Playing for Kinley (Cruz Brothers Book 1) (13 page)

I could hardly believe what I was seeing.

“Hi, Parker,” she said softly, drawing my eyes back up to her face.

She was biting her lip and fidgeting, clearly nervous. That was the Kinley I knew, always jittery around me, rarely looking me in the eye. I never really understood why, though.

“Hey, Kinley. You look…” What was I supposed to say? She was Clay’s sister, practically a sister to me. I couldn’t tell her that she looked gorgeous, way more beautiful than most of the girls in our senior class. “You look…really nice.”

Her shoulders sagged a little but she smiled at me. That’s when I noticed them for the first time. Those lips.
When the hell did her lips get so full? How had I never noticed them before?
They weren’t quite Angelina Jolie lips but they were probably as damn close as you could get.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Um…” I didn’t know what else to say, so I bent down to pick up the bag of chips. “I was just getting more soda.” Wow, I sounded like an idiot.

She nodded and looked away, her face looking flushed. “You okay?” I asked her.

Her head snapped back in my direction, giving me a perfect view of those bright green eyes. “Yeah. I’m just…nervous, I guess.”

I got a weird feeling in my belly at hearing that. I wasn’t sure what that was all about, nor could I explain my motivation for what I did next.

I walked forward until I stood right in front of her. She looked up at me, my six foot three frame towering over hers. “You don’t need to be nervous,” I told her. “You look really pretty. Everyone else will think so, too.”

Those full lips curved into a heart-stopping smile, the biggest I’d ever seen on her.

Damn. She was
beautiful
.

Where the hell was this coming from?

I didn’t think Kinley was beautiful. She was Clay’s sister!  Plus, she was fourteen. Way too young for a senior.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice sending a strange jolt through my body that I couldn’t explain. It was a sensation I had never experienced before.

Before I had any more time to think about it, we were interrupted by Diane coming down the stairs. “Kinley! You ready, honey? I want some pictures.”

Kinley stepped back and I moved to head back to the guys in the living room. Sam and Diane took turns taking pictures with Kinley by the stairs, in full view of the living room.

And I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

“We’re going to go drop Kinley off at school. We’ll be right back,” Sam told us. “You boys okay here?”

“Yeah, we’re fine, Dad,” Clay answered.

Like most teenage big brothers, he didn’t acknowledge Kinley before she left. His parents had managed to get him in for one picture with his sister, but then he went back to the video games.

I acknowledged her, though.

I watched her walk through that door and smiled when she looked back at me—eyes shooting right to mine—before the door closed behind her.

What the hell just happened?

“Holy shit, dude. Your sister’s hot.”

My head snapped sideways to glare at our varsity first baseman. He looked at me with hands out, palms up. “What? She is.”

“Yeah, man,” our other friend sitting beside Clay added. “Did you see her? And those legs? Daaaamn.”

My jaw clenched and I felt my hands turn to fists. Why was this pissing me off so much?

“Hey, you pricks,” Clay snapped, finally taking his attention away from the game. “Could you maybe not talk about my little sister like that? She’s in eighth grade for shit’s sake.”

“Didn’t look like it.”

Rage was starting to build within me and I could feel my blood boiling. This reaction didn’t make any sense. I had always been protective of Kinley, sure. She was like my little sister and I tended to watch over her like any older brother would.

But the sense of protectiveness I was now feeling felt like it was fueled by possessiveness more than anything else, making me want to beat the shit out of these two assholes for daring to talk about Kinley like that. Like I suddenly thought of her as mine and I didn’t like any other guy looking.

Shit, some of it felt like actual jealousy.

Why would I be jealous? Feeling like this about Kinley was just wrong. I had grown up with her. And I was eighteen. She was practically still a child. It wasn’t right. None of what I was feeling was right.

But I couldn’t seem to turn it off.

Or stop picturing her in that green dress. Or the way she’d smiled at me when I told her she looked pretty.

“Yeah, I don’t think what she had underneath that dress looked like any fourteen-year-old—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I gritted out at our soon-to-be ex-friend.

I was going to kill him.

