Chapter 3 #2
Her lips purse into this—admittedly adorable—little unimpressed pout.
“What?” I feign ignorance.
“I’m not a kid anymore, Rhys.”
There’s no mistake she’s all grown up. My body has known that for years. My brain is still fighting with reality.
“I go by Keira these days.”
“Stop arguing with me, Keira,” I say. “Come here.” I don’t give her a choice. I pull her body to mine.
She’s tentative at first. She doesn’t embrace me the way I would’ve hoped, so I tease her, like I used to. “I’m not going to break. Hug me like you mean it.”
She laughs.
Her body softens like melted butter against the hard angles of mine. I don’t hear her sigh. I feel the rise and fall of her chest, and her breath exhaling.
Thank God her cross-body bag acts as a buffer between my chest and her breasts.
I sigh in relief.
I lay my cheek against the top of her head, enfold her tiny body in my arms and inhale deeply.
“You smell like fruity watermelon candy,” I say.
“You can still smell it?” Her voice comes muffled against my chest.
“I can.”
“Michaela and I thought it would be fun to try a new scent of shampoo. It’s popular in Bangkok. I’m not so sure I like it. It’s a little too strong for my taste.”
At least you don’t smell like ‘Eau de Vage’.
This was supposed to be a quick hug, but I can’t let go.
She does nothing to break our embrace.
Holding her like this fills my veins with the warm hum of familiarity I missed.
“It’s good to see you again, Keira.”
“Ditto, Rhys. Thanks for taking in a stray kitten,” she says with a little laugh.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Cocoa Puffs.” I squeeze her tighter. I close my eyes, relishing the moment.
“Where’s my welcome home hug?” A man chuckles.
Surprised, my heart slams against my chest and my eyes fly open.
A familiar face stares at me, blue eyes squinting into slivers of curiosity.
“Shane, you can’t creep up on people like that,” I say.
“I didn’t creep up on you. If your eyes were open, you would’ve seen me approaching…”
I’m not sure I wanted Keira to know that.
Shane’s gaze shifts to the woman I’m still embracing. “You two are so wrapped up in each other, you’re oblivious to everything around you.”
Leave it to Shane Dennison to tell it like it is.
I let go of Keira like her body is on fire.
“Where’s my hug, man?” Amusement is painted all over Shane’s face.
I shake my head and roll my eyes.
“Your rejection cuts deep.”
“We haven’t seen each other in a long time.” My finger waves between Keira and me.
“In your defense, she’s a hell of a lot prettier than I am. I’d hug her too,” Shane says.
I shake my head.
Keira blushes.
“Keira, I’d like to introduce you to Shane Dennison––good friend, Food Network celebrity chef, top notch personal trainer, co-owner of Fit Thonix Sport Challenge Equipment, newly minted billionaire tycoon, and last, but not least, sharp-dresser.
And, as you might have noticed, he also has a smart mouth. ”
She laughs.
“Shane, this is Keira Weatherly.”
Shane’s eyes widen as he takes in an unrecognizable Keira. He blinks a few times, his silent question on the tip of his tongue.
I give him a tight nod in response.
He cocks an eyebrow as if to say, Holy shit.
That’s exactly how I feel since seeing her.
I became friends with Shane through Beckett. I like him. He’s a good guy with a solid head on his shoulders. I’ve relied many times on his advice. I might’ve had a few too many when I confided in him about Keira after tragedy shook her world. Still, he doesn’t know everything.
“Keira is back in LA and she’s staying with me,” I say.
“That’s good,” he says. He moves his attention away from me. “You couldn’t ask for a better housemate.”
“I’m sure I’ll be in the way,” she says.
“Nonsense,” Shane says.
“I agree,” I say. “And I’m proud her brother would ask me to watch over her since he can’t.”
Shane’s brow puckers before a slow smile spreads across his face as if to say, Watching over her, my ass.
I ignore him. “Where are you coming from?”
“I was in Cuba and then Miami. I just finished shooting a special for Food Network comparing Cuban food from the homeland versus Miami Cuban-American cuisine. It’s a great segment to end my contract with Food Network.”
Thanks to a ridiculously profitable business venture he embarked on with his younger brother and two other partners that made all of them billionaires, Shane hasn’t been shooting as many shows for Food Network in the last couple of years.
However, the consummate professional in him wouldn’t end his contract early.
“That sounds delicious,” Keira says.
“I just need time to settle in. Give me a few weeks and I’ll have a cookout at my place,” Shane says. “I learned so much in Cuba. I can’t wait to put it into practice. I’ll send you an invite via Rhys.”
“Thank you. I’d love that,” she says.
“Do I also get an invitation?”
“We’ll see,” he says.
I chuckle.
“Do you need a ride?”
His phone chimes before he can answer me.
He glances at the screen. “Thanks. The chauffeured car is here.”
“Anytime.”
His gaze bounces from mine to Keira’s. “You two don’t need a back seat passenger, anyway.” He grins. “All right, I’m off. Keira, welcome back to LA and I can’t wait to see you at my place.”
“Thank you, Shane. I can’t wait.”
