In a Rush (Friendship, Rhode Island #2)

by Kate Canterbary

Jakobi pushed to his feet. “Does she have any idea?” I raked my teeth over my bottom lip. “No, and we’re going to keep it that way.”

“Hi,” he said, holding out two paper cups. “Iced coffee and a smoothie. Since you’re not making them at home.” “The only way to live is with a drink in both hands.” I took a hearty sip of the coffee—I needed that more than the vitamins and nutrients right now—and motioned toward my friends. “Ryan, I’m sure you remember Grace.”

“We are making this into more than it is.” “Or we saw the way Daddy Football was looking at you and know we could’ve been hula-hooping topless and he wouldn’t have noticed,” Jamie said. “He wanted to put you in his pocket and carry you around all day.”

“You signed it, ‘Love forever, Your (probably) future wife,’” Jamie said, zooming in on the screen. “You also wrote that it was a binding contract and even if he tossed his yearbook off a pier, you’d always have proof.” I held out my hands. “Yes, to answer your question, I have always been excessively dramatic.” “You know that sort of thing isn’t binding unless a witch blessed the bargain,” Jamie said. I laughed. “I didn’t know that, but he agreed to the deal.” I reached for my phone and swiped to the next photo, the one Ryan had texted to me all those years ago as his proof. It simply read, I’ll hold you to it. Your husband. “Goddammit that’s romantic,” Audrey sighed.

“He’s here,” Jamie said, awe in her voice, “because he’s come to collect. You texted him on his birthday and he wanted to see you that weekend.” “He waited until it was time,” Audrey said. “After all these years.” “He wants to go through with it,” Grace said. I managed a bumbly nod. “I mean, yeah, that’s kind of what we’ve been talking about recently.” “How serious is this?” Grace asked. “Are you actually considering it?”

“What happens if you realize it makes total sense?” Audrey asked. “It looked like it made sense this morning,” Grace said. “The way he looked at you made all kinds of sense,” Jamie said.

“How do you know her again?” Stella asked. I watched Emme help the karate-kicker tuck a disaster of papers in his desk. When she was finished, she gave me a nod. I felt my lips turning up into a smile. The obvious answer was from back home, from high school, from ninth-grade biology, from listening to music in her car during lunch all of senior year so I didn’t have to talk to anyone. But I heard myself say, “She’s my favorite thing in the world.”

I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to say. This time, she didn’t hesitate to roll her eyes at the ceiling. My smile widened and it wasn’t the I’m working very hard at being neutral and not a snarly beast expression I usually forced in front of the cameras. Emme smiled right back at me and all the nerves died down. It was like we were connected in a way that science and logic hadn’t figured out how to define, but I knew without a doubt was true. I glanced at the obscenely small chair she’d set out for me and knew right away it wasn’t an option. Even if I didn’t break that little thing, I’d look like a jackass. Couldn’t have that.

“It was my grandmother who changed my mind on that,” I said. “She’s a very smart woman. I always listen to her advice.”

“My grandmother reminded me that, as long as I had my education, I could always use it. No one could ever take that away from me. But football? Not the same. Most players have five, maybe ten good years in the game. So, she told me to play while I could and then go back to numbers, math, and business.”

but almost eight years later, I still couldn’t take the field without hearing Emme in my head, saying, “You’re going to be one of the great ones. I just hope that’s good enough for you.”

I’d never been able to look at her for more than a few seconds without feeling like my chest was about to cave in or my head turn to sand.

When I gained my feet, she frowned up at me. “Sometimes I forget you’re twenty-nine feet tall.” I ignored that and hooked an arm around her shoulders. “How much of your day did I ruin?” “Only most of it,” she said, resting her head against my biceps. “But the kids had a lot of fun and everyone was on their best behavior, so I have no complaints.”

I couldn’t believe I was standing here with her pressed up against no less than twenty percent of my body while I drowned myself in the scent of her hair. This was all I needed. All I’d ever ask. I could survive on this and I could be happy. Or something resembling that.

“Am I allowed to touch you?” “Of course,” she said. “Like you’re my wife?”

So, when I found myself staring into the eyes of the only woman I’d ever loved, I knew it wouldn’t feel like work at all.

A knock sounded. I stared at it and sighed. “I told you not to come up,” I shouted. “And as you can tell, I didn’t listen,” Ryan shouted back. Ines abandoned me to open the door, revealing Ryan in a devastating tuxedo. I’d seen him in skintight football gear and swim trunks, and there was no doubt in my mind that this was better. So much better.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, running a hand over his mouth. “You look⁠—” “Like citrus,” Ines said. “The only thing missing is the lime.” I lifted my skirt just enough to show off my strappy heels encrusted with light green rhinestones. Peridot, Wren had called them. “Nope, I’m fully committed to the bit.” “No scurvy here,” Ines said. “Because of the Vitamin C. From the fruit.”

