Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

GABBY

“Mother . . . fucker . . .” I say as I roll to my side and sit up, letting my legs dangle off the edge of the bed. I stare down at my inner thighs, which are now an ugly shade of black and blue. It looks like I tried to fuck a cannon and failed.

Slowly, I get out of bed and waddle over to my bathroom, where I brush my teeth, pee, wash my face, and fix my hair by pulling it up into a high messy bun. I tug a few strands to frame my face, then call it a day, not even bothering with a coat of mascara. Bower’s coming today, and she couldn’t care less about my appearance.

Not wanting to change just yet, I keep Ryland’s shirt on—the same shirt I shamelessly went to bed smelling—and move to my kitchen at a snail’s pace to make some coffee. Just then, there’s a knock on the door.

Is Bower here already?

“Coming,” I call out. “Very slowly but coming.”

“Gabby, it’s me,” Ryland says. “I have a key so I can let myself in.”

“Please do,” I say as I lean against the kitchen counter.

He unlocks and opens the door wide, only to pick up two cups of coffee and a bag from the ground. When his eyes meet mine, he must see my pain because he quickly rushes over, depositing the bag and drinks on the table. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Umm, I want to say yes so you don’t have this need to take care of me, but in reality . . . ouch.”

He lightly chuckles. “Okay, let me help you get to the couch.”

And just like yesterday, he effortlessly scoops me up and carries me to the couch, where he sets me down.

“Let me see—holy shit!” he says, his eyes going wide when he takes a look at my thighs. “Fuck, Gabby.” He kneels in front of me. “That looks terrible.”

“Feels just as terrible,” I say as I lean against one of my throw pillows. “And I don’t say that so you feel obligated to help me. It’s the freaking truth.”

“Let me grab that gel. I can put some more on.”

“I can put it on, Ryland,” I say as he finds it on the coffee table.

“It’s fine. I got it.” He uncaps the medicine, and I stop him by placing my hand on his chest.

His eyes lift to mine as I say, “You touch my inner thighs and turn me on this morning without relief, and we’re going to have a problem, especially when you smell so freaking good.”

The lightest smirk appears at the corner of his lips. “I smell good?”

I nod, my mouth watering at the sight of him. “Really good.”

“Okay, yeah. You’re right.”

“Thank you,” I say as I apply the gel myself. “While I do this, why don’t you bring me that coffee over here that I assume is for me?”

“It is,” he says as he moves toward the kitchen. I catch him wetting a rag, probably for my hand, and then he grabs the bag and the coffee.

When he returns to the living room, he sits on the coffee table next to me and helps me wipe my hand free of the gel.

“Here.” He gives me a cup of coffee. “There’s milk and sugar. I’m not sure what you liked, but I took a guess.”

“This works great, thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t think you’d be getting around easily this morning, so I wanted to help.”

“You know, for someone who was pissed to see me a couple of weeks ago, you’re actually very nice.”

“You have to break through the tough exterior to get to the nice.” He smirks.

“Are you saying I broke down your barriers?”

He takes a sip of his coffee and looks me in the eyes. “The first squeeze of your wet pussy over my cock broke down my walls.”

My cheeks go red, and I can’t hold back the smile. “That’s not a very friends with no benefits thing to say.”

“Hey, you said we should joke about it.”

“Was that a joke? Because to me, your giant cock is nothing to laugh about.”

His lips twitch as he blows out a breath. “Okay, change of subject.”

I chuckle, then nod at the bag next to him. “Please tell me there’s something to eat in there.”

“There is.” He sets his coffee down and picks up the bag. He pulls out a muffin and says, “These are from the bakery here in town, and they’re amazing. Aubree is feral for them.”

“They smell delicious.” I take a large whiff. Apple, maple, and cinnamon all filter through my senses, making my stomach gurgle. If Ryland wasn’t currently present, I’d bury my head into this muffin, but I maintain control and break off a piece instead. When the flavors, warmth, and fluffiness hit my mouth, I know this won’t be the last time I eat one of these.

“I can see why Aubree’s feral over them.”

He chuckles. “I actually got some for her too because she’s coming over today.”

“She is? What do you have planned?”

He breaks off a piece of his muffin and tosses it in his mouth. “The family is coming over to help me with my house. I have to finish unpacking and get it all set up. I think Mac wants some normalcy, and boxes everywhere is not normalcy.” He pauses, and if I didn’t know him better, I’d say he was embarrassed. But I see remorse in his expression.

“What is it?”

“She asked me whether I had forgotten her mom. Cassidy.” He looks so forlorn that I know forgetting his sister will always be an impossibility.

“You wouldn’t, Ryland. Even I know that,” I say, hoping he hears the sincerity and honesty in my voice. He smiles one of his reticent smiles.

