Risking It All Read online

  “You’re taking a cut in your paycheck so I can go with you?” He nodded. “Oh my God, Memphis, you can’t do that!”

  “I already did. All you have to do is say yes.”

  “There’s no way I can accept that! You’ve probably given up a fortune.”

  Memphis scoffed at her exaggeration and shook his head.

  “Consider it a late birthday/early Christmas present,” he told her.

  “I can’t go, Memphis,” she said stubbornly. “I can’t let you blow your fee like that.”

  “Kennedy, I want you to come with me.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “It’s really only a small chunk of change I’m passing up. Please?” he pleaded, pouting and giving her puppy dog eyes.

  “Argh. Don’t do that,” she groaned, covering her eyes with her free hand. She had never been able to resist his puppy dog eyes. She peeked at him through her fingers and sighed. “Can I think about it?”

  “Sure.” He grinned. “But you know you’re going to say yes. We leave in two weeks.”

  Kennedy smirked. Even though she was beyond ecstatic that she was able to go with him if she wanted to, she felt incredibly guilty that he was giving up part of his paycheck in order for it to happen. The fact that he was willing to do it without so much as blinking an eye made the soft spot she had for him in her heart that much softer.

  “So?” he asked once their food had been placed in front of them.

  “So?” Kennedy mimicked as she covered her home fries in ketchup.

  “Do you have a date yet?”

  She smiled coyly and asked, “For what?” before she popped a piece of potato in her mouth.

  He scowled at her.

  “Don’t play dumb with me. When’s your show?”

  Kennedy chewed slowly, trying to remain calm when her insides were jumping with excitement.

  It had been a long, hard road to get to where she was today, professionally. Kennedy had gone to university with the intent of majoring in criminology, just like her father had. Her parents had convinced her it would be a good career choice, even though she had very little interest in the area. She had no desire to be a parole officer or private investigator like her father had been before he retired two years ago. But they were paying for her tuition, and she figured she owed it to them to at least give what they wanted a try.

  Her real passion was art. Drawing, sculpturing, painting . . . she loved everything about it. Being an artist wasn’t a “safe” career; it wasn’t a career at all in their eyes. It was a hobby, one she could continue in her spare time while she studied to have the career they planned for her. Who wanted to be a starving artist when they could be paid to dig into someone’s personal life?

  She did, that’s who. But she bit her tongue and went along with what Hope and David Monroe wished. Until she met Memphis and everything changed.

  He had been the one to convince her to do what she dreamed to do. He made her see art was her life no matter who was paying for her schooling.

  Needless to say, her parents were not at all happy with her decision and threatened to cut her off financially. It was a ploy that in the past would have made her cave, but not now. Not with Memphis by her side believing in her and encouraging her to go after what she wanted.

  In the end, her parents did cut her off, but only for a few months. Her mother started feeling guilty and convinced her father to have a change of heart and finish paying for her schooling.

  Things were still rocky between them, especially during the lean years when it looked like they had been right and she was wasting her time painting and waiting tables. But finally her big break came three years ago when she walked into work one day hauling one of her new paintings. Her boss had taken a liking to her and had told her she could hang one of her pieces in the restaurant to gain interest.

  It just so happened as she was passing by a table with the painting in her hands that it caught the eye of a man eating lunch.

  He stopped her instantly, asking if she was the artist, and introduced himself as Ryder Hennessy, an art collector and owner of Strokes of Passion, a local gallery.

  Kennedy was awestruck when he asked her to bring that piece along with three or four others to his office the next day. After seeing the small collection of paintings, he asked if she would be interested in showing in his gallery. He wanted to sell her paintings for her, get her work out there to his clients, and see what they thought of her.

  Did he really expect her to say no? She jumped at the chance, and the sales of her work had gone better than either of them had expected. Three years later, he was giving Kennedy her very own show. It was going to be a small show to start with, but this opportunity to have only her art on display was huge.

  She had been working countless hours to make the deadline. Ryder had told her almost a year ago to be prepared for this day, but even with all that time it never seemed like enough. She had some paintings in storage that she wanted to use and Ryder agreed, but he wanted new things from her, too. Because he had given her a heads-up a year in advance, he expected at least a dozen new pieces to add to the ones they were pulling out of storage.

  Kennedy thought there was no way in hell she would be able to pull that off.

  But she had. And in just a few days she would have her very own show.

  “Kennedy?” Memphis said, shaking her arm to get her attention.

  “Sorry. What?”

  “I asked about the show date,” he repeated.

  “Oh. It’s next week.” She smiled excitedly at him. “You will be there, right?”

  “Do you even have to ask?”

  No, she didn’t. She knew he would be the first one to walk through the doors on showing night.

  “Are your parents going to be there?” he asked, making Kennedy laugh.

  “Are you kidding? Do you think they’d miss the chance to give me the ‘you’re going to be thirty, it’s about time you got your act together and made something of yourself’ speech?” Kennedy rolled her eyes. “Yes, they’re coming.”

