Keep Her Page 6

  That was the point of the phone call in the first place, but we were getting off tangent here. I wanted to know why I felt like a loser that Beck still hadn’t called. “Yes, but what does any of this have to do with Beck?”

  “A lot, actually. Hear me out before you bite my head off, okay?”

  “Yes, Master,” I sighed into the phone.

  “I know you love your brother and your friend and you only want what’s best for them. I get that. You are one selfless, albeit hard-core and stubborn, firecracker. I didn’t know you that long while she was alive, but ever since your mom passed, you’ve been living your life for everyone but yourself. You worry about Marcus, about your dad, about the business and your friends. You overanalyze everything and don’t enjoy the moment. Even on those few dates you do go on… you’re too worried about the future to just live in the present. I’m not saying you’ve passed up your chance with a prince, because let’s face it… you’ve dated some real winners, but I think you need to go with your heart instead of your brain sometimes, Riles.

  “I think you see Tessa and Marcus doing exactly that—throwing caution to the wind, having fun together, not worrying about what comes next—and you’re green with envy because you just can’t allow yourself to do that, too.”

  “Fallon, you know I’m not the type to just fuck around for fun. And it’s not only that, I know Beck. I’ll always know Beck. There’s history there. It will be awkward now because I didn’t think with my brain the other night. And because for whatever reason, I’m thinking things about him that I didn’t expect.”

  “And there’s my point exactly—stop thinking. Just let it be. Just live. Isn’t that what she told you to do?”

  He was talking about my mother’s dying words. I wanted nothing more than to follow through with her hopes and dreams for me, but life wasn’t just about hopes and dreams. It was about being responsible and realistic too. Fucking around with Beck and hoping it could be more was neither of those—it was stupid. There was that word again.

  “Girl, I hear your brain juice working from here. Didn’t I just tell you to stop thinking so hard? Let this be your first experience with letting loose and having fun. Don’t make me chant it… live, live, live, live! Why make it a big deal if he doesn’t call?”

  I let out a small laugh, trying to make light of everything. Fallon had some spot-on points. He knew me too well. I needed to stop being so damn serious and act like one of the Beatles… let it be. So what if Beck didn’t call? He didn’t owe me anything. We had a good time and I should be able to look back on it with an ear-to-ear grin. There was no need to make things awkward. It didn’t have to be. He was still the same old Beck and I was still the same old Riley. The fact that we knew each other’s naked bodies inside out should have no influence on how we reacted toward each other from here on out.

  Except that for some reason, it did matter.

  “Because I felt something, Fallon. Even in all the drunken sloppiness, the slurred words, and the silly jokes—there was something there. I don’t know how to deal with all these emotions, or even why I have any emotions about Beck Matthews, period. But I am. And I do. And I want him to call and I’m really pissed off that he—”

  The beep of the incoming call interrupted my rant. “Hold on. I have another call. Probably Ashworth finally getting back to me.”

  When I looked at the caller ID and saw Beck’s name flash across the screen, I nearly shit myself. “Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh. My. Gawd,” I yelled into the phone.

  “What, you freak? What’s the matter?”

  “Fallon, it’s him. Beck’s calling.”

  “Oh my gawd, is right. Go answer that shit and call me as soon as you’re done.”

  I didn’t have time to respond. Instead, I cleared my throat, put on my best smile, and clicked over to the other line.

  “Hello,” I said, trying to accentuate the out-too-late-and-hung-over rasp in my voice.

  Too much? Too soon? Ah, whatever. I was supposed to be having fun and living, right?

  So after dick move number one, which was lying to Marissa, I was about to go through with dick move number two, which was calling another girl right after I’d made my girlfriend my ex-girlfriend. Well, kind of.

  After Marissa left my apartment, I couldn’t get thoughts of Riley out of my head. I owed her a phone call and I wasn’t about to go back on my word. Was I going to jump from one relationship to the next… can I get a hells no? But I’d be damned if I was going to make Riley feel like shit, either.