“Yeah, of course, I won’t. But Mac asked if I’d forgotten her because we hadn’t put any pictures of her on the walls. Fuck, I felt awful when she asked that.”

“Hence your sisters coming to help.”

“Hence the sisters coming to help. It will be good to get things set up and make it look more like her home. More normal. Homey.”

“I know that feeling, which is why I spent a good amount of time making sure I was comfortable in this apartment. If I wasn’t in a bad spot with my legs, I’d offer to help.”

He waves me off. “It’s fine. We got it handled.”

I tilt my head to the side. “If I wasn’t hurt, would you have let me help?”

“Probably not,” he answers.

“Why not?”

“Because my family would be annoying. You saw what happened the other night with Abel and Hayes. Imagine that times ten with my sisters involved.”

“Do they meddle?”

“They didn’t used to,” he says. “But ever since they found loving relationships, they think I need the same thing.”

“You don’t think you do?” I ask, surprised.

He shakes his head. “Not for me.”

Huh.

Interesting.

I mean, not that I’m looking for anything from him, but it’s good to know where he stands. Maybe that’s why he’s been so hot and cold.

“So you don’t ever see yourself in a relationship . . . getting married, nothing like that?”

“No,” he answers matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t be a good partner. I know that for certain. And I need to give my attention to Mac and make sure she’s taken care of.”

“And who takes care of you?” I ask.

“Myself,” he says. “Like you, I don’t need someone taking care of me. I’ve done it all my life.”

“I can understand that,” I say even though it hurts me because I know how lonely it is to take care of yourself and everyone else around you. “I never considered I’d ever be in a relationship either.”

“You haven’t?” he asks, seeming surprised by that.

“Nope. I’ve been so set on ensuring Bennett gets what he needs that I haven’t thought about it before.” Not to mention the abuse I suffered through from my one and only boyfriend. “But I guess if I found someone who changed my mind, I’d consider it. Until then, I’m good just fucking.”

His brow rises. “Just fucking, huh? You going to continue to scratch that itch?”

I smirk. “I don’t know, maybe. Would you be irritated if I brought another man back here?”

“No,” he says with a tense jaw.

I chuckle. “You are such a liar.”

“You’re not mine, so I can’t tell you what to do, and...we’re friends without benefits.”

“Yeah, but if we weren’t, you’d be the one fucking me, right?”

His eyes match mine with a steely, hungry gaze. “I’d make sure you woke up every morning still feeling me between your legs.”

I wet my lips and look away. “Good thing we’re just friends then. I’m not sure I could handle feeling you between my legs every morning. I might become addicted, and as we both just established, you don’t do relationships.”

“Right,” he says as if I’m using his logic against him.

“So it’s a good thing this is all just hypothetical, and we’re just two friends enjoying muffins. Although I kind of wish you were enjoying my muffin . . .”

“Christ,” he says while standing, making me laugh.

“Sit back down.”

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Too dangerous.”

“Remember, we can joke about it.”

“Not when I’m already feeling horny as shit.”

“How on earth are you horny after last night?”

“Because,” he says, looking me in the eyes, “it’s you.”

And with that, he heads toward the kitchen, making me feel all kinds of giddy.

“When is your friend getting here?” he asks.

“This morning,” I say.

“Then I can assume I can leave you now, and you’ll be okay?”

I find him near the door, looking desperate to leave.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thank you for breakfast and the help.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. “You have my number. Call or text if you need anything.”

“I will.” I wink at him, and he sighs with a shake of his head before leaving the apartment.

I rest my head back and stare up at the ceiling. That man keeps confirming what I already knew about him. He’s so...steadfast, wholesome, and good. He’s a provider. Mac and his sisters are so lucky to have him in their corner.

And of course, he has a dirty mouth that I’d love to experience every day.

He’d become an addiction, so it’s wise we stay just friends. But I’m starting to see that if there were a man I’d want in my corner, to love every day, to go through life’s ups and downs, Ryland Rowley would be a strong contender.

If only things were different . . .

“I don’t understand why I’m here,” Bower says from the couch. “He has a big penis, incredible hands, and a body to die for. He’s protective, sweet, and loves baseball. Why isn’t he over here, on top of you at the moment?”

Can you tell that I filled Bower in on all things Ryland?

She barely even made it through the apartment before I made her sit, and I went over everything with her—from last night to this morning and everything in between. There is a bit of a stunned look in her eyes, and she slowly started to form an opinion . . . hence where we are now.

“Because, I told you, we’re friends with no benefits.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Sounds like the worst movie title. A good way to take a positively erect penis and deflate it with one poke. Terrible conclusion of a wild few weeks. And if this were a romance, in a romance book, I’d chastise the author for even thinking she could fool the readers into believing that friends without benefits is a real thing. If you want to fuck, just fuck!”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s not that easy, Bower. If it was just him and me, and we were neighbors? Sure, I’d tell him to come over, kick you out, and let him do whatever he wants to me, but there are complications.”

