Picture Perfect Summer Page 4

  When he puts it that way... “No.”

  “Again, True.”

  I huff and puff my way on top of the board, then sit like him. I let out a cheer of victory.

  “You’re sitting, not standing.”

  “So are you.”

  “That’s because I already know what I’m doing.”

  I smile shamelessly. “Now I do too. I didn’t realize it would be so easy to sit.”

  Duke grabs me, flipping us into the ocean. Before I can come up for air, he pulls me to him and we shoot through the surface together. “Even easier to fall.”

  “With you. Absolutely.” I tip up my chin a little. We’re so close that I could count the drops of water in his lashes. “I like surfing.”

  “We’re not surfing.”

  “I know.” Feeling a bit daring, I wrap my legs around his waist, only to encounter something very hard as I press my core against him. I gasp. He almost smiles. Almost. “Want me to go back to my board?”

  “No.”

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  His fingers flex against my back. “To get to know you.”

  “What if I told you I’m only going to be here for the summer?”

  “Worth it.”

  Oh, my swoon. “What if I told you that I want to get to know you, too?”

  He’s silent, even as a boat skirts too close to us and sends the remnants of its wake, making us bob up and down. Our boards almost crash together, but he pushes them away at the last minute.

  “I suppose it’s only fair.”

  Giddy, I ask, “What’s the happiest day of your life?”

  “Right now,” he says without hesitation and I think my heart is going to burst. “My life has been too damn dark for too damn long, and now... it’s bright. Warm. Alive.”

  “What’s the saddest?” I whisper.

  “The day my dad killed himself and left us to fend for ourselves.” His embrace tightens around me. “Probably not what you wanted to hear.”

  I frame his face with my hands. “You can tell me anything and I promise to listen.”

  He leans his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. “One day real soon, I’m going to hold you to that.”

  Duke sounds so sad that I wonder if he’s ever talked about his dad’s... death. I move my hands to his shoulders. “But first, more dunking.” I shove him under the water and attempt to swim away, laughing as he grabs my ankle and tugs me back.

  “You’re so going to pay.”

  “I’m holding you to that.” Then I wrap my arms around him and kiss him with all the joy of this moment that’s living inside of me.

  Chapter 6

  Duke

  The next day, I meet my brothers, with the exception of Laird and Knight, at King Global Shipping’s office. I try to pretend that it’s Friday instead of Monday, but Deacon’s mood, in particular, won’t let me.

  “Dude, the waves are killer this morning. I don’t see what’s so important about this bullshit that I had to leave Angel to her own devices,” Deacon complains, his speech slightly slurred. As usual. At least he got a ride here instead of driving. That’s all I need is for him to act irresponsible during a time when everyone has to be on their best behavior.

  “The waves will be killer tomorrow morning, and I’m sure Angel will be too. However, this bullshit is so we can pay the people who work for us today because we made a fucking promise to take care of them and their families,” I point out. While we, and I mean my entire family, are living on the trust fund that came to me when I turned twenty-two, our employees have been faithfully waiting on us to honor our promise.

  Today the IRS gave us permission to deliver, but not before a bunch of back and forth with our lawyer to make that happen. Oh, and several thousand dollars worth of legal bills. A man like Briggs Walker doesn’t come cheap. He also rarely loses, so I’ll pay up without too much complaint.

  Barron fiddles with his bow tie. “Thanks for taking this on, Duke.”

  Like I have a choice. “It’s only my trust fund, what do I need it for?” It’s not their fault, really. They can’t help that they haven’t reached the ripe old age of twenty-two in order to access theirs, yet... and that’s only if the IRS will allow it. So far, mine has been left alone.

  Deacon clears his throat. “Sorry, man. I didn’t know. So yeah, it’s a good thing to pay them.”

  You never know because you’re always wasted, I want to shout at him, but I can’t because one of our supervisors, Luella Tomlinson, is walking into my dad’s—I mean my office.

  Damn, I hate this place.

  “Mr. King,” she says, her eyes lighting up when she sees the large manila envelopes on my desk, marked 1st, 2nd, and 3rd shift crews. “I knew y’all would come through.”

  I extend my hand and take hers. “I wish it had happened sooner, but the courts...” Shut up about the courts, Duke. “We were able to bonus all employees for their time as well.”

  Luella smiles brightly. “You didn’t have to do that, but because you did, more than eighty percent of the workforce will stay.”

  “And the other twenty percent?”

  “Their last day will be on Friday.”

  I nod because there isn’t really anything I can say that would change any of their minds. “Feel free to uh, host a good-bye party or celebration. I’ll take care of the bill.” I scoop up the 1st shift crew’s envelope and hand it to her. “With our gratitude.”

  “That’s really generous of you.” She hugs the envelope full of checks to her chest. “I’m really sorry about what happened with your dad. Everyone loved him.”

  Too bad all that love wasn’t enough to keep him here.

  Deacon wanders over the window, presumably to enviously watch all the other surfers who aren’t stuck in monkey suits in a high rise near Royal Bay. Barron sits at the conference table, taking out his phone and focusing on the screen.