Or, at least drive my fist into his face. Hard.

He must have seen the fury in my eyes because he put his hands up and said, “Alright. My bad.”

We went back to our video games. I did my best to concentrate and push whatever happened earlier to the back of my mind.

But I couldn’t.

Somehow I just knew that I would never be able to look at Kinley the same way again.

And I hadn’t. From that night on, I hadn’t thought of her as a little sister again.

As soon as I stepped out of the shower, I grabbed my phone. Clearly, my goal of distracting myself hadn’t had the desired effect I was going for.

I opened a new text and sent the message before I gave myself a chance to think about it.

Parker:
Hey. You going to Clay’s birthday party?

Kinley replied three minutes and twenty-seven seconds later. How did I know? I was pathetically watching the clock on the wall, that’s how.

Kinley:
Yeah. Planned on it. You going?

Hot damn
, she’d be there. My mood perked up tremendously when I saw that.

Parker:
Yep. I’ll be there.

It was over a full minute before she replied again.

Kinley:
Okay. I guess I’ll see you there.

Parker:
Yep. See you there.

And then, hoping I’d make her smile, I added:

Parker:
Don’t get him a toy lightsaber. I already got that.

Instead, her response made me feel as giddy as a damn teenager with his first crush.

Kinley:
I got Batman pajamas, so we’re good.

It was no surprise that I dreamt about green dresses and Batman that night.

Kinley

Norah:
I swear, if you don’t bang him tonight, I’m going to go off and do something stupid and it will be all your fault!!!

I rolled my eyes at the text she sent me as I was getting ready for Clay’s birthday dinner party. Always being dramatic.

Kinley:
You really don’t need me as an excuse to do something stupid.

I set my phone on the bathroom counter and groaned aloud in frustration when my curling iron was not curling my hair the way I intended it to. I could have actually used Norah’s help; I never had to twist her arm to do my hair and makeup when we went out. She loved it and I loved to sit there and do nothing while she did all the hard work.

Norah:
I think I should be insulted by that.

Kinley:
Not if it’s the truth.

I let out an extremely unladylike snort at her reply.

Norah:
Oh, it’s definitely the truth. But seriously, though. You have to bang him, K. I’m talking a grand slam, rounding those bases, and screaming as fireworks go off when he finally scores.

Kinley:
You really have to stop using baseball metaphors.

That was all she’d been doing since the night she found out about me and Parker.

Norah:
No way. They’re the best kind. If you won’t bang him, I’d be happy to pinch hit for you. ;-)

I didn’t like the dark emotions that clouded my brain at those words. It was ridiculous how jealous I got when I thought of him with any other woman. I had no claim on him so he could do whatever he wanted.

But I really didn’t want to have to kill my friend.

Although I did know about a million places in the middle of nowhere to hide a dead body…

Kinley:
Don’t make me unfriend you.

Norah:
Told you that you still love him.

I sighed, feeling a tension headache coming on and I hadn’t even seen Parker yet, which was the primary source of all my anxiety tonight.

Kinley:
Bite me.

Norah:
Bang him.

Kinley:
Who the hell says “bang” anymore anyway?

Norah:
Those of us who actually get banged. Regularly.

She made a fair point. I hadn’t been
banged
in a good long while and the withdrawal sucked.

Kinley:
I’m ignoring you. Starting now.

Norah:
Love you, too.

Norah:
BANG. HIM.

I may have to permanently block her.

Despite what she said and no matter how she said it, I was
not
going to sleep with Parker tonight. That would only end disastrously and there was really no point in pushing our relationship any farther down Complicated Road.

I mean, I had no doubt that sex with Parker would be great. Amazing. I had known that since I was seventeen when he’d first kissed me. A man who could do things like that with his mouth was sure to be talented all the way around.

But even the phenomenal pleasure that was guaranteed to accompany a night with Parker Cruz wasn’t worth getting my heart broken again.

That didn’t stop me from wanting to look good for him tonight. It was stupid but my spiteful side liked showing him what he had been missing all these years. Twenty minutes later, I had finally gotten my hair to cooperate enough to where it fell around my shoulders in the loose, romantic waves I wanted. My eyes were smoky, the diamond studs in my ears sparkled, and my lips were a deep plum to match the color of my dress.

