Chapter 28
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Kyle didn’t like unfinished business.
Right now, he had two pieces of it on his plate. The never-ending one—Madison—who topped the list of his New Year’s resolutions.
And the recent one—Phoebe Anderson.
He couldn’t stop thinking there had to be a better play for Sawyer’s first show where everyone could win.
Checking the time, he thought about texting Brooke.
Yeah, they’d all stayed up late partying with the happy couple until they’d given each other “the look” and left for Phoebe’s, but Brooke was a habitual early riser.
Even with New Year’s Eve tonight, she’d be working.
Years of Type A discipline in that one. He was the same, awakening at his usual time this morning, checking email, and putting in a little work on PRG business matters. He finally shot her a text:
Morning. I’d like to talk to you and Axel about something. Do you have time today?
Her response was immediate:
Come for breakfast. Axel is making smoked salmon and scrambled eggs and porridge.
His stomach growled. Axel was a fantastic cook, and he enjoyed being introduced to Nordic dishes. Because when did he ever have the chance to try those? Especially coming from Austin, Texas.
Which made him think yet again about the holiday text he’d gotten from his parents. Sent by his mother, who’d always had the communications role in the family.
Kyle, we’re thinking of you and wishing you a merry Christmas. Hope to hear how you are faring soon.
As far as parental texts went, that was the most bizarre of his life.
Especially since he hadn’t heard from them since he’d arrived in Paris—something they’d never approved of, now or ten years ago—and told them he was selling his share in the business.
Their response then: We heard. That had been it.
They hadn’t even tried to talk him out of dumping his fiancée, whom they’d thought perfect for him.
What was their angle? To maintain some tenuous thread with him so they could tell their friends they’d been in touch with him? God, he had no idea. Which is why he’d decided to be gracious—he had manners—but only sent back a simple Merry Christmas.
Nothing more from them, which was good news as far as he was concerned. His life was complicated enough. Not that he needed to think about that anymore this morning. He wanted to keep his focus on Doc right now. He texted Brooke back a thumbs-up, closed his computer, and left his office.
Madison was coming down the stairs when he hit the entryway. They both froze. The awareness of them being alone in the house overcame him, making his skin feel extra sensitized. He knew it wasn’t only that. It was her. Always her.
His most beautiful complication.
She was so damn gorgeous with her thick short curly black hair that matched her morning black ensemble. He drove himself crazy wondering whether they were pajamas or loungewear. Yeah, that’s how far gone he was.
Then there was the way she looked in the color…
She wore black with an understated elegance and intense strength that brought out the defined lines of her cheekbones, chin, and jaw. The black also made her golden eyes glow even brighter, which not only arrested him but captivated him.
Even when she still had bed head and dark circles under those mesmerizing eyes from too much work like she did this morning. That bothered him the most, since he expected he was a contributing factor for why she was running herself ragged.
“Hey! You’re up early.” He gave her a small smile. She wasn’t a morning person, but more, he didn’t want to have her running off this morning. Not after how they’d all come together last night for Sawyer.
“Yep.” Her voice was crisp, impersonal. “Big night at the restaurant. I wanted to get in the groove. You heading out?”
Was that disappointment or frustration in her voice?
Did she miss the mornings where he sat at the kitchen island and read the paper or worked while she tested recipes at the stove?
“I’m going over to see Brooke and Axel. Something’s bothering me about Sawyer’s first show, and I want to talk it out. Lucky me, Axel’s cooking.”
He wanted to ask if she wanted to come, but she had to initiate. Besides, it was New Year’s Eve tonight, and the restaurant would be humming. He wasn’t going to push.
She took her time, walking slowly down the rest of the steps, her chin lifted with attitude already. Damn, he loved that about her. She was always going to project strength. Even when she felt unsure.
He was the same way. His father’s belt had come out if he’d shown any hint of pussy behavior, as his dad called it.
People thought he was the Golden Boy, but really, he’d mastered an easygoing facade to satisfy his father.
Giving his best was who he was, so he’d always delivered what he’d signed up for.
Being a successful high school quarterback in Texas had taught him two things: one, it wasn’t the path he wanted to take; and two, people loved winners.
