Just Between Us (The Kings)

Remain in control.He’s the only one who knows. You’ve got this.

My self-reassurance wasn’t doing a damn thing, but I repeated it all the same.

I glanced at the clock by my bedside. The harsh red numbers indicating 4:15 a.m. gave me a sick thrill. It was finally time for me to get out of bed and face the day.

I’d been awake for hours, and I was ready to grab Monday by the balls. I could take charge and get things done before most were even out of bed.

My morning shower was efficient and unfussy, as it always was. I managed to tackle my unruly hair, shave, and exfoliate in under eight minutes—a ridiculous daily challenge I held with myself.

Efficiency was my friend. I didn’t need the tight quarters or the quiet hum of the water to lull me into thinking about him. Thankfully the ear-piercing, high-pitched squeal of my apartment’s showerhead was enough to mitigate that.

After showering, I dried and styled my naturally wavy hair into soft curls that hung between my shoulder blades. In high school I’d learned to apply makeup in a way that highlighted my features while also scaring off the boys my age. I checked my reflection in the mirror.

Veda is decently competent and wholly unapproachable.

The flippant remark of my former boss at Franklin & Mirth pinged across my brain. He’d meant that as a compliment, but it stung all the same.

Decently competent.

I let out a disgusted huff and shook my head as I dressed, then slipped on my high heels. I’d been more pissed about that than the unapproachable part.

I had known since I was young that bubbly laughter and sweet smiles were left to the popular girls.

The nice girls . . . girls like MJ King.

I grabbed my oversize purse and smiled to myself when thinking of her. She was completely unaffected by my cool exterior, and if her incessant texting was any indication, somehow I’d managed to make my first friend in Outtatowner.

Only a block from downtown, the plan was to grab a cup of coffee before walking to JP’s office. I frowned down at my designer shoes. Sure, I could suffer through pinched toes, but the concrete sidewalk would be hell on the soles.

Annoyed, I slipped off the heels, then tucked them into my bag and slid my feet into a more sensible pair of canvas sneakers. It cut four inches from my height but, really, who was I trying to impress in Outtatowner?

Royal’s face flashed in my mind.

I’d seen his veiny, sinewed forearms, the cut lines of his abs, and the spread of his thighs enough times to lose count, but I never imagined his face would be so damn handsome. He was a striking combination of hard lines and smiling, mischievous eyes. A tingle danced down my spine before I could stop it.

Growling at myself, I yanked on the door handle and pulled it open. Birds chirped as I exited my apartment building and headed toward downtown. The small apartment building was on the end of a quiet street with cracked sidewalks and uneven asphalt. I had definitely chosen the correct footwear for my walk to work.

The closer I got to town, the more interesting the homes that dotted the street grew. Some were older homes with the classic, simple lines indicative of a house built in the 1960s, while others were brand-new builds with expansive porches and gleaming floor-to-ceiling windows.

I noticed a blue house, tucked atop a bluff, with the prettiest flowers I had ever seen nestled in front of dormered windows. A few houses up, I watched a family unload a minivan at what I assumed was their vacation rental home. Duffel bags were piled on top of one another. Two young boys chased each other in the front yard while the parents pulled a cooler and grocery bags of food from the back.

“Morning.” The woman waved, offering a bright smile as I passed.

I returned the wave with a nod.

In the distance I could hear the faint crashing of the waves from Lake Michigan but couldn’t see the water past the tall cliffs of the sand dunes. It had been ages since I had sat on a beach anywhere. So long in fact, I almost forgot what it felt like to just sit in one place and breathe.

Lazy days basking in the sun would have to wait.

I was about to be up to my eyeballs in King Equities paperwork, attempting to untangle whatever mystery JP King was trying to unravel. I still didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, but something in my gut told me I would know it once I found it.

Maybe his father was hiding money in offshore accounts. Perhaps under-the-table deals added to their profits. I had been in business consulting long enough to know the lengths some would go to to protect their money.

I quickly cut across the intersection, thankful that my heels were safely stashed inside my bag. Ahead, the man I recognized as Bootsy sat on a park bench. There was a small baseball field at his back. I kept up my brisk pace as I crossed in front of him.

“Good morning, Miss Bauer.”

When I glanced at him, he nodded. I stopped and turned. “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t think that we have been introduced.”