  Memphis narrowed his eyes, and she knew what he was going to ask next. “Is Brooks coming?”

  Kennedy dropped her gaze to her plate. The hesitation was enough to make Memphis shake his head and curse under his breath.

  “He said he wants to be there and he’d try his hardest to be,” she mumbled.

  It still stung that he couldn’t commit himself to be there for her for one night.

  “Fucking asshole,” Memphis said.

  “He’s busy. He has a demanding career,” Kennedy said, trying to defend him for the zillionth time.

  “Hey, I’m the one who globe-trots and I’m still going to be there.”

  Kennedy gave him a small smile.

  “That’s because you’re home right now.”

  “No.” Memphis gave her a stern look. “Even if I had been halfway around the world, I would still make it home for this. I will always come home for you. You come first.”

  As Kennedy watched him flag down their waitress to pay the check, she suddenly felt the annoyance from earlier creep back into her.

  Here was Memphis telling her he would always be there for her and make time no matter where in the world he was, and yet Brooks—her own boyfriend and the man who claimed to love her more than anyone—couldn’t take one shift off to be by her side on the most important night of her life.

  For the first time in two years Kennedy wondered if Brooks was really the man she wanted to be with.

  Chapter 2

  After breakfast, Memphis drove them to the beach. It was practically deserted since it was early November, but there were still a few people walking along the boardwalk with them. He snapped random pictures as they strolled, trying to engage her in conversation, but Kennedy couldn’t shake off the frustration she felt toward Brooks.

  He should want to be there for her, shouldn’t he? She had put on a dress and smiled her way through many charity functions, hospital galas, and d
inner parties throughout the past two years. And the one time she asked him to be there for her, he only said he’d try.

  Kennedy stopped walking and leaned against the railing, overlooking the ocean. She watched the boats, some of them nothing more than small, white dots in the distance.

  Memphis stepped beside her and cocked his hip against the railing, staring down at her.

  After a few moments, he asked, “Are we going to talk about it?”

  “Talk about what?”

  “About whatever just pissed you off.”

  Kennedy sighed and turned to face him.

  “Brooks,” she replied simply.

  Memphis pressed his lips together, but didn’t comment, which she appreciated.

  “I just . . . I want him to want to be there for me, you know?” She shook her head and looked back toward the ocean. “I’ve supported him through everything he’s done, and just once I’d like the same in return.”

  “Have you talked to him about it?” Memphis asked. Kennedy shook her head. “You should. Maybe he doesn’t realize that’s how you feel.”

  Kennedy shot him a surprised look, and he gave her a half-assed smile.

  “I don’t like the guy, Kennedy, but he seems to make you happy and that’s all I care about. So, yes, I’ll support the relationship.”

  Kennedy smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head on his chest.

  “Thank you.”

  Memphis kissed the top of her head. “The second he stops making you happy is the second I get to cut the bullshit pretense that I want it to work out.”

  “You really don’t want it to work out between us?” she asked.

  Memphis exhaled, and she pulled away to look up at him. He ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck as he gave her a strained look.

  “I don’t know, Kennedy,” he finally answered. “I think there’s someone better for you. If he’s who you want then I can live with it.”

  “But you’ll never like it,” she concluded.

  He shook his head.

  “No.” He forced a smile and tapped her under the chin with his finger. “You have to admit I do try—at least I put up with him, right?”

  “Right,” she mumbled in agreement. She glanced back at the beach again and then looked up at him. “Do you remember the day you told me you’d never sleep with me?”

  Memphis raised his eyebrows but smiled.

  “Of course I do. How could I forget the day I found my best friend?”

  Kennedy ran her fingers along the rail, keeping her eyes down as she asked, “Do you ever regret that decision?”

  His laugh startled her.

  “Oh, Kennedy, that’s a loaded question,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the beach.

  “Why?”

  “It just is.”

  She let him lead her back to his bike, and even let him put that old red helmet on her as she stood staring up at him, waiting for him to explain further. Memphis made no attempt to, though. Instead, he straddled the bike and nodded at her to do the same. She did as he silently asked, slipped her arms around his waist, and rested her chin on his shoulder.

  “Do you ever regret it?” she asked again before he started the bike. Kennedy wasn’t sure what possessed her to ask in the first place; it wasn’t something she’d ever thought about until now. And since it was out there, she needed to know.

  He looked at her over his shoulder and then faced forward again.

  “Whether I do or not doesn’t matter,” he answered, almost gruffly. “I wouldn’t change my decision if given the chance because you mean more to me than just sex.”

  The Harley roared to life beneath her before Kennedy had a chance to question him further, and she was left with nothing but the sound of the rumbling engine thundering in her ears.

  As loud as the bike was, it didn’t drown out her own thoughts as much as she wished it could.

