Just Between Us (The Kings)

No,no, no, no, no.

It’s impossible.

It can’t be.

Random skull tattoos on the back of someone’s hand are totally common, right?

What about the dagger on the side of his finger?

It was too specific to be a coincidence, and I was too logical to deny it.

I paced in my apartment, sweat pooling at my lower back. My armpits felt sticky, and I jutted my elbows out to keep from sweating all over my blouse.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

My stomach churned as dread pooled in my gut. Had it not been for me wearing my favorite pair of high heels, I probably would have puked right there on the floor of his tattoo parlor. I couldn’t get enough air despite sucking in lungfuls of breath. The blood drained from my face as my mind raced and panic threatened to overtake me.

No one was supposed to know.

Memories from our conversations over the last few months came flooding back, and my cheeks flared. Pulse was supposed to be anonymous. A fun escape to momentarily forget about the utter lack of genuine human connection in my life.

Working with JP King was supposed to be the ultimate redemption in my career after I crashed and burned at Franklin & Mirth.

My dirty little secret was supposed to stay locked up behind a screen, not waltzing through town with big dick energy and playful brown eyes. The tattoos were a dead giveaway, but I should have recognized the broad expanse of his chest. I had never seen his face, but I’d memorized every slope and line of his muscular body. I knew there was a six-pack and trim waist covered in tattoos, hiding under that T-shirt.

I had lusted after his freaking Adam’s apple.

I groaned at how pathetic I was and raked a hand through my hair, not caring if I messed up the carefully placed waves. Reeling, I pulled my phone from my purse and logged in to the Pulse app.

The unread message from last night was blaring at me. I held my breath as I read.

Mr.Right.Now: I’d blame the video call on a pocket dial, but I’d like to think we can be honest with each other after all this time. I apologize if I overstepped. Won’t happen again.

The tiniest twinge pinched in my chest at his sincere apology. I hated myself for allowing some strange man on the internet—a man I barely knew—to have some kind of hold over me. Frantic, I pulled up the last private video message I had seen.

“Hey, Precious. I missed you today.” The gentle words whooshed between my ears as I slumped against the wall and slid to the ground.

His voice was clearer and brighter in person. At the tattoo parlor it had lacked the relaxed gravel I was used to hearing, but it was his all the same.

My eyes searched the video, cataloging every drawing inked across his veined hands and up his forearms.

Oh god. Mr.Right.Now’s name is Royal King.

I can’t do this.

I had a job to do, a job I needed to nail without my emotions getting in the way. My mind spun as my apartment tilted on its axis.

I knew he was my secret fantasy—there was absolutely no way he wasn’t—but he definitely hadn’t known me.

The tiny spark of hope that my secret remained safe grew brighter. There was only one solution to keep my secret life and my real life from intersecting—the only way I could think of to keep my shame and secret buried.

With a resolute breath, I turned off notifications and removed Pulse from my phone.

Wednesday nights in Outtatowner,Michigan, were nearly as busy as any populated city. Despite the busyness of what I assumed was tourist season, the town held a cozy atmosphere that the cold, unattached city lacked. Restaurants were dotted with people eating alfresco. Parents herded sandy kids into cars. I walked the sidewalk of Main Street, and friendly faces smiled and waved.

Laughter floated across the warm, coastal air.

“Veda!” a woman’s voice called out.

My eyes searched for the source, and I spotted JP’s sister MJ waving wildly and cutting across traffic.

“Sorry!” She wound around the car, grinning and waving to the driver. She came to a stop in front of me with a deep exhale. “Hey! Hi.” She cleared her throat. “I thought that was you.”

I pressed my lips into a small smile. “It’s me.”

“What are you doing?” Her smile was bright as she looked up at me.

I glanced around. “Just walking . . . getting my bearings.”

She nodded. “So nothing. That’s perfect.”

A laugh pushed through my nose. MJ was direct, but in a humorous way that wasn’t quite in my skill set. I liked that about her.

Her arm looped into mine. “You’re coming with me.”

I walked with her but was hesitant. “Where are you taking me?”

MJ paused in front of a darkened bookstore. “It’s Wednesday night.” Her eyes blinked innocently. “It’s Bluebird Book Club night.”