He tipped his invisible hat. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Bootsy, ma’am.”

I offered a polite smile. “I’m Veda Bauer, but it seems you already knew that.” I raised an eyebrow in question.

An affable laugh rolled through him as he slapped his knee. “Oh, not much gets past old Bootsy, ma’am.” He winked. “Not in this town.”

I hummed in acknowledgment. A busybody. Great. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I turned to leave.

“Of course, of course. Don’t want to upset young JP. He’s not as accommodating as Mr. King.”

Several steps down the road I slowed, thinking of Bootsy’s parting words. There was nothing but genuine affection in Bootsy’s voice as he spoke of the senior King.

Had I pegged it wrong? Was JP the asshole in this situation?

I suspected he was planning a hostile takeover of his father’s business, but I figured it would be for a good reason. I supposed it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to think the younger King was just as ruthless as his father and my services were only to protect his interests.

Anxiety clawed at my shoulders. I didn’t like not knowing how this was going to play out. I would need to keep my cards close to my chest until I could determine what was really going on in this strange town.

When I hit the corner of Main Street, I paused to adjust the bag on my shoulder. Despite the early hour, warmth and humidity clung to the air. Taking a breath, I slipped my blazer off my shoulders and hung it across my bag. The blouse I wore beneath it was sleeveless, allowing the breeze to cool my tacky skin.

I glanced down at my slim gold watch. The sleepy coastal town was just waking up, and the majority of the businesses were still shuttered away behind darkened windows.

Movement caught my eye.

A large man dragged an A-frame sign onto the sidewalk. He was obscenely tall, with broad shoulders and thick arms.

I flipped through the catalog in my brain.

Huck Benton. Nonlocal. Outtatowner transplant. Married to Cassandra. Cassidy? Something like that.

I glanced across the street to the top-floor office building that would serve as my new office. The rounded corner windows were still dark. On one hand, beating my new boss to the job proved I was tenacious and had grit. On the other hand, if I was going to spend hours slumped over boxes of paperwork, battling dust bunnies and spiders, I was going to need caffeine.

With a nod I continued up the path toward the Sugar Bowl.

“Morning.” I had attempted to sound bright and cheerful, and instead the word came out like an accusation.

The baker’s head whipped up, eyes wide. “It is.”

I pulled my shoulders back and tipped my head toward the bakery. “Open for business?”

He swept a large palm toward the door. “First customer of the day.”

I walked through the glass door and was immediately hit with the warm scent of chocolate and freshly baked pastries. I scanned the glass display case, brimming with decadent treats. My eyes pinged between blueberry muffins with a crumb topping, cheese Danishes with a raspberry swirl, and a bear claw the size of my face.

Huck slid behind the register. “What’ll it be?”

My eyes glanced at the menu. “A macchiato espresso, upside down.” I flicked a manicured nail toward the pastries. “And a bear claw. Please.”

Huck angled his body toward the espresso machine. “Uh . . . I’m more of a behind-the-scenes, covered-in-flour kind of guy. I can probably figure out a black coffee if you’d like.”

I blinked at him. It was clear customer service was his least favorite part of owning a business. Instead of being put out like I normally would be, I found him endearing.

I smiled. “How about just the bear claw?”

He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. “That I can do.”

Using tongs, Huck slid the bear claw between a sheet of parchment paper and set it on the counter in front of me.

I reached into my bag to retrieve my wallet, but his hand came up. “On the house.”

I tried to argue, but he shook his head. “It’s the least I can do for being an incompetent barista.”

A soft laugh pushed through my nose. “Thank you.”

He nodded, and I appreciated he wasn’t the type to engage in mindless chitchat just for the sake of small talk.

Huck pointed toward the large picture window at the front of the bakery. A row of seats were tucked into the countertop that ran the length of the window. “That spot is the best seat in the house. A whole lot happens in this town if you just take the time to slow down and watch.”

I turned and appreciated the cozy atmosphere of the bakery as I took my seat at the high-top bar against the window. Small tables dotted the open space, and I could imagine friends meeting for coffee or old men playing cards and spending the day gossiping.

I was itching to dive into my work, but JP had made it clear that understanding the nuances of his small town was a part of seeing the whole picture and the role his father played in it.

