32. Kingston / Gabe
32
KINGSTON / GABE
Kingston
I pry an eyelid open and immediately regret it as a shard of pain spikes through my brain. What the hell happened?
And why does it feel like I swallowed a sheep?
The world spins as I roll over. That’s definitely not my ceiling.
Hell. I haven’t been this hungover since I left New York five years ago.
Memories from last night flash through my mind.
I huff out a sigh. That wasn’t my best idea, kissing Katherine before I’d even said hello.
I knew it then. But that hadn’t stopped the insane urgency to claim her. It was like a darkness had surrounded me, pushing me to her, pulling her to me, demanding and unyielding. I’ve never been a possessive guy. Protective, sure. I’ve got four sisters. But that overwhelming urge to bind someone to me, to blot out the rest of the world.
That was all new.
And strangely exciting.
But that excitement had dimmed the second Katherine had pulled away, a wounded look clouding her eyes.
“Bloody hell.” I rub my face with my hands and sit up.
Right. Ford and Sutton practically had to haul me up to the guest room after my drinking binge. I close my eyes and sigh. That’s so embarrassing.
I pat the linens, looking for my phone because I’m pretty sure I spammed the heck out of her texts. What are the chances she’s forgiven me already?
Holding my breath, I navigate to the messaging app.
No new messages.
And she left me on read.
Oh hell . What did I say last night?
I’m not going to look. Not yet.
After making a pit stop in the bathroom, I creep down the stairs, my steps softened by the thick runner. The place is casual elegance with nods to the coastal location and the Montgomery’s love of all things equestrian.
I haven’t held this tight to a railing since I learned to walk. I’m far more likely to slide, or heck, skate down one. But my knees feel weak. How much did I drink?
Safely on the ground level, I release the handrail. There’s a large painting of a gray horse over the fireplace. All soft creams and earthy neutrals that give the beast an ethereal quality. Those same colors are repeated throughout the room, with hints of navy accents.
It’s easy to see why Katherine loved it here. The view is incredible, and the home is gracious and welcoming, with lots of cozy corners. I bite the inside of my lip, praying to any deity who will listen. I hope against hope that I didn’t leave a negative memory for her. She has so few safe spaces.
Voices beckon from the other side of the house. Soft light streams in, bathing the living room in warmth. A bitter aroma teases my nose, and I follow a long runner to the kitchen.
“There he is.” Ford’s voice is nauseatingly chipper. “How’s it going, sleeping beauty?”
I give an unintelligible grunt of pain and poor choices. The two men snicker because we’ve all been there, right?
Sutton moves to the fancy coffee maker, a brow raised in question. There are way too many levers for a brain this hung over to make sense of, so I nod. “Please and thank you.”
Leaning against the counter, I shove the heel of my other hand between my eyes, wishing I could press away the pounding. “I’m never doing that again.”
“Kissing my sister?” Ford quips. He props a hip against the large center island and lifts a mug to his lips.
“Getting that drunk.”
“That was tough to watch,” Sutton says, manning the machine with ease. It gurgles and sputters, and the rich brew perfumes the air.
My stomach grumbles.
“To be fair, I tried to cut you off, but you weren’t having it,” Ford adds.
“Thanks for that. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”
Hands braced against the thick stone countertop, I hang my head. Sutton slides a mug of coffee across the surface into my line of sight. I grunt my appreciation.
“Want something to eat?” Sutton asks.
“Not sure I can handle food yet.”
“Fair.” He moves to the other end of the island.
I stare out the window at the pale blue sky where a single, fluffy cloud reflects off the lake. A slice of heaven.
The quietness unnerves me. My thoughts aren’t the best company right now. “Thanks for letting me crash last night.”
“No worries.” Ford circles the island and selects a muffin from a glass-domed platter. He settles onto a bar stool next to Sutton, completely at ease .
I had that. Once upon a time. With Katherine.
The coffee gives me a hot jolt as I swallow. How am I going to fix this?
What do I say?
Katherine appreciates bald honesty, so I should probably start there. After a run to gather my thoughts.
“Do you guys know where they’re staying?” I should have asked some basic questions before laying my lips on hers.
“Gabe mentioned his house is at the other end of the road but didn’t say which one,” Ford offers.
