KYLE #2
Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll tell Francesca. She thought you guys looked cute and she’s absolutely going to say something to Sloan.”
“We dated in high school but that was a million years ago, you know?”
Dean studied him, then lifted a brow. “So, what brought you out to Vail together? Just . . . catching up?”
Kyle rubbed his sore cheek. He should tell Dean. He probably would tell Dean, eventually. But not right now. Not with Sloan down the hall and his own head still full of everything he didn’t want to touch.
“I’ll tell you another time. Long story.”
“Okay.” Dean held his hands up.
Francesca and Sloan returned a minute later, Sloan in warmer clothes. Sloan’s cheeks were pink from the heat, her hair still damp in places from melted snow, and she looked . . . softer. Younger. Like she’d taken off armor.
That was his first thought when he saw her come out of the hair salon. She’d looked more like Sloan, at the least, the version he remembered. More . . . real. Naturally pretty, like she’d always been.
“Your turn,” Sloan said, bumping his knee lightly with her own as she passed him.
The touch was quick. Casual. Maybe even unintentional.
It still sent a stupid spark up his leg.
He rose from the couch, beer in hand, and headed down the hall.
Staying here was starting to feel like a bad idea, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.
Like he and Sloan could tolerably coexist when they were alone, but the minute anyone got a little closer to that sphere, things became complicated. Tipped sideways.
On the mountain, they’d been buffered—Dean boarding with him, Sloan and Francesca skiing behind them, laughter and speed doing the heavy lifting.
In here, with walls and couches and the softness of domestic life around them, everything felt different. Like those same walls were closing tightly around him.
Kyle shut the door to the guest room and unbuttoned the ski pants, flicking his eyes toward the neatly-tended full-size bed.
That would be a hell of a lot more comfortable than the couch.
Maybe Sloan could take the couch.
But deep down, he knew he wouldn’t ask. Not after last night. Not after tripping with her in his arms down the mountain.
He exhaled, annoyed with himself, and pulled out his phone.
Three missed calls from Davy.
Fantastic.
He dialed.
“How’s it going?” he asked as she answered.
“What do you think?” Davy’s voice was tight. “It’s going about as well as it can be when you’re forced to be the best and worst friend to two different people simultaneously.”
Kyle slipped out of the snow pants and draped them over a chair. “I’m not thrilled about all of this, but I do appreciate you.”
“Oh, whatever,” Davy huffed. “Listen, tell Sloan I’m giving her until nine in the morning tomorrow to call Evan. Three news trucks pulled up here an hour ago.”
“Hold that thought. Three news trucks?” The hair on the back of his neck stood.
“Yeah. That’s my point.” Davy’s voice was tense. “I’ve been googling my legal responsibility to tell the police what I know. The verdict is still out about whether we can get in trouble for withholding information, but I’m extremely uncomfortable.”
Sloan’s words about Evan trying to force her into talking to him came flooding back. “Why is he escalating things like this? She left him a note. And her ring. She told him they were done.”
“I have no idea. I haven’t talked to him for most of the day—he’s been holed up in his room all afternoon. But I’m not lying. Just put on the news. Or better yet, google Sloan’s name. I’m sure something is already popping up.”
Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not. This is not good. But it’s not going to be your problem for much longer.” Davy’s tone shifted again, business now, like she was bracing herself to say something she hated. “Antony called. Corporate wants you on a plane to Cabo the day after tomorrow.”
What the fuck? Two days? He’d had some last-minute trips before, but never with this little warning. “What?”
“Yeah, apparently this is prime whale-watching season and there’s a rare mother-calf blue whale that’s been giving people a show right now. Plus, the humpback and orca pods are active this season. They want you out there before you miss the opportunity.”
“But you said they were giving me until the end of January.”
“They were. But now they changed their minds.” Davy’s voice went flat. “You know how they are. Now where do you want me to book your departure from? Bozeman-Yellowstone?”
“I won’t have any of my stuff. I didn’t pack for Cabo. And I need to take care of my grandmother’s wishes first.”
“What do you need to pack? A swimsuit? T-shirts?” Davy’s impatience flared. “You’ll be fine.”
“Davy—”
“No, listen.”
He braced for a lecture, cringing.
“I already fought hard to get this whole trip pushed so you can spend Christmas with your family. I didn’t schedule this, but if you make me go back to them again and tell them you’re unwilling or need more time, I can tell you right now that they won’t be happy.
” She exhaled hard. “You were in a tough spot in December, but to them you’re talent, Kyle. A dime a dozen. On a new contract.”
Her anger threaded through her voice, justified and raw. “And between the tabloid pictures that made you look irresponsible in the desert and postponing Cabo, they’re already questioning whether they should simply replace you.”
He couldn’t help wondering if her frustration was only amplified by what had happened this morning.
The silence between them thickened.
What could he say? No?
She was right. He’d probably lose his job.
And he liked his job, even if he needed balance and to stop letting it chew him up.
“You know, for what it’s worth, even if you don’t care about your job anymore, being irresponsible affects more than just you, Kyle.”
He gritted his teeth. Was he really willing to push back on this?
“All right,” he said tightly. “The day after tomorrow. Bozeman. If you could make the flight in the afternoon, I’d appreciate it. Send me the itinerary.”
“Thank you.”
“I know it’s not your fault, and that you’re mad at me, but I promise to make it up to you.”
“I am mad, but you don’t need to make anything up to me. You were already doing me a big favor by coming out here with as my date.” Then her tone went dry. “I just didn’t realize you got around so much.”
He laughed for real this time. “Yeah, I’m known for being a player.”
“If you’re not careful,” Davy warned, “whatever it is you think you’re doing for Sloan is going to become national news, so you never know how you’ll be painted. You’re not exactly faceless and she’s a congressman’s fiancée.” She sighed. “Stay in touch. I’ll email travel plans soon.”
He hung up, resisting the urge to toss his phone onto the bed.
Two days.
Awesome. Just what he needed. A ticking clock and the threat of unemployment.
And what was that about news outlets?
He tapped open the browser on his phone and typed Sloan’s name.
Her smiling picture showed up immediately.
Congressman Evan Tipton’s Fiancée Goes Missing Hours Before Her Wedding
His palms went slick.
“‘Sloan Carrington, the daughter of Actaeon Tech mogul Henry Carrington, has gone missing in Vail, Colorado, hours before she was set to marry Evan Tipton, heir to the Tipton Financial Corporation and congressman for Montana, in a high-profile luxury wedding,’” he read aloud in a soft voice.
“‘Carrington was last seen at her rehearsal dinner before vanishing without a trace. Her cell phone was later found outdoors in a secluded location several miles away. Authorities are working to identify a person of interest, described as a white man in his late twenties, who was seen in a nearby cab—”
Kyle’s stomach dropped through the floor.
Fuck. No.
Davy was right. Sloan needed to talk to Evan and control the narrative . . . and soon.
This could end terribly if she doesn’t . . . for all of us.