“You said his penis was perfect. That’s the only complication I can think of.”

How can I keep forgetting how unhelpful Bower is?

“We have to work together, coach together, he has his niece, and from what he told me today, he has no desire to ever be in a relationship . . . ever. Like it’s not in the cards for him.”

“He said that to you?” she asks.

“Yes. To my face. Not happening for him. Not that I want to be in a relationship with the man. I’m still on the fence about any sort of romance in my life, but I don’t want there to be a moment when I possibly want more, and he’s not open to that. I don’t think I could handle the rejection, so I think we just have to keep it how it is as friends without benefits.”

She crosses her arms and leans back on the couch. “That’s stupid. He sounds like a great candidate to sweep you off your feet and carry you into the sunset.”

I study my friend for a moment. “What have you been doing recently?”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

I wiggle my finger at her, motioning up and down her body. “You’re different. More romantic. More . . . more into this whole love thing. What have you been doing since I’ve been gone?”

Chin held high, she says, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been dabbling in some reading lately, and I’ve just grown to appreciate the possibility of finding one’s soulmate. We all deserve love in our life, even the ones who want to push it away.”

“When have you ever read books?”

“Ugh,” Bower complains. “You sound like my mother. If you must know, I was scrolling through social media, and there was a girl doing her makeup and talking about how she met a man on the side of the street and how he asked her to pretend to be his fiancée and baby mama. I was so invested in her story that when she announced it was a book at the end, I was fooled. But of course, I had to find out what book because a spin-off of Pretty Woman really got my gobbler gobbling.”

“Ew, don’t say gobbler gobbling.”

“Anywho, found the book, read it in a day, and it’s been a downhill spiral into romancelandia from there.” She leans forward, placing her hand on my shin. “And do you know what I’ve learned?” She holds up three fingers. “Three things. One, love is for everyone, and we can find it, need it, explore it, and savor it in different ways. Two, books can make you laugh and cry at the same time. And three, there is such a thing as a bloody hand job.”

She leans back, almost as if she’s metaphorically dropping a mic.

I should have never left her.

“Uh, what is a bloody hand job?”

“I’m glad you asked,” she says. “You see, they slice the palm of the person giving the hand job, and then they use the blood as the lubricant. The guy gets off on not only seeing the blood all over his penis, but also . . . obvious friction.”

I blink a few times.

“Umm . . . Bower?—”

“Before you start judging.” She holds up her hand. “I was semi into it. Also, romance is a judgment-free zone. If you float to the kinky side of things, then who are we to judge how people get their jollies? Let the people do their bloody hand jobs without feeling criticized.”

“You know, I think we’re getting a little off topic.”

“Possibly, but God, I had to talk to someone about it. I’m glad I got it off my chest. Also, I was sort of into it. Would I ever do it? Absolutely not. I’m a weenie when I get a papercut, let alone getting my hand sliced. But that’s what’s great about romance. You can live through the fantasy of it all.”

“True.” I’m unsure of how we got to this point in the conversation. Unsure of where to go, I say, “Are there things you’ve read that you want to try?”

“Absolutely. And I think that’s also one of the reasons I’m a solid no on the friends-with-no-benefits thing because you have no idea the kinds of activities you could be doing with that man. He seems like an A+ alpha, and when you have one of those in your life, you take advantage.”

“He is very alpha, isn’t he?”

“From the sound of it, yeah. And it’s such a sad thing that you don’t get to take advantage of it.”

“I know,” I sigh heavily. “But I think putting up that boundary is smart. The last thing I need is to lust after the man when I’m hitting groundballs to a bunch of high school boys.”

“I don’t know, maybe they’d cheer you on?”

“Once again, this isn’t some romantic comedy. This is real life, and those boys would not cheer us on. They’d probably judge the female coach for lusting after the head coach right away. You know what, Bower?” I look her in the eyes.

“What?” she asks.

“This is all of your fault.”

“My fault.” She points at her chest. “How is this my fault?”

“Because if it wasn’t for you encouraging me to have a one-night stand with Ryland, I never would have known how amazing in bed he is or how delicious his kisses are, how . . . how undeniably . . . full he makes me feel.”

She cracks a smile. “You know what? I’m not going to apologize. If anything, I’d like to find a time machine and go back in time where I’d encourage you to stay a few more days and spend more time with him.”

“That is not helpful.”

“Pretty sure your vagina would thank me.”

I chuckle. “See, this is what I need, you here all the time. Can’t you move already?”

“I’m not moving unless I see what this town has to offer.”

“Sure, why don’t I just take you around, show you the town,” I say sarcastically.