I looked at the small wooden sign that read “Closed for the Bluebirds.” I peered through the window at the charming vintage shop. A few figures could be seen moving around at the back of the store.

I looked at MJ and frowned, unnerved by her pitifully hopeful face. “I’m not really the club kind of girl.”

“Ah, come on. There’s alcohol and sometimes we actually talk about a book.” She grinned. “Though not often. Mostly it’s for us to talk shit about people and untangle the messes my idiot brothers and the Sullivans create.” Her slim shoulders bounced. “It’s fun.”

“Sounds charming.” I swallowed hard, still unconvinced I would fit in with that crowd.

Without allowing another word, MJ pushed through the glass door. “Come on.”

In the back of the quaint store, small groups of women sat in haphazard seating arrangements. Mismatched chairs, a velvet settee, a love seat, and a tufted ottoman all dotted the area like an eclectic, bougie reading nook. Each of the women were chatting with drinks in their hands, and soft music played in the background. The fluorescent shop lights had been dimmed, and table lamps flooded the space with warm, cozy light.

A large side table had an array of drinks—both alcoholic and not—and small plates of appetizers were arranged for book club guests to help themselves.

My stomach growled.

MJ leaned in. “Let’s get you introduced, and then you can grab something to eat. Just stay away from the praline pecans. Ms. Mabel is a terrible cook and can somehow make butter and sugar taste like dirt.”

MJ stifled a giggle, and I couldn’t help but laugh along. “Noted. Thanks.”

“Aunt Bug?” MJ called to an older woman near the back. “Come meet Veda.”

The woman had a commanding presence that I instantly admired. Though there were plenty of people milling about, she stayed still and allowed the commotion to come to her.

MJ dragged me along, never unhooking her arm from mine. Typically that kind of uninvited contact made my hackles rise, but with her it felt sweet. Supportive.

“Bug, this is Veda. She’s JP’s new secretary since he fired me.” My eyebrow raised at the label she gave me.

His secretary? So that’s what we’re going with? Okay, sure.

With what he was paying me, he could call me whatever he damn well pleased. I stuck my hand out. “A pleasure.”

Bug gripped her hand in mine. “I am well aware of the assistance you are providing my nephew. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Her direct stare spoke volumes, and I suspected she knew more than MJ did regarding the real reason I was snooping around Outtatowner. Her frosty greeting didn’t bother me. In fact, her cool, dismissive gaze was a tactic I often employed when I didn’t want to reveal too much about myself too quickly.

A strategist could spot another one when she saw her.

Pulled along by the friendliest stranger I’d ever encountered, MJ introduced me to the rest of the women. The Bluebirds they called themselves.

I smiled inwardly. Cute.

Next to MJ, I sat on a small green sofa as she made her final introductions. My head was already spinning, connecting new faces and names.

MJ pointed as she spoke. “You know Sylvie. She’s married to Duke. He’s the oldest Sullivan.”

Sylvie offered a shy smile and wave.

“Duke’s brother is Wyatt”—she continued to point at the women around the room—“who’s married to Lark.”

“Hi.” Lark’s friendly smile lit up her whole face.

“Then there’s Annie. She’s with Lee, who works with my brother Whip at the fire station. Whip is marrying Emily, who should be here any minute. Eventually you’ll meet Sloane. She couldn’t make it because she and Abel are getting married on Saturday. Oh!” MJ’s gasp startled more than just me. Her hand clamped on my arm. “You have to come to the wedding!”

My head shook in confusion. “Oh, I—I don’t know, I . . .”

MJ waved me off. “We’ll figure it out. Then we have Kate.” The women exchanged a cutesy smile, and I instantly recognized Kate from a popular home design show on television. “Kate is married to Beckett, who was supposed to get the brunt of that silly stunt Royal pulled last week.”

Kate’s face twisted. “Yeah . . . sorry about that. If it helps, the boys are planning revenge in your honor.”

“Oh, that isn’t necessary. I’m fine, really.” I smiled at Kate when realization dawned on me, and I turned back to MJ. “Wait, Royal?”

