The Man I Want to Be Page 3

  She’d reread that email a thousand times, dissecting every word for any sliver of meaning. She’d spent months wracking her brain trying to understand what would’ve caused his change of heart. Another woman, PTSD, or the worst of all, he didn’t love Kenna anymore. But the simple fact had been, no matter the reason, he didn’t want her. So she tried to accept that and move on.

  It proved harder than she ever imagined.

  Nearly impossible, in fact.

  She’d dated, tried to open herself up again. But it was a lost cause. She’d only had one heart, and he’d taken it with him and never brought it back.

  “There has to be a reason why,” Sam jumped in indignantly. “I mean, it’s Tyke. He’s a big teddy bear. All mean and crotchety on the outside, but soft and squishy on the inside. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m sure of it.”

  Kenna stood, ready to exit the no-longer-relaxing steam room. “Well, he did. And at this point, I don’t care why. It was so long ago it doesn’t matter.” At least that’s what she’d been telling herself over and over. What did Queen Elsa say? Conceal, don’t feel. That was Kenna’s motto. She could conceal the shit out of her feelings. Her heart might be on the brink of ripping apart, but damn it, she was going to hold it together for the sake of Sammie and Cassandra. This was their week. They deserved happiness.

  Kenna took two steps toward the door but stopped and turned. “And don’t any of you get any slick ideas about asking him why.” She zeroed in on her aunt first. “Especially you.”

  “What?” Estelle lifted her meaty shoulders and palms to the ceiling like she was all innocence.

  “Don’t meddle. He left. That’s it. I don’t care anymore. We’re done.”

  “But what if he—” Sam started.

  “And you.” Kenna spun to point at her childhood friend. “You have a wedding to enjoy. I don’t want you getting down because of me. This is supposed to be a fun week. Stop worrying and start enjoying yourself.”

  She cut off whatever argument was on its way by swinging the door open and stepping into the chilly air-conditioned hallway. Swiping an extra towel from the side cabinet, she dabbed sweat from her face as she walked toward her massage appointment.

  Hopefully her masseuse was well versed in working out mangled heart muscles.

  …

  The week from hell. That’s what this was going to be. Everything Tyke had locked away for the last decade, all the guilt he thought he’d finally come to terms with, was going to be put on display at this damn wedding. He wasn’t ready.

  Maybe if he could apologize to her. Find the right place. The right time. Explain why he never came back. She’d understand. Then he could finally swallow this guilt he’d been carrying around like an extra organ.

  How about twelve years ago? That would’ve been the perfect time to come clean, huh, dickhead?

  Sure, it would’ve. If he hadn’t been so ashamed of himself in the first place.

  Goddamn, she looked good. Too good. Seeing her again filled Tyke with a need to reach out and touch her. Stroke her face. Pull her to him. Feel her against his body.

  Which would be the worst idea, since she hated him. They’d avoid each other this week, she’d said. It was for the best. But Christ was it going to be hard to stay away from her. After all this time, he still wanted her, even if it wasn’t the best thing long term. He still craved to be with her.

  The sun had set hours ago, so the only light came from strategically placed tiki torches and the faint glow of the resort about a hundred yards away. Another one of Sam’s wonderful ideas—they were told to gather on the beach for a luau.

  White tables and chairs filled the area. There was a pig roast, fresh fruits and vegetables, and, of course, his favorite: free drinks. Everyone was either seated at a table—Sam and Cass were nice enough to assign seats—or they stood, mingling with one another.

  Tyke had gone back to the bar four times and still didn’t feel drunk enough to get through this. He’d finally given up on the extra steps from his assigned table to the bar and decided to stay back there.

  He stood in the appetizer line, piling tortilla chips and taco dip onto a plate when a woman’s voice caught his attention. The sound traveled from behind him.

  “I’m telling you, I wore it on the plane here. But I can’t find it.” The rushed, concerned sound in her tone made Tyke pause.

  He glanced over his shoulder at a fifty-something couple seated with their side profiles to him. The wife, wearing a bright-pink sleeveless dress, looked at her husband with a distraught expression.

