Chance of a Lifetime (Anderson Brothers) (4 page)

Chapter Six

C
hance paced outside Genny’s building the following morning conjuring the nerve to ring the buzzer. Her apartment was on the second floor, but he still blamed the stairs for the fact he was out of breath when she opened the door.

Without a word, she took a deep inhale through her nose and gestured for him to enter. Her hair wasn’t bound in its usual ponytail and flowed over her shoulders in a shiny mahogany sheet—one silky ribbon of it traveling over an intriguing expanse of bare skin down into her ample cleavage. He wondered if she knew how hot she looked in that tight, low-cut top.

“Don’t just stand there ogling. Come inside. You’re late.”

Yep
. She knew.

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the couch closest to the door.

He crossed, instead, to the opposite side of the sparsely furnished room and sat in a chair.

She tilted her head and smiled, causing his gut to tighten. God, he’d missed her. Ten years shrank to mere days when she smiled.

“Good to know you haven’t completely gone soft. I thought you’d been replaced by a lapdog,” she said.

There was absolutely nothing soft about him. Between the tight red shirt and jeans that hugged her ample curves, and that smile he remembered as clearly as if he’d seen it every day of his life, he was hard as a rock. But she was off-limits, regardless of his dick’s opinion. He was bad for Genny. He always had been.

While Walter and his parents were trying to keep her safe, Chance taught her how to ice skate and dive off the swim platform of the family yacht, and took her sledding. He’d loved hearing her laugh and watching her expression ignite and transform from the adrenaline spike. But that horrible night in the harbor brought home what he’d suspected in his gut all along: their friendship was dangerous for her. She’d be better off without him around. And as painful as the promise was, he’d sworn not only to Walter ten years ago, but to himself, he’d stay away from her. Well, due to the current turn of events, he certainly couldn’t stay away, but he would keep the other half of the promise. “How many items are on your bucket list?”

She lowered herself into a chair across from him. “Not many.”

“How many?”

An eyebrow arched. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He stood. “I
will
know, or I’m gone.”

“Oooh. So forceful. I like it.”

He sat back down. “How many?”

“Ten, but one has been completed and you only need concern yourself with eight of the remaining nine. The last one I’ve got on my own.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and scanned the room. There were pictures on the walls, black-and-whites of the city, all perfectly straight and even, which made him wonder who had helped her move in. His chest ached as he wondered who had replaced him as the go-to friend after the incident at the harbor. Maybe the woman from the bar with the spiky black hair and tight skirt—Sherry or Cherry or something.

Genny sat quietly with her face turned toward him, listening in that way she had that made it seem like she knew everything he was thinking. Maybe she did.

He had feared her bucket list items would number in the hundreds. Only ten, thank goodness. “The first item on your list was kissing me, I assume.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. The first one was kissing a
stranger
, which you are.”

“Genny…”

“Gen,” she corrected.

Okay. He’d hurt her all those years ago and she was still mad. She had every right to be. “Gen.”

Shoulders square, she flipped her hair, and it cascaded over her shoulder like silky chocolate. “Before we begin, there are ground rules.”

“You’ve done some thinking about this.”

Leaning back in the plush upholstered chair, she crossed her arms over her chest protectively. “It’s a ten-year-old list, buddy. You bet I’ve thought about it.” She notched up her chin and took a breath, then held up a finger, clearly preparing to recite a rehearsed spiel. “First, you will give me complete freedom. No overprotective guardian BS. I’d have asked my brother to help me if I wanted that kind of nonsense.”

“Agreed.” Though he knew he couldn’t curb his desire to keep her safe. He’d almost caused her death once. Never would he allow her to be harmed again on his watch.

Another finger joined the first. “Second. We will not ever talk about the past and will treat this as if we recently met and you are my assistant.”

No talking about the past. It was as if she were erasing how close they’d once been—taking a jab at how much he’d missed her. He deserved this, he supposed. Walter said he’d explain why Chance had taken off, but he should have answered one of her calls or texts, despite his promise to end all contact. She’d deserved to hear it from him. “Okay.”

“Third. You cannot let people know I’m carrying out bucket list items while I’m doing them.”

Weird, but,
“Okay.”

Seemingly satisfied, she nodded and uncrossed her arms.

Two could play at this game, though.
Lapdog my ass.
“I have some rules, too.”

“Lay it out, then.”

“With regard to your first rule: I’ll allow nothing that will bring you harm. I’ll follow your lead, but we’re doing it my way if I deem it safer.”

She frowned, but nodded agreement.