  I settle in the chair I don’t want and lean back, closing my eyes as the minutes tick by. We have to be here all day, just to hand out the envelopes as each shift supervisor arrives, which means it’s going to be a long damn day. The one thing my dad made sure to have in place before his death is that the company would basically run on its own, and it has. If it weren’t for the payroll hiccup, no one would even know that anything had changed at KGS.

  “Have we paid the seamen, yet?” Deacon asks and my eyes pop open.

  “No, but they were paid more recently than the shift crews, so they’ll have to wait about two more weeks before the IRS will allow us access to more funds.” And as long as our nose stays clean. Thankfully, everything is pointing to Frank Jergenson and not our dad when it comes to embezzlement, so...

  Deacon turns around, his eyes dead serious. “Don’t you think we should?”

  “What’s this we bullshit? I’m the only one that goes to court. The two of you only show up when it’s time to hand out the goodies.”

  “Maybe that’s because you don’t share court dates with us,” Barron points out.

  “You didn’t give a damn two months ago.”

  Deacon moves closer to the desk. “Maybe that’s because we were in shock and grieving over our dad.”

  “Must be nice to have that kind of freedom.”

  “Oh yeah, it was completely lit when I found dad and his brains splattered all over the wall. Man, I sure as fuck wish you’d been there,” Deacon bites out. “Why isn’t Quinn here?”

  I stand, leaning in and placing my hand on the top of the desk. “She’s doing a summer course so she can get a head start on sitting for her state boards.”

  “Are you paying for that too?” Barron asks, genuine concern on his face.

  “No, it was already paid for, a surprise early graduation present from mom and dad.” My jaw clenches and I step away from the desk, away from my brothers, and into safer territory. Right now, I have the mostly unreasonable desire to punch both of them.

  “What are we supposed to do all day?” Deacon a
sks, and while he might not have a surly tone of voice, it just hits me wrong.

  “Go home. Go get drunk. Go fuck your latest piece of ass. I don’t care anymore. I’ll keep doing what I always do.”

  “You only always do what you do because you don’t bother to ask for help,” Deacon says from behind me. “I thought Knight was the one who liked to save people.”

  “You need to step away, brother.”

  Deacon laughs. “You need to stop being such an uptight son of a bitch. No one forced you to stay with Laken while she was banging—”

  I pivot, ramming my fist straight into Deacon’s face.

  “Fuck.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Blood spurts and I cradle my hand protectively. Barron shoots up from the table and rushes to Deacon, pulling out a handkerchief—naturally—from his breast pocket. “What the hell, Duke? He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

  “He didn’t say anything that was helpful either.” I move to the minibar and grab some ice from the freezer along with a cloth napkin to wrap it in. I place it on my sore knuckles and lean against the bar, surveying the damage I did to Deacon.

  He spits blood out onto the floor. “Feel better?”

  “Actually, yeah.” I tip up my chin defiantly, but inside, my gut is churning. I shouldn’t have hit Deacon. He didn’t deserve it.

  “Good.” He spits more blood on the floor and runs a couple of fingers inside his mouth. “Nothing’s loose.” He pushes Barron’s hand away and our brother stashes the still clean handkerchief away.

  Barron eyes us. “This is no way for us to act.”

  “Probably not,” Deacon’s cold gaze fixes on me. “That was free. There won’t be a next time.”

  Yeah, I know it. “Don’t talk shit about me and we’re golden.”

  Deacon shakes his head, wheat blonde hair falling in his eyes. “It’s not shit talking if it’s true and to tell you the truth, I’m glad you found out. Hell, Laken couldn’t be bothered to stick around when everything hit the fan and that was after she promised to be faithful. You deserve better.”

  Even as shocked as I am by Deacon’s words, True’s face immediately comes to mind. She doesn’t seem to be the type to cheat, then again, I never expected to find Laken screwing with my former best friend either.

  “Probably.” I check my knuckles. They’re swollen and red. “Look, you two don’t have to stay all day. I’ll do it.”

  “Don’t be a martyr,” Deacon says.

  “That’s not helpful,” Barron chimes in.

  I shrug. “It’s my role in this family.”

  Deacon throws his hands into the air and rolls his eyes. “Whatever dude. I’m out.” He leaves the office without so much as a backward glance.

  Barron tugs at his bow tie. He no more wants to be here than our brother, but he’s also a people pleaser, so he’ll stay until I order him to leave. “Just go.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do you really want to be here all day?”

  “Actually, I want to help, but not by doing this. I want a real job when I graduate next year.”

  I blink at him. “At King Global Shipping.”

  He nods. “Yeah. I figure someone should work here who’s passionate about the family business.”

  I cock a brow at him. “You’re a political science major.”

  “With a minor in business.”

  “Fine, but you need to put it in the forefront of your mind that KGS might not be solvent this time next year.”

  He nods. “I’m willing to risk it.”

  “This business is worth that much to you?”

  With a small smile, he replies, “No, but our family is.”

  ***

  I have three more hours to go until the third shift crew come in when my dad’s secretary buzzes the office.

  “Mr. King there’s a True Prince here to see you.”

  At first, I don’t answer, and not because True’s visit is such a surprise, but rather because I’m Mr. King and not my dad. Although, True’s visit is unexpected.

