Prevail (Triumph Book 3) Page 4

  Still, that doesn’t mean I’m not relieved that it’s over.

  I am so grateful for Riley’s presence in my life. Without her, I would still be stuck in the same spot I was months ago, the same spot I’ve been floundering in for years. She’s forcing me to grow. Forcing me to face things and move on.

  Shit, she’s even making me realize I need to be thankful for the things and people I have in my life. People like Riley.

  Wanting to find some way to repay her for all of her hard work, for all of her dedication I form a plan. As she was walking me out just now, she told me she had a late night at the office catching up on paperwork. A quick glance at my watch tells me I have just enough time to run down the street to the little diner and pick up dinner before they close.

  On my walk, I let my thoughts drift back to the girl that has ruled most of my thoughts for the last several weeks. Riley is unlike anyone I’ve ever met. She’s sweet, compassionate, innocent, fun. Even as a professional she’s different—she doesn’t care about what the rules say, or the textbooks tell her to do, she’s never cold and clinical. She never treats me like I’m just a client, like I’m expendable—and even more importantly she’s never treated me like I’m damaged. Too many people over the years have treated me like I’m garbage, worthless, like I have no chance in hell at changing, but not Riley.

  She sees something in me no one else ever has. She sees something in me I still can’t even see in myself.

  That’s the problem though, isn’t it?

  I am nearly desperate for her to see me as more than a client. More than a man that needs her help. I want her to see me as just a man. A man that she might be interested in. A man worth spending time with. A man worth a shot.

  I know I’m not good enough for her, but that isn’t going to stop me from going after her. I’ve never wanted someone the way I want her.

  I want her to know the real me. I want to know everything about her.

  I want to touch her and feel her. I want to make her purr with pleasure.

  I want to make her smile and laugh. I want to make her feel beautiful.

  I want Riley and nothing is going to stop me from getting to her.

  Not even the girl herself can stop me.

  ***

  Raising my fist, I steel my nerves and knock on her office door twice. After a few seconds of me wondering if she’s still there, she finally calls out to me distractedly, “Who is it?”

  “It’s Rico,” I answer confidently, even though for the first time in my life I feel nervous as hell. I’ve never had so much at stake before. I’ve never actually had feelings invested in a girl I was pursuing. Shit’s nerve-wracking as hell.

  I hear her chair slide back on the plastic that sits beneath it, I hear her turn the volume on the radio down, and papers being shuffled. She flings the door open with a worried look on her face. “Rico? What is it? Are you okay?”

  It still shocks me every time she shows concern and worry for me. It’s not something I’m used to. Jared and Ang are the only people in this entire world that have ever actually cared what becomes of me, and even they don’t care as deeply as this girl does. And, even more shocking is the genuine depth of the concern she holds for me.

  Shaking my head, I clear my mind of all self-deprecating thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Winning Riley over.

  Lifting my hand I showcase the brown paper bag with the diner’s logo stamped on its side. I grin a little mischievously when her big hazel eyes go wide, and emotions somewhere between shock, confusion, and gratitude fall over her pretty face. It’s obvious from the size of the bag I’ve brought more food than for just her.

  Sure, I could have done the gentlemanly thing and just brought her dinner. But, where would the fun in that be?

  I need to be in her face. I need to show her there’s more to me than the fuck up she sees during our sessions each week.

  Stepping into her space, I back her into her office a step or two. “I know you said you were going to be here late, so I brought dinner.” I give her the smile, hoping above hope she won’t be able to turn it down, and knowing even if she tries I’m not taking no for an answer. Not anymore.

  Her lips tick like she wants to smile but then she clears her throat and looks at the floor. Stopping the excuse before she can even form it I push past her, crossing the office and setting the food down on her desk. Turning around I lean back against it and cross my arms over my chest. Quirking an eyebrow, I wait patiently until she turns to look at me, her hand still holding the door open.

