Down and Dirty

by Kendall Ryan

  When Landon takes too long to answer, too preoccupied with his sweet-and-sour chicken, I repeat the question. “Cats or dogs? Come on, this is an easy one.”

  “Dogs,” he says with a firm nod. “I like cats, but they’re kind of boring. I could see myself adopting a golden retriever someday. Maybe even two.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Two big dogs is way too much. Two cats, on the other hand, is totally doable. They’re so low maintenance.”

  “Because they’re not any fun,” he says, pointing a chopstick at me before grappling with a piece of chicken. After a few hilarious seconds of fumbling, he tosses the chopsticks aside and grabs a fork. It’s oddly adorable. “I’ve got one. Chunky or smooth peanut butter? On three. One, two . . .”

  At the same time, he says chunky and I say smooth.

  Figures.

  “I told you. We’re opposites on everything.” I reach across the table toward his plate of yummy-looking chicken, but he drags it away from my chopsticks.

  “Why didn’t you just order your own?”

  Unamused, I frown at him, and he gives in, sectioning off a portion of chicken and scooting it onto my plate.

  “Chinese food is meant for sharing, especially with your wife,” I say with an eye roll. “I’ve never met anyone who just orders one thing and keeps it all to himself.”

  “Well, now you have. There’s a first time for everything, right?” A smug grin tugs at his lips.

  All bickering aside, there’s a certain first time I’m sure we can both agree has been on our minds. The thought of our first time has been burning a hole in the back of my mind, well, for weeks now, but especially since he opened the door tonight looking so deliciously masculine.

  The scruff on his jawline is a little grown out from his weekend away with the guys, and his bright blue eyes twinkle with excitement to see me. Whether we make it to the bedroom this evening or not, I’ll be riding the high from that look in his eyes all night. There can’t be any drug quite like knowing the man who has been occupying all your thoughts has missed the shit out of you too. Even if he is a stupid dog person.

  “Okay, one more.” Landon leans forward, determination flickering in his blue eyes. “I think we might actually agree on this one. Coffee or tea?”

  I nod. “On my count. One, two . . .”

  We’re interrupted by the sound of my phone buzzing in my purse again and again.

  “Sorry.” I grab my bag off the back of my chair, digging through to silence the buzzing. But one look at my screen, and I know these aren’t texts I can ignore.

  “Holy shit!” I half gasp, half squeal.

  Landon lifts a brow. “Everything okay?”

  “Better than okay.” I flip my phone around to show him the text from Elise, a picture of her left hand rocking a beautiful princess-cut diamond with a pair of twinkling sapphire side stones.

  He whistles through his teeth. “Well, I’ll be damned. Justin locked it down.” Once the shock passes, his face breaks into a big cheesy grin. “Good for them. What an awesome couple.”

  “An awesome couple who will no doubt throw an awesome wedding.”

  Landon nods, popping another piece of sweet-and-sour chicken into his mouth. “And maybe we won’t have to fly halfway across the country for this one.”

  I swat his arm with the back of my hand. “It’s their day. They can get married wherever they want.”

  “Sure, but who wouldn’t want to get married here?” He gestures toward his floor-to-ceiling windows and the sunset-soaked skyline outside. This apartment really has the perfect view.

  I push out of my chair, wandering toward the windows with Landon only a few paces behind me. The sun has nearly slipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm pink and orange glow across the park below.

  “It really is a beautiful city,” I whisper, soaking it all in. It’s not often that I get to see Seattle from this high up.

  Landon wraps his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me close enough to rest his chin on top of my head. “Just wait till the fall when all the leaves are changing colors.”

  And just like that, one little mention of the future turns my stomach into a ball of lead. He doesn’t know it yet, but I won’t even be in this country come fall. He’ll be enjoying that view alone.

  “I actually prefer summer,” I lie, desperate to change the subject. I pull his arms a little tighter around my waist, like a seat belt holding me back from crashing into the truth.

