In a Rush (Friendship, Rhode Island #2)

by Kate Canterbary

A long breath gusted out of him as he settled back against the pillows. “The less I know about your bras, Em, the better off I will be.”

As the movie played, I watched as Ryan drifted off to sleep, his hands clasped over his stomach and his jaw relaxed for the first time all night. It wasn’t long before he shifted toward me, his arm around my waist and his face pressed up against my side. This—this was true. It was real but only when no one was looking. We didn’t want the same things and I knew that. I knew it but my silly little imagination ran away with itself tonight just as I’d feared it would.

I knew it was morning and I had to get my ass to the gym but I didn’t want to open my eyes. Not yet. All I needed was five more minutes of feeling…not awful. My shoulder didn’t ache, my hip wasn’t shooting daggers down my leg, my joints weren’t made of rust. For once, nothing hurt enough to get me moving. I just wanted to exist in this bliss a couple minutes longer. Then, I’d take care of the hard⁠— Fuck. It was then that I realized the pressure on my cock was real. It wasn’t the remnants of a dream. It was happening right now and it was from Emme’s ass in my lap—and the only things separating us were a blanket, her sweats, and my trousers.

I stared at her, still asleep beside me with her dark hair in braids and my hand tucked under her sweatshirt, resting loosely on her belly. My cock gave a painful throb and I had to swallow a loud groan. It took everything in me to keep from jackknifing up and out of the bed. No one needed that kind of reaction. Uncalled for. And those antics would only draw attention to the fact we’d slept together—rather we’d slept apart while in the same bed—and I’d had an obvious physical reaction to that.

Slowly, I shifted to my back and shoved myself into a mental ice bath. Not that it helped much. Not now that I knew how perfect her backside felt against my cock. After touching her like she belonged to me for hours. After kissing her. Yeah, fuck, that one had changed things.

I didn’t remember because all I’d done was stare at her mouth and think about how I’d made a huge fucking mistake by telling myself I could play this game with her.

Emme shifted under the blankets and I knew she was awake. She took a few minutes to stretch and yawn before rolling over to face me. “You were out so quick,” she said around another yawn. “Do you remember seeing any of the movie?” I shook my head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to crash here like that.” She brushed some loose hairs off her face. “It was better this way. I didn’t have to share any of the desserts with you.” “You should’ve woken me up,” I said. “Sent me home.” “I didn’t mind,” she said,

“Have you seen my phone?” She kicked off the blankets and headed toward the door. “Over there. I plugged it in.”

My notifications were more chaotic than usual and it took me a minute of blinking at the screen to figure out why everyone needed to talk to me right away. “Fuck,” I groaned. The elevator pic. I wanted to punch myself in the face for throwing Emme to the internet wolves but it seemed I was alone with that sentiment. Jakobi was pleased with the response and Stella was too, though her team had worked through the night getting rid of the more unhinged comments.

“What’s up?” she asked, tipping her chin toward my phone. “Well, two things,” I said with a wince. “First, the entire world saw my post last night. You might want to turn off your phone for the day.” She jolted when she saw all the notifications waiting for her. “I guess it’s a really good thing all of my social accounts were already private.” “It’s the only way,” I said, taking the phone from her. It wouldn’t help to look too closely. “And, um, Ruthie wants to hang out. If you’re up for brunch.” “Always up for brunch and I’d love to see Ruthie,” she said, wandering into her closet. “Where are we going? I’ll get ready and meet you there.” “I’ll wait for you,” I called. She poked her head out but that didn’t hide the fact she’d lost the sweatpants. The sweatshirt just covered the curve of her ass. The one I’d become all too acquainted with this morning. “You can get away with a lot but I don’t think last night’s tux is the look you want this morning.” “We’ll stop at my place,” I said, turning to look out the window so I didn’t have to talk myself out of another erection this morning. “Seems like it would be easier to meet you there,” she said.

“Ruthie likes to play the cynic,” I said. “Oh, so this is a test.” Emme nodded as she loosened her braids. “Gotcha.” She stopped midway through one braid. “She’s doubting me?” I shrugged. “It seems that way.” “This kid isn’t going to know what hit her,” she said. “She’s going to walk out stuffed with waffles and the knowledge that I’m actually your soul mate.” I gulped. “That’s the spirit.” But then she frowned and jabbed at the air between us. “Wait. So, you actually want your family to believe this is real?”