  “Have you eaten dinner?” She simply shakes her head, her eyes moving slowly over my body—I try not to smirk at the appraising look, but I fail. Miserably. “Good. I brought food.”

  It feels like a fucking small eternity before I finally see her give in. Shutting her office door, she makes her way over to me.

  Feeling like if I keep pushing too hard, too fast she’ll run. So I backtrack a bit, downplaying the situation I’ve put us in. “Listen, this isn’t anything. This is a client, a friend, saying thank you.” A cute furrow appears between her brows as confusion washes over her features. “Thank you for not giving up on me. For pushing me to dig deeper, to be better.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, I’m just doing my job.” Those words hit me like a blow below the belt. That’s exactly what I was afraid of. It’s just her job, only it isn’t her job to comfort me with a hand on my arm or my thigh. It isn’t her job to laugh at my jokes or to share her favorite songs with me. And it definitely isn’t her job to flash me lusty eyes whenever I give her a compliment.

  Fighting the urge to say just that I go safe, again. “Well, I’m thanking you anyways. Plus, I don’t really like the thought of you going out to that dark parking lot alone. They should really look at putting up some street lights.”

  “Yeah, they probably should,” she says dismissively, making her way to the other side of the desk. Subconsciously putting as much space between us as possible. She pulls each item out of the bag one at a time, laying them all out on the desk for offering. “Grilled cheese? Won’t you be hungry later?” Her voice is teasing, the smile she wears is easy and I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. She may not be inviting me in to ravish her, but this is a start.

  I need Riley Andrews in my life. I’d rather have her friendship than nothing at all, so for now I’ll take what I can get.

  We settle onto the couch on the other side of her office, each of us with a burger and fries balanced on our lap. The grilled cheese sits left untouched between us. I was shocked when she decided to sit on the couch next to me instead of keeping her distance like she usually does by sitting in one of the armchairs.

  “Who are we listening to?” I ask as I nod my head toward her speakers. Riley almost always has music playing in the background of our sessions though it’s usually too quiet to really make out the lyrics. Occasionally, however, she’ll share a song or a band with me and it helps me get to understand the girl—Riley Andrews—a little better. The doctor I know well enough, but that’s not the girl I want to get to know.

  “Oh, um, this is At Anchor. They are a local band. One of my favorites actually.”

  For a long while, we sit in silence listening to the guitar riffs, the steady beat of a drum line, and the lyrics the lead singer croons to us; lyrics about not giving up, not giving in. It’s nice. Easy. Simple. Things I’ve never had in my life before.

  With Angelica our… relationship was all about attraction and convenience. But, it was never comfortable like this. Ang had seen me at my worst, was there for me when no one else was but still I couldn’t be myself around her. There was always this division between us—her versus me. She was the girl with the looks, the money, the goals. She had it all, and if she didn’t have it she knew exactly how to get it.

  I was, and still kind of am, the guy that has nothing. I bring nothing to the table. I was never good enough for her. And for that reason I couldn’t let myse
lf relax around her. I couldn’t let her in.

  I thought I loved her, but Riley made me realize I loved her for the wrong reasons. I loved her the way I assume you love a sibling or family member. I didn’t have this unyielding need for her like I do for Riley.

  I know I’m not good enough for Riley, but I fall short for this girl in a totally different way. Unlike Ang, she’d never judge me for where I come from, what I went through, or where I’m going.

  I’m not good enough for her because she’s worthy, pure. I’m damaged, tainted.

  Those adjectives aren’t enough to stop me from pursuing her though. I may be all of those things but if there is anyone that can make me better, can make me want to be better it’s the girl sitting next to me mindlessly swirling her fry in ketchup.

  When she notices me staring at her, she smiles shyly before looking back down at her food. “This is my favorite song of theirs.”

  I hadn’t noticed the music change, but it went from a punk-rock sound to more of an acoustic sound. Leaning my head back, I relax against the leather as I allow the lyrics to filter through me.

