The Legend: A Second Chance Romance Standalone (Rivers Wilde Book 2) Page 8

  “That’s a very specific happy ending.”

  “Yeah. I’ve always known the kind of life I wanted. Because it’s the exact opposite of the life I had.”

  He just nods and we ride together in a comfortable silence until we pull into the bookstore’s parking lot.

  “So, you collect author’s signatures?” he asks.

  “Yeah, for my favorite books. I only have a couple. I got some from half-priced books by chance, but this is my first time meeting an author face-to-face.”

  “If you could have any signed book, what would you choose?”

  That’s such an easy question to answer.

  “The Legend by Ama Baidoo, and Where The Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein”

  “That’s the book your quote is from,” he says. Even though he told me he read it, I’m startled that he remembers.

  “Yeah, it’s such a great story. It’s old, but still so relevant.”

  “Why Shel Silverstein?”

  “Because it’s the first book I ever owned, and it made me feel like there was someone in the world as weird as I am.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “When I compare myself to everyone else I grew up with, I have all these dreams and passions that are a little strange...”

  “At least you know what they are.” There’s an edge in his voice that wasn’t there a second ago. It’s subtle, but I’m an expert people watcher and I hear it. It piques my interest. I close my notebook and turn in my seat so I’m facing him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he says cryptically and I feel my first prickle of annoyance.

  “You’ve been asking me all sorts of questions. I’ve answered them.”

  He glances at me and gives a resigned sigh.

  “I play basketball and I love it. But…”

  He gives a quick side glance and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile.

  “But what?”

  “It just feels so… I’m starting to realize that I played more out of defiance than I did out of passion. And now, it doesn’t feel like the place I’m supposed to be. I mean, it’s great to be good at it, but…”

  “But that’s not enough anymore?” I ask

  “That’s it exactly,” he says with a smile. That smile makes me feel like I aced a quiz.

  He sighs, deep and thoughtful and then shrugs again. “It’s not that I don’t like winning. In fact, I think I’m addicted to it. But, when I first started playing, I wasn’t really that good. I had something to prove. I practiced like I’d never made a three-pointer. I played like I’d never lost a game. Winning felt like the only thing. It’s what everyone expects. It’s what I expect…”

  “What would you do if you weren’t afraid to fail?” I ask him.

  “I would go to law school,” he answers right away. Without hesitation and for the first time since I got in the car he really smiles. Not like the ones he throws because he’s being flirtatious, but the ones he throws when he’s happy. Every time I see it I remember my mother’s warning about men who are so, so dangerous to a girl like me who’s a sucker for a smile.

  “If saying it makes you feel like that, you should totally do it.”

  He smiles wistfully “Between us, I’m really considering it. Besides my grandfather and my father, Thurgood Marshall is my hero. I read his biography in my freshman year history class and his story resonated with me in a way that felt like I was reading my future.

  I get good grades, but studying doesn’t come easy. I’m not the smartest kid in my class, but I’ve got the highest grade point average because I work twice as hard as everyone else. Just like in basketball, but this… it’s all for me.” A muscle in his jaw jumps, but because he’s pulling the reins on his smile.

  I feel chills just listening to his honest assessment of himself and his passion. I want that, just a little bit of it, for myself.

  “Is it weird that part of me wanted to play just so I could have something that hadn’t been his, too?”

  “No. Especially if you feel like you’ve been chasing his shadow.”

  “I don’t know if I’ve been chasing it or…”

  “Running from it?” I finish his sentence for him and then apologize because I realize I have a habit of it.

  “Why are you sorry? I like that you get me.” His eyes linger longer this time and heat rises up the back of my neck. He looks back at the road, a satisfied smile on his face and I want to ask him to look at me again.

  I bite my lip to hide my smile. “My mother has been a shadow I’ve been trying to climb from under forever. I love her. But being like her is the very last thing I want to be.”

  “I should want to be like my dad. He died so young; I pray that in that way at least, we’re very different. And… this is going to sound terrible. But I don’t know if I want to be the kind of man who marries a woman like my mother.” Then he winces like he wishes he could take it back.

  He pulls into a parking spot outside the bookstore and throws the car in park before he turns to look at me. “Let’s table this for later, okay?”

  “Deal.” I put out my hand to shake his. He takes it and as soon as our hands touch, my whole arm starts to vibrate. Our eyes hold where they are for a few seconds, suspended in a conversation that doesn’t need words. His eyes release mine, but only so that they can roam my face. I feel his gaze as it skims down my nose and when it lands on my lips, I lick them.

  “That freckle, when you lick your lips, can you feel it? Or is it flat?” His voice is gruff, his eyes on my mouth and full of something that appears close to desperation.

  My racing pulse pounds in my ears and I lick the spot he’s talking about.

  He starts to lean forward and the look in his eyes reminds me of the promise I made my mother just tonight.

  I pull my hand out of his and fumble for the door handle.

  “All right, Carlton, let’s get in there so we’re not late,” I quip, open the door and hustle away as fast as I can.