“You know, humping a foul pole has really ruined this weekend.”

“I was not humping it,” I say. “I was sliding down it.”

“You should have slid down Mr. Hunky?—”

Knock. Knock.

We both still, then look toward the door.

Whispering, I say, “Oh God, that must be him.” A large smile spreads across Bower’s face. “Don’t embarrass me. I swear I’ll never be your friend again.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t embarrass you,” she says. I don’t believe a word.

She pushes off the couch and heads to the door, where she opens it.

“Hey, you must be Gabby’s friend,” I hear Ryland say. I glance over my shoulder to find him standing in the doorway wearing black athletic shorts and a gray T-shirt. He’s wearing a baseball hat and didn’t shave this morning, so he’s looking all kinds of hot.

“Dear God.” Bower presses her hand to her chest. She then turns to me and says, “This is the man you’re going to practice friends with no benefits with?” She shakes her head in disappointment. “I honestly don’t think we can talk anymore. You’ve clearly lost your mind.”

And here I told her not to embarrass me.

“Bower,” I say through my clenched teeth.

She rolls her eyes and then turns back to Ryland. “I’ve been told not to embarrass her, so here is my attempt. Hi, I’m Bower, I’m Gabby’s friend and I think you are both fools for playing this game of not pressing privates together.”

Ryland lightly chuckles. “Well, Bower, it’s nice to meet you and I appreciate your honesty.”

“If anything, I’ll tell you how I see it.” She pauses and studies him for a moment. “You realize you’re incredibly attractive, right?”

“Bower, can you not harass him?”

“I’m not harassing him. I’m pointing out the obvious. I think it’s a compliment.”

“He doesn’t like compliments,” I say.

“Oh, if that’s the case.” She looks him up and down some more. “I think your shorts should be shorter, as those are too long. Man thigh is in now, millennial.”

“Oh my God,” I say as I start to get off the couch, but Ryland is in the apartment and walking over to me before I can even attempt to get up.

“Don’t fucking move,” he says, holding his hand out. “She’s fine.”

“She’s offensive,” I whisper.

“Not anything worse than what my sisters would say.”

“Oh my God, look at you two.” Bower holds her hands together. “Adorable.”

I roll my eyes and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I came over because well, Hayes is grilling and told me to come up here and ask if you wanted to join us for lunch.”

“Oh that’s?—”

“We’d love to,” Bower says. “We were just saying how we’re starving. Now, we don’t want to come empty-handed.” She taps her chin and then gestures to my legs. “Can we offer you a bruise or two?”

Ryland gives off that playful smirk that he’s so good at. “We’ll take the bruises.”

“Great, I can also offer you dessert. What’s between the bruises.”

“Oh my God, Bower!” I shout this time, making Ryland laugh harder.

“That kind of dessert shouldn’t be shared around the table.” He winks. “I personally like that to myself.”

“Oh dear heavens.” Bower places her hand on her chest and rocks into the wall. “Straight from a novel. You, my guy, are straight from a novel.”

“What?” Ryland asks.

“Ignore her. We’ll come down.”

“I can come get you when you’re ready . . . unless you want to keep wearing that shirt.”

“I don’t . . . I mean, I do, I like it, but I don’t want to wear it down there because you know what’s under . . . uh, never mind. I’ll change and walk downstairs myself. There will be no carrying of me.”

“Gabby.”

“I’m serious, Ryland. I will not have you carrying me around in front of your family. I can manage. Okay?”

I can see that it’s painful for him to acquiesce, but he does. “Okay. Food will be ready in about ten minutes. No need to rush.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be down there in time,” Bower says. “Oh, but before you leave, maybe you can rub some more of that arnica gel on her. I’d do it, but I’m just not into arnica, you know?”

“What does that even mean?” I ask.

“Some people like the arnica, some people don’t. Count me in the dislike column.”

I turn to Ryland and say, “I can rub it on myself.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” I shoo him away. “Now go.”

“Is that how you treat our host?” Bower asks. “Thank you, Ryland, for the invite. I’ll be sure to bring the bruises . . . and if you’re up for the dessert, you just let me know, I can shimmy and waddle her into any position.”

“Bower . . . one more word and you’re going home.”

“Can you believe this girl?” she asks Ryland while motioning to me with her thumb. “And she wants me to move here.”

“Not anymore.”

Ryland chuckles. “Okay, see you down there. My offer still stands if you need help.”

“Thank you,” I say, and then he’s out the door and down the stairs.

I turn to my friend and point a scary finger at her. “Unless you want me to tell everyone down there that you once farted in your trainer’s face at the gym and made him dry heave, then you better be on your best behavior.”

Her expression flattens. “I told you that in confidence.”

“And it will remain in confidence unless you act like you just did . . . down there.”