  The words talk about having that one person that is always there for you, that believes in you when no one else does, that protects you and loves you. The song hits me hard because I’ve never had that one person. I’ve never had someone I could call mine, that I knew no matter what life threw at me would always be there.

  I watch Riley out of the corner of my eye—she’s in a similar position as me, her head tipped back, eyes closed—and I swear she’s never looked more beautiful to me. Riley is the type of girl that is capable of that kind of loyal, faithful, blind love.

  “You ever had the kind of love, Riley?”

  Judging by the way she twitches I’m assuming my question caught her off guard, her mind lost in the world the band painted for us. She rolls her head languidly on the back of the couch to look at me, it’s a lazy move and one she’d never usually do around me. I smile to myself knowing my plan is starting to work. She’s finally treating me like a person and not like a client. That cool, professional mask she wears is starting to fall off little by little and the girl behind the mask is even more gorgeous.

  “No, I haven’t. Sometimes I wonder if it even exists in real-life, ya know?”

  I almost blurt out my answer right away—that yes, it’s real—but I stop myself just as the words hit the tip of my tongue. I’ve wondered the same thing for most of my life, haven’t I? Not just romantic relationships, but relationships, in general.

  Is there a parent out there that would do anything to protect their child? Would they love them despite their fears, their mistakes, their downfalls? Is there a friendship that can withstand betrayals and lies?

  I mimic her motion, our cheeks pressed into the back of the couch, our eyes trained on each other. “I don’t know, Kit. I’ve never seen it before, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, you know?” I pause to let that sink in. “Besides, if we stop believing in that kind of love, what do we have to hope for?”

  She flashes me a small grin and I’m unable to help myself, I have to touch her

  .

  Chapter Seven

  Riley

  The air is literally ripped from my lungs the second his thumb brushes gently over my cheek. Sure, we’ve touched some here and there, but mostly accidental brushes of an arm or shoulder, or on the rare occasion I felt he needed comfort I’d place my hand on his arm or thigh. But, none of those touches ever really meant anything.

  This is different. This touch isn’t innocent, or accidental. It’s laced with meaning.

  And, it still hasn’t stopped. He’s looking over at me with lust in his eyes, his digit moving slowly, deliberately across my cheek, my jaw. When it just barely skims the bottom of my lip I shiver and let my eyes fall closed.

  For that nanosecond in time, I let my imagination run wild. I dream of a different time, a different place. One where Rico isn’t my client. Where I’m allowed to enjoy his touch.

  I let him touch me for just a second longer before I pull away. I distract myself by picking up our mess and throwing out the garbage. I can’t let this happen. It doesn’t matter how desperately I want it to, how badly I ache for him I can’t let that happen again.

  When I’m finished cleaning up, I look back in his direction but never really look at him. That annoying itch to clear my throat tries to sneak up, but I manage to just barely force it back down. “I, um, I have to get some work done. Thank you for dinner, Rico.”

  I stand in the middle of my office, my hands twisted into knots in front of me, my eyes focusing on a piece of dirt on the carpet. I don’t know how to handle this situation. I don’t know how to make these feelings I’m starting to feel for him go away. I don’t know how to get back to the professional relationship we had.

  I don’t even know if I really want any of those things.

  Hadn’t I already decided to let him in? Hadn’t I already decided I was going to eventually give in and let him take me out?

  Why the fuck can’t I do it then?

  I hear the leather couch creak as he stands up from it and I focus even harder on the ground in front of me. “Riley, look at me.” Rico’s rich voice sounds strong and sure as he stands directly in front of me, his tan work boots covering the piece of dirt I was staring at. When I don’t look up his hand grips my chin and makes me look at him, “Whatever is going through that head of yours stop it.”

  With a wink, he turns and walks to the radio and plays with it until he finds a song he likes. I stand there unable to move, or speak as I watch him walk back to the couch lie down, cross his arms over his chest, and close his eyes.