  It was already almost nine o’clock and according to the rules set out by the dating gurus, I didn’t have much time left to deliver on my promise without looking like I’d brushed her off. When had I become so attuned to what was morally acceptable dating policy? I had no fucking clue, but Riles deserved what was promised to her.

  I quickly dialed her number, feeling all sorts of queasy waiting for her to answer. I could tell by the sound of the rings that she was on the other line. I hoped I was important enough to end the other call.

  “Hello,” she answered, with a dick-twitching sexy rasp.

  “Hey, sweet thing. Sorry I took so long.” At the sound of her voice, suddenly I was sorry. I’d wished I’d spent the entire day wrapped in the warmth of her soft blankets and silky skin.

  “Yeah. Me too. I was ready to give up on you.”

  “I don’t disappoint, Riles. I thought I proved that to you multiple times last night.”

  I’d never spoken to her on the phone as an us. Our conversations in the past always had something to do with Marcus, so while this was uncharted terrain, it was also pretty damn fun.

  “That you did,” she laughed, making me picture her with her head back, exposing the deliciously sweet skin of her neck.

  “So, what did you do all day? Besides wait for my call, of course?”

  “You’re one cocky son of a gun, aren’t you, Beckster?”

  “Ugh, Riles. That damn name. Don’t make me come over there and teach you a lesson.”

  There was silence for a second and then she asked something that surprised me. “Can you come over here?”

  I looked at the time, contemplating. It was already after nine and I was due into the house tomorrow at five a.m. to start a shift of three twenty-fours. It probably wasn’t a good idea, even though I really wanted to. “Tonight’s no good, Riles, and I say that as I silently curse my work schedule. I have to be in really early and need to get to bed, but I just wanted to say hi.” I wanted to do a lot more than say hi, but it would have to wait a few more days. “Tell you what, are you free on Thursday?”

  She let out an adorable groan. “Now it’s my turn to curse my work schedule. I have to tie up all my loose ends with my clients before the holiday weekend. I’ll probably be working until the wee hours of the morning, knowing me. But, oh shit… aren’t you coming to Marcus’s Fourth of July thing at the lake house?”

  Yes, I had planned on attending… with Marissa, but now that we were on our break, I’d be there as a single participant. However, the fact that Riley would be there… shit, this was about to get complicated. “I am going to be there. I take it you are too?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, good, but…” I hesitated to gather my thoughts. This had to come out the right way or I’d hurt her feelings. “Riles?”

  “Yes?”

  “We can’t tell Marcus about this. At least not yet. He’ll have my head—and my dick—for fucking around with you. I know he’s doing the same thing with Tessa, but this is different. It’s like a guy code thing. He won’t be happy and I don’t want to make you—”

  “Beck, calm down.” Her soothing voice interrupted me and instantly set me at ease. “I have no intention of telling Marcus. I’m just happy you’ll be there. I know we won’t get to be together, but… well, even if we can’t see each other this week, we can make time for other things.”

  My interests were certainly piqued. “Like what kinds of other thing
s?” I asked, extremely curious.

  “B, I happen to be very good with words. In fact, I think I missed my calling as a smutty romance novelist. You’d be surprised with my sexting abilities… and I only need one hand to do it.”

  Holy shit! Riley Grayson was holding out on me all this time. Even though I wouldn’t get to see her until Friday, when we’d have to pretend things were the way they’d always been, this week was already starting off better than I’d expected.

  “So, can I hang up now and see exactly what that dirty mind of yours can do?”

  “No. I kind of like talking to you,” she admitted in a much quieter voice. “Is that cheesy? I mean, in this day and age do people even talk on the phone anymore?”

  I laughed at the adorableness of her honesty. “Texting certainly does make things a little easier, if you ask me, but I like talking to you too. Even if you’re not drunk and sloppy.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t that drunk.”

  “Oh, no? Riles, you sang that song for thirty minutes straight. I’ve been making up my own lyrics all day today.”

  At that, she let out a string of the most contagious giggles I’d ever heard. “Oh my god. Really? I’m sorry, but—”

  I knew what she was going to say. “No. I don’t sing. Not happening.”