I had done that deliberately.

Parker always used to say he could never resist my lips.

And this lipstick color had been a not-so-subconscious decision.

I wasn’t going to let anything happen between us. But if torturing him with my lips helped pay back even the tiniest bit of torture that I’d had to endure because of him all these years, I was going to do it.

I’d take any chance I could get.

Satisfied that my look would do the trick, I turned the curling iron off, packed a few items into my clutch, and headed downstairs, out the door, and to my car, shrugging into my coat as I locked the house door.

My parents had already went to the banquet to help set up, so I had been the only one at their house. I would have gone with them, but my flight got delayed, putting me behind schedule. When I finally landed in D.C., Mom just told me to go get ready and then meet us at the banquet hall; they had everything covered for Clay’s party.

I knew this wasn’t going to be a normal birthday get-together with Clay’s closest family and friends. No, he was Mayor of D.C. now, which meant that this party was going to be more of a publicity event, not that he could help matters. It was like that every year with every mayor. It was just a big excuse to gather supporters and constituents to socially mingle while casually discussing business.

It was going to be a fancy evening with fancy food and fancy people. The only alcohol there was most likely going to be champagne, and I had a feeling that I was going to want something much stronger than that.

Especially when it came to Parker and my overactive hormones.
Those little bitches.

The things I did for my brother.

The air tonight was surprisingly warmer than I expected and I found that I probably could have opted for a lighter coat instead of my heavy-duty wool peacoat. Too late now, though, because I was already halfway to the banquet hall in my rental car.

Hating the silence in the small space, I flipped through a few stations on the radio until I heard the beginning of Michael Bublé’s “Haven’t Met You Yet” and stopped. I loved this song, but while I drove through D.C. traffic, the lyrics began to take on a whole new meaning for me.

The first two lines of the song were eerily relatable to my own situation, “
I’m not surprised; Not everything lasts
…
Talk myself in; Talk myself out; I get all worked up; Then I let myself down
.” The more I listened to the words, the more I began to really contemplate my situation with Parker.

Michael Bublé may not have met
the
person yet…but had I?

Had Parker been that somebody for me all along and I’d just been too bitter and stubborn over the years to see it? He hadn’t exactly declared his love for me, but he was sure putting more effort into our relationship lately than he had for the past few years. He said he wanted to be friends, but was that where he wanted to start? Did he want to eventually become more than that again?

“I might have to wait; I'll never give up; I guess it's half timing; And the other half's luck.”

Was this whole “let’s be friends again” thing with Parker him not giving up? He had ignored me for so long, so I had to wonder what brought on this new attitude of his all of a sudden. Did it have to do with timing? Sure, I’d been young during our summer together. I hadn’t been out in the real world yet, hadn’t dated many guys up to that point and was completely inexperienced in the sex department.

But I had known my feelings for Parker were strong back then. It wasn’t just puppy love. I knew that now for sure because I hadn’t come anywhere close to developing those kind of feelings for anyone else but him.

Wherever you are; Whenever it's right; You come out of nowhere and into my life.

So, did that mean that Parker hadn’t been ready back then but he was now? What if we were meant to be together but we had to wait for the right time? And what if that right time was now?

Oh, God.
So many questions.

I guess the biggest one of all was whether or not I was ready to go down that road with him again. Could I trust him not to hurt me again? I hadn’t protected myself last time. I’d been young and naïve and I’d laid everything on the line for him, my heart included. And I got burned bad for it. How would I handle it this time?

I tried telling myself that wasn’t what this was. We were rebuilding our friendship and nothing more. Deep down, though, I knew that I still had to prepare myself for the onslaught of feelings that were sure to assault me if Parker and I were to re-establish communication between each other. I would have to guard every emotion I had toward him and block out all the too-intimate ones.

Blocking out my feelings for Parker was such a regular thing for me, I had practically turned it into an art form.