But I was thinking we could spare everyone and just keep this ruse going for the next fifty, sixty years.

It wasn’t strictly necessary to twist the ends of her hair around my fingers but when Emme made a show of dropping a hand to my thigh, everything became necessary.

She raised her fingertips to my jaw and drew me closer. I arched a brow in question and she gave a quick dip of her chin. This woman, fuck. She could read my moves from a mile away. I closed the narrow gap between us and kissed her while my sister loudly slurped up the rest of her drink. The backs of Emme’s fingers traveled over the line of my jaw and I’d swear to god the whole restaurant went silent. Her touch, light and lazy as though it was an afterthought, had heat pooling in my chest, my arms. I didn’t think I’d ever be cold again.

“I think my sister feels neglected.” “Probably.” She nodded in a way that had her lips brushing mine and it took everything in the world to keep from hauling her into my lap and just fucking keeping her there. “We should’ve stayed in bed.” I had to close my eyes because if I looked at her, if I looked at those pert, pouty lips for another minute, I’d find myself hard and miserable in public with my sister watching. Since none of that could occur, I cleared my throat and blinked down at the menu. “What are you in the mood for, Muggsy?” She gave my thigh a light slap. “Behave yourself.” “Well, shit. Okay. I was wrong. I get it. This is real as fuck and you love each other in sick, serious ways.” My sister rolled her eyes. “I’m sold and I’m expecting a plus-one to the wedding. But I am drowning in the pheromones here. We are in a busy restaurant on a Sunday morning and you two are a hiccup away from making a baby in front of me.

“The jalapeño grits sound good,” Ruthie said, sounding bored. “The crab cake benedict too.” “No. Get something else,” I said, shifting to stare across the table at my sister. “Em’s allergic to shellfish.” “Oh—I’m sorry,” Ruthie said, dropping the hardened cynic stare for once. “I totally forgot about that.” “No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine as long as we keep the crab on one side of the table,” Emme said. “At a minimum, you’ll start coughing.” I leaned around Emme to grab her purse off the bench. “Actually, where’s your EpiPen? I want to know where to find it if I need it.” When I unzipped the little bag, she pointed to the injector nestled between her phone and wallet. “See? Easy peasy. Nothing to worry about.”

it was that he had thought. He’d remembered Edward Tulane and he’d remembered the plants on my desk. I felt…special. I had a hard time trusting that emotion because it had a terrible way of proving itself to be an illusion but he’d remembered the books, the plants, all of it. He’d remembered me.

it lulled me into believing these gestures had nothing to do with our fake relationship. It made me wonder if this was fake at all.

The only thing better than the sudden shift for the positive in my classroom was the promise of spending the weekend with Ryan. We were going to the Kentucky Derby, and though that wouldn’t have been otherwise high on my interest list, I felt like I was in a different universe when I was with him.

But then he closed the distance between us, wrapped one arm around my waist and brushed his free hand through my hair, saying, “I like it.” It took me a minute of blinking at him while he studied the black cherry strands tucked over my ear to figure out what he meant. “Oh! Yeah? Really? I wasn’t sure⁠—” “Yes,” he growled. I stared up at him as my belly flipped over. Heat spilled over my shoulders and down my spine. I could feel the warmth flooding my face. “I thought about changing it back.” “Don’t,” he said, skimming his fingers through my hair, over my cheeks. “Don’t change it. Unless you’re not happy. But I think it’s gorgeous.” My face was definitely red now.

After the pilot announced we’d be landing in twenty minutes, Ryan slid off his seat to kneel in front of me. I started to join him because what the hell did I know? Maybe this was what you did on private planes. But Ryan settled his hands above my knees and held me in place. A slight smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he said, “Stay there. Let me do this.” “Do what?” He laughed and blew out a breath. Then, “This probably isn’t what you had in mind for yourself and I am sorry for that but believe me when I say there is no one else in the world I’d rather marry. I just hope there’s some part of you that wants to marry me.” He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and thumbed it open to reveal a diamond large enough to seat a family of four. “Ohmygod,” I gasped.

He adjusted it on my finger. The weight of the stone had it lolling to the side. “But if you decide you want something different, it’s no problem.” “It’s enormous,” I said. He lifted a shoulder. “Were you expecting something less?”

