Just My Luck (The Kings)

Holy shit, I did it.

I had asked Abel to marry me, and he hadn’t said no.

He hadn’t said no.

The singular thought zipped through me as I typed the words Is a fake marriage for a trust fund considered fraud? into the search engine on my phone. When only a few articles relating to immigration laws popped up, I blew out a quick sigh of relief.

I also cleared my search history . . . just in case.

Walking in the summer sun down Main Street, I mentally high-fived myself.

Girl, you’ve got this. We’re both getting what we need. Besides, Dad would be proud of your entrepreneurial spirit. You’ll be married on paper, but no one even needs to know.

A tiny pang of guilt pinched my side when I thought of my friend Sylvie. She’d probably be hurt that I’d married her brother and didn’t bother to tell her . . . even if it was just a business arrangement.

The guilt gnawed at me. Maybe telling one person wouldn’t be so bad . . .

I returned the polite smiles and friendly waves as I passed people on the sidewalk.

In my time living in Outtatowner, I was getting better at recognizing the faces of townies and those of tourists spending their weekends and summer months in the small, coastal town. The tourists held an excited glint in their eye as though they were awestruck by the towering dunes and clear Michigan waters.

The townies still appreciated the view but held it more in quiet reverence. The sandy soil and coastal breeze were more like the steady hum of breath or the thump in their chests—always reliable, and always there.

When I passed the Sugar Bowl—the best bakery in three counties and Outtatowner’s local gossip spot—and peeked through the large front window, I didn’t spot Sylvie working. A small sigh of relief passed over me. I would find a better time to break the news to my best friend that I was considering marrying her mysterious brother in order to get my life back on track.

Abel and I hadn’t made any final decisions, so I was confident that talk could wait for another day. With the line to the Sugar Bowl nearly out the front door, I glanced across the street at the little café near the corner. The coffee wasn’t nearly as good, and the pastries were almost always stale.

I was grumbling with indecision when a movement caught my eye.

Down the road in the direction of the beach, a man stood wearing sunglasses. He leaned against the light post with one ankle casually draped over the other . . . but not just any man—him.

And he was staring right at me.

Doubts that Ben had seen Jared in Wegman’s Grocer evaporated. There he was, standing in the middle of a bustling sidewalk, staring right at me. The blood drained from my face and my knees wobbled. My tongue went thick and fat. I could hardly swallow, and it felt like sawdust lined my throat.

The connection between Outtatowner and me was so slim I had thought it would be impossible to find us. In fact, Granddad was the father of my dad’s second wife. He was the grandfatherly figure I’d known as a child, but technically we weren’t even related by blood. When I fled California, taking Granddad’s last name and moving in with him was a comfort.

After the fire was ruled arson, my doubts that I had actually escaped became more real. Maybe he could find us. I simply hadn’t wanted to believe a place like Outtatowner wouldn’t be safe for us.

My heart squeezed as the world narrowed around me. My breaths sawed in and out of my lungs, and I was struck with fear, unable to move.

“Sloane, right?” The words behind me barely registered, but I blinked in their direction. “Hey, are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Royal King stood holding the door to his tattoo shop open as he stared at me with bewilderment.

“What?” I replied weakly.

I turned back toward where Jared had been standing, but he was gone. There was no sign of him near the lamppost. I looked up and down the street in panicked confusion.

I know he was there. I saw him with my own eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Royal sounded concerned and slightly irritated.

I tried to answer, but the words tumbled out in a quiet and weak mumble. “Sure. I don’t know. I think so.”

“I’m calling Abe.”

“No! Don’t.” I turned to stop him, but Royal had already disappeared into his tattoo shop. Behind the counter, his face furrowed as he spoke into a cell phone.

Fucking great.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. I know I saw him . . . right?

I rubbed my eyes, unsure if my mind was playing tricks on me and it was just some look-alike tourist I had seen or if it was in fact Jared and he was taunting me in my own town.

The bell on the glass door to King Tattoo rattled as Royal pushed it open again. “Hey, come inside and have a glass of water. It’s kind of hot out today.”

Still in a daze, I followed Royal’s orders and walked into King Tattoo before depositing myself in one of the plush leather chairs in the waiting area. A moment later Royal gently shoved a cold glass of water into my hands.

I took a sip and assessed him over the rim of the cup. He was tall and well built, as I had learned all King men were, but where Abel was deliciously thick and massive and JP was lean and long limbed, Royal had a striking presence to him.

The colorful tattoos that peeked out of the collar of his shirt and ran the length of his arms to his knuckles added an edge to him, while the colorful and seemingly random tattoos hinted at a touch of playfulness and whimsy.

Apparently all King men are also walking contradictions. It was the only conclusion for how Abel could be dark and brooding while at the same time have a soft and gentle air about him.

I flinched when the bell clanked against the glass door, then immediately laughed at myself for being so jumpy.

“The hell is going on?” Abel’s voice was growly and demanding.

I probably shouldn’t have liked it so much.

“I don’t know, man,” Royal supplied. “I looked up from the desk to see your girl looking like she was about to pass out in the middle of the sidewalk.”

“I’m not his girl.”

“She’s not my girl.”

Our voices tangled over each other, and heat scorched my cheeks.

“Whatever.” Royal raised his hands before returning to his work.

In two heavy footfalls, Abel was towering in front of me. My eyes slowly lifted to meet his, but instead of being greeted with an angry, annoyed face, his features were soft and concerned.

