Just My Luck (The Kings)

“You nervous?” Royal’s hand clamped over my shoulder as I shifted in my suit.

“Nah.” I was.

Royal’s laugh rang out. “You’re so full of shit.” He looked around as we stood just inside the brewery, looking out onto the sand dune cliffs where Sloane and I would be married.

The golden sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the sandy cliffs. We’d briefly discussed being married at a church or different venue, but Sloane had insisted she wanted to get married at the brewery.

“I’m happy for you.”

I shook my brother’s hand. “Thank you.”

Side by side, we watched as our guests took their seats. Chase’s mother, Rebecca, sat with her husband near the back. She smiled politely when I caught her eye, and I nodded with a pressed, heartfelt smile.

It amazed me how much could change in such a short amount of time. It wasn’t all that long ago that I was an outsider—shunned and whispered about. Feared for what I’d done.

All that had changed when Sloane blew into my life.

Duke Sullivan sat with my nephew on his lap. His brothers and their spouses sat around him. Over the past few months, I’d gotten to know Kate and Beckett Miller as they worked on the farmhouse. Construction was going well, and Sloane had invited them to dinner on several occasions. It pained me to admit that they weren’t all that bad.

I laughed and shook my head.

“What is it?” Royal asked.

“Just this.” I gestured toward the guests. “You think anyone would have believed Sullivans and Kings would be in the same room, but be practically family? It’s wild.”

He scoffed. “It is pretty fucked up.” His eyes narrowed. “I think I’ll toilet paper Lee’s truck to make up for it.”

I shook my head. “You are such a child.”

As we waited, I watched as Royal scanned the crowd. When his eyes fell on Veda Bauer, he smirked. She must have felt his attention on her, because when she looked over her shoulder, her stare could have frozen the depths of hell.

“Yikes,” I said. “What the hell did you do to her?”

Royal’s grin spread. “I don’t know . . . I don’t think she likes me.”

My face scrunched. “Why are you smiling like that?”

Royal’s shoulders bounced. “I kind of like them feisty.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Jesus. Do not mess with the one woman who’s helping us out of Dad’s mess. That woman looks like she would crush your balls and smile about it.”

I checked my watch and steadied my breathing. It was almost time.

Off to the side, Bug fussed with the bow on Tillie’s frilly, dusty rose dress. I caught her eye and winked at my daughter.

My daughter.

I had never envisioned myself as a father figure, but with Sloane by my side, I felt ready to embrace the role. Ben and Tillie made it easy.

Royal’s chin lifted as he smiled. “There he is.” He gestured for Ben to come closer. “Your best man looks pretty good, Abel.”

I placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder, and he smiled up at me. “He sure does. You ready, kid?”

Ben nodded and grinned as I stepped behind him. Without fuss, JP, Royal, Whip, and Ben lined up in front of me, ready to walk down the aisle. Beside them, MJ, Sylvie, Layna, and Tillie smiled, holding small bouquets of wildflowers.

It was time, and I was more than ready to marry my wife.

Again.

I gripped Sloane’s waist as we stared up at the Wild Iris Bed-and-Breakfast. We couldn’t think of a better place to spend our wedding night. At the wedding, Gladys was overjoyed to hand us the keys to the turret suite.

We trekked up the circular staircase to our room.

“It was so sweet that you cried.” Sloane smiled up at me.

I frowned. “I did not cry. A bit of sand blew into my eye.”Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

She bit back a smile before stopping in front of the door. “Mm-hmm.” She patted my chest. “Keep telling yourself that, tough guy.”

“You were right, though,” I admitted.

Her eyebrows pitched down, and I smiled as I toyed with her hair. “You were the best wife I’ve ever had.”

She batted her lashes. “I told you.” Her sigh was soft and satisfied. “It really was the perfect day.”

When we reached the room, instead of opening the door, she paused. “Do you still think you made the right decision to not have your dad there?”

My face turned to stone, and I answered without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

“He scares me.” Her lower lip tucked between her teeth. “I’m nervous about what’ll happen.”

I held her closer, soaking in her warmth and letting her perfume wash over me. When Sloane told me about her meeting with my father and her suspicions he was behind Jared’s disappearance, I was livid. There was no doubt in my mind that his calling on her was a thinly veiled threat to keep her in line. I seethed with rage anytime I thought about her being alone with him.

I squeezed her, in part to remind myself she was here and safe with me. “You don’t have to worry about anything. I won’t let him hurt my family anymore.”

Sloane toyed with her lip. “So what’s the next move?”

“We know he’s involved—how much or how little, we’re still figuring out. JP is working with Veda behind the scenes to ensure my father doesn’t make any moves, but for now . . . we wait.” I brushed a strand of hair from her face as I held her.

Her fingertips stroked down the side of my jaw. “I’m proud of you.”

My chest ached, as it always did when she reaffirmed me.

I unlocked the door to our suite and shoved it open. Our eyes went wide.

“I knew it!” Sloane laughed as I scooped her up into my arms and carried her into the room. I dropped her onto the bed and pointed. “Don’t. Move.”

I dragged our suitcase into the room and dropped my bag beside the bed. Crawling over her, I pinned Sloane to her back. “Right now, I don’t want to talk about anyone but my wife.”

She shifted beneath me, allowing my hips to settle against her. “Is that so, boss?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Boss? Look around. I’m the captain now.”

A peal of laughter echoed through the turret suite of the Wild Iris, which was, of course, pirate themed. Swatches of fabric hung from the ceiling in swags, mimicking a ship’s billowing sails. Small circular windows that looked like portholes dotted the wall. There was even a cannon and treasure chest in the corner of the room.

I pulled a soft strip of fuzzy fabric from my bag beside the bed and dragged it across her chest. “I’m the captain and you’re my prisoner. Arms above your head.”

“Is that . . . ?” Desire and delight swirled in her eyes. “Did you keep my robe tie all this time?”

I smiled as she held her arms above her head, her hands gripping the ship-shaped headboard. “Are you kidding? Of course I kept it. I stashed it in my desk drawer. It was my first glimpse of what you were hiding beneath that ridiculous robe. Your tits haunted me for weeks.”

Sloane smiled and arched into me as I secured her hands and attached them to the headboard.

With an aching slowness, I unbuttoned her sundress, exposing her to me.

“Fuck.” My hand moved across her throat, down her chest to her pussy. “You’re fucking perfect.”

She hummed and squirmed beneath me.

“Easy, girl.” My hand squeezed her hip. “I’m going to take my time with you.”

I dragged out long, hungry kisses across her belly and lower. Across her hip until my nose was buried against her hot, wet cunt. I inhaled, savoring her scent as I teased her. I had plans for my wife, and she was going to be reminded of exactly what it meant to be married to a man like me.