Tempting (Red Lips & White Lies Book 1)

Forgiving is easy. Forgetting is hard.

Admitting you may have overreacted is fucking torture. 

—Kenzie’s Secret Thoughts

“So are you going to forgive him?” Bellamy asks from the other side of the counter while we pay for our dinners in the hospital cafeteria. Not that her brownie and yogurt count for a meal to anyone past the age of eight, but, I’m trying not to judge.

“Nixon or Easton?” I ask as we find a table, rethinking my salad. “I’ve already forgiven Nixon. I’m just still pissed. He shouldn’t have kept it from me.”

“Is that really why you’re still pissed? Or is it because he called you out on the Dr. Dick thing?” I stab a cucumber with my fork and stare at her brownie. Maybe Bellamy has the right idea.

“I wish he’d told me. But I’m pretty sure I’m more mad at myself for overreacting than I am at him for putting me in the position in the first place. I’ve just dug my heels in so deep, it’s kinda hard to pull them out,” I admit, so damn frustrated.

“The first step is admitting you have a problem,” she chirps, reminding me a little of Leo. “The second step is the make-up sex. Make-up sex is so much fun.”

Huh . . . I hadn’t thought about it that way.

“Now, onto Easton. Are you pissed at him too?”

“Maybe give me a little bit more of a transition between hot make-up sex with my fiancé and asking me about my brother,” I groan. “But yes. Him, I’m still mad at. I’m a grown woman. You think that dumbass would have a little faith in my decision-making skills.”

“What time is your meeting with HR?”

“In an hour,” I tell her, knowing I have to do this. I should have done it weeks ago.

She looks between the brownie and yogurt sitting side by side on her tray, then picks up the brownie and hands it to me. “Pretty sure you need this more than I do.”

Once I’m home, I shower and change into leggings and Nixon’s Boston University hoodie. It’s not the new Revolution one he gave me, but this one smells like him, and after the day I’ve had, I need the comfort.

Gordie and I curl up on the couch, and I open my Kindle, needing a distraction.

Fourteen chapters later, the shifters have rejected each other, then somehow fall in love with each other anyway, and I’m reminded why I love shifter romance.

The Alpha possessiveness is off the charts, and I’m here for it.

We’re just about to get to their first time together when my door opens, and my breath catches in my throat. “Nix . . .”

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs and crosses the room in two long strides before picking me up and crushing me to him. “Christ, Mac. I missed you so much.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, and he sits us both down, and I cling to him. “Me too, Nix.” My eyes fill with unshed tears. “It’s been awful without you home, and us fighting, and today was such a bad day, and you were the only person I wanted to tell. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have frozen you out. It would have killed me if you did that to me. I won’t do that again⁠—”

“Shh,” he cuts me off before pressing his lips to mine. “Slow down and breathe, Mac.”

I rest my head against his chest and listen to his heart beat for a few long minutes before opening my mouth again. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you the other morning. I should have given you a chance to explain, and I didn’t. I trust you, Nix. But this is all so damn new and scary. It doesn’t make it better, but hopefully, next time, I won’t be like this.”

He lifts my face to his. “There’s not going to be a next time, Mac. I called Hunter and told him to kill any trade talks.”

“It won’t be our last fight though. We’ve got to work on better communication.” I close my eyes and soak in his warmth. “Don’t keep things from me again. Be honest with me from the beginning. I don’t need to be protected. Just loved.” I smile and take his hand in mine. “Tell me why you wanted the trade.”

“I don’t even have a good answer anymore. I thought a different city could help me create my own legacy instead of always feeling like I’m just a piece of my father’s. I did it to myself. My dad has never made me feel that way. It’s me making me feel that way.” He pushes my hair over my shoulders and tugs on the hood of my sweatshirt. “My clothes look so fucking good on you, baby. But I have something else for you to try on.”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ve helped myself to a few things in your closet since you’ve been gone,” I admit sheepishly.

Nixon pulls a tiny red velvet box from his pants pocket and holds it up between us. “I hope you’re still willing to give me the same answer, Mackenzie. Tell me I didn’t fuck this up beyond repair and you’ll still marry me.”

He cracks the box open to show me a beautiful brilliant-cut, platinum solitaire, and in typical Nixon fashion, it’s gigantic.

“Nixon . . . It’s beautiful.”

He pulls it from the box and slides it down my finger. “Is that a yes, baby?”

I press my lips to his. “I already told you yes. That never changed. I was pissed. Not done. Never done.”

My doorman buzzes my condo.

“Dr. Hayes. Juliette and Becket Kingston are here and coming up.”

Certain people have automatic entrée privileges. Jules and Becks are both on that list. I just get a courtesy notification. Thankfully. Because five minutes later, and they might have walked in on something that no parent—biological or surrogate—needs to walk in on.

“Everything okay?” Nixon asks, and I stand from his lap.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting them.” A ball of dread tightens in my stomach.

This isn’t normal.

I grab my phone from the table and immediately dial Easton.

“Kenz, are you okay? Did he fuck up already?”

