I appreciated having the options. “I’ve got it under control.” And the more times I told myself that, the truer it would be.
Chapter Nine
Leaving the restaurant before everyone else didn’t help me when I got home; I tossed and turned most of the night.
When my doorbell rang in the morning, I was on round five billion of what the hell am I doing? The question hadn’t stopped me from stuffing a swimsuit, towel, and change of clothes—none of which I intended to need—into an oversized bag, along with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, to go with brunch, or just picnic-style drinking in general.
I answered the door to find Kingston kneeling on the front step, head bowed.
He didn’t look up. “I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive?”
Was I more embarrassed for him or me? I was at least a little curious if he could see up my denim skirt. “Please get up.”
“I’d make a joke about being up just because you’re here, but no erection humor until you forgive me.” He stood, putting him a few inches above eye level instead of tantalizingly below.
“Where’s your other half?” I wasn’t getting dragged into fun with him. No witty banter. No teasing.
Kingston patted his legs and chest, his back and front, and his left and right shoulder. “All of me is here.”
“I meant Owen.”
“Ah. He’s in the car. Said watching me humiliate myself in front of you once fills out his lifetime quota.”
I wasn’t going to forgive him just because he was goofy and cute. “Anyone can grovel.”
“But how many people do so willingly?”
I pursed my lips and stared at him.
“I’m sorry about the other day. Sincerely and honestly.” His serious tone replaced the playfulness, and he held my gaze. “It may surprise you to hear this, but I don’t always read a room right, and sometimes my jokes fall flat.”
“If that’s your idea of a joke... Has it ever in your life been appropriate to fuck someone and then tease them about it being for business?”
He shrugged, and pulled off sheepish with flair. “It’s never come up before. You’re unique in a lot of ways. Forgive me.”
“Are you going to give up on trying to make the deal?”
“No.”
The honesty was refreshing. I didn’t like his answer, but I wouldn’t have believed him if he said anything else.
“And fair warning in that same vein,” Kingston said. “I’m hoping if you spend time with us, you’ll see what a good idea this partnership is.”
“What you’re proposing isn’t a partnership.” It was pretending to let me stay on in a management position until they didn’t like my feedback. I would only have the power they assigned me, that they could take away just as easily.
“Semantics. But I swear to you, cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye swear to you, sex is not part of that equation. Anything physical is its own separate thing.”
He wasn’t talking past tense. But he was still being honest.
“In that case, I should be up front and say the only reason I’m going with you today is because”—someone’s fucking with my zoning... I wasn’t going to tell him that, in case he decided to use it as leverage—“you’re right that it’s good to make connections.”
Kingston offered his arm. “That’s fair. Shall we?”
My body wanted that contact again. That heat I felt every time he touched me. My heart and mind knew better. I Ignored his arm and fell into step beside him as we walked to the SUV waiting at the curb.
Owen smiled as we drew closer, and offered a cheerful “Morning,” when we were within earshot.
“Morning.” I tried to keep my tone and expression cool, but my smile was as genuine as it was hesitant.
Kingston held open the front passenger door for me.
“I’m fine in the back,” I said.
“Take the seat.” Kingston gestured. “He and I see each other all the time. If you’re up here, it’ll be harder for you to pretend you’re not part of the conversation.”
Called out on an intention I hadn’t vocalized to myself. “Fine. Thank you.”
We settled into our seats and hit the road. This early on a Sunday, there was no traffic, and we were on the freeway heading east in less than ten minutes.
“Are the two of you from Las Vegas originally?” I asked. It was where they opened their first store, and I’d rather lead the conversation toward them then let it drift back to me. If I gave them the right opening, they had the kind of egos that would let them talk for hours about themselves.
“No,” Owen said.
I waited for more. So much for my brilliant plan and observations. It was early, though. I’d come up with something else to draw them out.
Kingston leaned forward, resting one arm on the center console between Owen and me. “Vegas was a twenty-first birthday present from my mother.” Some of his cheer had vanished. This wasn’t the business-voice I heard on the phone, but it wasn’t his standard lightheartedness either. Odd way to sound when talking about family.
My parents were amazingly supportive, but I understood not everyone’s were. I heard the same tone from Anne when she delved into her past.
“Fortunately”—Kingston’s cheer was back, like flipping a switch—“I got to take my best buddy, and we tore up the town.” He slapped Owen lightly on the arm.
“Ah. A fun-filled weekend of strippers, free booze, and high roller suites?” I kept my tone playful.
Owen laughed. It was a throaty joy that danced over me with temptation. It didn’t matter that I barely knew him, I suspected that kind of amusement wasn’t typical for him.
Which was fortunate, given how much I liked it.
“Birthday Trip is a code word for business trip, in this case. I was supposed to...”
When Kingston didn’t finish the thought, I glanced at him to see if I’d missed something. He’d leaned back in his seat, and was sitting with his face just out of my view.
“... find some direction,” he finally said.
What made him hesitate? Did I want to know that much about them?
“We stumbled on a little gaming café,” Owen said. “Most incredible thing we’d ever seen.”
Kingston resumed his leaned forward position. “That’s where we went instead of all that stuff you said. We spent days on end in that place.”
I liked the visual, Kingston in a faded concert T-shirt, Owen in a button-down with the sleeves rolled up, both of them hunched over computers in someone else’s shop, kicking ass in something multi-player.
“What’s with the smile?” Own asked.
Was I? “You’re not my typical customers.” Why didn’t I just tell them the truth? I’m fantasizing about the two of you having fun, and it’s both completely non-sexual and makes you even more desirable. That was why.
“I think you’d be surprised. But this was also ten years ago.” Owen was sliding into the more casual tone I’d heard from him when we were baking together.
They were either supremely confident in their plan to win me over, or capable of letting down their walls a lot more easily than I did. What would it be like, to be so comfortable with existing? I shook the deep thought aside. “I know how the story goes from here—you spend time in the shop, you think this is wicked awesome, and set up your own place to drive the guy out of business.”