  Landon welcomes the closeness, squeezing me tight. “Good thing we still have two months left then.”

  My throat closes up, my lungs shriveling like old helium balloons. Holy shit. He knows. I stand there, frozen in his arms, too shocked to say a word.

  Did my boss tell him? Or maybe he saw one of my emails from a potential landlord pop up on my phone. Shit, it doesn’t matter how he found out, only that he did find out. From someone other than me.

  I break out of his grip, swiveling toward him, but I can’t even bring myself to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

  It’s quiet for a moment, and then, to my surprise, Landon laughs. “What, that summer is only three months long? Last I checked, you don’t control the calendar.”

  Confused, I look up at him, trying to make sense of his crinkled features. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s June, which means we have two months left of summer. Maybe three, if we’re lucky and the weather cooperates. What are you talking about?”

  I wish I could stop the flush creeping across my cheeks, but it’s too late. Even my ears are already redder than the sunset. Of course he was referring to summer ending. Why the hell would he be talking about anything else?

  “Are you okay?” he asks, leading me over to take a seat on the couch.

  I must look like I’m about to pass out or something, because he disappears to the kitchen and returns with a glass of water, which I sip slowly.

  “What’s going on, Bree? You seem off. What did you think I already knew?”

  My chest tightens as I stare down into the water glass, avoiding his gaze. This is it, Bree. You have to tell him. All I have to do is say four little words. “I’m moving to Vancouver.” Easy peasy.

  But when I open my mouth, the words get lodged in my throat, blocking my air until I swallow them back down. Because telling him comes with a whole host of questions I don’t know the answers to.

  What will happen to us? Would we even work long distance? It would certainly come with challenges, and we haven’t been together long enough for me to ask him to sacrifice like that. Are we even considered a couple other than on paper?

  “I’m . . . just tired,” I finally manage to say. “I haven’t slept much the past few days. I should get going.”

  He nods, dragging his thumb along my cheek before pressing a gentle kiss against my lips. “Stay the night.”

  My breath halts in my chest. “What?”

  “Stay the night with me,” he says again, tucking a loose strand of hair back into my messy bun, letting his fingers linger for a moment at the nape of my neck. “I’ve got an extra toothbrush, and I cleared out a drawer for you in my dresser.”

  “I can’t.”

  His forehead creases. “Why not?”

  “I just can’t, Landon,” I mutter as I get up off the couch and lunge for my jacket. “I have to go home.” My stomach churns with guilt, but I need space. And fresh air. And to get out of here before I say something I’ll regret.

  “Is it something I said?”

  The hurt in his voice stops me in my tracks. I can’t stay, but I can’t leave him hurt and confused like this. I sigh, pivoting on my heel, and lock eyes with the most deflated, disappointed man I’ve ever seen. Just one look at him is enough to break a girl’s heart.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say. “I’m just . . . not ready.” It’s not much of an excuse, but it’s easier than the truth—that there’s no use playing house with him w
hen my time here has an expiration date.

  “If you won’t stay over, will you at least take your SUV? I can’t stand to stare at it another day.”

  “Fine.” I hold one hand out, palm up. “Where are the keys?”

  Pushing to his feet, he heads for the console table and digs the key fob out of the drawer. With a sad smile, he presses it into my palm, then curls my fingers around it, holding my closed fist in his hand.

  “Drive safe, okay? Make sure to adjust the seat and mirrors.”

  “I will,” I say on a shaky breath.

  If only he knew that pretty soon, this city will be in my rearview mirror. And so will he.

  16

  * * *

  First Timer

  Landon

  Our plane touched down in Dallas thirty minutes ago, and we’ve only just gotten our checked luggage when I get a text from the groom’s mother.

  Can you pick up the vases from the florist?

  And then an address follows.

  Sure thing, I reply.

  I told Owen to pass my number along to his parents in case they needed help with anything. I guess he took that to heart.

  “Looks like we’re going to run a little errand to the florist. That okay with you?” I ask Aubree.