“Second. I’ll respect your wish to not talk about the past with the caveat that I believe it’s a mistake. But in return, I need complete honesty from you. If I’m to risk losing my longtime friend for this escapade, I need things straightforward. You must keep promises and do what you say you’re going to do.”

“I’ve never lied or broken a promise to you.”

“Nuh-uh. No talking about the past. Your rule.” And she
had
broken a promise—the promise to sit still on that dock and wait. He couldn’t go through something like that again.

“And third.”
And most important
. “Never touch me.”

Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut in a grimace. “News flash. I’m blind. I might need some assistance that requires touching to navigate safely.”

“Assistance is one thing. Tell me and I’ll help you, but warn me first. And don’t touch me if you can help it.”

A flicker of hurt crossed her face, but disappeared as quickly as it came. “Fine. No touching you. And the same goes for me. Hands off.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

After a moment of silence, she snickered, then giggled. By the time she hit a full-out laugh, he’d joined her. “We sound like a couple of bratty teenagers,” she said.

“Reverting to old ways, I suppose.” He stood and tore his eyes away from her. God, she was pretty. This week was going to be his private version of heaven and hell all rolled together. “What’s first on the list?”

“Roller coaster.”

“No more kissing, then?”

The side of her mouth quirked up. “No. Kissing on a roller coaster seems like a tooth breaker to me. I only specified riding the Cyclone.”

That seemed simple and safe enough. “That shouldn’t take long. What’s after that?”

“Skydiving.”

So much for simple and safe.
“And after that?”

She crossed to the door and snatched her cane and jacket from the coatrack. “That should be enough for today, don’t you think?”

More than enough.

Chapter Seven

T
hey reached Coney Island before lunchtime, which suited Gen because despite her bravado, she was nervous and better off on an empty stomach. She’d always wanted to ride a roller coaster, but her family thought the pressure on her eyes would be bad for her, which she found comical. How much blinder could completely blind be?

They’d arrived by private car, and the cold air seemed like an all-out assault after the cozy limo interior. One of the perks of hanging out with Chance Anderson: limousine rides. She’d loved it when she was younger and loved it now. He even had the same driver—the one with the slight British accent named Jacob, who always used her full name and made her feel like a princess.

The cool March wind blowing off the water didn’t dampen the thrill, though. Exciting sounds of carnival music and laughter mixed with the smells of burned sugar and salt air. As they neared the Cyclone, the rattling and rumble of the large wooden coaster thundered in her chest, and the squeals of riders launched her adrenaline into her head and fingertips.

“Nervous?” Chance asked from beside her as they moved closer to the ride.

“Never,” she said with as much bravado as possible. Scared stiff was more like it, but that was normal, or so she’d been told by Sherry, who should have been here with her instead of her childhood heartbreak.

“This way,” he said from several feet in front of her. Her cane tripped along a wooden walkway until it transitioned into concrete. “We’re in line now,” he said. “Because it’s still the off season, it won’t be a long wait.”

She nodded, too anxious to speak. The rational side of her knew there was nothing to fear. This roller coaster had been in operation since the late 1920s and had been refurbished loads of times, including recently. The irrational side of her was freaking completely out.

“I read somewhere it reaches sixty miles an hour on one of the big drops,” Chance said from right behind her.
Wait
. He was in front of her a moment ago. Usually, she had a great sense of her surroundings. Must have been the anxiety over the ride.

“Yeah, I read that, too. How much longer?” The wait was killing her. So was being this near Chance. She could smell him—that clean smell she now associated with him. She was curious what he looked like and what he was wearing, but thanks to the hands-off rule, she’d probably never know. He had on something with some texture, though, because there was a
shooshing
sound when he moved. Maybe a windbreaker.

“What color are you wearing?” she asked, as much from nervous energy as curiosity.

“Brown jacket and blue jeans. Red-and-black striped sweater.”

“Earth, eyes, blood, and night.”

“It used to be ‘sky’ for blue,” he remarked.

It had been a slip. Sherry had told her he had beautiful blue eyes last night, and it stuck as her color reference. She’d been born blind and had never seen colors, but she liked to associate them with moods and other objects. Color was theoretical in her mind, but it helped to be able to relate to sighted people if she formed concrete associations.

She felt the heat from him directly behind her, and she fought the urge to lean back. When they were younger, she’d have never thought twice about leaning against him. They had constantly been in contact—not in a sexual way. Just in a familiar way. It had grounded her in strange locations.

She’d missed him, and even with him this close, loneliness pounded through her like the sounds of the ride overhead.

