Just Ask (18 page)

Ryan’s chest somehow kept his heart trapped inside, which surprised him. The damned thing beat a zillion beats a minute, threatening to break free at any second. He fought to breathe deep. “Why? I’m just not getting it, Jordan. What’s the catch?”

Jordan shot him a confused look as he folded his hands on his lap. “There’s no catch. I don’t want to own an island. I told you that way back in the beginning. I don’t want another hotel. I don’t want anything to do with Krakatoa Jr.’s impending lawsuits. I wasn’t lying about that. I just don’t.”

“Then why me? Why for the price of Brownie? And he’s a fucking cheap horse, too. Trigger is worth twenty of Brownie.”

“I want a horse, and I don’t need an island. I think Brownie, in my limited, humble experience, is a damned good horse. You have a horse, but you want the island to be in good hands. Your hands are the best. It makes perfect sense.”

It still didn’t make any sense. Not to Ryan.

Jordan shifted and lowered his foot from his knee so he could lean forward. “I don’t need the money from the sale, and frankly, I think this is what Blake would have wanted to have happen. You shared his dream. But if he had tried to leave you Bendura in his will, my family would have had a shit fit. They protested mildly when I got it, and they’ll have another shit fit when they find out I sold it, but they won’t know for how much.” Jordan sat back, satisfied. “But I can handle my family.”

Ryan nodded, still in a daze, because it still wasn’t making sense. “Why me? You know I can’t afford what it’s really worth, and I know you don’t need the money. But this…it’s way too generous. I gave you a weekend of hot sex, and you’re giving me all this?”

Jordan stiffened and his eyes narrowed. “I’m not paying you for sex.”

Ryan sighed, knowing he was fucking this up. “I didn’t say you were. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t deserve this.”

“Yes, you do. I want you to have control, not a developer who doesn’t care about the people who live here or even the people who return year after year to relax. I’m doing the right thing. Trust me on this.”

How he could trust Jordan at this point, he had no clue. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head over the last two weeks, Jordan handing him the island, lock, stock and barrel for an insanely low amount of money wasn’t one of them.

But that’s what Jordan was about to do. And then Ryan would be all alone. “What are you going to do with a horse? He’ll be hard as hell to ride in Manhattan, but I suppose you’ll make it work.”

That sounded unprofessional of him. Snide. Ryan rubbed his hand over his face and manned up. “I’ll make arrangements for him to be shipped home to you. I can have Meg do some preliminary research on stables in your area, but you should probably check them out in person before making a decision.”

“I’m not being clear, am I? Fuck, Samantha warned me about this.” Jordan cocked his head, as if trying to sort out what he was trying to say. “I don’t want to move Brownie I want him to stay here, and I expect you to charge me board and feed and whatever for him.”

God, Ryan hated it when greenhorns decided to own horses. “He’ll need to be exercised, too. You won’t be able to make it here enough to keep him fit.”

“I’ll exercise him daily, because I’m going to live here.”

“Oh.”

Jordan nodded, his face eager and excited. “I bought a house on the other side of the island, closer to the village. The beach isn’t as sweet as yours, but it will do. I can work from home, and I hired my friend, Samantha, to take over most of my duties in the New York office. I closed on the house yesterday, so it’s a done deal.”

Jordan was here, sold him his share of Bendura for the price of a fucking cheap, lazy horse, and had bought a house. Jordan would work from home. Yes, his mind got all that. Jordan would be here, and Ryan would still be alone. Fuck Blake and his sense of humor. “Cell service is good on that side of the island.”

Jordan nodded, the eagerness dissipating to nervousness. “Of course, I would be open to other options, like working at the hotel if I had to.”

“Why would you work at the hotel if you have cell service at home?”

“Because you don’t have cell service or internet at your house,” Jordan reminded him softly. “I want to spend time at your house. I bought a house so if you didn’t feel the same way, I would have an exit strategy.”

Holy shit
. Ryan sagged back in his chair, relief rendering him a pile of gelatin, useless and boneless. Jordan may not want an island but he wanted him, wanted to be with him. He, Ryan McCale, just got the guy
and
the island.

It had to be too good to be true.

Ryan narrowed his eyes and focused on the last part of Jordan’s words. “You need an exit strategy to stay at my house.”

“Fuck me, I suck.” Jordan sighed and suddenly looked nervous as all get out. “I’m not asking correctly, am I? I need to ask.”

