over by the sun. Her skin looks like silk, and every perfect curve is delicately wrapped in a sundress that needs to come off.

  “Hi, Nit Whit.”

  She walks past me and into the kitchen, getting a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. “I was at the beach with Melody when I saw your text. I didn’t shower or change in case this was some kind of…” She smiles and arches a brow at me, exploring my shirtless body with her gaze. “Emergency.”

  I cock my head and smile, leaning against the kitchen counter next to her. “You smell like sunscreen.”

  She rolls her eyes and sips the water. “I burn easily, asshole. Also, you don’t exactly look like you’re in gut-wrenching pain.”

  I bite my lower lip and inch closer to her, feeling the warm pull of attraction yanking at every part of my body and sending blood south very quickly. “It feels a little better now.”

  “Chase!” She smacks my bicep and stifles a laugh. “I’m here as a medical professional.”

  I hold the string of her bikini strap with two fingers and give it a light snap against her del
icate collarbone. “You’re not dressed like a medical professional.”

  Her lips part seductively, contrasting with the playful annoyance in her eyes. “You said you needed me.” She’s practically whispering, and somehow our mouths are about three centimeters apart.

  Three centimeters too many.

  I move my hands up the sides of her flawlessly toned body, the smooth material of her dress sliding easily over her skin. “I do need you, Whit.”

  “Damn it,” she gasps, leaning into my not-very-subtle hard-on. “Why can’t I resist you?”

  Whitney throws her arms around me and plants her lips on mine, kissing me rapidly and desperately and hard.

  I’m flooded by relief and a rushing feeling that I can compare only to throwing a game-winning Hail Mary bullet in the fourth quarter.

  I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my hips, our lips locked, our tongues dancing in and out of each other’s mouths. We laugh through our kiss as I almost knock over a really expensive lamp carrying her to the bedroom.

  I don’t give a shit about anything but her. Kissing her, touching her, making love to her. It’s all I want to do.

  I ease her onto the bed, and her giggle is like music. As I climb on top of her, heat rages between us, and frantic, wild desire grips our bodies.

  Whitney tugs at the waistband of my sweats, kissing my neck and squirming underneath me. Her eyes are wide and passionate, and I cup her cheek, savoring every ounce of perfection that’s lying under me.

  I slip off the sundress, exposing the soft, tanned, gorgeous woman I’ve loved for twenty-eight years. I just never knew how much.

  I shift her hips, and she rocks against me, waves of hypnotizing attraction coursing through us and between us.

  My dick is harder than granite, and my hands can’t physically get enough of her.

  She arches her back and turns her head into the pillow, smiling and gasping and radiating sexy, feminine sunshine.

  “Just one more time,” she whispers breathlessly. Her brows are worried, and her face is flushed. “Just one more… Then friends again. Right?”

  I draw back, frowning at her and feeling a sudden icy chill fall over the burning heat crackling in this bed. Words pour out of my mouth, her familiar sparkly eyes making it impossible to hesitate or even think about what I say. “I don’t want one more time. I want a thousand more. A million.” I hold her face with both hands, fixing my gaze on hers and channeling every last drop of romance…of love…I didn’t even know I was capable of. “Whitney, I’ve never felt like this. You’re everything to me. I—”

  “Stop.” She scoots out from under me and draws the blanket over her half-naked body. “Stop, Chase.” Her voice breaks, and I feel something rip in my chest. “This started as just fun, with you teaching me. I never wanted it to get so—”

  “No, it didn’t.” I shake my head. “It didn’t start as me teaching you. It started twenty-eight years ago when we were just little blobs. It continued through every failed exam, every shitty football game, every stupid-drunk night, every time I wanted to punch a wall after my mom left. It was always you.”

  Tears drop down Whitney’s face, and fuck, I might cry, too.

  “Six,” she whispers, looking down and clutching the blanket tight in her hands. “I just…I know you too well. You think you feel something real, but you don’t. You’re not ready for what I want. You’re mixing up friendship and sex… We both are.” She looks away and fights more tears. “I want marriage. Commitment. A family. I want forever.”

  “I just want you,” I plead. “I know that I do.”

  She runs her fingers through my hair and draws in a slow, shaky breath. “You’re always going to be my best friend, Chase Kennedy. But I’m meeting Peter at Ricardo’s in a few hours, and we have to just get back to friendship. Nothing more. You have to go be a sleazy NFL playboy, and I have to find a husband. We can’t fight who we are.”

  “I don’t even know who I am anymore,” I mutter.

  Whitney stands up and pulls her dress back on, and my throat is too tight to even attempt to say anything.

  I shut my eyes and see my mother’s Volvo whip out of the driveway again.

  Maybe Whitney’s right. Maybe I’ll never be capable of anything beyond one-night stands and casual hookups. But for the first time in my entire life, I just want to try. I just want a chance.

  But I can’t take a chance of hurting Whitney.

