by Kendall Ryan
“Why are you still single?”
She lifts her head from its resting spot on my chest and gives me an uncertain look. “What do you mean?”
I shrug. “You’re obviously a catch. Smoking hot. Fun. Smart. Amazing at Skee-Ball.”
She smirks. “Go on . . .”
I smile. “Well, I’m not going to lie and tell you that you’re a good dancer. You’re not, babe.”
“Shush.” She swats my arm. “Just ask me what you wanted to ask me.”
“Well, I was just wondering why you haven’t settled down with someone yet?”
She licks her lips, weighing my question. “I’ve dated a lot, but I always kept things casual. I guess it’s just because I’ve always prioritized my job over my relationships. I love what I do, you know, and it’s important work.”
I nod. “That’s a good reason, I guess.”
She inhales, releasing the breath slowly as she lays her head back down against my chest. “Maybe. But I know you’re right. If I don’t want to end up old and alone, I’m going to need to learn to make room for a man in my life.”
That’s not what I asked, but I don’t point that out. And since I’m hoping to be that man in her future, at her side, I don’t want to press my luck. “Today was a good start.”
She nods. “It was fun.” There’s a long pause before Aubree continues. “I haven’t told you this before, but my parents divorced when I was young.”
“How old were you?”
“Little. First grade, I think. I hardly remember a time when they were together, so the divorce itself wasn’t difficult on me. But I watched my mom go from relationship to relationship, always looking for a man to fulfill her. I guess that left an impression.”
I’m pleased that Aubree’s finally letting me in, but I opt to stay quiet and just run my fingertips along her arm, hoping she’ll continue. And after a little while, she does.
“I vowed that I would never be like that—dependent on a man with nothing for myself. I didn’t want to repeat her mistakes. So I went to college, focusing on myself, my goals, my grades, applying for the best internships. I was driven, and I never really focused on dating. I liked that about myself, you know? I took pride in that.”
“And you should.”
I want to ask if she feels differently now. Even if I do respect the hell out of her for creating the future she wants for herself, I hope she’s starting to consider how I might fit into that future too. But am I brave enough to ask her?
Nope.
Instead, I just enjoyed the feel of her in my arms, and try to quiet the worry in my head.
12
* * *
Relationship Goals
Landon
It’s Saturday night, and we’re all at Justin and Elise’s penthouse apartment.
There’s pizza and beer, and the basketball playoffs are on TV, though no one’s really watching it because everyone is clustered into small groups engaged in low conversation. Aubree is outside on the balcony with the ladies, enjoying the early evening breeze, while I’m inside with the guys, camped out around the kitchen counter, or more importantly, around the food.
She and I didn’t arrive together, and when I got here, I greeted her with a hug and a kiss pressed to her cheek. The strange looks and gasps from our friends were hard to ignore, but exactly what I did. Because whatever this is between Aubree and me, it’s no one’s business but ours.
“How’s wedding planning coming?” Teddy asks Owen around a mouthful of pizza.
“Straight. Everything’s done now. We’re just waiting for the RSVP cards to roll in.” Owen gives everyone a pointed look and waves his finger. “Which means, don’t forget to send those in.”
“I’ll be there,” Asher says. “Count me in.”
Owen shakes his head. “Dude, don’t tell me. Just send in the damn card. My mom loves collecting those little fuckers from the mailbox each day, and she calls Becca every night with a tally. There are seating charts, and yeah, basically it’s a whole thing.”
Asher nods, looking a bit panicked. I’d bet a hundred bucks that he already threw the card away. “Fine. I’ll send in the damn card,” he mutters, his eyes narrowed.
“You ready to be tied down to one woman for all of eternity?” Jordie asks, smirking.
“Hell yeah, man. I can’t wait,” Owen says, grinning like the lovesick fool he is.
Based on Jordie’s shocked expression, he was expecting a different response, for Owen to groan or laugh off the comment.