His gaze shifted to my neck. “I instructed Wren to select jewelry for you.” I fluttered my hand at the base of my throat. “Yeah. She did. But it seemed like too much. The earrings weren’t my style and the necklace looked like something out of a heist movie. I didn’t want you to spend all the money just to have some witty bandits cut the power and yank it off me in the dark.” “Next time,” he said, “tell Wren you’d like to see something different.” “Please.” I waved a hand at my skirt. “The last thing I need is more sparkle. It would’ve been a waste of money.”

“Next time, waste the money,” he said, a few strands of my hair twisted around his finger. “I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.” “You want me to just…buy jewelry.” He nodded as he rubbed my hair between his index finger and thumb. “Yes.” “Does it have to be jewelry?” “Is there something else you want?”

“What about books? I need a new class set of The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. Most of them are more tape than book these days.” “Buy whatever you want. I’ll add you to my Amex account.” A startled laugh burst out of me. “I was kidding about—about the books. I don’t need⁠—” “If you don’t order the books, I will.”

“I’m going to spend a little over sixty million on these teams when the ink is dry,” he said, the words low and husky. “That’s less than what I earn in a year before postseason bonuses, before endorsements.” He released my hair and let his fingers trail down my bare arm to circle my wrist. “Buy all the books you want, wife.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Wildcat. We’re not married yet.” “I’m getting warmed up,” he said. “You know how I am about practice.” “You guys are going to be late,” Ines called. Ignoring her, Ryan leaned in close, saying, “In the future, I’ll take care of the jewelry.”

“Wait, wait just a second,” I said, carefully gathering my skirt. I tried descending the step again, but I felt the same tension in the dress that screamed I’m gonna rip! “What’s wrong?” he asked, staring down the curve of the stairwell. I pulled the skirt up as high as the fabric would allow—which wasn’t much. Still no progress. “I guess I should’ve gotten dressed on the sidewalk.” “Emme,” he sighed. “I don’t know what that means.” I drew in a shallow breath because it was all I could manage with this skirt bunched all the way up to my knees and the bodice slicing into my rib cage. “There’s not enough room in this skirt to make it down the stairs. They’re too steep and the dress is too tight.” “Fuck it,” he growled. “We’ll stay here. We don’t need to go to this thing.” “That is not the answer,” I said at the same moment Ines cried, “But the cape!” “You said this was important,” I continued. “That you needed to be at this event.” “It costs five thousand dollars to attend,” Ines said. “Oh, we’re going,” I said. “I am surgically attached to this dress, my hair’s been blown out, and I have twenty-nine different products on my face. We are going to this party even if I have to parachute out a window.”

“I’ll just change out of the dress now and duck into the hotel lobby bathroom when we get there for a quick switcheroo. Just drop me off at a side door or something.” “I’m firing this fucking stylist,” he said under his breath. He shoved a hand through his hair and sighed in a way that made me long for lung capacity. Fists propped on his hips, he turned around and I could see in his face that he was in quarterback mode. He waved a hand at the cape. “Can you take that off? Until we get downstairs?” “Yeah, but⁠—” “Good. Do that.” To Ines, he said, “You’ll carry that thing and the little bag.” He snatched the clutch away from me and passed it to her before shrugging out of his jacket. “And if you don’t mind, this.” He pressed himself back against the wall, adding, “You’re running ahead. I’m gonna need you to clear the way and open the doors.”

“Here’s what we’re doing.” He gestured to the backs of my knees and under my arms. It looked like he was calling a play. “I’m going to carry you⁠—” “You’re gonna fucking what?” Fully unbothered by my screeching, he continued, “But there are some narrow turns. I need you to keep your head here”—he patted his chest—“and your legs tucked in tight.” “And what about the part where this is the fifth floor and I am not a small woman?” “If I wasn’t worried about nailing your head on the banister or messing up your hair, I’d throw you over my shoulder and run.” He slipped an arm around my waist and the other behind my knees, and scooped me off the stair. “Be a good girl for me and keep your head down.”

“You look like the first day of spring after the coldest, most brutal winter,” he said. “No one is going to be able to take their eyes off you.”

I didn’t know this until Ryan asked Bowen to take the long way to the hotel, but we were arriving late to this party. On purpose. “I see the oppositional defiance still runs strong in you,” I said. He glanced over at me with something like a smile. “I hate red carpets,” he said. “And yet you appear on so many of them.” “Contracts,” he muttered.

“Ninety minutes,” Ryan said to Bowen as we pulled up at the luxury Back Bay hotel. “That’s it?” I asked as Ryan opened my door. He curled an arm around my waist and scooped me out of the car, which was cool because my only other option was flinging myself off the seat and hoping for the best. “That’s more than enough,” he said, dragging his lips over my cheek.