  “I’m game, as long as we get to eat lunch after.”

  “Deal. I’m starved too.”

  The Dallas heat is oppressive. It seems to suck all the air from my lungs the moment we exit the airport terminal to head to the parking garage to get our rental car.

  I know the rest of the guys were hooked up with sweet rides from luxury dealerships—Porsches and Ferraris and who knows what else. My silver sedan is modest, and while there’s not a thing wrong with it, I can’t help but feel a little sheepish. My salary doesn’t command the buying power theirs does, plain and simple. Maybe someday, but today is not that day.

  Aubree doesn’t seem to mind at all, tossing her bag in the trunk next to mine and hopping into the passenger seat. She cranks the air-conditioning to full blast as soon as I push the ignition.

  “Holy hell. People live here?” She groans, lifting her long hair off the back of her neck and fanning herself with one hand.

  Stifling is too tame a word. It’s hard to breathe. Hard to think. But as soon as that cold air fills the car, we both relax a little. I get us to the interstate and navigate to the address on my phone.

  After that chore is done, we’re on our way to the Four Seasons Hotel, where we’ll be staying and where the wedding will be tomorrow. I never even realized Becca was from Dallas.

  The lobby is massive with tall ceilings and gold chandeliers. It’s opulent and classic, and a little over the top. Basically, it’s perfect for a wedding.

  As we get checked in, we learn we’re not staying in the hotel itself. A suited attendant in a golf cart arrives to drive us down a winding path along the golf course to where private villas dot the landscape. Once our bags are inside our villa and I’ve tipped the guy, we’re alone for the first time today.

  Aubree turns toward me and smiles shyly. “Hey.”

  I have no idea what she’s thinking. “Hey.”

  “There’s only one bed.” She nods toward the massive bed dominating the center of the villa’s bedroom.

  “Don’t get any ideas now.”

  She lifts one brow. “You’re not worried I’m going to take advantage of you, are you?”

  “Worried? No. Hopeful? Yes.” She laughs, her eyes dancing on mine.

  It’s nice to see her smiling again. The last time we hung out at my apartment, things felt kind of strained. Aubree made some excuse about being tired and rushed out. But at least she took the SUV I got her, so maybe I’m reading too much into it. Maybe she was just tired.

  “You want to get changed, and then we’ll wander around this place and find Owen’s mom? Get some lunch too?”

  She nods. “If we’re changing, I’m going to put my swimsuit on.”

  “Good plan.” It’s hotter than Satan’s asshole out there and a dip in the pool sounds amazing.

  The resort is immaculately maintained from the neat stone walkways to the manicured shrubs. Aubree takes in everything, walking along beside me wearing a pair of oversize black sunglasses.

  When her hand slips into mine, there’s a sudden rush of relief, followed by a sharp pinch in my chest. I haven’t held hands with a woman in years. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time. There have been make-out sessions in the back of dark clubs, and even a hand job in the back of a taxi once, but nothing was as life-changing as the feel of her hand in mine.

  Shooting me a shy smile, Aubree keeps right on walking beside me like she didn’t just rock my entire world.

  I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and pull it out. “Owen’s mom just finished a meeting with the caterer,” I say, pocketing my phone. “Her text asked if I could meet her in the lobby.”

  “Sure.” Aubree nods.

  My first thought when I finally meet Owen’s mom face-to-face? A drunken conversation that took place during a trip to Boston last year.

  “My mom has a dildo,” Owen said somberly, his face twisted.

  The room went deadly silent. Until we all burst into laughter.

  Unfazed, Owen went on. “It has, like, a hook on the end.” He made a curving motion with his finger.

  “Oh my God, please stop.” Justin groaned.

  “Why the fuck do you know this?” I asked.

  “Because, when you’re a kid, you’re always rummaging around in drawers,” he said, like that somehow explained everything.

  I shudder at the memory. And now I have to look into her eyes and try to pretend I don’t know what her dildo looks like. Good times. Fucking kill me now.