When I arrived at the banquet hall with those stupid lyrics still ringing in my ears, a valet helped me out of my car and handed over my ticket. I checked my coat at the front and then took off to search for my family, grabbing a glass of champagne along the way, no doubt the first of many.

Guests were starting to arrive and I felt bad that I hadn’t gotten here sooner. I spotted my parents, Gwen, and Clay—along with two women and another man I didn’t know—gathered near what looked to be the head table where Clay would sit and I headed over to them.

“Kinley, you made it!” Gwen said, greeting me with her usual dazzling smile and a hug.

“Yeah, finally,” I said on a long exhale. It had been a long day. I turned to Clay. “Sorry I’m late. Flight got delayed twice.”

Clay wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a half hug. “Don’t worry about it. I told you that you didn’t need to come anyway.”

“And miss my big brother turning thirty-three? I don’t think so. I couldn’t miss the cake and ice cream and circus performers that Gwen said were going to be here.” I smiled at Clay and added, “And the
clowns
.”

He shot a panicked look over at Gwen. A short laugh burst from her before she swallowed it, covering her mouth before telling him, “She’s kidding, Clay.”

He looked back down at me and glared. I just smiled. “You’ll pay for that one.”

“Good luck,” I responded, sipping out of my flute. “I got over my fear of clowns when I was six so you’ll have to try something else.”

He looked up at the ceiling and clicked his tongue in thought. “I seem to remember a particular doll that gave you nightmares until you were…what, thirteen?” The flute paused at my mouth, my last sip lodging in my throat and almost choking me. He smirked. “I bet I could find a place that sells Chucky dolls. Power of the internet. You wouldn’t want one of those to suddenly pop up in the backseat of your car, now would you?”

Damn evil brothers.

“Okay, fine. You win.” He smiled triumphantly, knowing he had me. “Just no Chucky.”

“No clowns.”

I nodded. “Deal.” I gave him a little shove. “Happy birthday.”

He smiled and shoved me back. “Thanks.”

Gwen had been in a conversation with the man and two women standing next to her. Clay and I turned back to the group, allowing Gwen to introduce me.

“Kinley, these are my friends Beatrice and Felicity Paxton. Ladies, this is—”

“Oh, of course we know who this is,” Beatrice interrupted and shook my hand. “Gwen’s told us a lot about you. We’re excited to finally meet you.”

I smiled and shook the brunette’s hand, slightly intimidated by her fierce beauty and the fact that she towered over me in her heels by a good five or six inches, despite my own shoes. Plus, her personality was kind of in-your-face, especially with that southern accent, but endearing at the same time.

She turned, smiling with stars in her eyes, to the man standing next to her. “This is my boyfriend, Zane Price.”

I extended my hand to him, a little stunned at how fantastic looking he also was. They would make gorgeous babies together. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” he replied.

Damn.
That British accent was something else.

Well done, Beatrice. Well done.

“At first, we couldn’t believe it when we found out that you were Clay’s sister,” Felicity spoke up. I must have had a puzzled look on my face because she clarified, “We’ve featured your work at many of our sites. Bea and I own an interior design business together, and your work has always been very popular with our clients.”

That warmed my heart. “That’s wonderful to hear. It’s nice to know that my work isn’t just in magazines and galleries but actually in people’s homes, too.”

Felicity laughed. “Oh, it definitely is. We actually even have one of your photos hanging in our dining room.
Daydream Road
?”

I immediately knew exactly which photo she was talking about and absolutely loved that they had it in their home. “That’s one of my favorites,” I told her. “It was down in New Orleans. It wasn’t even at my site location; I just happened to stumble upon that area. Some of the best pictures I’ve ever taken, though.”

The humidity that day had been unreal too, I remembered. But when I’d seen that dirt road, surrounded on either side by dozens of trees, their limbs hanging over the road, Spanish moss dangling from them, I’d forgotten about the humidity and got lost in a daydream. Hence the name. It was like the setting for a suspense novel, but it also had an ironic romantic feeling to it. It was like a spell had entranced me, capturing me and holding me prisoner in another world. The South had so many of those vibes to it, which was one of the reasons I loved the region so much.