Even if I wouldn’t admit it to him, it’s actually pretty awesome how devoted he and his fiancée Becca are to each other. Hashtag relationship goals and all that.
I help myself to another bottle of beer and can’t help but think about how confusing things have been with Aubree. I bought her a car. Asked her to move in with me. Aren’t those the kind of things a good boyfriend does?
“Any tips on how to keep your woman happy? I’m all ears, boys,” I say with what I hope is an easygoing chuckle. But it comes out as more of a strained laugh, because is Aubree really my woman?
Owen grins. “You know what usually does the trick when Becca’s mad at me about something?”
Suddenly, I’m a little worried about what’s going to come flying out of his mouth next. Although I hope it’s something helpful, because I really need to gain some useful knowledge in Wife Management 101, I’m thinking his comment probably isn’t going to help at all.
“What’s that? I ask nervously.
“A good smash session,” he blurts out, plopping down onto a stool at the kitchen counter.
I roll my eyes. “Right, yeah, let me just make note of that.”
“I’m serious, dude,” Owen says. “Sex releases all kinds of endorphins. It’s science. Look it up.” He points to my phone lying facedown on the counter as he says this. “Plus, it feels really fucking good.”
“That’s the least helpful thing I’ve ever heard,” I say dryly.
He grins. “It’s hard to stay angry when you feel amazing.”
Teddy and Asher nod like this is actually sound advice. They’re such dumbasses. Sometimes I wonder how I’m the youngest member of this group.
“No, I meant it’s not helpful because I’ve haven’t done that.”
Owen’s eyebrows push together. “Wait. With Aubree or with anyone?”
“Can we just drop this?” I mutter. It’s not really the conversation I intended on having tonight. And certainly not with my teammates.
“Hell no, we can’t.” Owen leans forward on his elbows, his gaze meeting mine. “So you’ve never fucked? Like, ever?” His voice is filled with wonder and confusion.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Owen’s about as subtle as a brick to the face.
“No,” I say flatly.
“In your whole life?” He blinks, staring at me in wonderment. “Like never?”
“Last time I checked.”
“Jesus, dude.” Owen shudders like the thought of abstaining physically pains him. “How have you survived?”
“I’m not a monk. I’ve been with girls. Just haven’t checked that particular item off the list yet.”
“Why the fuck not?” Owen’s face is drawn tight.
“Owen, drop it.” Asher chides him, giving me a sympathetic look. “Leave the guy alone. It’s his decision.”
I swallow. “It’s fine, Ashe.” I wave him off, perfectly able to fight my own battles. “Because I was waiting for the right girl.”
Jordie’s eyes are wide, and even Teddy has a shocked expression.
“Oh.” Owen breathes out the word on an exhale like he still can’t quite believe it.
I guess I get it. I mean, pussy is thrown around so often. Girls are always readily available to us, even to the guys on the team who are missing half their damn teeth. And before he got engaged, Owen was the kind of guy who indulged in it regularly, so his shock doesn’t surprise me, even if it is a little annoying.
&nb
sp; “Let’s just move on, okay?”
Owen holds up one hand. “Of course. I’m sorry if I sounded like an asshole. I’m in full support of whatever you and your dick want to do—or don’t want to do.”
This pulls a laugh out of me, despite my surly mood.
I half expect him to demand to be the first to know when I finally give in and give it to Aubree, but thankfully he doesn’t.
“No means no,” Teddy says, raising his beer to me in a silent toast.
God, my friends are idiots.
Aubree chooses that moment to come inside from the balcony where she’s been chatting with the girls. Her hair is down, loose around her shoulders in soft waves, and she looks gorgeous. Memories of our last night together crash through me.
She tosses a flirty look my way, her eyes meeting mine with mischief, her lips parted with the hint of a smile. It’s the same kind of look she might make if she was in my lap riding my cock. My dick doesn’t fail to notice, hardening against my thigh without my permission.