  The husband, with salt-and-pepper hair styled like a weatherman, polo shirt and tan shorts, placed a reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We’ll search again when we get back to our room, Claire. I’m sure you just overlooked it.”

  “It’s my mother’s watch, Richard. I don’t even know why I took it off. I should’ve left it on when we went to the beach earlier.”

  “We’ll find it,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

  Her eyes went glassy, and she blinked rapidly. “I hope so.”

  Tyke turned back to the food, giving the couple the privacy they needed. Hopefully they found what she was looking for.

  He approached the bar with plate in hand. Dropping a big tip, he asked the bartender to keep the refills coming.

  He must have looked like a lonely, pathetic son of a bitch sipping his beer and eating his chips, because Ash, Luke, and Jason joined him.

  He’d rather look lonely and pathetic over the company of these assholes.

  “So.” Calder reached onto Tyke’s plate and popped a chip into his mouth. “You were engaged, huh?”

  Tyke grunted.

  Ash leaned across and picked up a chip of his own. He scooped a huge helping of taco dip and shoved it into his mouth. Through the mouthful, he said, “You actually put a ring on a woman’s finger.”

  He had. Her late mother’s sapphire ring, to be exact. But he wasn’t going there. He’d be damned if he opened up to Luke and Ash about what happened. What he’d done. How he’d treated Kenna. Instead, Tyke handed the plate to Calder. He preferred beer for dinner anyway. He gulped the ice-cold liquid like it was his last dying breath.

  Wasn’t doing much, though. He was going to need something stronger than beer. Maybe a few dozen shots.

  “So what spooked you about Kenna?” Luke tossed another chip into his mouth, chewed, then swallowed. “Her hot-ass body? Sexy blue eyes? Killer smile?”

  “Yeah,” Ash said, elbowing Luke in the ribs. “I can totally see why you’d run from that one. Total dog.” He shuddered.

  Reese was the only one of the group not to comment, and that’s because his attention was hooked on the other side of the beach, where his cute blonde from earlier was standing. She sipped from a glass filled with pink liquid, occasionally sending coy come-hither looks Reese’s way.

  “Think she’ll show?” Ash asked Luke, shielding a grin behind the top of his beer.

  No need to guess who Ash meant. Kenna wasn’t at the luau. Not that Tyke had been looking for her. Just happened to spot her name on the seating chart, and happened to see the empty seat at table four where she should’ve been.

  Luke set the empty plate on the bar behind them, then propped his elbows on the counter. “No way she’s coming tonight. Did you see how much force she put behind that punch? Pretty impressive for such a petite thing.”

  She did put a lot of force into hitting him. Which was unexpected. He knew she’d be mad if she ever saw him again. Hell, he was mad. He’d be pissed for the rest of his life because of what he’d done to her. To them. But Kenna? He hadn’t expected just how mad she’d be after so many years. He’d hoped eventually she’d get over him. Move on. Find some other dope to marry and have a litter of babies. It’s why he hadn’t gone back to her. She deserved better than what he could give her.

  But she hadn’t moved on. Not if her anger level was any indication. It boggled his mind that she’d held on to it for
so long.

  And it raised his temperature. Her ire had always been his downfall. That woman had a temper like a great white on steroids, and the ferocity she used to unleash between the sheets had been something he’d never found since.

  She was one of kind and had fit him to a T.

  Too bad he didn’t fit her.

  With his cock stirring in his shorts, he bit back a groan and glanced down at the perspiring bottle in his hand. He was definitely going to need something stronger.

  Tyke spun to the bar, flagging down the bartender as his two friends continued to debate whether Kenna would come to the scheduled dinner. It was better if she didn’t. Then they wouldn’t have to keep up pretenses or make the effort to avoid each other. Plus, Tyke didn’t have to worry about staring at her all night, watching the way her hips swayed and her ass clenched as she tried to get as far away from him as possible.

  Shots. He definitely needed shots.