  “Come on, B. Please? I want to hear what you came up with. Don’t leave me hanging… I’ll even start you off. Cabaret, ohhhh! Even though I used to tie your shoes, I like to share my bed with you.”

  Damn it! I would never get it out of my head now. And she was spewing them out, one after the other, with precision and ease. It was impossible not to laugh at the hilarious way she made each set of new lyrics about our situation. “Alright, already.” I finally caved, wanting to join the fun. “Give a dude a chance. Anything not to hear your terrible screeching anymore.” It was a lie. She actually had a really sweet voice, but I couldn’t go giving her a million compliments right away. There’d be nothing to look forward to later.

  “Fine, meanie. Let’s hear what you got.”

  I thought long and hard. It was a catchy enough tune that was easy to put words to, but I wanted to make them about us, the same way she had. “Okay, I think I got one.” I cleared my throat and swallowed my pride. Was I really about to sing into a phone? Yup, guess so. “Cabaret… ohhhh! Even though you like to call me Beckster, I still want to rock your world.”

  Her booming laughter made me smile wide. “Oh! I love it! See, I knew you had it in you. Come on, give me another one.”

  Fucking Justin Timberlake and Riley Grayson. The combination of the two was a force to be reckoned with.

  The rest of the conversation went on with us singing and laughing for another hour. At around ten thirty, I reluctantly hung up because I had to shower and get to bed so I wouldn’t be dragging ass in the morning.

  The last thing I thought about before I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep was how easy it was to talk to Riley. How much fun it was to just be ourselves. How surprising it was that we could be more than friends, yet not have to center our situation on sex. I also thought about how it scared the shit out of me that I was smiling like I hadn’t smiled in forever. I was supposed to be the one rocking Riley’s world, but my best friend’s knock-out sister was beginning to turn mine upside down.

  “Dude, if you don’t stop whistling that fucking tune, I’m gonna get the hose and blast the shit out of you,” Derek barked from his usual spot on the community recliner in the rec room of the firehouse. There was nothing community about it when Derek was around.

  I guess I really wasn’t getting the song out of my head any time soon. In fact, it must have been a subconscious thing, because I didn’t even know I was still whistling it. “Sorry, Derek. Kinda can’t help it.”

  “What the fuck’s got you all whistle while you work at fucking eight a.m. anyway? Last I heard, you and Marissa were on the outs. Things change over the weekend?”

  “Things have certainly changed, but not with Marissa.”

  Derek’s eyes went wide and his grin grew devilish. “Ah, so you finally took my advice, came to your senses, and ditched the bitch?” There was no hiding his feelings toward Marissa. He hadn’t been a fan all along. He didn’t like that she’d dismissed having a family from the start—that was his biggest gripe. He knew deep down that’s what I wanted—whether or not it was what I wanted as a probie. But after spending time with these guys, they kind of reformed me.

  Derek was a reformed frat boy himself. Now in his mid-thirties, he’d been married for ten years and had two boys and a baby girl on the way. His wife was a fucking gem and a saint for putting up with him and his rowdy sons. So when Derek talked about women and whether or not they were wife material, it kind of made sense since he’d hit the jackpot with Kelly. I probably should’ve listened to him all along rather than wasting two good years of my life trying to convince Marissa I was husband material.

  But I didn’t want to talk about marriage, kids, and the future on this fine Monday morning. Unlike Marcus, Derek was the kind of person I could tell anything to without judgment. I wanted to bounce ideas off him and tell him all about Riley. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

  “So, are you gonna elaborate or make me pull it outta you? I may have been with the ball and chain for what seems like an eternity, but I can sense when a guy’s sampled some new pussy after sticking it in the same one for a while.”

  What a way with words. “Yes, new pussy, Derek. You read me so well.” I didn’t look up from the stove, where I was preparing the usual massive breakfast for the guys.

  “I fucking knew it! Anything worth regaling my underused one-pussy-for-the-rest-of-my-life dick with or was it just a one-nighter like old times?”