  “Please, Six?” She ties her hair up on top of her head. “You’re my best friend. Can we just wipe all of this away and go back to Bud Light and South Park?”

  I stand and do the one thing that’s always felt like the right thing to do. The only thing to do. I give her a big, tight, happy hug, lifting her off the ground and laughing softly in spite of the rising lump in my throat and stinging behind my eyes.

  She laughs, too, and for a nanosecond it seems like maybe everything could go back to normal. And the next nanosecond, it hits me hard how much I don’t want that to happen.

  I set her down lightly and pull away, smiling at the beautiful, strong, hilarious woman who looks and feels more like home than any penthouse apartment ever could. “Try not to fall asleep at the table when Cubicle Guy starts talking about spreadsheets.”

  She smacks me playfully, and her eyes flicker with conflict and uncertainty. “I can’t make it to the Riders game on Sunday. I got scheduled at the hospital and couldn’t get it changed. I’m sorry.”

  I shrug, fighting the heavy disappointment in my gut. “I guess our agreement is officially over anyway, right?”

  She walks out of the bedroom and toward the front door, and I walk with her, feeling like the ground is covered in water or quicksand or some shit.

  She turns to me in front of the door, forcing a smile that I’ve known Whitney way too long to believe is even remotely real. “Your shoulder is fine. Rookie Boy is no threat. You’re still a superstar. And my best friend!” she adds quickly.

  Getting stuck in Whitney’s friend zone has never bothered or even fazed me, but now I can’t imagine how it’ll ever be okay.

  I lean forward and kiss her softly on the forehead, squeezing my eyes shut and swallowing the harsh pang of jealousy at the thought of some boring-ass finance douchebag getting my girl. “Drive safe, Nit Whit.”

  She looks at me with a mixture of sadness and love. “Bye, Six.”

  She walks out.

  The door shuts, and I press my palms against it, leaning my forehead against the wood and clenching my jaw tightly.

  I want to fight her on this, more than anything, but what if she’s right? After all, she does know me better than I know myself. Much better.

  Dylan was right.

  She’s the one.

  And I know she’s falling for me, too, but shit, I don’t ever want to hurt her. I could never hurt her. But she’ll never be able to see me as more than her cocky jackass of a best friend. A fuckboy with a room of football trophies and a mile-long list of meaningless hookups. And face it, isn’t that exactly who I really am?

  I’ll never be a safe option, no matter how much we both want to change that.

  I walk over to the sofa and lie down, rubbing my forehead and feeling more confused than ever. I pull my phone out of my pocket and stare at it, knowing I’m gonna have to bite the bullet and ask for an assist on this.

  Leo Sterling. He was kinda similar to me, back in the day. Not of my caliber, of course, but still a pretty well-known womanizer. Now he’s got a baby on the way, and he and his wife could teach classes on how to be a perfect couple.

  I run my hand through my hair and click the call button next to his contact info.

  He picks up after a couple of rings. “If you need me to bail you out of jail, you’re gonna have to call Danes. He’s still the nice one.”

  “Shut up, dickhead. I need some advice, I guess.”

  Sterling laughs. “This is a first. I thought you knew everything.”

  “Yeah, well. Not
about this.” I sit up and lean forward, already in shock from the words I haven’t even said out loud yet. “How did you know Frankie was…the…you know…”

  “The one?” he finishes.

  “Yeah. That. How did you know she was the one?” I feel a sense of relief once the phrase is out of my mouth. Like I am actually capable of thinking and saying and feeling that.

  “Now this is a first,” he says slowly, clearly loving the satisfaction of knowing he’s not the only high-and-mighty playboy who fell on his face for a certain woman. “Let me guess…”

  “Please don’t,” I interject.

  He ignores me. “Your hot-piece-of-ass best friend who you’re completely in love with but way too much of a pussy to admit it?”

  “Hey!” I hear Frankie shout from a distance on the other end of the phone call. “Watch your mouth around the baby.”

  “The baby’s not born yet, kid,” Leo says to his wife with a loving laugh. “So…” He continues. “Am I right, Kennedy?”

  “Could you just answer the question and stop being an ass?” I guess we both know that means he’s right. Am I that obvious?

  “Okay.” Leo takes a deep breath. “I knew Frankie was the one when I realized that I would never be complete without her. The moment I felt like every second that wasn’t shared with her was total crap. I guess…when I realized that the first twenty-eight years of my life I was just waiting to love her, and once I did, nothing else would ever be enough. Nothing would compare.”

  “Awww!” I hear Frankie coo from the other room.

  I’ve been waiting to love Whitney. All these years, she’s been right in front of me, and I’ve just been waiting to realize it.

  I feel my heart rate pick up, and I jump up off the couch, fueled by a rush of adrenaline and clarity. “Thanks, Sterling. That’s exactly what I needed.”

  “Go get her, bro. I’m proud of you, Kennedy.”

  I roll my eyes and laugh. “Yeah, save the dad talk for when your offspring arrives.”