  “Mr. King?”

  I clear my throat. “Send her in.” Standing, I adjust my tie and check my breath. No telling how rank it is from eating Greek earlier.

  A smiling True breezes inside, wearing a pale yellow sundress and nude heels, and carrying two large bags. “I brought supper!”

  I go to her as soon as the door shuts behind her and sweep her up in a kiss. She makes one of her happy moans and eagerly kisses me back.

  “I guess this means you’re happy to see me?” she whispers against my mouth.

  “Very.” I frame her face in my hands and kiss her lightly on the nose. “You didn’t have to bring me food.”

  “I know, but when you said that you had to stay until nine this evening, I decided that we should have a picnic in your fancy office.” She steps back, her gaze admiring as she lets out a whistle. “Nice view.”

  I take the large bags from her and set them on the conference table. “I’m glad you approve.”

  “Is that where the magic happens?” She wriggles her eyebrows at me. “You know, the business magic.”

  I pretend to be confused. “What other magic is there?”

  Her cheeks heat. “Oh, you know,” she waves a hand at me and then starts to unpack the bags and set up our picnic.

  “No, I don’t know. Tell me.”

  “In those shows where they give you a tour of a famous person’s home and when the camera crew ends up in the master bedroom, they always say, this is where the magic happens.”

  “They work out of their bedrooms?”

  True stops mid-plate placement, then narrows her eyes playfully. “Duke King, you know exactly what I mean.”

  “Yeah, but I wanted to hear you explain it, in case I might be misinformed.” I wink at her, earning a flirty smile.

  “I should pack up my things and leave you hungry,” she threatens.

  “But you won’t.”

  “Nope, because I’m an odd duck like that.”

  I move around the table, until I’m close enough to gather her in my arms. “No, it’s because you’re made of sunshine.”

  “What are you made of, my handsome, silent man?” she asks quietly.

  “Storm clouds.”

  She nods. “They are always in your eyes.”

  “That’s why I need sunshine.”

  “I’ve always enjoyed a good storm.” She bites her lip. “That was lame.”

  I shake my head. “It was adorable.”

  “I’m thinking slutty.” An all too familiar voice remarks.

  Son of a bitch. True’s eyes widen and I stiffen, even as I look over her head and fix my gaze on the redhead standing in the middle of my office. “Why are you here?”

  Laken smirks. “I didn’t realize I needed a reason to visit my husband.”

  Chapter 7

  True

  Husband?

  Oh. My. God. Humiliation and anger course through me, twining to create one hot mess of a furious woman who wants to slap Duke, then tuck tail and run out of here. But even in the madness of this moment, something seems off.

  Stay calm.

  Don’t panic.

  Breathe and breathe again.

  After all, Duke hasn’t responded to this crazily gorgeous woman looking very at ease in his office.

  “You haven’t been my wife for a very long time,” Duke says, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be comforted by this statement or looking for an escape route. Suddenly, he lets go of me and I side-step my way to where I left the food.... You know, just in case I need to throw it at him, or her, for that matter.

  Laken smiles bitterly. “Not for lack of trying.”

  “What do you want?” he asks, his jaw ticking and his tone so sharp that I have to stop myself from checking to see if I have cuts.

  “I heard that KGS is solvent and wanted to congratulate you.”

  “Thanks for the congrats.” Duke moves to
Laken, taking her by the arm. “Let me see you out.”

  She flips her hair and smiles like a beauty contestant. “You are so charming.”

  Duke doesn’t reply to her sugary comment. Instead, he remains silent as ever and all but pushes his... wife out of his office without a look back.

  Without my permission, rejection slides in to join the humiliation and anger party and propels me into motion. I start to repack everything I brought, only leaving behind half of the food I brought. I’m not heartless and I can be the better person.

  Even if right now I want to carve the word asshole into the really nice conference table.

  Just as I shove the last container into my bag, Duke walks in. I give him a quick look and hoist my bags on my shoulder.

  “Will you allow me to explain?” he asks, stopping short of the table. His blue-grey eyes are stormier than ever, but I won’t let that sway me.

  “Explain away.” I cross my arms over my chest and one of my bags slides down, hanging between my legs like a huge albatross. “But I’m pretty sure I already know the definition of husband and wife.”

  “We were supposed to have finalized our divorce five months ago, but then Laken finally agreed to go to counseling and wanted to work on our marriage... Things were going good, really good, but when my dad,” he swallows, “she couldn’t leave me fast enough.”

  “Which makes you still married,” I point out, and that makes me the other woman. Ugh. I feel gross, like I need a vat of bleach to bathe in. At least we haven’t slept together.

  “Separated.”

  “It’s whatever you want to call it, but I don’t want to be part of a three-way relationship.”

  He takes a step toward me, but I back up and he sighs thickly. “You’re not the other woman.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but I am. You’re not free, so that makes me a jezebel.”

  His jaw tics. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

  “How would you feel if my husband suddenly showed up while we were all touchy feely and flirty? Would you be okay if I was just like oh no worries, Duke, we’re super separated.”

  “So it’s over between us.”