“My brother has blue eyes is why I changed it.” She sensed him stiffen at her jab. “Have you done this before? Ridden on the Cyclone?” she asked.

“Yes. Many times.”

Only to him, this was probably nothing. He did things that didn’t come with seat belts and safety padding. Things she could hardly imagine having the nerve to do.

The people on the ride screamed in unison and she shuddered. “What do you see?”

“The structure is wood painted white,” he said in a soothing tone, “with red and yellow accents. The cars themselves are red and seat eight people in four pairs. There’s lots of padding and a lap restraint. Very safe.”

“You’ll ride with me, right?” Her voice sounded odd and breathy—needy, which she hated.

“If you want me to.”

“Yes,” she answered faster than intended.

A loud hydraulic hiss and staccato squeals from brakes sounded directly in front of her.

“We’re up,” he said quietly, lips near enough to her ear for his breath to send chills down her spine. “Do you want me in first or last?”

“First. I need help. You’ll have to touch me.”

“An attendant is waiting to help you.”

“No. You. Only you,” she blurted.

C
hance flinched at her words. Words he’d dreamed at night when his guard was completely down and his heart took over in his sleep. His guard was not down now—just the opposite. Everything in him was on hyperalert as he squeezed her hand and guided her to the landing. Being around her had always had this effect on him. Colors seemed brighter and noises louder, like her mere presence fed his adrenaline addiction. The attendant stood nearby and took the cane when he relieved her of it.

“I’m right here.” He stepped into the car and grabbed both of her hands, then described the configuration and gently guided her into the seat next to him, careful not to pull or yank her, but to let her use him for balance as she found her own way. The attendant might have rushed her into the car. He’d learned long ago that she became disoriented when pulled or pushed. He’d always admired her for being at her best when taking on new things at her own pace.

Finally settled, she turned her face to him and grinned, sending all concern and worry he’d had packing.

“Arms up,” the attendant ordered and they both raised their arms as the lap restraint was engaged. Still, she grinned as the brakes made a hiss and the car lurched forward, then jerked and began rolling for real.

She clutched the bar in front of her. “This is super hard with no vision. I can’t anticipate anything, so it’s pretty intense.”

“Well, it’s going to climb for a while, and then the first drop ends in a rise and a sharp left before another drop.”

She nodded.

“Do you want me to narrate?”

“No. I want to experience it as it comes with no warnings. Maybe not knowing is more fun.”

Maybe it was. “Okay, I’ll close my eyes and we’ll do this together.”

“No peeking,” she said as the car tilted and began to clatter up the incline.

“I won’t peek if you don’t,” he teased as they reached the top and the car paused momentarily.

Her laughter rang in his ears as the g-forces hit. Taking the ride with his eyes closed was unlike anything he’d done before. He couldn’t relax even for a second, not knowing which way he’d be pitched next. He had to remain tight and at the ready at all times for whatever came at him. Much like Genny had lived her entire life—tensing for what would come at her next out of nowhere.

The no-touching rule was abandoned on the first turn when she slid into him, still giggling and squealing. Then he was leaning into her as the car shifted direction and went up for another drop.

He couldn’t help peeking as the car slowed at the top of a rise. She’d closed her eyes, probably because of the wind, and a huge grin was plastered on her face. And for the first time he realized it wasn’t the accident that had made him so protective and fond, it was the woman herself—or girl at one time. She was amazing.

“I can feel you looking at me,” she said. “You’re cheati—aaaaaaaaaaah!” she squealed as the car plummeted down another fall.

More exciting than taking the ride with his eyes closed was taking it watching
her
. Expressive, beautiful, and alive, she was better than anything he’d experienced in recent years. God, he’d missed her.

As the ride ended and they screeched to a halt, she was still laughing, free of all pretense and layers. And he found himself in awe.

Chance Anderson knew at that moment, he was completely and totally screwed. No way would he make the week without breaking every one of his own rules.

B
undled back into the limo with Nathan’s hot dogs and cheese fries, Gen was certain she’d reached the high point of her life to date. Side by side, she and Chance feasted from the same tray as if there had never been a rift or a decade of separation between them.

It struck her as odd that they could fall back into such familiarity after so long a time. Eerie almost. “You’re breath’s going to stink after this,” she teased. “Onions and relish. Ew.”

“Good thing I’m not kissing you after all that chili and cheese,” he said, wiping something from her chin with his thumb. “Chili. Yum.”

“Did you just lick that off your finger?”

“You bet I did. Want to trade?”

“No way. Onions. Yuck.”