“As long as it’s convincing, that’s all that matters. Right?” “What matters to me is that you like it,” he said. “I chose this. For you. I saw this one, kind of round but also square, and it made me think of you.” “Because I am both round and square?” I teased as I motioned between my hips and breasts. “Because you’re many things at once,” he said with a laugh. I pointed at him. “Smooth.”

“Is that a yes?” “You have to ask?” He dragged his lower lip between his teeth as he met my gaze. “I wanted to give you another chance to back out.” I dropped down to the floor and pulled him into a hug. “Nah. I’m a sure thing.” He shook his head against my shoulder. “Not even close.”

When we arrived at our hotel, the famous Galt House on the Ohio River, we didn’t do anything as mainstream as checking in. We were met at the door by someone whose entire job was to wait for us to show up, hand us our room keys, and escort us to the elevator.

My thumb twisted the band on my ring finger as I wandered down the hall and glanced into the first bedroom. The bed was the size of a city block. I expected the next to be the same, but when I opened the door I found only a closet stocked with extra blankets and pillows. Convinced that I’d missed something, I opened every door in the suite and made two passes through the living and dining rooms. Ryan arched a brow in question but said nothing, his phone pressed to his ear. I hurried back to the first bedroom—the only bedroom—with Ryan trailing behind me,

This wasn’t a problem. It really was a big bed. His entire offensive line could snuggle up in here. Hersberler would end up on the floor but that had more to do with his personality than the fit. “What’s up?” Ryan asked, his arms crossed over his chest. My gaze snagged on his thick forearms and the lines inked there. It took some effort to drag my attention away because my fiancé—regardless of whether I was supposed to notice this or not—was devastatingly hot. “This is the only room.” “It’s a two-bedroom suite,” he said. “I’ve checked every cupboard, cabinet, and closet. I assure you it’s not.”

As it turned out, his father had been dying. Slowly but also quickly, in sudden, devastating bursts that upended his family. By that time, the first floor of their home had a hospital bed, oxygen tanks and compressors, and a constant stream of nurses and health aides. The ALS took him the summer before our last year of high school.

“Let them know I’m not pleased.” It appeared he really didn’t want to share this bed with me. Such an efficient way to chase off my sunbeams and heart stampedes.

“I think you’re overreacting.” “But—” He slashed a hand toward the bed. “What about it?” I asked. “You didn’t have a problem staying at my place a few weeks ago and this bed is twice the size. We could get a third person in here if you wanted an adventure. Is McKerry in town this weekend? Or Wilcox? I bet one of them would be down.” The phone fell from his hand, clattered to the floor. The veins in his neck appeared to bulge and that seemed like something to be concerned about. Medically, perhaps. “You want to run that by me again?” “I’m just saying we have plenty of room and you don’t need to be weird about it.” “By suggesting we invite McKerry to—to what, exactly?” “It was a joke. I know you’re familiar with the concept.”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he said. I wasn’t sure how he was able to speak through that clenched jaw but he was known for doing impossible things. “If you’d listen to me, you’d hear me saying that I’m not uncomfortable.” “I’ll sleep on the couch.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t fit on the couch.” “Then the floor.” “Oh my god, would you stop it? I’ll take the couch before you take the floor.” “I’m not letting you do that.” “You don’t decide what I do.” I flattened my palms to his chest and gave him a shove. Of course, he barely moved. “Get out of here so I can get dressed.”

If I thought Ryan had kept me close before, he basically shoved me in his pocket now. If I was being naked-in-a-nightmare honest with myself, I didn’t hate it. I actually kind of liked it.

I beamed up at Ryan every time he introduced me as his fiancée, every time he said, “My fiancée is the best second-grade teacher in the world,” every time he stopped a server to say, “My fiancée would like another mint julep.” I curled into him, a hand always on his back, his shoulders, his chest. I’d let my palm slide down to his abs, but he was quick to grab my wrist and show off that new ring. “When’s the big day?” asked a woman wearing a necklace that looked like my ring multiplied by forty.

“Soon, we hope.” He glanced at me with a slight smile. “Probably before training camp.” “That soon?” I asked with a laugh. Camp started in late July. His gaze dropped to my lips. “If you’ll have me.”