I could enjoy my ridiculously large bear claw and watch as Outtatowner came to life. I would call it research.

Sure, why the hell not?

Settling into the best seat in the house, I placed my black leather bag in the seat beside me. After pulling out my earbuds, I slipped them on and brought up a playlist titled Don’t Get Mad, Get Even.

To my left, Main Street ambled on toward the lakefront. Businesses lined the streets, and the sidewalks had large concrete planting boxes bursting with foliage and flowers. At the end of the road, the hill crested, and I could just barely make out the marina that led to the lake stretching out beyond it.

I hadn’t yet explored past the marina, but I knew the beach was located just beyond the docks. Down a long, sloping path stood Outtatowner’s iconic lighthouse.

To the right, early-morning rays of crimson-and-gold sunlight were just beginning to peek beyond the tops of the trees. A few cars rolled lazily down the street.

It was quiet. Tranquil.

It was the kind of lazy, quiet morning that made it all too easy to let my thoughts wander.

I hated it.

If I sat too quiet for too long, I would inevitably start thinking about how tired I was and how little I had to show for it. Normally if working was out of the question, I would zone out by mindlessly scrolling social media or talking to him.

I tapped my nail on the counter.

I shouldn’t do it.

With a pathetic sigh, I realized the temptation was too great, and I caved.

It took forever to redownload, but once I opened the app and entered my log-in information, I was hit with a notification of a new video. I glanced around. No one was around to peek over my shoulder to see what was on my phone, but I checked just in case.

The video was right there, ready for me to push play, and my heart fluttered.

Royal was still dressed in the tuxedo from the wedding. He had shed the jacket and was sitting on the couch, his body visible from the neck down. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and I swallowed alongside him. The bow tie and two shirt buttons were undone but nothing more. Somehow this buttoned-up version of Mr.Right.Now was even hotter.

The commenters disagreed. Below the video were the typical replies I was used to seeing on his videos, comments like Daddy? and Meowwww and lots of fire emoji, but there were also streams of subtle complaints that the video wasn’t like his normal content.

Talk about a tease.

Take some of it off.

Too sweet. Where’s the spice?

It gave me the ick that people were so bold to direct those things at a perfect stranger. Guilt washed over me because I knew that, really, I was no better. I, too, had used his deep voice and sex appeal to my advantage for the bargain price of $14.99 per month.

But somehow knowing it was Royal felt different now.

I held my breath as I pushed play and watched the video.

“Hey, Precious. I wanted you to know that I wouldn’t change anything. There is nothing I would change about you.” He chuckled to himself, and a sizzle ran across my skin. “A black cat and a golden retriever. Could be fun.”

My ears buzzed. Ablack cat and golden retriever.

Sure, I’d always had the irrational thought that it seemed like Mr.Right.Now was speaking to me, but this was insane. Knowing he was actually speaking directly to me made my head spin.

My two worlds were colliding, and my head was going to explode.

I jolted when a hand landed on my shoulder. I ripped one earbud from my ear to find Sylvie smiling at me. I frantically shoved the phone into my bag, my cheeks flooding with heat.

“Hi.” She smiled.

I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my heartbeat thump beneath it. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sylvie laughed. “I came in from the back.”

She slid a large foaming to-go cup in front of me. She set the lid next to it. “The big guy told me what you wanted to order.” She leaned in as if we were partners in some inside joke. “Be thankful he didn’t attempt to make it.”

I looked at the paper cup. It was a perfect upside-down macchiato espresso. “Oh, that’s so kind. Thank you. Here . . .” I moved toward my purse.

“Nope. My treat.” Sylvie winked. On the outside, Sylvie King was much more reserved than her little sister MJ’s bubbling energy. But beneath that cautious exterior, I could see they shared the same kindness.

Sylvie leaned a hip against the windowsill counter and crossed her arms. “You slipped out before we had a chance to say goodbye after the wedding.”

Guilt oozed into my awareness. I wasn’t used to my abrupt actions being held so accountable or thinking about how my hasty exit may have looked to her family. I didn’t quite know how to feel about it.

I swallowed hard. “Oh, right.” I folded my hands in my lap to keep from fidgeting. “I’m sorry about that. I appreciated MJ’s invite, but you know, it was a family event so . . .” I trailed off, unsure what more to say.