  The bartender came over and glanced down at Tyke’s beer. “Another, sir?”

  He shook his head. “Stronger. Give me something stronger.”

  A look of understanding passed between them. “Yes, sir.” He reached behind the bar, pulling out a bottle Tyke recognized all too well. It was the same liquor he’d drank during the time in his life he shall not mention again. Tyke knew firsthand how effective it was at dulling all manner of pain.

  An arm slapped across his shoulders. “Hitting the good stuff already, I see.” Luke’s grinning face dropped into his view. “Damn, this chick has you all screwed in the head.”

  Tyke tried to shrug him off, but Luke was unperturbed. “Don’t you have a fiancée to please?”

  “Every single night,” Calder said. “Sometimes twice.”

  Tyke gave him a sidelong look. “That wasn’t an opening for you to wave your tiny dick around. It was a hint for you to leave me the hell alone.”

  “Oh, come on, Big Bear,” Ash said on his other side. “What’s the fun in that?”

  Tyke twisted to look over his shoulder, anticipating Reese’s attack any second. But the guy was already on the other side of the sand, chatting it up with the blonde. At least somebody was going to have fun this week.

  By the time Tyke came back around, the bartender had poured his shot. He’d also poured one for Ash and one for Luke.

  The pinheads lifted their short glasses in the air, waiting.

  “A toast? Really?” Tyke asked, but reached for his glass. “What exactly are we celebrating? You two idiots going home in chains?”

  Neither man took the bait. Both smiled in a secret way that made Tyke’s stomach churn. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Once Tyke lifted his glass to match the height of theirs, Ash spoke, “May all of our ups and downs be under the covers.”

  “Nice,” Luke said, grinning. “How about: may the girls with itty bitties, let you pet their kitties.”

  Tyke snorted.

  “What?” Luke asked.

  “So fucking stupid,” Tyke said. “That’s the same broke-ass toast you’ve been using since the dawn of time.”

  A line formed between Luke’s eyes. “It’s funny.”

  “Maybe the first time you used it. It’s lost its juice after the millionth time.”

  “Think you can do better?” Luke said. “Let’s hear it.”

  “All right, fine. Uh…” Tyke thought for a second. “To the brave overseas. To the girls on their knees. May neither give up, ’til the job is complete.”

  “Here, here!” Ash and Luke said.

  They were about to drink, but Ash stopped them. “I’ve got one more.” He passed a meaningful look to Luke, then Bryan.

  Shit. The touchy-feely stuff. Marriage was making pussies out of his best friends.

  “From here on out,” Ash started, “may the worst of our past never impact the best of our future.”

  Tyke swallowed whatever had suddenly lodged in his throat. He gave these guys a lot of crap, but he loved them like brothers and would always have their backs.

  “Salud.”

  They slammed their glasses onto the bar and then lifted them to their mouths to down the liquid in one take. It burned like a bitch, but it was also soothing in a way that only alcohol could be. It eased Tyke’s tension and took the edge off…finally.

  “Excuse me,” a voice said through a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen.”

  Casual chatter of those sitting at tables quieted.

  Sam and Cass stood on a small stage in matching white dresses, bright pink flowers in their hair, with mics in hand.

  “I think that’s our cue,” Ash murmured. He turned to Tyke. “Try to have fun tonight.”

  Tyke pushed the empty shot glass forward for the bartender to refill. “What do you think the liquor’s for?”

  Ash hitched a thumb in the direction of the tables, and Luke nodded. They both made their way toward their respective brides.

  From the stage, the group clamored on, thanking the crowd for coming to the resort to celebrate their weddings and happiness. Blah, blah, blah. When they were done welcoming everyone, they invited their guests to eat dinner. The resort staff called groups by table to stand in line at the buffet.

  Bryan faced the bar, leaning over his forearm. He lifted the small glass of refilled amber liquid, twisting it in his hand, watching how the flames from the tiki torches made the contents glow.

  Apologize to her. Just man up and do it. Like a Band-Aid, rip the fucker off and endure the sting afterward. It’s not like you don’t deserve the pain.