He trailed a finger down the length of one earring. “Do you like them?” I arched a brow but I didn’t think he noticed because he was still staring at the gems. “I think you know I do.” Humming in agreement, he gave a slight nod. “They look good on you.” He brought his hand to my jaw, swept his thumb over my cheek. “Can I kiss you?” I tipped my chin up. If only he knew how long I’d waited for him to ask. “Always.” And when he touched his lips to mine, I pretended—just for now—that all of this was real.

He held my hand as we shuffled to the elevator and swept me close once we were inside. “Still ordering the whole room service menu?” he mumbled into my hair. “No,” I said, letting my head rest on his chest. “I’m not bothering with anything sensible. Just give me a bucket of fries.” I heard him rustling in his pocket and then the snap of a camera’s shutter. Another pic for the socials. He held it up for my approval. I gave a tired nod. “Will you share the fries?” The elevator came to a stop. Neither of us moved. “If you give me all the burnt and ugly fries.” “I always save those for you,” he said. I bobbed my head. “Okay, then.”

“There’s also chocolate-covered strawberries,” he said. “You shall bring them to me now.” I stepped out of my dress and groaned in relief once I had the strapless bra unhooked. I wanted to fling it straight into the sun but I only had myself to blame. I’d chosen the X-strap dress knowing full well that my bust required a level of support that could only come from a perilous combination of steel and spandex. If I wanted to fight gravity, I’d have to accept some reorganization of my ribs. I turned to get a look at my back in the bathroom mirror before pulling on a sweatshirt. Deep, red grooves in my skin glared back at me. One spot on my side looked particularly miserable. It would be gone in the morning, and if it wasn’t, I always had diaper cream on me. That stuff fixed everything. “There’s also chocolate-dipped orange segments, which I wasn’t sure about but I tried one and I’m—oh, Jesus, fuck, Em, I’m sorry.” I glanced away from the mirror to find Ryan in the bedroom, his back to me with a silver platter in one hand while he shoved the other through his hair. And I was wearing only undies and a hoodie clutched to my chest. “It’s all good,” I drawled as if we walked in on each other mostly naked all the time. He let out a tight laugh but he didn’t leave. “For fuck’s sake, Em.”

“What happened?” he asked. “To your back.” “Oh,” I said, reaching for the sleep shorts I should’ve put on five minutes ago. “It’s from my bra.” I stared at the hand still tugging at his hair. His knuckles were white. “I’m dressed now. Sorry about that. I should’ve closed the doors.” “You should’ve had your own room,” he grumbled. “We’ll just have to blame the Derby for that.”

“I’ll take the sofa.” “You will not,” I said. “Don’t invent bad solutions to things that aren’t problems. We’ll find something to watch, eat fries and chocolate-covered fruit, and build a great wall of pil...

“I don’t have any virtue so there’s nothing to protect.” I babbled when I was overtired, overstimulated, and underfed, so I went on. “I’m the opposite of virtue. Whatever virtue is these days, I’m not it. I mean, I packed two different vibrators just for this two-night stay and⁠—” “You gotta stop saying these things to me.” “—it’s not like I can’t get by on my own but sometimes you just don’t want to get in there and do the work.” He gripped the back of his neck. “We don’t have to talk about this.” “But you have to keep the happy hormones flowing. Grow that serotonin at home with an orgasm a day. That’s what they say.” The words kept coming but my brain had no involvement. No brakes for this runaway truck. “Not that I have any plan on doing that. On using them. Like, here. Because—well, you know. Just the one bed. And I already checked the box this morning so I’m good. I’m great.”

“Get a hold of yourself,” I said, smacking him on the back. “You’re the one who wanted to marry me. You’re legally required to put up with my weirdness now.” He wrapped an arm around my thighs, still bent at the waist, still shaking with laughter. He rested his head above my knee. “There was just so much of it at once.” “I suggest you get used to it.” I smoothed a hand down his back. “It will only get weirder.” “I’m sorry I walked in on you like that,” he said. I shrugged. “I’m sorry I left the doors open.” I felt him blow out a breath. “Your bucket of fries will be here any minute now.” “Consider yourself absolved of all crimes,”

“I’ll let you change. I hear it’s helpful to close the doors while doing that.” Ryan flipped open his cuffs, then the buttons on his shirt. “From the same people who recommend an orgasm a day?” I blinked as he shrugged out of his shirt. And there he was, muscle and ink and tanned skin. I cleared my throat. “Surprisingly, no. Different schools of thought.”