Ryan nodded, trying to convince his lungs that inhaling and exhaling were natural things for them to be doing. “Yes, you need to ask.”

“I know you don’t get me not wanting to own the island, but it’s not my dream. However, I do want it to be my home.” Jordan sucked in a huge breath, blew it out, and said, “I would like to try to build a relationship with you if you’re willing. Samantha told me you are the missing piece in my life, the one who made me human and complete. I know it’s not the fucking fresh air messing with my brain, because they were having a garbage strike in Manhattan when I got home, and fuck me, that was bad, even in February.

“But I went back to the States and came to realize Blake was right. I needed a home. I needed to find peace, and he’d left me the oranges in his will so I could make the juice and the marmalade when I got done running like an idiot.”

“Are you saying I’m fruit?” Stupid, stupid thing to say, but it was all he could come up with.

Jordan laughed. God, he loved Jordan’s laugh, deep and genuine, worming its way through Ryan’s skin and muscles right down to his soul.

“We can use the juice for your rum punch.” Jordan sat back in his chair, concern etching his face. “Did I fuck this up? Because I don’t know the first thing about relationships except I suck at them.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve fucked up, yet. Keep going.”

Ryan could tell Jordan wasn’t used to being nervous because it wasn’t something he was easily hiding. His knee bounced as he jiggled his leg, and he wiped his hands on his shorts. No doubt his palms were sweaty.

Jordan said, “I didn’t know how to approach asking you if I could live with you. Though we joked about it, I wasn’t sure if sharing your space, your home, was something you’d need time to work up to doing, since…Mark. I can’t live in the hotel—too much Blake there. So I bought a house.”

Ryan wanted to believe him, badly. “It’s not so you can run again.”

Jordan shot him a small smile. “No. I have no issues with fleeing, as you’ve seen. I can run anywhere. But right now, there’s only one place I want to be, and that’s here, with you.”

“God that’s sappy.” But Ryan loved it, maybe too much.

“Sorry.” Jordan didn’t look sorry in the least, maybe because Ryan couldn’t hide how much his sappy words meant to him. Jordan grinned. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how much to profess and how much to hold back. I’m thinking if I’m trying to convince you to sell me a horse, I need to be honest.”

“Honesty is working.” Ryan cocked his head, feeling as if he were in a movie or a dream or something very surreal. Uptight Jordan wanted to move here, with him. “Jordan, this is huge. How did you come to these conclusions?”

“You told me I needed to start asking, so I started asking. I asked for opinions, I asked for help, and I asked myself what I wanted. Sam listened, shocked that I asked, and she told me I knew what I wanted, probably from square one. And I did. The moment I ran down your beach naked, I knew I had come home. I was just too afraid to see it.”

Ryan had known then, as they raced along the sand, it had been big in Jordan’s book. He didn’t realize just how big until now.

But the mention of Sam, his friend with benefits, stirred different emotions, one that left Ryan a bit possessive and territorial, as if he had a right to claim Jordan. “Sam. Your…friend. You saw her.”

“Yes.”

Ryan broke out in a sweat that had nothing to do with the heat. A flash of Jordan’s hard body intertwined with a female form invaded his brain, and Ryan dashed it away with a twinge of jealousy. He shouldn’t ask. He had no right to ask. But he had to know. “Did you—”

“No.” But the look in Jordan’s brown eyes was pleading, begging for understanding. “If I had, I wouldn’t have returned. I didn’t even have to kiss her to know where my thoughts were, because everything in Manhattan still reminded me of you, right down to the mounted police hanging out on the sidewalk.” Jordan studied his sandal, pulling at the strap at his ankle. “But she is my friend, Ryan. She listened and told me that I had the answers and I needed to start being as crazy in life as I was in business.”

Relief washed over Ryan. He owed Sam a huge drink if she ever came to the island to visit. Hell, he owed her a horse, too. “You said she’s working for you.”

“Yeah. I’ll have freedom, and she’ll get to be closer to her mom in Manhattan. She’ll run my business like a dominatrix, and she’ll be happy. I owe her happy.”

Ryan just loved Jordan even more. “What did she say when you told her about me?”

“She spewed whiskey all over my coffee table.”

“That bad.” Ryan struggled to keep from laughing, because he shouldn’t laugh. But joy did strange things to a man.