We stare at each other for a long, silent moment. The other end of the road. Seriously? That feels a little. . . odd.
“You guys going to be around for a while? I was thinking of going for a run.”
“We’ll be here.” Ford waves me off.
I take my coffee back to the guest room, change into a pair of gym shorts, and slip on my sneakers. One last sip of java, and I’m out the door.
Salty air fills my lungs as I stretch.
What am I going to say when I finally see her again? All those miles traveled, all those hours, and I lost my head. I stride down the driveway and through the gate. Right toward town or left to the beach?
New money loves showing off, so I’m betting he has a beach house.
Despite my headache, it feels good to move. I push myself because the harder I run, the less energy I have to think.
I cut through the first beach access point I come across. The sand shifts beneath my feet, and sweat runs down my back. My stomach isn’t thrilled with my choices, but at least I’m burning off the worst of my hangover.
Without breaking my stride, I jerk my t-shirt over my head and tuck it into the waistband of my shorts. Ahead, a man throws a ball for a black and white dog. I lift a hand as I race past.
Rounding a bend, I hug the shore, where the sand is firm and smooth. It looks like there’s an inlet coming up. And right before that is a figure sitting just out of the water’s reach.
A woman.
A lovely strawberry blonde, arms on her knees as she studies her phone.
My heart squeezes, and excitement floods my veins. She glances up as I approach, and her eyes widen.
Is that pleasure or surprise?
Gabe
A knock at the front door pulls my attention away from the ocean and the fiery-haired woman strolling along the sand. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. And now that I know her hair is as silky as it looks. . .
I give my head a quick shake, trying to calm the rising lust. Forget rising; I woke up with a hard-on for her.
Coffee.
Focus on the coffee.
It’s about the only thing that can distract me right now. My tastebuds do a little dance as I cross the living room, sidestep a handful of boards propped against the wall, and then reach for the doorknob.
Roman stands on the porch, a bag tucked under one arm like a football. The rich aroma wafting up from the carton of paper cups makes my mouth water.
“Delivery,” he says. It’s obvious by his tone of voice that he doesn’t appreciate being a gopher, and I don’t blame him. Part of the plan for this house included a top-of-the-line coffee maker. Some people want Italian marble. I need my favorite Italian roast.
“You’re the best!” I take the cardboard tray, burying my nose between the three cups and taking a deep inhale. “You got one for yourself?”
“Yeah.” He hands over the bag and takes a step back. “Everything good?”
He glances past me, no doubt looking for Katherine. Heat creeps up the back of my neck. Does he know what we did last night? What I’m counting the minutes to do again?
Roman meets my gaze, and I give a quick nod. So what if he knows. He’s bound to confidentiality, and what happens in the privacy of my bedroom is just that. Private.
“Katherine’s out back.”
The words are barely out of my lips before he’s striding down the stairs and around the side of the house.
“Thank you!” I call after him and bump the door closed with my foot. And because I don’t want to hear it from Alex, I wrestle with the lock while trying not to drop my precious parcels.
I leave the loot in the kitchen. With my coffee in one hand and a cream cheese Danish in the other, I return to the window. The puff pastry melts on my tongue and I bite back a moan. Just like that, a little piece of my soul returns.
The universe must sense my bliss because, exactly three seconds later, my phone buzzes in my pocket, the outside world pressing in. I close my eyes and count to five.
Another sip of coffee.
I pay my staff well, but I’ve never gone off the radar before. They can handle it. Right? Right.
I bought this place to be a haven, I remind myself. To let myself breathe. To take time away from the office and all my projects.
So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Ignore my phone, stand here, enjoy my black-as-night elixir. The company’s not going to burn down just because the CEO steps out for some personal time. And if it does, we did a shit job of building it.
Deeper in the house, a bag rustles, but I’m pretty sure the mouse helping himself to breakfast is none other than my six foot five, two hundred and seventy-five pound best friend. A moment later, Alex joins me at the window, freshly showered, coffee and muffin in hand. Called it.
He might try to act like he doesn’t have a sweet tooth, but the man can eat. Always.
“Where is she?” He practically grunts the question, then takes a long sip from his cup.
I jut my chin toward the beach. “Out there with her ass in the sand,” I murmur.
He crosses behind me to get a better vantage point.