His hand dropped to his belt and something clicked in my head. I had to get out of here right now unless I wanted… Unless. “Think about which movie you want to watch tonight,” I said, crossing to the door. “We never finished The Mummy,” he said. I didn’t stop, didn’t spare a backward glance when I heard his belt hit the floor. “Gonna stay awake this time, husband?” “Bet on it, wife.” And once again, Ryan was asleep within the first ten minutes of the movie.

When I knew he was deep asleep and holding me like he’d never, ever let go, I traced the lines with the tip of my finger. Just like last time, he didn’t stir.

Derby Day was at once the best and worst day of my life. Best: I woke up wrapped around Emme again. Worst: I was so hard that when I pried myself away from her and out of the bed, I had to grab onto a chair because I was dizzy. Best: I knew she preferred to start each day with an orgasm. Worst: I wasn’t involved in any part of that and thinking about it had me on edge, every muscle in my body drawn painfully tight. Best: I talked to just about everyone on the long, long list of people Jakobi and I prioritized for this trip, and Emme was charming them into pleasant submission. I’d sign up for all this glad-handing and backslapping and boozing bullshit every day of the year if I could do it with her. Worst: There were multiple occasions when I should’ve been following a conversation but was instead staring at Emme like I couldn’t decide if I was dreaming or awake. She had this ability to ask people questions about themselves and make it sound like she truly cared—an ability I did not share—and it made everyone eat out of her palm while she did it. Including me.

“What the fuck just happened here?” “You just got me one very big step closer to sealing my franchise deal,” I said. “Which means we’re leaving right the fuck now.”

“Open your mouth.” I stared up at Emme and the hands she held poised over my face. “Where did you learn this again?” “Just do it,” she said, her fingers wiggling. “You’ll feel so much better.” Little did she know, lying on a massive bed with my head in her lap while we shared a bottle of wine already had me feeling pretty great. “Remind me what it is you think you’re fixing.” “Your jaw,” she cried. “All the clenching and grinding. You’re giving yourself headaches.” “Not that I’ve noticed.” She gave me a flat stare. “Probably because it’s turned into one long, constant headache and you’ve just accepted the pain as part of your everyday life.”

“Open,” she said, digging a bent finger into my cheek. I gave up the fight. I didn’t care if she’d learned this from some snake oil science video she found on social media. I didn’t want her to stop. “And close,” she said, slowly dragging that finger down the ridge of my jaw. A sound grunted out of me as the motion unspooled some ancient store of pressure. “What the hell was that?” She brought two fingers to either side of my jaw, slipping through my scruff and working up to my ear and then back down. “Just me being right once again.” “Hmm. Should’ve known.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” I glanced up at her as she went to work on my temples. “If there was any other way⁠—” “I knew what I was getting into when we started playing fake fiancé,” she said. “You forget I’m very familiar with that old money crowd and all their weirdness.” “I’m still sorry about it. Especially the slobber he left on your hand.” “Why soccer?” she asked. “Did someone say fútbol so you went along with it and you didn’t realize the mistake until it was too late?” “Funny.” I watched as she grinned, amused with herself. She was so damn cute. “You know why.” She gave a shake of her head that said she wasn’t playing ball tonight. “If I knew, I wouldn’t ask.”

“Because I actually like soccer.” “Mmm. That would help.” “What? No, I told you so?” Another obstinate head shake. “Nope.” But then, because she’d never been able to walk away from this topic without getting the last word in, she added, “But it’s good you’re excited about life after football.” “I am,” I said, willing her to meet my eyes. She didn’t. “It’s good you’re finally doing something because it’s what you want,” she said. “I finally can.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. I felt her soft sigh on my forehead. “You can tell me you had to go to Arizona and you had to enter the draft all you want but I know what’s true and what you’ve let everyone else believe is true.” I closed my eyes as her knuckles pressed the hinge of my jaw. “That’s not fair, Em. I had to take care of my family.” “What’s not fair is how every game you’ve ever played has been about your dad first and you a distant second,” she said. “The only reason you played in college is because everyone told you how proud he would’ve been, how all he’d ever wanted was to see you make it to that level, how much it would mean to him. Not a single person stopped to ask if you wanted that. They just told you how much your dad would’ve loved cheering for a Big 12 team.”