Page 56 of Mad Rivals
“Thank you,” he says, and he ducks his head a little as if he’s nearly embarrassed at my compliment. He must know how great this is since he lives here.
And I live with my parents.
Suddenly it feelsmortifyingto admit that.
Clem and I were saving for something better, but it just didn’t work out. I’m sure he would understand, and I’m sure he wouldn’t care. But I do. It’s another reminder that I failed.
We head back to the kitchen, where he pulls out a chair at the round table and offers it to me to sit.
“You’re quiet,” he muses.
“So are you,” I counter.
He lifts a shoulder. “I’m not used to giving gorgeous women a tour of my place.”
“You don’t invite women back here all the time?” I tease, though I suppose my tone is a mix of surprised and skeptical.
He shrugs. “Once in a while.”
My synapses seem to fire with anger as I put the pieces together. “And you invited me here because you’re trying to prove I can trust you. But why, Madden? What do you want from me?”
I’m expecting his answer to be business. He wants the trade secrets from his father’s biggest rival—as if I have any to offer.
His next words, however, completely blow that thought out of my mind.
“What do I want from you?” he asks quietly. He finally glances up from his beer bottle at me. “That’s a complicated question, Kennedy.” He glances out the window, and when his eyes return to mine, they’re full of fire. “But the more time I spend with you, the more I want everything.”
CHAPTER 23: Madden Bradley
Show Me the Goods
She looks shocked by my words, and frankly, I’m shocked I said them.
This is horrible timing.
I’m leaving for San Diego for what very well could be my last season playing. We’re business rivals. Her father hates my family, and I think the feeling might be mutual.
It’s the worst-case scenario.
And yet…
I find myself diving in headfirst anyway.
Why did I invite her here tonight? Exactly why I said. I wasn’t done with her.
And the more time I spend with her, the more I fear I willneverbe done with her.
But how the fuck am I supposed to run Bradley Group after this season, or next, or the one after that…when she’s in line to run one of our biggest competitors?
“When you sayeverything, can I ask what that means?” she finally asks, her voice hoarse and soft.
I press my lips together, and then I drain my beer. I stand and carry the bottle to the sink, where I rinse it out. I toss it in myrecycle bin, and then I move over toward the window. The whole time, I’m trying to figure out how to answer that.
“I don’t know.” That’s where I land, and I rake my fingers through my hair at the confusion, tugging on the ends a little. It’s strange feeling so fucking out of control, but that’s what she seems to do to me. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what my future holds. It feels like everything is spinning away from me. My career, my choices, my future. But then I see you, and it’s like this fucking lighthouse in the goddamn storm, Kennedy. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but I know I need more of it.”
I choke out the last few words over the emotion suddenly clogging my throat, and it feels both terrifying and liberating to make this confession. She’s seeing two very different sides of me this evening, sides that don’t emerge very often. The vulnerable, emotional side making these confessions and the dominating side of me earlier who gave her demands that she bended to. Jesus, that was hot.
I have no idea how she’ll react. Maybe she’ll take those words and throw them back at me later. Maybe she’ll use me to her advantage when it comes to business.