  “Definitely not just a one-nighter. We’re talking Riley Grayson here.” It surprised me how easily that slipped off my tongue.

  Without looking, I could tell by the loud thud and the squeak of the lever that Derek had propelled the recliner from lounged to upright rather swiftly. “You must have a death wish.” He was making his way toward me. “What would possess you to fuck Marcus’s sister, Beck? He’s gonna freak.” He attempted to steal a piece of bacon from the steaming pile, but I swatted his hand away.

  “Precisely why we’re not telling him,” I answered matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, we’re, as in the two of you are an item? Why would you to start a new we when your old we is still warm on the slab?”

  “Calm down, old man, there is no we. And back away from the pancakes. Can’t you wait for me to finish, you fucking beast?”

  “Stop thwarting the topic,” he said, chewing with his mouth open.

  “Thwarting? Seriously? Been reading the dictionary lately?”

  “Yeah, exactly, smartass, but I’m serious. Why her? Don’t you have enough problems with Marissa? Why complicate your friendship with Marcus and Riley?”

  It was more complicated than I cared to admit, but talking on the phone with her, laughing and joking and just having a good time—it made all the other shit go away for a while. I wasn’t ready to over complicate things, but I wasn’t ready to stop whatever was going on with Riley before it even started. “I don’t know, bro. It just kind of happened. It’s not like I haven’t thought about Riles like that before, but—I don’t know. I kind of always stayed away from her because of the age difference, and Marcus, and then Marissa. But now that we’re both adults the age thing isn’t even a thought. Marissa and I are on a break so it’s not like I’m cheating, and—”

  “And that still leaves Marcus, and he’s one big mother fucker. I have a sister, Beck. And even though I think you’re a good kid, I wouldn’t want you fucking around with her fresh out of a two-year relationship with someone else. It’s not fair to her or you, and when you get your head out from between her legs and go back to Marissa, or realize this isn’t going anywhere, Marcus is going to hand you your balls in a neat little package.”

  Did he think I was afraid of Marcus, phys
ically? That was so not the case. I might not be as bulky, but I was just as strong, if not stronger. We benched the same weight at the gym together and with all my free time sitting around at the firehouse, I probably worked out at least three more times a week than he did. This wasn’t about battling fist to fist. It was a head to head thing. It was about respect. In that aspect, Derek was right. I didn’t want to fuck with Marcus because he was my oldest friend and I didn’t want to piss him off over something that might turn out to be nothing.

  “What are you pussies coffee-talking about in here? Sounds like the fucking Oprah show.” Ramos came booming in from the back room, a towel wrapped around his waist. He headed straight for the bacon, barging his way into the conversation. He was one to talk about us being pussies. He was the most pussy-whipped of us all. His wife was also pregnant. They had a quick shotgun wedding when they found out about the baby, but Ramos wasn’t suckered into anything. He’d loved Angel—as we liked to call her for being so damn sweet to everyone—since their first date in high school. He only pretended he was some macho, alpha male who wore the pants. We all knew otherwise.

  “We’re talking about your mother, Ramos. She was really good last night,” Derek chuckled from his stool at the table.

  “Your mother” jokes were always the lowest blow, but they also got the most laughs.

  Following suit, I catcalled, “Ohhhh! Ramos’s mother gets around. I had her the night before.”

  “Very funny, dick. But from what I heard while eavesdropping on you clucking hens, you fucked Marcus Grayson’s sister and you’re gonna be a dead man,” he cackled, tightening the towel around his loose and flabby middle.

  “What the fuck, guys? You really don’t think I can take Grayson? Not that I plan on fighting him, but why are you all so hell bent on him kicking my ass?”

  “Because you’re gonna hurt his sister, and even though it’s usually bros before hos, when you fuck with a dude’s sister, your ass is grass.”

  I darted a frustrated glare at Ramos—now he was a poet? What the hell did he know? “And how do you know I’m going to hurt her? It’s not like that. We’re just having fun. She knows my situation with Marissa and she has no expectations. It’ll be fine.”