  I have no idea how much time passes as I stand there staring at him but eventually he cracks open an eye and says in a casual, lazy tone, “Don’t you have some paperwork to do?”

  My eyes blink a few times, my muscles coming back to life. Shaking my head, I turn on my heel and head to my desk at a complete loss at what’s happening or what to do with this situation. Deciding to ignore it I sink into my chair with a long sigh and I pull out my folders. I do my damndest to ignore him as he takes a nap on my couch while I attempt to input client notes into my computer.

  It takes me a bit but eventually, as I always do, I get lost in my work. I get lost in my client’s memories, their fears, their doubts. I love my job—I love being able to help someone, even if I can’t always help myself. I love the way their eyes light up when they finally realize they are worth more, or when they finally get over a fear.

  When I pull out Rico’s file, I pause. I feel almost like I’m spying like I’m overstepping my bounds. I know that’s ridiculous because everything I’m going to reread, and input into the system are all things he’s told me, or that I’ve told him but it still feels slightly voyeuristic with him sitting just a few feet away from me.

  Sleeping.

  I stifle a laugh at the thought.

  Only in my life would the man I have a forbidden crush on fall asleep in my office.

  Pushing back the awkwardness, the emotions, the ironies I focus on all I learned about him earlier this evening. We talked in detail about his parents and his grandparents. Rico had a rough childhood. His past riddled with abuse—though thankfully it usually erred on the emotional side of abuse—neglect and abandonment. His parents were arrested for drug dealing and possession before he was even out of grade school leaving him in care of the state. Eventually, they found his grandparents, and they took Rico in. It seems like he had a few years of stability, but he still managed to get wrapped up in the wrong things, with the wrong crowd. He got arrested for possession in high school and by the time he got out both of his grandparents had passed away. He was just eighteen years old and was completely alone.

  He and Jared met during their mutual stint in jail, and together they started a life and strong friendship. It takes a lot for someone to get out of that life, especially when that is all they’ve ever known, but Rico did i
t. His strength is staggering.

  The groan of leather demands my attention and when I look up I find Rico in a sitting position looking at me with a thoughtful look on his face. “You okay, Kit?”

  His question catches me off guard. “Yeah, of course, I am. Why do you ask?”

  Instead of answering he walks over to me, his eyes never leaving mine the entire way. He comes to a stop behind my chair. My breathing picked up with each step closer and stops altogether when his hands land on the arms of my chair and spin me around.

  I’m still struggling to breathe when he lifts his hand and lightly brushes away a tear. My hand shakes as I bring it up to touch my face where it’s still burning from his gentle touch. I didn’t even realize I was crying. I watch as his eyes carry over my shoulder to the open folder and widen with recognition.

  Snapping his gaze back to me, his expression can only be described as incredulous. “You’re crying over… me?”

  Am I? Am I really crying over his confessions? His past?

  His eyes harden as he hovers above me, “I don’t need your pity, doc. Trust me I get plenty of it.” He pushes away from me and starts to walk away with his shoulders slumped and his head shaking back and forth as if he’s trying to rid his mind of whatever thoughts have taken hold.

  “Wait. I’m not pitying you, Rico.” I stand and make my way to him. I stop just short of his back, too afraid to see the look in his eyes as I finally bare a part of me to him. “I’m proud of you. You’re so strong. Stronger than almost anyone I’ve met. That’s why I was crying, because you’re strong and no one has ever acknowledged that in you.”

  Slowly his solid back turns disappearing from my view. In its place is his wide chest, and then his thick neck and handsome face as my eyes travel upwards. “You lying to me?” I just shake my head in answer. In a blink of an eye, his arms shoot out and wrap around me. His head falls to the crook of my neck and I stand there completely fucking still, breathing in his sexy manly scent. “Thank you,” he whispers against me, his voice is quiet, unsure, so, unlike the man I’ve gotten to know.