“You don’t know me or my life.”
Burke shrugged up one shoulder. “I know more than you think. Spoiled rich girl going through a divorce where you’re probably angrier about losing the money than the man. Never had to fend for herself so you wait on a hero to come save you.” He jerked his head outside where Leslie was loading boxes into the back of Kieran’s truck with a thoughtful look on her face. “Lucky for you, your hero is the sister you’ve shit on for her entire life. Take the keys and be grateful that someone loves you for more than your last name.”
“That is an awful thing to say to me,” she gritted out. “My life has fallen apart, and I don’t need some stranger judging me.”
“Well, this stranger understands what you’re going through better than you think. This stranger has been in love and lost everything, too. This stranger built back up and knows all about those hard days.” He dropped a ripped piece of notebook paper onto the counter. “This stranger doesn’t like you much, but he’ll still help you move boxes into your new home when you decide to pull your head out of your ass and appreciate what your sister is offering you.”
“Burke, is it?” she asked primly as he walked out the door.
He rounded on her. “Kimberly, is it?”
She counted to three in her head to control her anger. “I was just going to tell you thank you.” She gestured to the number on the counter. “For offering to help. I’m…” Why was she about to say this out loud? “I’m in a bad spot.”
His bright gold eyes softened just a little. “I’ve watched you since last Christmas. Watched you withering at every family event after you got served those divorce papers. Watched the ingenuine way you talk to people. That right there? ‘I’m in a bad spot.’ That was the first real thing I’ve ever heard you say.” He turned to leave but then stopped. Looking down at her high heels, he murmured, “It’s okay to be in a bad spot. That’s where you’re supposed to be right now. That’s normal. The important part is how you dig out.” Burke glanced up at her, then to the keys on the counter. Then he left.
She watched as he and Kieran and Leslie loaded into that old work truck and drove away. Watched out the window as a light snow started falling. She had this urge to message her friends and tell them the rude things Burke had said. That was her knee-jerk reaction because she was real. She said real stuff. But…he’d been soft with her at the end, understanding, and shared that he’d gone through a heartbreak, too. Her friends were all married and rich, while Kimberly was divorced and didn’t have a penny to her name until the house sale went through.
Failure.
She looked closer at the home like Burke had told her to. There was a vase of yellow flowers on the kitchen counter, and the woodblock countertops were kind of cute. The cushion she was sitting on was a gray and white pattern, and upstairs, she would have her own space to sleep without anyone barging in, even if it was embarrassingly small.
Kimberly stood and climbed the narrow staircase to the loft. The sheets and comforters were cute and smelled like laundry soap, all folded neatly at the foot of the bed. There were gray flannel sheets on the bed that were still wrinkled from the dryer, like no one had laid on them. Even the four pillows were stacked neatly.
Kimberly just meant to lay on the bed. Just lie down for a little bit and rest her mind. She sank down onto it and hugged a pillow to her chest, and then she had an accidental cry. She curled in on herself and sobbed, but eventually pulled the covers over her and felt all warm and safe. It was actually nice. No one was here to witness her weakness.
An hour later, when she’d cried herself out and taken a little nap all nestled in the bed, she got up and climbed down the stairs. She held the weight of the keys in her hand, just considering. Just considering.
Mom and Dad had a mansion and a chef and four hundred opinions about her divorce and her future.
But here?
She could be a mess, and no one would be the wiser. No one could watch her fall apart or judge her. No one could tell her she should handle things better or push a new man on her too soon.
Carefully, she put the keys to the tiny house into her pocket and then texted Leslie.
I’ll take 1010. Send.
Chapter Three
Hell had frozen over.
That’s the only thing that could explain the text Burke was currently staring at on his phone.
Moving day is tomorrow. If you accept this mission, you will have to brave the Wilson family home and confiscate my boxes from the garage. My mother will frown at you lots, and my father will drag you into a discussion about the dastardly future I have chosen. Be there at 1:00 p.m. Bring Chex Mix. I don’t know why I said that. I’ve just been really craving Chex Mix. Oh, this is Kimberly.
He snorted. Okay, she might be teasing, but Chex Mix was delicious. At least the spoiled woman had good taste in snacks. Brownie points for her. Mmmm, brownies. He was probably going to pick up some brownie mix now, too, when he ran to the store and grabbed some Chex Mix. Not because she told him to, but because he was craving them, too. Yeah. That was the only reason.
Okay, he hadn’t expected her to actually accept Leslie’s tiny house. Not at all. She’d just shocked him to his bones with that decision. He’d never seen a more entitled family than the Wilsons. Leslie had fallen far from the tree, but she’d fallen uphill. She was the best of them, and Kimberly was the opposite. Over the past year of attending family parties with Leslie and Kieran, he’d watched her. He couldn’t help himself. She was fucking gorgeous, but she also knew exactly how pretty she was. Her jet-black hair was always curled and sprayed into place, her makeup always flawless. Her figure belonged on a goddess. And those eyes of hers? They were as big as a Disney princess’s and bright blue like a summer sky. Perfect pixie nose, high cheekbones, designer clothes that hugged every curve. Perfect tits she was clearly proud of because she wore low-cut everything.
And to match those boner-inducing looks? An entitled attitude that rankled him. Every time she hurled an insult or talked down to anyone, it had felt like someone was rubbing his lion’s fur the wrong direction. But over the last year, since her ex-husband Brayden had served her those divorce papers, she’d become a wallflower at the family parties. Oh, she’d still shown up to each one dressed to the nines, but she’d gone quiet. She’d started looking at the ground a lot. Her cheeks had started turning pink anytime anyone mentioned her divorce. She looked…ashamed. She had become more and more invisible. Or she’d tried to be, but Burke had watched her. He didn’t like when animals were injured around his lion. Made his lion wanted to hunt them, and hunt her he did. He hadn’t been able to stop paying attention to the falling queen.
She’d never cried at the parties, never broke down; she’d just grown silent, and her smiles were forced and sad and mostly aimed at the floor.
But still, she was a Wilson. Entitlement ran deep in those veins. It was ingrained since birth. So when he’d read the text a first and second time, even a third, he still had trouble accepting that she’d really said yes to the small house and Leslie’s job offer.
Maybe there was hope for her yet.