Jordyn's Army, page 45
I don’t dance around the question that’s been circling around in my head, but I do ease into it. “Tour mates?”
“Same people I’ve been traveling with—”
“You and Jòse didn’t work out, huh?”
She sits back and shakes her head.
“Is Moe another football player?”
She smiles hugely, and my chest tightens. “I can guarantee Moe has never played football.”
After I take a sip of my water to douse the envy building up, I ask, “How long have you two been together?”
3
Kendall
It’s A Beautiful Day
I’m buzzed. Okay … drunk, but that doesn’t lessen my senses.
I see the way Ben Sawyer is looking at me. I know the words he said to me at the bar … even if he didn’t take them back, apologize, or laugh it off as I had when we realized who each other were. Instead, he held my hand when he didn’t have to, bought me “breakfast,” and he’s still looking at me like every man I’ve dated in my past.
I shouldn’t toy with him, although it has become a favorite thing of mine to do with men like Ben, who are all too quick to want to make it sexual. But let’s be real here; it’s fun.
“Moe and I have known each other for about five years.”
His jaw sets, and he nods. He clearly doesn’t like that answer, and I clearly like that he doesn’t like it.
I watch as his eyes narrow. “Known each other?”
I give him a quick, affirming nod.
“Lemme ask you something, little Ross?” He doesn’t give me a moment to answer what came out as a question. “What kind of man doesn’t notice his woman sneaking out of his bed to go to a concert in a foreign city?” Again, he still doesn’t give me a second to respond. He answers his own question. “The kind of man who doesn’t seem to know how to meet her needs. The kind of man who doesn’t give a shit that his woman could get robbed or worse. You don’t want that kind of man, Kendall.”
I cover my smirk but, in my drunken state, it’s not enough that he doesn’t see it.
He narrows his eyes again. “Not funny, Kendall. You can’t do shit like that.”
“I think maybe you’re jumping to conclusions about Moe and me.”
He cocks his head to the side, like our dog Chewy did when you asked him if he wanted a treat.
“Moe isn’t sharing a bed with me, or a room for that matter. In fact, Moe has absolutely no interest in me in that way.” Yes, I realize I’m still toying with him, but I can’t help it.
“Then he’s a fucking fool.”
“She isn’t a fool at all. She’s actually pretty amazing.”
He visibly relaxes and bites his lower lip as he looks down. “You got me.”
I laugh. “Actually, you got you.”
He chuckles, and I can’t help smiling at the deep, rich sound of it.
I start to ask about his music at the same time he asks if I’m single.
“You first.”
“I don’t have time nor patience for a boyfriend.” I shrug.
“I get the patience thing, but why no time?”
“I’m halfway through six years of college and—”
“Six?”
I nod. “I’ll graduate with my Doctorate in Pharmacology.”
“Impressive.” He nods.
I laugh. “Says the guy standing on stage before screaming fans, slaying it on the guitar.”
“Not my norm.” He smirks. “Just filled in for a buddy tonight.”
“Dana, my traitorous guide, mentioned an American songwriter. That’s you?”
He nods.
“Impressive, Ben Sawyer. Your parents must be proud.”
“They really don’t know yet.”
“Huh?”
“Just happened. Pretty cool, but Dad wants me to take over back in Tully, and I keep trying to get him to retire, sell the place, and live, you know?”
“I do know.”
“Raised by the same kind of people,” he acknowledges.
“I’m grateful for the way I was raised, but when I travel, there’s a piece of me that feels sorry for my parents for never getting to experience it all.”
“I know exactly how you feel.”
“Then I feel guilty that I’m able to.”
He sighs. “Same damn feeling I have.”
“But we’re both doing it.” I force a smile.
“Why the sad smile?” he asks.
I look up and see such deep sincerity in his eyes. Sincerity I felt before … a very long time ago.
When I don’t reply, he cocks his head again, waiting.
“Although my parents encourage me to follow my dreams, it’s, well, you know,” I shrug
“Your brother Alex took over the farm, correct?”
I nod. “He converted one of the old barns into a veterinary clinic.”
He laughs.
“What?”
“Must be your folks told my parents about that. My moms talked about converting the big red barn into a rustic wedding and reception venue. She has a hairbrained idea that Dad, her, and I could run the business part, and I could continue my ‘music hobby’ by playing at them.”
My father, John, and Ben’s father went to college together. They were fraternity brothers and have remained friends. They still even hunt together.
“Do they know how well you’re doing with your ‘hobby’?”
His eyes light up. His smile, too. “They have no clue.”
“What?” I gasp. “Why?”
When he looks down, I realize I’ve grabbed his hand from across the table. When I attempt to pull it back, he holds it a little tighter as he looks up at me.
“Just became real a week ago. I wanna surprise them. Tell them in person.”
He looks back down at our hands, dragging his thumb across the back of my hand. “Let’s cut the small talk and discuss what’s happening here.”
I pull my hand back and clear my throat. “It’s obvious that neither of us had a clue as to who each other were, so let’s just forget—”
“Not a chance,” he deadpans.