“That shocked. She never expected me to be smitten—I think that’s what she called it—and I know sure as hell she didn’t expect to hear a guy’s name. I should have waited until she set the drink down.”

“Smitten.” As old-fashioned as it sounded, Ryan liked the way the word rolled around his mouth. Smitten urged the blood down to his cock, heating things in a lusty way and at the same time, his heart swelled up like a puffer fish, without the spines. He had to be the happiest man on Earth.

Jordan nodded. “I like you a whole fucking lot, enough to move half way across the world to live on the side of an insurance nightmare called Tiny. So yeah, smitten works.”

Ryan’s throat had issues with swallowing, just as many issues as his lungs had with the breathing. Maybe kissing Jordan would take care of it all, set him to rights. He scooted the office chair over, the arm bumping the arm of Jordan’s chair. “Come here,” he ordered softly.

“God, yes,” Jordan breathed and leaned in.

Jordan couldn’t believe he was here, his lips touching Ryan’s in the sweetest of kisses he’d ever received. Just Ryan’s mouth exploring his, the gentle rasp of chin hair against his face oddly arousing, reminding him who’s lips slanted across his. He wanted more, though, his cock reminding him it’d been way too long since called to action. Even jacking off had lost appeal, not when he could have the real thing if he were brave enough to ask for it.

Jordan reached out to touch Ryan’s chest, hard beneath the polo shirt, the heartbeat beneath his palm strong, vital. He slid his hand up, the light brush of chest hair at the open collar inviting under his fingers, then along the stubbled jaw to cup the back of Ryan’s head, urging him to deepen the kiss.

Ryan made a noise in the back of his throat, soft yet urgent, a sexy call that quickened Jordan’s blood. Lips parted and that first touch of Ryan’s tongue was as electrifying as the first time they had kissed in the water, the jolt heady and intoxicating.

Ryan broke the kiss first, leaning his forehead on Jordan’s, his hand clutching Jordan’s shoulder as if he were afraid Jordan would jump up and leave. “We can’t do this here. I have a ride coming back in ten minutes. I can’t take the chance of educating young children on the joys of sex. Definitely frowned upon. Rain check? Half an hour?”

Jordan laughed, his heart feeling light. Free. “You think we’re done talking then?”

“Fucking you senseless in half an hour sounds like a great idea, but I do think there’s more to be said. You’ve really thrown me for a loop. But I think good conversations wait. Am I right?”

Jordan nodded. Yeah, they did have more to talk about. Good stuff. “Can we go home and talk about this then? I don’t have a car. I had the real estate guy give me a lift out here.”

“Vatu?”

“Yeah. Nice guy. I was afraid I’d say his name wrong.” Jordan gestured to the contract, still on the table, literally and figuratively. They had a deal to seal before they could start in with a relationship. “You going to sell me a horse, McCale?”

Ryan hesitated and shook his head. “Not yet. I need to know why you’re doing this before I agree. You not wanting the island isn’t enough. I need to be assured you’re not making this crazy-assed leap into insanity for stupid reasons that will eventually come back and bite me in the ass.”

“I’d like to bite your ass.”

“I’m sure you will, in half an hour.” Ryan shook his head, a smile curling his lips. “Start talking. I need to know taking your offer is the right thing, Blake be damned.”

Jordan sighed and studied his feet. Ryan deserved to hear it all, despite how hard this was to talk about. “Thinking about owning the island makes me panic for some reason, much in the same way thinking about…love…makes me panic. Then I came up with this idea, to sell you the island for an amount you could easily afford, and I relaxed, just like I do when I’m with you. It put everything in perspective, and suddenly it wasn’t like looking at a huge crate of oranges I couldn’t handle. It was only a little bowl of them. Just enough for two.”

“Jesus, Jordan. You have a way with the sappy stuff.”

“Maybe I should write greeting cards for a living, now that I’m semi-retired.”

“You’re not
that
sappy. Don’t quit the day job yet.” Ryan rubbed his neck, uneasy, because the spot under his hand looked red, like he was about to blush. “You’ll change your mind. You’ll live here, see what I do with it and want to take control.”

“No, I won’t. I don’t regret decisions like this. Never have. Since this was never business for me to begin with, I don’t see myself wanting more. I get enough control from my own business. In Manhattan, I went to work, I ruled the world like a bastard with an iron fist, and at the end of the day, I went home and sort of relaxed.