He'd decided that’s who he wanted to be in everything.
Which was why he had to believe he could win her over…
The silence was grating as she stopped and sat on the bottom step, tucking one sexy bare foot on top of the other. No combat boots this morning. This was Madison at home. The woman few knew but him. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from blabbing anything else about his mission this morning.
“I’m glad you’re feeling that way,” she finally said, laying her hands on her thighs.
“Me too. I don’t like Phoebe having to show up at her mother’s gallery, although I admire the hell out of her for offering.
Call me suspicious, but what’ll Phoebe’s mother do if she finds out Sawyer is dating her daughter?
Will she be jealous? Make snide remarks?
Phoebe says no, but everyone has a blind spot with their parents.
Doc is going to be upset regardless, and he shouldn’t be at his first show.
Not when he’s worked so hard for it. Then there’s Phoebe.
I must be getting soft about her showing up all brave and tough at Doc’s side. Takes guts.”
And no one admired guts more than Mad. He took a few more steps until he could lean against the curved newel post since it seemed they were talking. Their shared concern for their roommates always united them. It was the current state of their relationship that was filled with landmines.
“She won me over with that gesture too. I also agree that her mother’s a bit of a wild card. Sawyer’s first gallery show should be awesome. Hell, all of them should be.”
Madison pushed off the step. “That’s what I was thinking. You were smart to ask Brooke for a powwow. I was going to text her a little later, but you beat me to it.”
He waited. Come on, Madison. Say you’ll go with me. Don’t make this hard too.
A running clock ticked in his head as she worried her lip. Was she running through what it would be like to ride in a car with him? A tighter space? Or maybe she was more worried about coming home with him?
His heart pulsed thickly in his chest. He watched her look everywhere but at him, which was driving him nuts. Before, she would have been all up in his face, her golden eyes excited or intense about something. Now she was wary, and it pissed him off under his hurt.
“How about I text Brooke and see if Axel minds me joining you guys?” she said finally, clearing her throat. “More efficient for us all to talk together. I can meet you there.”
There it was. Meet him there? What in the hell was she thinking? He fought the urge to fist his hands at his sides. “You know they won’t mind.”
“It’s an extra mouth to feed—two with me.” She shot him a badass look. “Also, I should bring something. Let me see—”
“We can stop by a bakery if you want to bring something.” He raised a brow when she glared at him. “I can grab a bottle of champagne for mimosas. You don’t have to make something every time, you know.”
“I’m a chef, Kyle. It’s what I do.”
He bit back a frustrated exhale. “They wouldn’t want that. We’re family. Look, I’m texting Brooke.”
“I can do it, Kyle!”
He had to fight a strong sigh since it would only piss her off. “Okay, so you do it.” He held out his phone to her. “The password is—”
“Don’t tell me your password!” Her panicked eyes flew to him. “Are you crazy?”
“No,” he said quietly. “You know I trust you. My password is—”
She put her hands over her ears and started humming some spicy Latin beat.
He wished he could laugh. This scene was ridiculous.
They were ridiculous. All he wanted to do was stalk toward the door in anger and take off.
Then he realized that would make her happy, so he gritted out a smile, punched in his password, and handed the phone to her.
Her hands slowly lowered as her musical humming stopped. She took the phone, tense and wary as a cornered animal. “You’re smiling. Why?”
“Because you’re intentionally pushing my buttons to make me leave.” He crossed his arms. “I’m not going. Text Brooke while I grab a bottle of champagne.”
Her heated glare made his heart give a rat-ta-tat-tat. He strode from the room before he did something stupid. Like grab her and kiss her senseless.
When he returned, his phone was resting by her side. She was lacing up her black combat boots in quick motions, a little out of breath from her run up the stairs. Ready for battle, he thought.
“Brooke wants me to bring another dozen eggs, a baguette, and another package of smoked salmon,” she told him with a smug expression.
He nearly goggled. “All right… We have eggs here, but we can stop for the rest.”
Her smile spread and lit her amused face. “Gotcha.”
This time he glared at her, even though he was cheering on the inside. Her teasing him always made him feel more balanced, but he knew better than to let it show.
God, walking this tightrope with her was agonizing. One fall and he feared where they would end up.