“I won’t hold it against—”
“I wish you would.”
“Oh my God, Ben, really?” I force a laugh, make a joke out of it, in attempt to make it less awkward.
“Something happened up there. You know it, and so do I.”
As sobriety comes calling, I set my feet on the floor. Confidence follows suit. “I got swept up in the music. So did you.”
“Bullshit, Ross.”
“Dismiss it all you want, but it’s what happened.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not ready to do that without exploring it further.”
“I’m not like …” I stop, because what I want to say would sound judgmental and disrespectful to my sister, which is not truly how I feel.
“You do realize that the thing that went on with me and Tessa was brief.”
I shake my head. “You loved her all the way from her senior year in high school through all of college.”
He literally laughs out loud.
“Ben,” I shush him as I look around. The whole place is looking at us. Well, him.
“Little Ross”—he grabs my hand and leans nearly all the way across the table—“with age and experience comes wisdom and knowledge.”
I again attempt to pull my hand back, but he holds it a little tighter.
“Wanna know a secret?”
“Not really,” I grumble as I look around at the curious faces in the crowded café.
“I never loved her in that way. I hated Lucas for breaking the heart of the girl whose finger I pulled a thorn out of when I was too young to remember doing so.” He laughs, and I freeze. “A girl who gave me my very first kiss. Stupid shit, but there it is. See, Kendall”—he releases my hand, and I continue staring at the crowd—“it’s not only little girls who buy into fairy tales. Sometimes guys fall for the bullshit, too.”
4
Ben
Wild Honey
When she stands abruptly, knocking over her chair in the process, I start to stand as well. Then she jets out the door.
“Well, fuck.” I run my hand through my hair then do some stupid shit, shit I’ve never done with a girl.
I chase her.
Outside the café, I look left and don’t see her. Then I look right as she slips into a cab.
I hear someone yell behind me, “Your lass left her bag.”
I turn around and look at the tiny, little patchwork quilted purse and think, Perfect.
“Thank you. I’ll get it to her.”
Watching her cab pull away, I legit jump in front of another then hurry inside. “Dude, follow that cab.”
“All right then.” He laughs.
Pulling up behind Kendall’s cab, I toss a twenty to the driver then scramble out just as the cab pulls away from the curb.
I sprint toward them. Luckily for me, traffic stops and I’m able to get to them before they pull away from the hotel.
When I open the door, I see her sparkling blue eyes filled with tears.
“The lass needs to pay her fare,” the cab driver snarls.
“Watch your fucking tone,” I snap as I toss a twenty at him then pull her out.
“I left my—”
I hold up her purse.
“Thank you.”
She reaches for it and ends up stumbling over the curb and into me. And then … we fall.
I’m soaked, she’s shocked, and I can’t help laughing at the situation.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, pushing up off me.
“Don’t be. This is almost exactly how I pictured this night ending while I was on stage.”
She sighs as she stands.
“Well, I’d have been on top, and you’d have been the one soaked.”
“Ben Sawyer.” She stomps her foot and manages to splash us both.
Laughing, I jump up and pull her behind me toward the hotel entrance.
Once at the elevator, she pulls her hand away, and I turn to look back at her.
“I’m not having sex with you.” She whispered sex.
“Wouldn’t expect you to on a first date.”
“We haven’t had a date.” She sighs. “You should go.”
I search her eyes, seeing perplexity gleaming in them. “How about you let me come up and clean my sorry ass up a bit?”
She steps back into the empty elevator car, and I step in next to her.
When the door closes behind us, I turn to look at her, but before I have the chance to say a word, she whispers, “I’m not looking for anything. And by anything, I mean, anything like—”
“Even before I knew it was you, I’m pretty sure I said what happened after breakfast was your call.” I have no idea why I’m so annoyed right now, but I am. She’s acting like I’m some dick who doesn’t understand the word no. “Just want to clean up, and then I’ll be out of your hair, Kendall.”
When the elevator stops and the doors open to the third floor, I step out and to the side so that she can pass me.
Inside her room, I pull my drenched shirt over my head as I walk over and hang it over the heating vent.
“Might want to rinse it first.”
“Wouldn’t want to put you out any more than I already am.”
“Ben, it’s already soaked.”
“It’s fine.”
I walk into the bathroom, shut the door behind me, drop my jeans, and then look in the mirror. “Jesus, what a mess.”
My hair isn’t just soaked; there are clumps of mud in it.
I open the door and peek my head out, seeing her back is to me. “You mind if I wash off?”
“Of course not.”
Apparently, I take too long in the shower because, when I come out, she’s asleep in a ball on top of the bed, shivering as she hugs a pillow.
After covering her up and pushing the golden waves away from her face, I realized her hair is wet, too.
I pull her little shoes and soaked socks off before lifting a part of the cover to fold over her. She moves ever so slightly, revealing a wet spot on the pillow.
“Little Ross, you need to wake up and get changed, or you’ll catch a cold.”