  “Hello, Mrs. Parrish,” I say to the stocky silver-haired woman standing in front of me.

  “Landon Covington. Look at you. Wow. Even taller in person than I imagined you’d be.” Her eyes dance on mine, moving between me and Aubree like she’s amused by something. I have no idea what Owen could have told her, but based on the fact he has zero filter, I’m guessing it was a lot.

  I force my lips into a grin, nodding at her. “This is my date, Aubree. We picked up those vases. They’re boxed up in the back of my rental car.”

  “Perfect. Thank you for doing that. And it’s nice to meet you, Aubree.” She nods. “Just bring them to the ballroom in the morning by ten, please,” she says, meeting my eyes again. “It’s down that hallway.” She points to the far end of the grand lobby, where a wide marble hall branches off.

  “Can do.”

  After that, we’re free to grab lunch, which we do by the pool. This place is lush and private and gorgeous. Seeing this, I think I’ve figured out how people survive Texas summers—they stay in the water.

  And that’s exactly what Aubree and I do for the rest of the afternoon. Eating club sandwiches and fries in lounge chairs, rubbing sunblock onto each other’s backs, splashing and laughing in the crystal-blue water of the pool. And definitely not worrying about what will happen later.

  Okay, that last part is a lie. I’m totally preoccupied with what might happen tonight in our villa. It will be the first time Aubree and I have spent together in a bed since Vegas.

  I have no idea if tonight could be the night, and I don’t want to put any pressure on her, but I’m down with whatever might happen.

  Later, after we’ve each had a shower and dressed, we share a quick kiss before we head off in different directions—her to the bride’s dinner, and me to the groom’s dinner.

  “Dang, dude, this place is bomb,” Jordie says, taking in the immaculate private dining room where the dinner for Owen is being held.

  Most of the team is here, along with Owen’s family—his male cousins, uncles, dad, and grandpa. A buffet of barbecue has been laid out, and lawn games are set up just beyond French doors leading to lush grass outside. It’s all pretty chill.

  I’m fixing myself a plate of smoked brisket when ou
r team’s captain, Grant, comes over to me, a beer bottle dangling from his hand.

  “Hey. Can I talk to you?” he asks with a somber look.

  Shit. A sinking feeling settles low in my stomach. I have no idea what’s put the stern expression on his face, but I only hope it’s not bad news about my spot on the team roster. I may not have been here long, but I feel like I’ve finally found my place, like I belong here.

  “Yeah, sure.” I take my plate and follow him to the far end of the room that’s currently empty. I take a seat and set down my plate, then cross one ankle over my knee.

  Grant sits next to me, and his gaze moves to my foot. “Dude, where are your socks?”

  My tailored suit pants have risen up, revealing a few inches of skin. When I got dressed, I shoved my bare feet into leather loafers, thinking no one would notice.

  Shrugging, I say, “You don’t need socks when you’re awesome.”

  He merely shakes his head. “Kids these days.”

  I’m aware that Grant is thirty-two, one of nine guys on the team who are over the age of thirty. Sports commentators like to make a big deal about things like this, noting the experience of our lines and who might be likely to retire. As far as I can tell, Grant is in his prime and won’t be hanging up his skates anytime soon. Which is a damn good thing as far as the Ice Hawks franchise is concerned, because he’s a steady and reliable leader, a good teammate, and a great captain. And let’s not forget one of the best players in the league. Only, I have no idea what he wants with me, or why he’s called me over to this private corner.

  Faking nonchalance, I force myself to fork up a bite of my dinner and bring it to my mouth. “So, what’s up, man?” I ask around a mouthful of tender brisket.

  Grant exhales a long sigh. “Wanted to talk to you about something.”

  My stomach turns over again, but I force myself to swallow the bite of food. “Sure. Anything.”

  He nods and meets my eyes. “I know the guys have been giving you a hard time about this whole quickie wedding thing.”