“That’s how you answer the phone, E? Really? I’m fine, but Becks and Jules are heading up to my condo at eleven at night, in the middle of the night, without calling. I needed to hear your voice. Everything okay with you?”

“Yeah, but stay on the phone. I want to know what’s going on with Becks and Jules.”

I slide him to speaker and look at Nix. “I just put you on speaker, and Nixon’s here with me, FYI.”

“Fuck face,” Easton greets Nixon.

“Dickhead,” Nixon responds, and I look between my future husband and my brother’s name on my screen.

“I guess you guys got over your shit?” I ask both of them as Jules and Becks knock on my door.

“Yup. We both agreed if he hurts you, he dies,” Easton answers, and I shake my head and hand Nixon the phone before I answer the door.

“We also agreed Easton’s an overbearing asshole who needs to back the fuck off. But I think we’re doing dinner at his house Sunday, if you’re not working,” Nixon adds, and Easton groans.

“I said takeout, man. Lindy can’t cook for shit. Don’t let her lie to you.”

I shake my head and open my door. Becket holds Juliette’s hand in his, but they both drop them and wrap their arms around me. “Thank God, you’re okay.”

The room behind me goes eerily silent.

“I’m fine. What are you talking about?” I ask, utterly confused.

Becket closes the door and ushers Jules and me into the other room, where I move into Nixon’s side. “Easton’s on speaker phone.”

“What the hell is going on?” my brother asks, a scary tone taking over.

“Honey, why don’t you sit down,” Jules tells me, and the hairs on my arms stand on end.

“Tell me what’s going on—now. Is someone dead?” I ask quietly, scared of the answer, and the look on their faces tells me I’m right. “Who,” I cry out, and if it weren’t for Nixon’s arms, I’d fall to my knees.

“Why didn’t you tell us about Dr. Richardson, sweetheart?” Becket asks with so much emotion in his words, it’s hard to understand him.

I look from Nixon back to Becks and Jules. “Honestly, I didn’t want to worry you. I thought if I ignored it, it would go away. But Nixon helped me realize that wasn’t the way to handle it, so I went to HR and reported him today.”

“You did?” Nix asks, and I nod hesitantly.

“You were right. I was going to tell you⁠—”

He pulls me against him and buries his face in my hair. “So fucking brave, baby.”

He doesn’t whisper it. Doesn’t care that anyone else can hear him.

“I love you,” I tell him as I tighten my hold on his waist.

“Kenzie.” The way Becket says my name makes me shake. “Dr. Richardson was put on administrative leave after you registered your complaint today. He went to his house and shot himself.”

“Oh my God.” For the second time tonight, my knees give out, and Nixon takes all my weight. “I wanted him fired. Not dead.”

“This is not your fault, baby.” Nixon holds me up as shock and anger course over his face. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He did. And if he killed himself over it, he must have done so much more to other women than what he did to you. He was inappropriate, but he never touched you or hurt you . . .”

His words hang thick in the air, as if waiting for me to correct him.

“No. Never. I think he backed off because of you, Nix.” I don’t know why I’m crying, but now that the tears have started, they won’t stop.

Nixon picks me up and sits me down on the couch, His strong arms holding me together when I feel like I might break. “Is this my fault?” I ask, but then shake my head. “No. No. I will not let him make me take this on. I didn’t do this.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Kenz.” Becket sits next to me and rubs my back as I lean forward trying to calm my breathing. “The police are going to want a statement though.”

“I’ll take you tomorrow,” Nixon tells me, but he’s looking over my head at Becket.

A silent understanding passes between them.

“I’m going to make a pot of coffee,” Juliette announces as I pull my knees up to my chest. And hours later, when we finally convince them they need to go home and Nixon and I are lying in bed, it all seems like a crazy dream.

“Nix . . .” I drag my nails up and down his arm, unable to lie still.

“Yeah, baby . . .” He hasn’t let go of me all night. My strength when I had none left.

“Can we move out of this fucking building?”

“About that . . . I kinda did a thing.”

I lean up on his chest and stare into his eyes. “What did you do?”

“I had my business manager cash in my trust fund the other day, and I bought the Cherry Tree Estate off the big lake.”

“That’s like a hundred acres . . . the farmhouse is massive and there’s a ton of other houses on that property besides the old farmhouse.” I tell him, like he doesn’t already know it. At least, I’m assuming he does, since apparently, he bought it.

“Want to help me redo an old farmhouse?”

“By help you, you mean we hire people, right? Because I operate on bodies for a living. My hands are insured. I don’t use construction tools.” I press my lips to his chest and bite his nipple. “Didn’t think you might have wanted to ask me first?” I tease.

“It was spur of the moment. But if you don’t want to live there, we’ll fix it up and flip it. No harm, no foul.”

“I think it’s a great idea, and I might even have one better. Let’s have the wedding there.”

His hand runs up my back, pressing me tighter. “That sounds like a plan, baby.”

“I love you Nixon. Thanks for waiting for me.”

“I’d have waited a lifetime for you, Mac. Forever . . .”

“Forever.”