She blanched as Sylvie’s eyes went wide, and she hit her sister’s leg. “Oops.” MJ grimaced. “Sorry. Funny story, though . . . come to find out, Royal was behind it and paid those kids.”

My nerves skittered at the mention of their older brother. My blood warmed and prickles raised the hair on my forearms.

Lark leaned forward. “There’s this thing in town? Kind of like a decades-old family rivalry between the Sullivans and the Kings.” She rolled her eyes. “Everyone thought it would come to an end with Duke and Sylvie getting together, but I think we’ve all come to the conclusion that there’s really no stopping grown-ass men from acting like children.”

Sylvie lifted her shoulder and her blond hair tumbled behind her back. “Thankfully it’s all pretty harmless now.”

I shook my head, soaking in the new information about their quirky town. “That is . . . something.”

Annie sighed. “The story is tragically romantic.” She leaned into Kate. “Tell her about the speakeasy.”

Kate popped an olive in her mouth and crossed her legs. “We were remodeling Tootie’s farmhouse when we found a hidden speakeasy. It uncovered all kinds of secrets.”

My ears pricked at the word secrets, and Kate continued: “The Sullivans and Kings were friends, but during Prohibition, it all went to shit. Friendship and business didn’t mix. The rivalry started there, but then . . .”

The air around us thickened as we all clung to Kate’s whispered words.

“Years later it turned really ugly. Apparently Red and June Sullivan fell head over heels in love, despite Russell King having some intense feelings for June. The rejection stung and breathed new life into the rivalry. Things got bad for a while, but now they’re just . . .” She looked to Sylvie to fill in the blanks.

Sylvie’s smile held a comforting softness. “We’re all still finding our way in this new chapter.”

Annie sighed, lost in the dramatic romance of it all. MJ squeezed her sister Sylvie’s hand. Perhaps the King women suspected, as I did, that things with their father were likely going to get only worse.

I was hung up on the mention of Russell King’s name, especially with it attached to some kind of small-town love triangle.

I wondered whether there was something there. Something that caused an otherwise ridiculously wealthy businessman to choose to stay in his small town rather than operate solely out of a larger city. From a business perspective, there would be no reason to do that. Something was off there.

I tucked that nugget deep into my brain and refocused on the women who’d continued the conversation around me. Lark left to refresh her beverage and returned with two hot-pink drinks. She handed one across to me. “Try this one—it’s a delight.”

I sipped, instantly feeling the burn of alcohol. I coughed and almost choked. “Delicious.” I grunted to clear my throat. Apparently these women weren’t fucking around with the booze.

The conversation shifted to Sloane and Abel’s upcoming nuptials. MJ slapped a hand against her thigh. “It’s official. You’re coming.”

My attention settled on her. Her optimism and sunshine were unrivaled.

“You should,” Sylvie added with a nod. Her warm brown eyes were soft and kind. “It will be fun. Plus it’ll give you a chance to get to know some of the family and locals. Everyone will be there.”

I glanced at the open, friendly faces of the Bluebirds. I’d never had that—friendships where people accepted you just as you were. Women who didn’t know you but were willing to look past your guarded exterior just to have the opportunity to learn more.

I thought about a younger Veda, sad and friendless, who so desperately wanted a sister but instead was an only child. I didn’t know how to play with dolls and pretend kitchens. I was into numbers and puzzles, even at a young age.

I’d learned results got praise—good grades, teacher accolades, scholarships. Being driven didn’t leave a lot of time for nurturing friendships.

I swallowed down the lump of emotion that built in my throat. “Yeah.” I cleared the tightness. “I’ll think about it.”

MJ squealed, dancing her feet on the carpet and launching into a new story.

I frowned as she prattled on, knowing full well attending the wedding meant their brother Royal would be there too. I had spent the better part of a week trying not to think about how deliciously dangerous he looked in person and fighting the urge to redownload Pulse.

For a fleeting moment I thought maybe I could just pretend to not know that the hottest man I’d ever seen in real life also happened to occasionally send me secret nudes and videos of him stroking his cock.

I stared into my cup for a single beat before I shot back the remainder of my hot-pink drink with a single gulp.

Here goes nothing.