“Rhys. I’ll see you around.” He pats me on the shoulder.
“Absolutely.”
With that, he’s gone.
“You must be tired. Let’s grab—” I stop midsentence, my eyes searching around her.
“What are you looking for?” She mimicking me.
“Where’s the rest of your luggage?” I point to the backpack at her feet.
“Michaela and I left our luggage at the concierge desk of our budget-friendly hotel to grab a quick meal before leaving. When we got back, our luggage was nowhere to be found.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“Yeah. Leaving Bangkok was a freaking nightmare.”
My protectiveness flares at her admission. “Your luggage just disappeared?”
“It’s not clear if our stuff was stolen or misplaced, but we didn’t want to miss our flights. After a frustrating half-hour of useless explanation from the hotel manager, we made the decision to leave the little belongings we had behind.”
“You poor thing.”
“I know, right? When it rains, it pours.”
I pick up her backpack before circling her shoulders with one arm. “Don’t worry, Cocoa Puffs, I’ll take care of you.” I pull her closer to me.
She looks up and rolls her eyes… but that doesn’t stop her smile.
One look is all it took to flame my attraction for her.
As if the distance tampered it to begin with.
Hugging her jacked up my desire to unreasonable levels.
Which is why I find myself in this predicament.
Trailing behind Keira is an ungodly test of the unshakable bound of my friendship with Noah. I can’t help but zero in on her legs.
Damn.
To add to my torture, with each step, she gives me an uninterrupted view of her ass, swishing in those jean shorts that mold to her twin globes.
I get that her luggage was stolen and she might not have anything else to wear, but come on, I’m only a man.
She might’ve lost a bit of her curves, but that ass is still mouthwatering.
And as God is my witness, I just want to bite it.
No, no, no.
This is ludicrous.
I have way more self-control than that. It’s not like I’m Beckett Christensen.
Determined to lessen my mounting desire, I white-knuckle my grip around the straps of her backpack, hoping to contain my twitching cock.
It’s in vain.
I give myself a good talking to, scolding myself.
Alas, my cock has a mind of its own tonight.
I even adjust myself, so I can keep walking without tripping.
It’s a lost cause.
Biting Keira’s ass is the last thing I should be thinking of. I know full well I’m being a dirty fucker right now, but not having sex in a long time will do that to a man.
Adulting comes at a steep price.
This living arrangement is going to be the bane of my existence.
Cocoa Puffs is like a kid sister to you.
I repeat the warning over and over in my head as a reminder.
It’s like my cock is mocking me.
“My car is over there.”
She turns around and looks in the direction of my pointed finger.
She freezes and her jaw drops. “That’s your car?”
“It is.”
She does a double take. “Rhys Hartford, you’re living it large. That’s not a car. That’s a speeding bullet.” The genuineness in her words is touching.
“For a one-hit wonder no one remembered until five years ago, I’m doing okay for myself.” I wink at her.
“You’re pulling my leg.” Her delicious unpainted, full lips curve into a big smile.
“It’s been a great ride,” I say. “I’ve learned from my previous mistakes. This time around, I keep my ego in check. I’m just grateful and humbled I get a second stab at making a name for myself. I don’t take it for granted.”
“You wear success well. I’ve been keeping a close eye on your climb to the top—”
“You’ve been stalking me, Keira?”
I’m as guilty as she is. I’ve made it my mission to track every aspect of her career––even the heart-wrenching ones.
“I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”
“I thought you’d forgotten all about me,” I say in a low voice.
An awkward silence stretches between us as we keep walking.
“Your car must’ve cost a hundred thousand dollars.” She veers the conversation as she closes in on my vehicle.
The base model is two hundred thousand dollars, but no need to bog her down with numbers.
“It’s a luxury vehicle,” I say.
“What model of Benz is it?”
I disable the alarm. “It’s a Mercedes-Maybach.” I open the door to let her in.
“I’m proud of you, Rhys.” She slips into the passenger seat.
I place her bag in the back seat behind her. “Right back at ya there, kid.”
“Please,” she says. “I ran away from my career because I couldn’t handle it.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.”
She shrugs.
I close the door and circle the metallic black car. After removing my suit jacket and placing it neatly on the backseat, I slide behind the wheel. As I place a hand on the stick shift, I catch sight of those toned, tanned legs.
Goddammit.
I want to feel how soft those legs are or even see how they would look wrapped around––
Put a lid on it.
With herculean effort, I rein in my inappropriate thoughts. Desperate to regulate my body’s heat, I play with the A/C, turning it way up. Chivalry demands I make sure she’s okay with the temperature, but I need to cool the hell down.
As cold air blows into the car, my eyes are drawn back to her legs like a goddamn magnet.
You’re supposed to watch over her. Not lust after her.
Listening to the voice of reason, I drag my gaze away from the embodiment of temptation and rev up the engine.
I curse the hour drive back to Manhattan Beach.
Those legs are going to fuck with my head every other mile.
The memory of her ass encased in her jean shorts will haunt me all damn night and feature prominently in my dirty dreams. The same goes for her gorgeous legs.