“And before you ask, yes, I’ve been watching her.” Like a hawk, but I keep that tidbit to myself. “And Roman’s back on duty now.”
Another grunt as he leans against the window trim. Not even a trace of a smile.
Something’s going on with my best friend.
I’ve known him long enough that I can read his moods with ease. Except now. He’s wound tight as a bongo drum, giving shorter answers than usual. Which is saying something because he’s Mister Five Word Answers on a good day.
The only thing I can figure is that he didn’t enjoy sharing her, even though he’d been into it at the time. I’ve never known him to be jealous, mostly because he’s never had a steady partner. Or wanted one, for that matter.
“We gonna talk about it?” I finally ask because I can’t stand the tension any longer.
“No.”
My head jerks toward him. “Seriously, man? Last night was amazing. I know you’re into her.”
“And yet you bid on her anyway.” He tips his cup up and drains it.
Oh, there it is. The real reason for his silent treatment.
“I did.”
“You’d better not hurt her.” Though he’s staring out the window like it’s his job, I feel the weight of his attention. It’s fucking heavy with expectation and censure.
“I’m not planning on it.”
He cuts me a look, then.
That’s the problem with best friends. They know you. They know when to call you on your shit. They know when to stay silent.
But even with all that insider knowledge, you still have to check-in. Because he knows my history. He knows about all my ghosts, every skeleton in my closet, every dark thought I’ve ever had about ruining Henry Chanler.
None of that means that I sought her out. That I arranged any of this. Hell, I’ve been along for the ride for the last thirty-six hours, more of a pawn than a player.
Which makes me wonder. . .
“Did you know?” I ask. “That she was going to be at the gala?”
He gives a single nod.
“Why did you let me bid first?”
He shrugs those massive shoulders. “Didn’t want to seem too eager.”
I roll my eyes.
“Ohmygod. Bro. Women love that shit.”
“Katherine isn’t just any woman,” he informs me, his deep voice extra moody.
I’ve never heard him sound so. . . growly.
What the hell have I stepped into?
“We’re nuts, you know that?” I say.
He makes a sound of affirmation and shoves the remainder of his muffin into his mouth. Then he pulls out his phone, tapping away.
“Why’s that?” he finally asks, giving me his attention again.
“We basically stalked her yesterday?—”
He cuts me off. “I have to make sure she’s safe.”
“She’s not your client.”
He lifts his chin. “I’m aware.”
Sighing, I turn back to the window. I don’t expect him to get over what happened to his sister. How could he? Before Katherine, I worried that he wouldn’t let himself care about anyone again .
I’ve been biting my tongue for years, not sure how to broach such a sensitive topic. But maybe the woman on my beach will heal him.
I like having both of them under my roof. I’m not going to deny it or dissect it. It just is. In the same way Alex and I became instant friends. He never gave me a chance to second guess him or our friendship or even myself and my place at MIT.
“I don’t want to fight,” I whisper. There’s plenty I’ll go to battle for. But a woman? Against the man who helped me survive my first year away from home?
That doesn’t sit right.
So the question is, if he doesn’t like sharing her, but she’s the balm he needs, can I give her up?
“Me either.”
My gut tightens, and I take a hearty sip, letting the liquid warm me from the inside out. Should I ask him? Straight up? It’s on the tip of my tongue. What are we doing?
“Vic said the jerk-off from the auction showed up looking for Katherine this morning,” Alex says, glancing at his phone.
He doesn’t have to elaborate on who the ‘jerk-off’ is. I remember. I’ve never felt possessive of a woman before. Not until I saw that man gripping Katherine’s arm so tightly. Until I saw her clear disinterest in him .
My jaw works back and forth, and I take a deep breath.
“I hope Vic told him where he could go.”
Alex runs a hand up and down the back of his neck, his brows pinched in contemplation. “He’s the least of our problems right now.”
“What do you mean?”
He nods out toward the beach.
I follow his gaze and see Kingston Saint stop at Katherine’s feet. “What the hell is he doing here?”
I stalk to the back door, but Alex clamps a hand over my shoulder, stopping me.
“Wait.”
Not a chance in hell. He made our girl sad.
I round on my best friend. Doesn’t he want to give that trust fund baby a piece of his mind?