Abel crouched down, folding his massive frame so that he could be eye level with me. His hand reached out as if it were going to gently land on my knee, but he snatched it back.

“Are you okay? What happened?” His voice was soft and quiet, only for me.

My eyes searched his, looking for any hint of judgment or annoyance in which I found none. I toyed with my lip, unsure of how much to divulge. I didn’t want him to think that I was some scattered, paranoid lunatic when in fact that was exactly how I was feeling.

“I’m not sure.” My eyes flicked back to his but immediately looked away from the intensity of his deep-brown eyes. “I thought I saw someone and it—I don’t know.” I swallowed hard. “It rattled me.”

“Same as Ben?” My eyes flew to him. In three words he communicated that he understood and believed me.

I swallowed back the lump of emotion that formed in the back of my throat and nodded through a fresh round of tears.

“Will you let me take you home?”

I tried to laugh and make light of the situation, but it only came out as a weak whoosh of breath. “Okay, sure.”

I lifted myself from the seat, easing away from Abel to avoid risking a single touch. I worried that with one touch of his warm, protective embrace, I might melt into him.

Abel offered Royal a nod and a silent three-finger salute as we shuffled out of the tattoo parlor. Four steps into the afternoon sunshine, and worry and panic tightened in my chest.

My mind whirled.

Granddad had taken Ben and Tillie fishing before dropping them at library camp for the afternoon. What was supposed to be a free afternoon doing whatever I wanted had suddenly turned into a complete mess.

If that really was Jared and he knew I was here, it confirmed my fears that he knew where I was living, which meant I would be in the cabin alone. The realization that all the fears I’d told myself were irrational were coming true crashed down on me.

My steps faltered beside Abel. “Hey, you know what?” I gripped his forearm to stop our forward progress. His muscles rippled beneath my hand, and I pulled it back. “I’m really not feeling . . . um, I don’t know. Comfortable . . . at the cabin right now.”

Abel looked at me the way he sometimes did, as though I was some mystery he was working his ass off to unravel.

In reality, I wasn’t all that hard to figure out. I was a single mom scared out of her wits, desperate and with nowhere safe to go.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

“How about my place? It’s quiet, and no one will bug you there. I can bring you back whenever you’re ready.” The way his gravelly voice rolled over the words my place sent tingles humming straight to my clit, but immediate relief flooded my system.

Well, this is a very bad idea.

“I’d love to. Thanks.” At ease, I gave him a soft, appreciative smile. “The twins are at a day program at the library. I’m just going to send a quick text to check in on them.”

Abel dipped his chin with a no-nonsense jerk of his head. “Okay. My truck is this way.”

He gestured down the road to where his rugged gray truck was parked in a small public lot. Without another word, Abel yanked open the passenger door, and I scurried inside. I watched him as he moved around the hood and sucked in a lungful of his earthy masculine scent.

It was like lemon and oiled leather filled the cab of his truck, making it all Abel.

I fired off a quick text to my friend Emily—she was the head librarian at the library, and she assured me the twins were having a great time. I hesitated only a moment, unsure if I should tell her about seeing my ex. Instead, I just insisted that no one but Granddad or I should be picking them up. Satisfied with her reassurance, I settled back against the passenger seat of the truck.

Abel turned over the engine and started driving. I watched as the sinews and muscles rippled in his arms while he shifted gears. “A stick shift, huh?”

A grunt was his only response, but I leaned my elbow on the window, propping my head to continue looking at him, encouraging him to say more.

Under my assessment, he finally sighed and rolled his eyes. “I like a manual transmission. It keeps you active and alert while you’re driving.”

I scrunched my chin and nodded. “Makes sense. To be honest, I didn’t know if you drove at all. I always see you walking everywhere.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed as he shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. “I don’t like to drive unless I have to.”

Realization dawned on me. Today he had to because he was called to come and rescue me.

I swallowed hard. “I appreciate it, really. I’m sure I would have been fine, but”—I shrugged, leaning into the truth—“I guess sometimes I need a little rescuing.”

I caught a long side-eye from Abel. “I guess so.”

We rode the rest of the way in silence. Abel’s house was a short drive, only a few blocks from the heart of Outtatowner. The long driveway was lined with trees, obscuring the view of the road and neighboring houses. The plot of land opened up into a beautiful, well-manicured lawn.

Trees dotted the lawn, but most lined the edges of the property. Lush green grass grew around professionally manicured flower beds. At the end of the driveway stood a ranch-style home that almost looked like a storybook cottage.

The home’s exterior was white board and batten and had a front porch that wrapped around one side. I climbed out of Abel’s truck, awestruck by how pretty the house was.

It was quieter there, the trees buffering any noise from the road. A coastal breeze gently shook the leaves of massive oaks that lined his property.

I breathed the coastal air in deep and held it in my lungs. My face tipped up, allowing the summer sun to warm my cheeks.

Fear and anxiety slowly faded away as I exhaled.

This is what Sylvie meant by a fortress. Safety.

When I opened my eyes, Abel was looking at me, and my lashes lowered as I glanced away. “Thanks for letting me hide out for a little bit. Abel, this is—” I breathed in deeply and appreciated his property with a smile. “This is so charming.”

A tight, flat-lipped nod was his only response.

Clearly he was uncomfortable with my praise, but he deserved to know how beautiful his home was. “Can I get the grand tour?” I asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Abel reached back and scratched at the base of his skull. “Sure.”

I looped my arm through his, and when he didn’t pull away, I beamed up at him and let him lead the way.

Here goes nothing.