Rather than watching me struggle to climb the handful of steps to the door, Ryan picked me up and deposited me at the entrance like I was a sequined piece of luggage. “You gotta warn me,” I said, wagging my clutch at the steps. “I can’t have you tossing me around like a sack of potatoes.” Ryan tucked my arm into his and led me to the elevator. Two bellhops held the doors open for us and went to the trouble of pressing the button for the correct floor. “You’re a lot prettier than a sack of potatoes. Softer too.” “That’s nice and all,” I said, “but the point is that you can’t pick people up whenever you feel like it.”

“I swear to god, Emme, if you make me sit through a fucking five-course menu with a full roster of speeches in the middle, I-I⁠—”

“Yes?” I fluttered my lashes. “What will you do to me?”

A snarl sounded in his throat as he shook his head once, looping an arm around my waist. I flattened my hands on his chest to keep my balance while he dragged a hand up my back and over my shoulders to rest at the base of my neck. “Fuck it,” he growled. He tipped my head back, and within the space between blinks, he went from staring at me to kissing me. At first it was a slow, firm press but then a quiet, strangled noise vibrated between us and I understood what he’d meant about coming out of a long, cold winter because I felt like the world was new again and I was too.

Another important note: I was kissing my oldest friend and it wasn’t at all what I’d imagined. This was not where I’d expected things to go tonight, but if the options were kissing Ryan or not kissing Ryan, I was good with this situation. I was a floating, flailing mess, but I was good. No one had ever kissed me like this before. Like they were damn certain they wanted to kiss me.

And then, just barely, he eased back. His forehead tipped against mine and his chest heaving, he whispered, “Fine. Dinner. But we’re leaving before dessert.” I bounced on the balls of my feet. “Dessert is the best part!” He closed his eyes like I was causing him real pain. “Emme.” Before I could defend dessert, his lips covered mine again, urgently now, as if this was the last moment to make the play. Flashes went off around us. It was my turn to stutter out the incoherent noises, and Ryan tore himself away from me with a gasp. He brought both hands to my neck, sweeping his thumbs over my cheeks. “I’ll have every dessert in this city delivered to you tonight. I’ll have a pastry chef on call to make you whatever the hell you want. But we’re not staying a minute longer than necessary.”

I could feel the red staining my cheeks when he pulled me in close for a photo or he kissed my temple or he fitted one of those big hands around the curve of my hip and gave it a squeeze like he did that all the time—but with a whole lot less clothes. Every time his fingers traced the ball of my shoulder or followed the line of my dress across my back, more heat pooled low in my belly. Of course I was having naked feelings from some absent-minded petting—and a few kisses for the cameras that’d hit harder than any real kisses I’d ever received. The past few months had been lonely. I hadn’t bounced back from Teddy with any random hookups. Maybe I should’ve because I was damn near climbing out of my skin.

“That’s enough. We’re leaving right fucking now.” “But—” “No.” He led us to the door in long, quick strides that had me struggling to keep up. “We’re done here.” “But dessert,” I whined. We were almost to the elevator when we heard, “Ralston, get your ass back here.” “Motherfuck,” he muttered. He cut a sidelong glance at me. “This will only take a minute.”

“Wanna know why?” “My girl does not need to hear that story,” Ryan said. He curled his thick arm over my shoulder, his palm flat on my chest while his thumb and forefinger bracketed the base of my throat like he could deflect the silly filth of locker room talk. “No, actually, I’d love to hear that,” I said, beckoning to McKerry to hit me with the dirt. I glanced up at Ryan. “I won’t be able to leave here without getting that story. I’m in it now, and so are you.” “I hope you know what you’re asking for,” he said. “I have no idea and that’s the best part.” To McKerry, I rolled my hand, saying, “Lemme have it.” “Here we go,” Bigelow said under his breath, slapping a hand on Hersberler’s chest. “Fuckin’ love this,” Wilcox said, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was ready to get in the game. McKerry said through halting giggles, “My boy here accidentally jerked off with a bottle of self-tanner.” Bigelow and Wilcox dissolved into hysterical, wheezing laughter. Hersberler crossed his arms and glared up at the ceiling. “Fuck you all,” he muttered. “Let’s clarify which part of this was the accident,” I said. “Was it the jerking off or was it the self-tanner? Because I have some questions if it was an accidental jerk-off. Like, how? Just how? I mean, I’m going to have questions either way, but I want to get to the root”—Bigelow clutched his side and barked out a laugh as he crashed into Wilcox so hard they hit the floor—“of the issue here.”

Ryan stroked his thumb up the line of my neck. “Never change, Muggsy.” I wanted to laugh at that, but I was a bit preoccupied with the fact he hadn’t taken his hands off me in the past two hours and my body just couldn’t distinguish fact from fiction.