  6

  GO AHEAD AND TOUCH

  REMI

  FOUR WEEKS LATER

  “Come on, Remi, hurry. The line is already almost out the door,” Kal yells at me through the passenger door of my black Camaro. She’s leaning down and her blouse, which is already dangerously low cut, is giving me the most tempting view of her perfect tits and the lacy bra that’s practically pushing them in my face.

  “Eyes here, Remi.” I look up into her scowling face. I’m starting to really like that scowl. A lot.

  “You go ahead, I’ll catch up.” I smile up at her.

  “Catch up? We’re already late. What’re you doing?” She starts to get back in.

  I put a hand on her seat to stop her. “No, go ahead. Grab seats for us. I want to park somewhere else.”

  “I’ll come with you,” she says.

  “No, I need privacy,” I say and she stops and glares at me as she climbs back out.

  “You want to call one of your girls before you go in? Make sure they know what time to be ready for you tonight?”

  “Your jealousy is out of control. Just admit you want me.” I say dryly.

  “I don’t want you.” She laughs like she always does when I flirt with her. “Besides, don’t you have enough girls in your harem?” She asks with a smirk.

  “The only one I want’s not in it. So, no.” I don’t smile this time,

  She throws her head back and chortles. “Do any of these girls ever actually speak to you? Because I swear, your pickup lines are the worst, ever.”

  “You’ve got jokes today. Close the door. Now. I don’t want to be later than I’m already going to be,” I say sharply and her smirk disappears.

  “I was just joking. Fine, bye.” She scowls and then slams the door.

  I pull into the alley behind the bookstore, lower my seat, and wait until she’s turned the corner before I unzip my pants and start to stroke my dick.

  When I got my windows tinted, it was be
cause I loved the way it looked. Little did I know they’d come in handy when I woke up as a complete pervert two weeks ago.

  I sigh in relief and ease into a stroke. I don’t feel like rushing now. I don’t care if I’m late.

  I’ve lost my fucking mind. I don’t even know who I am anymore. The last month of getting to know Kal has made me crazy. Between my deliveries to the store in the morning and what has turned into a standing Tuesday night visit to this bookstore, I’ve found myself in a real quandary.

  Because, with every conversation, I like her more. I like that she pushes back on my shit. What I don’t like is the way I want her. It’s harder and harder to pretend it’s cool just being her friend.

  She likes me, but she’s made it very clear she wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole and that my ten-inch pole will never touch her.

  She slid into my car dressed in that red T-shirt she’s always wearing stretched across her perfect breasts. And her tiny little shorts that left most of her legs bare to the world. I am a sucker for those legs and that perfectly round ass and that face. And her laugh. And her smile. And the way she talks with her hands and the way she chews her lips—those lips that are always bare and that I want to kiss—when she’s writing.

  And the way she fucking breathes.

  We’ve formed a really easy friendship over the last couple of weeks. She’s even made friends with Regan who’s come with us to Murder By The Book a couple of times. She’s smart and has an opinion on everything. So, I ask her for it—often. Even her glasses, which she only wears to read, turn me on.

  She thinks I have a harem. I don’t. A few of the girls in Rivers Wilde show up everywhere I am. But, I never touch them. Heir to a fortune, a basketball prodigy and political science aficionado and the picture of discipline. I don’t dip my pen into just anybody’s ink pot.

  I’ve fucked before. But she was older than me and she went off to college a couple of months later. I see her when she’s home, and she always teaches me something new. But, besides her, none of these girls in Rivers Wilde have made me feel like going to the trouble of dealing with dates and shit.

  Until Kal. The girl who laughs in my face every time I think I’m being charming.

  And fuck, I love it. She’s turned me into a rutting fool. I wake up grinding my hips into my mattress because I have endless dreams about her. She’s a living breathing wet dream that was custom built just for me. I can’t get her out of my mind.

  I speed up my hand. I close my eyes and instead of thinking of all the reasons I can’t have her; I think of all the reasons I want her. I start with those thighs and that ass. And the sliver of smooth skin her shirts always manage to reveal.

  She only ever wears just enough clothing to cover the essentials. So much of her smooth, caramel skin, complete with that glow is always on display. I think about fucking her in my car on our last day together and making her say sorry for teasing me all summer long.

  That thought sends me over, and I throw my head back and groan and lift my shirt so my cum splatters my skin and not my clothes.

  Then, I pull wet wipes out of my console. Regan opened it last week and found my stash of wet wipes and lube. She called it my Pussy Preparedness Kit and told me to throw some condoms in there.

  I let her think what she wanted. But really, it was more like my Kal Gives Me a Constant Hard On kit. And I didn’t need condoms because fucking is never going to happen.

  Feeling satisfied and a little less tense, I push my door open and nearly have a fucking heart attack when it hits something that lets out a yelp of pain and a very familiar “Fudge!”

  I look up and find Kal doubled over next to my door.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” It’s harsher than I meant it to be, and she glares at me.

  “I could ask you the very same thing.” She steps back and her face is wrought with surprise and dismay.

  “I saw you walk into the building.”

  “I forgot something.”

