Chapter 3
3
KEVIN
T he lawn buzzes with conversation, glasses clinking, laughter, and the soft music of the string quartet by the podium. I stand to the side, surrounded by four men who seem to be talking all at once.
One pitches a new business idea, while the other argues the feasibility and profitability. The third leans in with a comment I don’t understand, and the fourth laughs loudly at something I didn’t hear. With a glass of red wine in one hand, I nod and murmur something noncommittal, my perfect practiced smile in place.
This is a necessary evil, I get that, but it never gets easier. I hate socializing, small talk, and endless posturing. Everyone beats around the bush like it’s their favorite game.
My gaze wanders as I nod again and pretend to listen.
Then I see her.
Kara stands by the dessert table, her red dress catching the light. She has a plate in one hand as she surveys all the pastries on display. Her laughter floats across the space as she exchanges a joke with a woman at least three times older than her.
The tightness in my chest eases, and I breathe easier.
“Excuse me,” I say, cutting through their chatter.
I cross the lawn, ignoring those calling my name, and approach her. She looks up, and her smile widens. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hello, Kara.” I eye her half-full plate of two cookies, a slice of chocolate cake, macarons, some kind of apple pie, and souffle. “You have a sweet tooth, huh?”
“I do. Here, try this tart.”
“I don’t really—” She shoves a forkful into my mouth, and my eyebrows lift to my hairline. “Oh, wow. Not bad.”
She points the fork at me and grins. “Right? It’s so good. They’re my favorite caterers, by the way. They have a restaurant, but it’s way too far for me.”
“Which one is your favorite?” I ask and borrow the fork from her to take another bite.
“That’s a hard one.” Her forehead scrunches as she thinks. “They have this white chocolate panna cotta with strawberries, which I’m obsessed with, but I also love their chocolate mousse and cream puff.”
“Okay, give me one of each.”
She does, and I spend the next few minutes tasting each dessert. I’m not even a dessert guy, but hearing her talk animatedly about something she likes whets my appetite. Before I know it, we’re sharing one plate and ignoring the other guests.
This is my kind of party. Just her and me. Screw everyone else.
“Were you serious about what you said yesterday?” she asks, adding a custard tart to the plate.
“Which one?”
“The business.”
“Of course. I wasn’t pulling your leg. It has potential.” Doubt crosses her features, and I put the fork down. “What is it?”
“I haven’t worked out everything yet. What I told you, that was all. I don’t have plans for the marketing and designs, but I know what I want—the vision, the branding, even the name.”
“That’s good enough. Besides, you’re still in college, right?”
“I will graduate next year.”
“So you still have time.”
“But I still don’t know a lot of things, Kevin. I was confident last night because I wanted to piss off my dad.” She goes quiet, her eyebrows drawing together.
“Kara, you don’t need to know everything. That’s why you hire brilliant people. You delegate. You have a vision, and you know how to get there. That’s enough for now. You’ll learn as you go. If you’re not good with marketing, hire someone who can help your brand take off. The same thing goes for the logistics and other technical aspects.”
“God, I wish I could be like you.”
“No, you don’t. I wasn’t given a choice with my future. It was a given that I would take over one day, so I just did my best to learn all I could.”
“You don’t like it?”
I think for a moment and shake my head once. “I do. I learned to like it eventually. All I’m saying is, take it easy. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
She gives me a lopsided grin. “You know, your hot meter goes up ten times when you go all-businesslike.”
“Then maybe we can?—”
“Kara, baby. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Oh my God,” Kara groans and rolls her eyes. “Are you kidding me?”
A young man staggers through the crowd. His black suit jacket hangs open, one side slipping off his shoulder, and his black bowtie dangles loosely around his neck.
“Hey, Kara.” His speech is slurred, his voice louder than necessary. He points a glass to Kara, splashing a few drops on the grass. “There’s my girl!”
I step in front of Kara, shielding her from him. She holds my arm and hisses at the other guy, “Why are you already drunk?”
“I may have discovered your wine cellar. Your dad is there right now, showing us his collection. I took the taste testing too seriously.” His words are slow, and each syllable is stretched. “Did you miss me?”
Before Kara can answer, I square my shoulders and pin him with a look. “Go sober up. This is not that kind of party.”
He stumbles closer, and I gently push Kara behind me. “Who are you? Why are you with Kara?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond and instead whines, “Baby, who is this? Why won’t you talk to me?”
“God, Kent. I don’t want to talk to you, and stop calling me baby.”
“Why? You don’t like me anymore?”
“I have never liked you. Now leave me alone.”
He steps to me, his breath reeking of whiskey. His bloodshot eyes flick to her. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Her future husband.”
The words don’t register immediately, and he blinks repeatedly. Before he can respond, Kara tugs on my hand and pulls me back inside the house and toward her bedroom.
She semi-sprints, and if my brain weren’t fogged up by lust, I would’ve been impressed with how she does it, given her sky-high heels.
The door closes behind me, and she whirls around, snaking her arms around my neck. “I’m so hot for you right now, future husband.”
“Are you?” I trail light kisses along her jaw.
Her breath comes in short pants as she digs her nails into my scalp. “Fuck me, Kev. Now.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”