She doesn’t move.
I turn around, walk to the dresser, and pull open a drawer. Nothing.
I walk to her closet and, again, nothing.
On the opposite side of the bed is a medium-sized suitcase. Surely that can’t be all she brought.
I pick it up, set it on the bed, and unzip it. The damn thing nearly explodes with clear zipper bags.
“Well, fuck.” I laugh as I pick one up.
In black marker, it’s clearly labeled “panties.”
As tempting as it is to unzip the baggy and check out what covers what I am now vividly imagining her soft pale skin looks like underneath the ones she has on right now, I don’t. Instead, I set it down and rummage through the suitcase.
Pulling out a navy-blue sweatshirt, I shake it out and read, Blue Valley Saints, and see the crossed field hockey sticks in a circle beneath it.
I set it down then sit behind her. “Okay, I’d really like you to wake up and do this yourself.”
“Tired,” she mumbles as she shivers and leans back against me.
“Kendall, sweets, it’s Ben, and you are gonna wake up and think I’m a dick, but—”
“Sorry, Ben,” she says, teeth chattering.
“You’re soaked, and we need to get you out of this.” I pull her jacket slowly down her back.
“N-n-n-n-o.” Her teeth chatter. “S-s-s-so cold.”
“The quicker we get you naked, the quicker we get you warmed up.”
She turns her head and scowls.
“Sweatshirt,” I assure her.
She nods then turns away. Pulling her arms out, she sniffs. “C-c-c-cold.”
“Dress.” As soon as I say it, I realize my voice sounds thicker.
She turns around and looks at me again. Teeth chattering, she divulges, “I’m a virgin, so …”
Fuuuuck, I think.
“Gonna change you out of wet clothes, not pop your …” I stop when she narrows her eyes. “You’re in good hands.”
She leans her wet head against my shoulder. She fits so damn good against me. Her shoulders, almost as wide as my chest. Perfect.
I grab the sweatshirt and set it down next to me. “One of the last times I saw you was when you were playing hockey. You still play?”
Teeth chattering, she nods. “Scholarship at Saint Johns.”
“No shit?”
I lean us forward and grab the hem of her blue dress. “We’ll do this quick. I won’t look, and I won’t cop a feel.” Before she can respond, I pull it up as far as I can. “Lift your bum.”
She does, and then I pull it the rest of the way up, toss it on the floor, grab the sweatshirt and, against all that my body and mind want to do to Kendall … the virgin, I pull the sweatshirt over her head covering her. She shoves her arms inside, and then I force myself to move off the damn bed.
I’m in such a hurry to escape, fearing my half-stiff dick is going to nudge her and annoyed that my intentions may be good but his aren’t, that she falls backward.
When I turn and look at her, I notice one hand is on her tummy, the other is over her mouth, and her normally beautiful complexion is turning a funky shade of green.
Scooping her up, I hurry to the bathroom and make it just in time.
Huddled over the toilet, she throws up everything in her slim stomach.
When she turns around, tears are running down her beautiful face.
“Happens to the best of us, Kendall.”
“I need a minute.”
5
Ben
When I Look at The World
Pacing outside the bathroom, I rap on the door when I hear the shower start. “Kendall, you’re fucked up, sweets; shouldn’t be in there alone.”
“I’m fine.”
Her voice sounds anything but fine, so I tell her just that, “You don’t sound fine.”
She doesn’t say a thing, so I plaster my ear against the door, making sure she hasn’t fallen or if she does, I’ll hear her. When the shower turns off and I hear her step out, now knowing she hasn’t slipped and fallen, I step back.
After a few minutes, she opens the door just a crack and slips my jeans out. “I rinsed these. You should hang them over the heater. I have a couple pair of sweatpants in my suitcase. You can wear a pair if you don’t mind.”
I call behind me, “I’ll grab you a pair too. You want a tee-shirt or sweatshirt?”
“A freaking snowmobile suit.” She sighs.
“Sweatshirt it is.”
I hand her the first ones I find, and then I toss my soaked jeans on the heater and crank it up. I grab the only other pair of sweats in her suitcase. The pink ones.
When she walks out, she looks fucking incredible but exhausted. Then she walks by me, not looking in my direction, and tells me, “You should rinse your shirt. They should be dry in a couple hours. If you want to rest here, you can.”
Hell yes, I do, I think.
Shirt in hand, I hurry into the bathroom, rinse my shirt, wring it out, and then walk back out and throw it over the back of the desk chair before dragging it as close to the heater as I can. When I turn around, she’s snuggled under the covers, completely.
I walk over and sit on the edge of the bed. Crystal blue eyes pop out from under the covers, and she tells me. “There’s a blanket and pillow in the closet.”
When I stand to get them, I hear a soft laugh, and look back. “Laugh it up, little Ross. A real man isn’t afraid to wear pink.”
With blanket and pillow in hand, I walk to the side of the bed. “Scoot over a little?”
She shakes her head.
“So, I get the floor?” I laugh, thinking it’s a joke.