I should feel like a shit for objectifying her. But who could blame me? My wife is hot as sin. Curves. Sass. Intelligence. She’s got it all.
My brain takes a sharp detour into the gutter, and I’m powerless to stop it. I shift my restless cock against my thigh, hoping I can get through the rest of the night without a string of filthy thoughts running rampant through my head.
We may not have come to the party together, but I’m going to make damn sure we leave it together.
13
* * *
Boy Toy
Aubree
Summer nights in Seattle don’t get much better than this. The breeze is gentle, the sun has just set, and for the first night in what feels like forever, all the girls are together. We’re lounging on the wicker patio furniture on Owen and Becca’s balcony, sipping beer and catching up on each other’s summers. It’s the kind of night that makes me wish I didn’t have the thought of leaving this city in just a few short months hanging over my head.
Elise mouths the words Are you okay? at me from across the balcony, and I nod, managing a smile.
I made the mistake of checking my work email today, something I normally try to avoid on weekends, and my mind hasn’t stopped wandering to the promotion my boss offered me since. It’s making it hard to just be present and enjoy this perfect, rare moment when it’s just us girls.
I shift in my seat, refocusing my attention on the conversation. How many nights like this do I have left before I leave?
Becca must be able to read minds or something, because seemingly out of the blue, she steers the conversation toward me. “How’s work been for you, Bree?”
“Same old, same old,” I lie, mindlessly picking the label off my second beer of the evening. I haven’t yet shared with my friends the slightly life-changing information that I won’t be living in Seattle much longer. Actually, I haven’t told anyone, unless you count my landlord when I failed to renew the apartment I’m living in for next year.
“Any big fundraising events coming up?” she asks.
I just shake my head. “Just meetings on top of meetings.” That part isn’t a lie. I’m just leaving out the exact details of said meetings.
The conversation veers toward a more interesting subject, Sara and Teddy’s recent trip to the Virgin Islands. As Sara recounts the details of snorkeling next to sea turtles, I nod along, throwing in the occasional Wow and Really? at the appropriate times.
But mentally, I’m in the midst of a panic spiral, playing out worst-case scenarios of how everyone will react when I break the news. My friends will be sad, of course, but proud of me. They know how much I love my job, and this opportunity is too good to pass up.
But what about Landon?
I’ve been ignoring the guilt pressing down on my chest anytime he mentions the future. But how much longer can I go on pretending that I’m not on a limited timeline here in Seattle? And what does that mean for our relationship?
Becca lets out a dramatic gasp, and I snap my head toward her, convinced this time that she actually can read minds. But it looks like the source of the shock is on her phone, which her wide eyes are locked on.
“Sorry to interrupt, Sara.” She gives our friend a quick apologetic look, then turns her head my way. “Bree, is Landon a virgin?”
My stomach does a backflip as everyone looks toward me expectantly. Oh, joy. The other secret I’ve been keeping from my friends.
“Um . . .” I swallow. “Who told you?”
“Owen. Landon just told the guys.” Becca taps one pink manicured nail against her phone screen.
“And he already texted you?”
Her smile is proud, maybe even a little smug. “We tell each other everything.”
“Everything?” A challenging grin twitches across my lips. “Did he tell you about the time he lost in laser tag to a six-year-old girl?”
“No changing the subject,” Sara says, wagging a finger, going total lawyer-mode on me. “Confirm or deny—Lovey still has his V-card.”
I sigh. Now that it’s out in the open, there’s no use lying. “Confirm.”
Before I can get in another word, my friends launch into a full-blown freak-out, gasping and chattering loud enough to warrant a noise complaint from the neighbors. You’d think I told them that my husband is from outer space.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sara asks, her voice as sharp as I imagine it is in the courtroom.
“It didn’t seem like my information to give out. It’s not really the kind of thing I could blurt out over brunch. Oh, these eggs taste good. And, by the way, my husband is a virgin.”