  Deep down, buried with the crush she had on him, she wanted Memphis to regret never taking her to bed. She was glad he never actually acted on it, since they probably wouldn’t be as close as they were, but there was a part of her that wanted to know he longed to be with her. She wanted him to find her as desirable as those other women he slept with; she wanted him to see her as more than just his best friend but as a woman as well.

  Her heart dropped to her stomach when she realized he probably saw her as nothing more than a sister after all these years. They knew so much about each other: The good, bad, and ugly; he would probably never be able to see her as a real flesh and blood woman.

  Wasn’t that a good thing? Wasn’t it better for him to not find her sexually attractive? If he did and acted on it, wouldn’t that ruin their almost twelve-year friendship?

  Why did she suddenly want to put their friendship on the line for nothing? Kennedy knew Memphis. She knew he wasn’t the hearts and flowers, until death do us part type of guy. She couldn’t have what she had with Brooks with him.

  If she was being honest with herself, Kennedy knew it was because of Brooks that she wanted to know if Memphis had ever wanted to take their friendship to the next level. Brooks wasn’t there for her like Memphis had been, and if she was wasting her time on a man who wouldn’t be there for her, then why not pick up with the man who already was?

  Kennedy also knew that wouldn’t solve any of her problems, it would just create more. If she broke up with Brooks to see where things went with Memphis, she would end up losing both men in the end. And both would be gone because of her stupidity.

  No. She was foolish asking Memphis if he regretted never sleeping with her. She was glad he didn’t answer the question because, as ego bruising as it would have been to have him say no, it would have been even worse to hear him say yes.

  Memphis was right. She needed to talk to Brooks. She needed to tell him exactly how she felt about him blowing off things that were important to her when she was there for him whenever he needed her. She wasn’t a doormat, and if he wanted their relationship to continue, he had to stop treating her like one.

  Memphis came to a stop in front of her building, and Kennedy slipped off the bike. She removed the helmet, securing it back into its holding place, and shoved her hands in her pockets as she stared at the ground, avoiding Memphis’s eyes.

  “So, uh, I guess I’ll see you later. After being gone for a week I’m sure your harem misses you,” she teased him.

  “Kennedy.” He reached for her hand and stopped her before she could escape. She peeked at him and saw the serious look in his eyes. “Why did you ask if I regret . . . that?” He swallowed, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

  She shrugged, playing it off as nothing.

  “I was just curious.”

  “You’ve never asked me that before.”

  “I’ve never wondered about it before,” she said.

  “Why now?”

  She sighed. “Like you said, Memphis, it doesn’t matter. I was just tripping off Brooks, and what you said at breakfast is true. You’re always there for me, no matter what’s going on in your life, and he’s . . . not. He’s always busy, or away, or just too damn tired to do anything and it’s frustrating.”

  “If you’re not happy, Kennedy, you know what you have to do,” he told her.

  “I am happy. Most of the time,” she added with a small smile. “I know something has to change. He has to change when it comes to this.”

  “Can you get a self-centered asshole to change?” he grumbled.

  Kennedy glared at him for the comment.

  “I am happy, Memphis. This is just a part of our relationship we need to work on. Of course, you would know that if you knew what a real relationship was,” she snapped at him for the remark about Brooks.

  He dropped her hand. “What is a real relationship, Kennedy? Is it what you have? Is it being with someone who makes you feel like you’re invisible? Is it always one-sided, with one person giving everything
they have and the other just showing up whenever it’s convenient for them? Because if that’s your definition of a real relationship, that’s pretty sad. Who would want that?”

  Kennedy stared at him, too surprised to know how to respond. She wanted to defend her relationship, tell him it wasn’t like that at all. She couldn’t. He was right, and they both knew it.

  It was sad.

  “So, Alaska?” Memphis finally said, breaking the awkward silence they had fallen into and giving her a tentative smile. “You’re in, right?”

  “I told you I’d think about it,” she reminded him, already knowing what her answer would be. He knew it, too.

  His grin widened.

  “You’re in.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I need to catch up on some sleep. Call you later.”

  She lifted her hand in a weak wave and watched him speed out of the parking lot before she entered her building.

  Once inside her living room, she kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the couch, curling her legs up to her chest. The silence was almost unbearable, and Kennedy debated going to her studio to get some work done. But she knew it would be a wasted trip since her mind was all over the place and she wouldn’t be able to concentrate enough to paint.

  She could head over to the gallery, but Ryder would convince her to see the space he had set up for her and she was trying to hold off his attempts. She wanted to see the setup for the first time on opening night. She trusted Ryder and his employees one hundred percent and didn’t feel the need to give input on which painting would be placed where. She wanted to be surprised along with her audience.

  Kennedy uncurled her legs and stretched out on the couch, grabbing the remote from the end table as she settled herself on the cushions. She flipped through the channels until she found her favorite soap opera, a guilty pleasure, and got lost in someone else’s relationship woes—even if they were fake.

  The next thing she heard was a key rattling in her door. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat up, looking from the television—which currently showed the latest celebrity reality show—to the door where Brooks was standing holding a bag of takeout.