  Yeah, sure. Just come right out and tell her how worthless you are. That no matter how bad you want to, you can’t change. You were too much of a pussy back then to tell her the truth, and you’re still too much of a pussy to do it now.

  Because you know if you finally tell her, then you’re really done. Finished. She won’t want your sorry ass anymore.

  Which, of course, had been the point. He wrote that email and didn’t come back for that very reason. He’d wanted her to move on. Wanted her to forget him. It was easier that way. Then he could convince himself they’d never been good together. That like other young loves, their relationship had run its course.

  Complete bullshit, since their relationship hadn’t been on the same spectrum as other “young love.” It was so much more.

  Tyke slammed the full shot down on the bar and scrubbed his face with both hands.

  Maybe he’d luck out, and she wouldn’t show tonight. She could’ve already caught the ferry and been back on the mainland. Though he knew that was wishful thinking. Kenna wouldn’t leave her friend and great-aunt.

  In the far depths of his mind, he realized he probably looked like a dick, hanging out by the bar all night.

  Ah, fuck it. Time to be social.

  He took a step, but a flash of red made him stop.

  It was coming toward him in a rush.

  Kenna.

  Damn it. His lower stomach clenched, making that shot on top of beers feel like a really stupid idea.

  With single-minded efficiency, she bypassed the people in line waiting to eat.

  Her motion was stiff as she made her way across the sand in her bright blue-and-green thigh-length dress and bare feet. Her hair had been pulled half up, letting the rest of her mane flow down her back. It was longer than she used to keep it, now resting past her shoulders. On the shorter side in terms of height, she had curves in all the right places without looking stocky. He’d say the major difference was that she looked more mature. Confident. Her eyes more defined, cheekbones seemed higher, and lips a lot fuller. Or maybe it was the pink gloss she had on. How had he not noticed earlier that her lips were that pouty?

  She hadn’t seen him yet, which was good because as soon as she did, her determined expression would turn cold. So he enjoyed looking at her a minute longer.

  Seeing her now, all his memories flooded back. It was sweet, blessed torture. He longed to be able to put his hands on those full hips and drive he
r toward him. To bury himself inside her until neither one of them could utter a single word except, now.

  His cock started to come alive again, and he reminded himself that boners were off-limits this week. If the Red Devil saw it, she’d cut it off.

  Goddamn, why did she have to be here?

  Chapter Three

  Kenna cut across the sand, ignoring the searing pain in her quads and calves. First thing next week, she was calling her trainer.

  But for now, she needed a drink. Otherwise, she was going to cause a very big scene in the middle of this lovely dinner.

  Someone had stolen her mother’s sapphire ring. Right out of Kenna’s hotel room. She was pretty sure she’d seen the bastard. And now she was going to calm her frazzled, pissed-off nerves, then turn the entire resort upside down looking for him.

  Kenna was about three steps from the bar when she spotted Bryan. Talk about frazzled nerves. Her pulse amplified to a million beats per second. Her palms grew sweaty.

  Shit. She didn’t need this right now. She needed to calm down. But she couldn’t do that with him standing there looking all tempting in his black V-neck T-shirt that flaunted broad, defined shoulders and khaki shorts that showed off muscular calves. Even those damn untied combat boots didn’t bother her as much as she wanted them to. Actually, she thought his ensemble was cute—in a barbaric, caveman sort of way.

  Damn him.

  Catching his stare, she gathered her thoughts and heaved some fortifying breaths before landing at his side.

  “Why aren’t you at your assigned table?” she barked at him.

  “Nice to see you, too.” He sipped from a brown bottle. His eyes were glassy and unfocused as his gaze raked over her from head to toe. When his eyes met hers, they flickered with something akin to desire. Which she must have imagined because they didn’t want each other anymore. He’d made that perfectly clear.

  His gaze grew hotter, and he licked his lips, causing a current of electricity to wash over her.

  He’d always known how to look at her just right to make her head spin.