Page 14 of The Yeah Baby Series: Vol 3

I’d been slowly convincing her to bring more and more stuff to my house each time we swung by her place to pick up clothes. After seeing her dingy apartment in a questionable area of town, I wouldn’t allow her to go there without me at all. At the end of the week, when we stopped by, I asked again about reading her work. To my surprise, she grabbed a couple of padded envelopes from a small filing cabinet and hugged them to her chest, watching me nervously.

I didn’t pressure her about it and the next morning, I found one of them set on the bar in the kitchen where I drank my coffee and read the paper every day. Something told me that Macy was very talented, but once I opened the first page, I couldn’t put it down. The story, the writing, all of it was fucking amazing. My plan was definitely going towork.

* * *

“Kassidy Bell, it’s been a while.”I grinned into the phone, even though she couldn’t seeme.

“Peanut Buttercup!” she exclaimed, using the nickname she’d given me in high school. “How the hell are you? And why haven’t I heard from you in almost a year?” Her tone was chiding at the end. I’d kind of lost touch with a lot of my friends over the last year. I didn’t realize what a shell I was becoming until Macy started breathing life back into me. Kassidy was like a big sister to me. Growing up, her younger brother, Dillon, had been one of my best friends. With our other best friend, Logan James, we’d gotten into a lot of trouble together. My parents were useless and when they took off right after I turned sixteen, I moved in with the Bells until I graduated. They weren’t my blood, but they were my family.

When I moved to Atlanta, we kept in touch for a while, but I’d let it slide the last couple of years. Dillon was still in Miami, where I’d spent my childhood, but Logan had moved to Boston and was now married with a kid on the way. Our lives had grown in different directions—Kassidy was an executive at a large publishing house in Miami, Dillon was a professor at the University of Miami, and Logan was a high school teacher in Boston. But, a large part of the blame for the lapse in communication laid with me. Guilt ate at me as I thought about how I’d pushed everyone from my life. I just hadn’t been in the mood to return calls or emails. I’d thrown myself into my work, only coming out of it when Weston dragged meaway.

“Yeah, I’ve been”—I wasn’t sure how to explain it—“well, I’ll keep in better touch from now on. You and Dillon should come here for a visit.”

We shot the shit for a few minutes, talking about our families and reminiscing a little. Then, she got right down to business.

“What can I do for you, Rhys?”

“I heard you were a big shot publisher these days. Called to congratulateyou.”

“Uh huh,” she muttered, her sarcasm laced with humor. “Spit it out, Peanut. What do youwant?”

My grin widened. Kassidy didn’t take shit from anyone, least of all a guy she’d known since he was five. “I have a favor toask.”

“I figured as much, but let me stop you right here. If you need someone to help you bury a body, you called the wrong Bell. Dillon’s the one with the shovel collection.”

I laughed deeply, reveling in the joy I felt at her humor, something that only days ago would have bounced right off of me. “Actually,” I knew just the way to Kassidy Bell’s soft side and I wasn’t above exploiting it—“I met someone.”

She squealed with delight, like a teenage girl. Kassidy was a hopeless romantic. She started to bombard me with questions and I answered a few, avoiding the topic of when we met. Then I steered the conversation back to the favor I needed.

“I want to ask her to marry me.” I held the phone away from my ear in preparation for another scream. When she was done, I continued my explanation. “Macy is very independent, which is sexy as hell, but I want to take care of my girl and watching her work at that seedy place is going to tear through the last shreds of my sanity.”

“I’m happy to help if I can, Peanut, but you seem to have forgotten that I live in Miami.”

“Oh, no,” I replied, realizing that she thought I wanted her to offer Macy a job. “Macy is an aspiring writer.”

“Whoa, Rhys,” she started, suddenly defensive. “No way can I publish a book just because you’re practically my little brother and she’s your girlfriend.”

“Fiancée,” I corrected without thought.

“Fine. Fiancée. It doesn’t change my answer.”

“I would hope you knew me better than that, Kass,” I grunted. “I’m not asking you to publish her book. I was going to ask if you could simply make sure it ends up in front of the righteyes.”

“Oh! Sure! That I can do,” she said brightly.

“Thanks. Oh, and one more thing.”

“You’re pushing your luck, Peanut Buttercup,” she warned. Though her use of my nickname indicated that she wasn’t really irritated.

“I just want to make it clear that she can’t know I was involved. I’ll make sure she submits it to the right place, but if you decide she’s worth taking a chance on, it has to be on her own merits. She’d be pissed as fuck if she knew I greased the wheels.”

Kassidy laughed. “I think I’m going to like this chick. When do I get to meether?”

My heart warmed at the thought of Macy meeting my family. “You will meet her eventually,” I promised. “And yeah, she’s fucking amazing.”

She told me to shoot her an email once Macy had submitted her manuscript and then we said our goodbyes. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my chest as I got ready to leave the office.

Macy would be clocking out in fifteen minutes and I was buzzing with energy. I was going to take my girl home and fuck the hell out of her before I made love to her for the rest of the night. With that in mind, I placed an order for takeout on my way to pick her up. We were going to need sustenance.

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