  We speak at the same time and stare at each other. And I can see the heat in her eyes and right away I know.

  “You watched me?” I ask.

  Her dark eyes widen, but she doesn't look away.

  “Yes.” She swallows hard.

  “Did you like it?” I ask her.

  “Remi,” she admonishes sharply, but I don’t miss the way she shifts her stance. She liked it.

  “I want to hear you say it.” I ask again.

  She nods and sucks her fat lower lip into her mouth.

  I want to suck it, too.

  “You know you could have gotten in and watched up close. You could have helped if you wanted.”

  I circle her wrists and hold her hands in front of my face.

  “They’re a little small, they wouldn’t fit all the way ’round.”

  She draws in a big gulp of air and takes a step closer to me.

  “Really?” she whispers her eyes flit down to my pants.

  “I would have covered your hands with mine. We could have done it together.”

  I let go of her wrists and slide my hands up so that we’re palm to palm.

  Skin to skin.

  It’s not nearly enough.

  I’m this close to crossing a line I shouldn’t. But, when it comes to Kal, I can’t seem to help myself.

  “Remi… we shouldn’t.” Her voice is husky and her fingers flex a little against mine.

  “Yeah, probably not,” I agree, but I see the reflection of my own disappointment flash in her eyes and it emboldens me.

  I know I should stand down. Even if it feels like it, we aren’t a good idea.

  But she’s so tempting. And when it comes to her, I can’t seem to get a grip on my control.

  I link our fingers and bring her hand to my lips for a kiss. She inhales sharply and looks up at me through the inky fringe of her lashes.

  Her gaze lingers longingly on my mouth and I smile.

  “Oh, Kal. We have a dilemma.” I drawl.

  “Really? Then why do you sound amused? A dilemma isn’t generally a good thing.” The corners of her mouth turn up in a small smile.

  “It’s a very good thing… because even though you don’t want to be, and I absolutely shouldn’t be, we’re interested in each other.”

  “Well, that’s the perfect recipe for an unhappy ending, if I ever heard one.”

  But she doesn’t pull away and she doesn’t deny it.

  So, I press my advantage.

  “I’m more of an optimist than that. Let me take you out on Saturday.”

  She pulls her hand away. “I can’t. I have plans on Saturday. And, honestly, I’m just getting settled and there’s your… mom. I think we should stick to just friends. That way, we don’t make things more complicated than they already are. You’re going away to school, right? So… let’s just have a nice summer.” She squeezes my hand like she’s trying not to let me down too hard.

  I don’t want her to feel pressure to date me. I’m not that type of guy.

  Girl says no, that’s it. Even if I want her more than you want your next three meals.

  I wink at her. “Well, at least now you have a visual to go with all of your dirty thoughts about me.”

  She looks up at me with wide eyes and then does the last thing I expect; she starts to laugh. “The only place I have dirty thoughts about you is in your ego drenched dreams.”

  If only she knew what drenched my dreams, she might turn and run.

  “Ouch.” I clutch my chest in mock pain. The tension between us is gone, and she rolls her eyes and runs over and opens the passenger door.

  “What did you forget?”

  “My notebook,” she says and then stuffs that small black moleskin notebook she carries everywhere with her in her backpack.

  Well, shit. If I’d known it was in the car, I would have spent my time reading it instead of jacking off.

  “You gonna let me read what’s in there one day?” I ask and lean over the top of the c
ar toward her. I squint against the setting sun and grin at her.

  She blanches and says, “No. And stop squinting. It’ll give you wrinkles.” And then she spins on her heel and walks quickly back to the building.

  “Are you coming?” she calls over her shoulder.

  I wink. “Already did.”

  “Lord, get some better lines.”

  7

  BITTER HIGH

  KAL

  “Oh, God, please don’t seat them in my section,” I whisper to Sweet before I scurry off the chair I’ve been lounging in during a lull in the dinner rush.

  “Don’t seat who?” she calls after me. But I don’t turn around or stop to answer, I fly across the floor, not even slowing to admire the huge wagon wheel chandelier that I watch with awe every time I walk underneath it. I burst through the swinging double doors that lead to the kitchen and then peek through the small circular window cut through it.

  “What are you doing, Kal?” Syd, our line cook bumps me with her hip as she passes me.

  “Hiding.”

  “Oooh, From who?” She joins me and I move over so she can see out.

  “Him.” I nod at Remi and his little posse of what I refer to as his harem. But tonight, there are guys with them, too. He’s dressed in a white polo shirt and jeans. He doesn’t look like he’s lost a wink of sleep and he’s laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world as he strolls with his entourage. I want to throw something at him.

  “I wouldn’t be hiding from any of them if they were looking for me.”

  “Me neither,” I mutter. I am pretty sure the very last thing Remi is doing is looking for me. The day after our crazy conversation outside the bookstore, I waited for him to come to the store to make his delivery, waited for him so I could explain about Saturday.

  Instead, his brother, Tyson, showed up. He hasn’t made a delivery all week. It’s made me crazy to think that me turning him down for a date meant he wasn’t going to bother with me at all.