“Fair, fair.” Bailey nods.
“But you’ve done, like, other stuff, right?” Becca’s tone is one of genuine concern.
“Don’t worry. He’s a virgin, not a prude. And the fact that he hasn’t officially done the deed means he’s really good at, ahem, other stuff.” I break out the air quotes, which gets a laugh.
“Cheers to that.” Bailey tips her bottle toward me. “You’re going to rock that boy’s world.”
“Don’t I know it,” I mumble, my mind wandering toward the surprise I have waiting for him in my bedside drawer. I really freaking hope he comes home with me tonight.
Sara sighs, leaning back in her chair. “I remember my first time. Senior year of high school on the couch in Christian Simmons’s basement. He finished in about five seconds and then had the audacity to ask if I came.”
Becca laughs so hard, she snorts. “If you have to ask, you already know the answer, buddy.”
“At least you had a couch to work with,” Bailey says. “My first time was in the back of my college boyfriend’s car. His roommate was a total hermit and never left their dorm, so we had to get creative. I’m almost positive my statistics professor saw us.”
“You didn’t drive off campus?” Sara asks.
Bailey shakes her head. “Nope. Right on campus, and in broad daylight. What can I say? We were young, dumb, and horny.”
Elise holds her hands up, palms out. “No awkward first-time stories from me. I’ve only been with Justin.”
“You guys are so cute, it’s borderline disgusting,” Bailey says with a playful eye roll. “What about you, Aubree? How was your first time?”
“I hardly remember. That was freshman year of college. Over ten years ago.” I visibly cringe at that number. Ten freaking years. Damn, I feel old. “Can we talk about something else, please?”
“Okay, new subject,” Elise says, shifting in her seat. “Has anyone here taken a guy’s V-card before?”
“Oh my God, that’s the same subject!” I throw my arms up, spilling a bit of my beer.
“No, it’s not. It’s totally different!” Elise’s gaze flicks toward the sliding glass door. The guys have moved from the kitchen to the couch to watch the last few minutes of the game. “Well? Have any of you?”
Becca, Sara, and I all shake our heads, but Bailey is silent on the subject, grinning sh
eepishly from behind her beer.
Suspicious, I squint at her. “Bailey?”
“I’ve, uh . . . slept with three.”
“Damn!” Becca laughs, breaking into a slow clap.
I lift my bottle and clink it with Bailey’s. “I didn’t know I was friends with the virgin-whisperer. Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”
She drains what’s left of her beer, setting it on the glass table before launching into a full-on TED Talk on the subject. “First of all, don’t expect him to last very long. So, load up on foreplay if you want to get off. Which, like, of course you do. But for the most part, it’s not going to be about you. It’s about making it special and meaningful for him. Especially since he’s waited for so long.”
“Don’t worry too much, okay?” Sara gives my arm a squeeze. “It’s going to be fine. And then the second time, it’s going to be, like, infinitely better.”
Our conversation is interrupted by loud, enthusiastic cheers from inside, accompanied by the sound of someone being thumped on the back. The basketball game must be over, and from the sound of it, it ended well.
“Maybe we should head in,” I say, tilting my head toward the sliding glass door. “It’s getting chilly out here.”
“Okay, but I just have one more question,” Becca says, drumming her fingers against the bottle in her hand. “What’s this about Owen losing at laser tag to a six-year-old?”
I smile, remembering what Landon said about Justin’s best man speech. “Don’t worry. I think you’ll hear all about it at your wedding.”
As we filter inside, the good-byes begin, and it isn’t long before I feel a muscular arm sliding around my waist.
Landon’s blue eyes darken as they lock with mine. “Any plans for the rest of the evening?” His voice is a low growl, and it lights a fire in my belly.
“I think I’m looking at them,” I murmur, running my thumb along the hem of his worn Hawks tee. “My place?”
His keys jingle as he snatches them from his back pocket. “Meet you there.”
“Deal.”