Sylvie only smiled and nodded. “I completely understand. It was nice of you to come.” She flipped a white dish towel onto her shoulder. “Well, I better get started before it gets busy, but I’ll see you on Wednesday for the Bluebirds, right?”

My eyebrows popped up. “Oh, I . . .”

Sylvie paused as one sculpted eyebrow crept up onto her forehead, daring me to come up with a reason I couldn’t attend.

I smiled. “Yes, I’ll see you there.”

She winked. “Perfect. Now finish that coffee and get out of here before my brother Royal comes sniffing around.”

With a laugh, Sylvie turned and sailed through the saloon-style doors, disappearing into the kitchen. I looked down the sidewalk.

Oh god . . .

I did not need to run into that man. Shoving a very unladylike bite of bear claw into my face, I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and grabbed the to-go cup, securing the lid on top.

I exited the Sugar Bowl and stopped in my tracks. Leaning against the brick facade of his tattoo parlor, Royal stretched out his long muscular legs, blocking the sidewalk.

My eyes floated upward from his scuffed boots across the denim and higher up, where his legs were crossed.

My vision snagged on where his legs met—nope.

My eyes whipped to his face to find him giving me a knowing, lopsided grin. “Good morning, Precious.”

My body reacted to his smooth opening, but I shut it down immediately. “Do not call me that.”

“Whoa, okay.” Both hands went up. “How about just a good morning, then?”

“Good morning.” I gestured impatiently toward his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m on my way to work as your brother’s . . . secretary.”

His jaw flexed. “Right.”

What I was hired to do in this town was none of his business. Energy hummed between us. I waved a hand in front of his bulky, irresistible frame. “What are you doing awake? You seem more of a night owl type.”

His eyes were a perfectly annoying shade of silky, rich brown. They held mine as I tried not to react to his presence.

His scoff was warm and playful. “I thought you said I was a golden retriever?”

Running on adrenaline and caffeine, I lifted my chin, refusing to answer. His whiskey-colored eyes moved down my body. He didn’t rush but rather let his gaze hover and wander, like he was enjoying every second as he soaked in the sight of me.

He paused when his eyes landed on my canvas sneakers. “You’re shorter than I remember.”

I crossed my arms and shifted the weight of my bag. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

My petty dig didn’t affect him. Likely because we both knew it was total bullshit. In person, Royal was commanding and exuded a powerful masculine energy that should have come off as overbearing but instead I found utterly alluring.

It was like every brick I’d painstakingly placed to wall off my emotions crumbled in his presence. The mere foundation of my existence as a powerful, take-no-shit woman evaporated whenever I got near Royal King.

It was like my insides turned to mushy goo around him, and it was highly annoying.

I yanked on the strap of my bag. “If you’ll excuse me.” Shoulders back, I attempted to round his long legs and scoot past him. He stood, his towering height crowding my space. One hand slipped between the leather strap of my purse and my shoulder. Heat bloomed at the contact.

He lifted, taking the weight of my bag with him. “Allow me.”

I turned toward him, defiance flashing in my eyes. “I don’t need your help.”

He smiled down at me. “I never thought you did. Doesn’t mean I don’t like taking care of you all the same.”

Words went thick in my throat. In my experience, when a man stepped in to take care of something, it was because he deemed the woman mildly incompetent, but the way Royal put it, it was like he knew I could handle my shit but stepped in because he wanted to.

Warmth pooled low and tugged below my belly. My eyes fluttered to his. “Thank you.”

A triumphant chuckle rattled out of him as he gestured toward the sidewalk. “After you.”

Side by side we walked in silence toward the office building. The wind rustled nearby trees, and in the quiet morning I could hear the faint crash of waves in the distance. Outtatowner was nothing like the city, and Royal was nothing like any man I’d ever experienced.

He was charming and kind.

Sexy and mysterious.

He was dangerous.

I stopped at the base of the stairs to the building and held out my hand. “Thank you for carrying my bag.”

Instead of handing it over, Royal simply slipped my hand into his. His thumb caressed the skin at the top of my hand, and a jolt of desire coursed through me. My eyes tracked the movements as he lifted and placed a kiss on the back of my hand.

His head dipped so our eyes could meet. “I’ll be seeing you.”

There it is—that mushy feeling again. Damn it.