“I don’t know your name, but I know I love you.” McKerry slapped him away. “Get your fuckin’ hands away from this angel. She’s obviously mine.” “Not even close to yours, McKerry.” Ryan motioned to me, saying, “Boys, meet Emme Ahlborg.” Wilcox frowned as he gained his feet. “As in⁠—” Bigelow shook his head like he hadn’t heard right. “Any relation to the Chicago Ahlborgs?” “Yeah, same,” I said, feeling every muscle in me draw tight. “My dad.”

“As far as you’re concerned, it’s Mrs. Ralston and back the fuck up while you’re at it,” Ryan said, waving him off. Oh. So…we really are practicing tonight.

Ryan and I stood on the end, his chest warm and solid at my back and his hands on my waist. “If we aren’t inside an elevator in the next minute, I’m throwing you over my shoulder and running for the stairs. Just keep your head down. You’ll be fine.” “You don’t want to hang with the team for a bit?” His hands flexed on my waist. “Why? I hang out with them enough. Do you need more dick stories? Because they have them.” “I’ve probably had enough dick for tonight, thanks.”

we stepped into the elevator. Ryan pulled me up against him, my back tucked tight to his chest. I startled when he slung an arm low across my waist. There was no one around to see this. He pointed his phone at the mirrored doors and snapped a few photos. “Pick one,” he said.

“This one,” I said, tapping that smile of his as the doors opened at the lobby. We headed toward the sidewalk where Bowen and the SUV sat waiting for us. “I’m picking you up and putting you in the car,” Ryan said. “Consider this fair warning.” “The rest of my dresses need to have full range of motion,” I said as we reached the hotel doors. “If I can’t kick and squat and lunge, I’m not wearing it.” I rustled the sequined fabric. “Maybe I just need a slit up the thigh. That would’ve made a huge difference.” “Don’t do that to me,” Ryan murmured as he scooped me up and dropped me in the seat before jogging around the car and sliding in on the opposite side. “The North End,” he said to Bowen. “You promised me dessert,” I said. He rubbed his brows. “What do you want?” “Something with chocolate,” I said. “Bowen,” he called. “On it,” the driver replied.

My hand shaking, I reached for Ryan’s forearm and squeezed. His gaze followed my hand and stared at it for a long moment. Then he shuffled closer, his arm coming around my shoulder and my head resting on his chest. “You can choose not to care,” he said, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I know because you taught me how.”

“Want to watch a movie or something?” he asked. “I’m told that’s what you do on Saturday nights.” I bobbed my head. I didn’t take the bait. “Yeah.” The car slowed on a side street and Bowen rolled down the driver’s side window. “Thanks,” he called to a person dressed in a chef’s coat. He set two large paper bags in the front seat and sped off. “What was that?” I asked. “I texted Bowen an hour ago to order everything on the dessert menu and have it ready to pick up,” Ryan said. “I never forget my promises to you.”

“I think I’ll be able to make it up the stairs by myself. It might be slow but I have a little extra wiggle room now. It would help if I opened the zipper too.” “It’s not going to”—he shoved a hand through his hair—“fall off?” “Hardly. I’m strapped into this thing five ways to the weekend.” Another hand through his hair. “I can carry you.” “Oh, I’m aware,” I said. He blew out an impatient breath and knelt down beside me, saying, “Pull up your skirt.” It was my turn to blink at him. “What?” “You’re not taking the stairs in these shoes.” He slipped his hand under my skirt and circled my ankle. His fingers were warm and the touch jolted a small squeak out of me. “Up.”

He motioned for me to turn around, and when I did, he tugged the zipper down to my waist. His knuckles bumped over the hooks of my bra and along the small of my back. I shivered. There was no way he didn’t notice. I’d tried so hard to keep my reactions in check tonight, but now, with all this oxygen rushing to my head and the complete lack of an audience gobbling up our every move, I found I couldn’t hold back anymore. That was the fear at the core of all this. I didn’t trust myself to hold back. I didn’t trust myself to keep my feelings out of the fake marriage. I didn’t believe it could ever be anything but real for me, and thinking about that broke my heart in advance.

I closed the door behind us and motioned for Ryan to follow me to the other end of the apartment. “I need to change into something completely shapeless and soft before my ribs get stuck this way,” I said, heading toward the closet. “My laptop is plugged in over there. Make yourself comfy.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to hang out at my place? I have an eighty-inch TV and the rain never makes its way inside.” I settled on the bed and started unpacking the desserts. “I’m good.” I patted the spot beside me. “You’re not going to be able to see the movie from over there.” He hesitated a moment and then climbed up. He raised his arm as if he was about to wrap it around me but stopped himself, instead saying, “You were incredible tonight. It was everything I needed and more. Thank you.” I felt my cheeks heat. I tapped the screen to start the movie. “Anytime, husband.”