“I figured you’d outgrown your dislike of onions by now.”

She froze and gave herself a mental shake. She’d promised herself, when she decided to ask Chance to help her, that she’d guard her heart this time. She needed to be careful. He’d taken off without a word before, and he was likely to do it again. She took another bite of hot dog, schooling her face into a neutral expression.

She hadn’t outgrown her dislike of onions, nor had she outgrown her distrust of Chance.

“So. Skydiving. I have a line on that. Want to knock that one out now, or have you had enough excitement for today?

“Let’s do it today.” The sooner this ended, the better. She hadn’t anticipated him knotting her all up inside again. She’d thought to show him how self-sufficient she was as an adult, then cut him loose without a backward glance. So far, not so good. “Never enough excitement.”

He pulled out his phone and texted someone, then gave the driver, Jacob, an address in New Jersey.

“That’s kind of far,” she said, pulling out her own phone. “There are airports a lot closer than that. Sherry said a man she dated jumped with some guys who take off out of Islip.”

“This is better than that. I know a lot about skydiving, and this is perfect.”

Sticking in her earbuds, she typed the address he’d given the driver into her phone. “Sky Bird Adventure Vertical Wind Tunnel,” the phone recited. “Indoor skydiving for all body types and experience levels.”

She yanked out her earbuds and turned to face him. “Are you shitting me? It’s a wind tunnel. No plane? No jump? No deal.”

“I will remind you now of rule number one: I’ll allow nothing that will bring you harm. I’ll follow your lead, but we’re doing it my way if I deem it safer.” Fabric slid across leather as he shifted in the seat. “Skydiving is reckless and dangerous in this case. I deem this a safer alternative.”

“But you’ve done it. A
lot.
You even did it back in high school.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why can’t I?”

He shifted in his seat again. Good, she’d made him uncomfortable.

“Again. This is better. It simulates skydiving without the fear of equipment or user failure. It lets you fly much longer than an actual jump. Yes. I’ve jumped out of a plane, but I’ve done this, too, and I think you’ll like it much better.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. “No way. No plane, no jump, no deal.”

“Genny.”

“Gen!”

“Gen.” He took her face in his hands.

“No touching. Your rule.”

“Fuck my rule and listen to me. I can’t let you jump out of a plane. Just because I’ve done it doesn’t mean it’s right for you. You might not be scared, but I am. You almost died because of me once.” His voice broke as he spoke, which caused a painful twinge in her chest.

“No talking about the past. My rule,” she admonished.

“Fuck
your
rule, too.”

And at that she smiled. She could almost hear his smile back, but to be sure, she touched his face. They remained like that for a moment, holding each other’s faces over a tray of half-eaten hot dogs.

“I bet we look pretty stupid, Anderson.”

“Good thing you can’t see, Richards.”

When his hands moved down her face to her jawline, her entire body thrummed to life like it had in the bar when he touched her. He swept his fingers down her neck and across her shoulders, then dropped his hands and leaned back. “I’m firm on this, Gen. I can’t let you jump from a plane. If you don’t like it, find another ‘assistant.’”

She gave a calculated, long-suffering sigh. “Wind tunnel it is.”

He shifted the tray from between them. “You done?”

“Yep.”

“Good. I want the rest of your chili dog.”

“That’s probably not a good idea before you do this flight simulator thing.”

“Mmm. Mmm,” he mumbled, mouth full. “Not
my
bucket list. You’re on your own this time. I’m waiting in the car. You don’t need me for this.”

For a moment, she was startled, then angry, and then, just like that, she was pleased. He was giving her the opportunity to do this odd, adventurous thing on her own. To prove not only to him, but to herself she was capable and could do this without assistance. Damn right she could.

“So that knocks three of ten, leaving seven.”

“Six. I don’t need your help with the last one.”

“What is it?”

“None of your business, like I told you before.”

“What’s next, then?”

“Skinny-dipping!” She grinned. “Remember that pool we used to go to in the summer? We’re going to break into it at midnight..”

“Ha!” he barked. “When did you make this list?”

Before you broke my heart.
“When I was fifteen.”

“Baby, that pool’s been a parking lot for five years.”

The sound of the pavement under the limo tires changed as they crossed a bridge. She leaned back against the soft leather seat and closed her eyes, imagining the pool from her childhood. She’d loved the feel of floating and the way sound was muffled when her ears were barely underwater. Her favorite memories from the pool were jumping off the diving board hand in hand with Chance and playing Marco Polo with him for hours on end. “Well, I’ve got to do something to replace it, then, or I won’t get my wish.”