Lush (The King Cousins Book 1) (The King Brothers 4)

by K. D. Elizabeth

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah,” he says, sighing again. “I don’t know. I hope he gets his shit together soon. It’s a bummer to see him upset like this.”

  I squeeze his arm. He smiles at me, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. “You really care about your brothers, don’t you?”

  He shrugs. “How can I not? They’re all I have.” His eyes fly to mine, and he winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s okay,” I say quietly. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “You must find this all so ridiculous, huh? We’re complaining about my brother’s dumb drama when yours … well, you know.”

  I smile at him sadly. “Never feel guilty you have a family, Nathan.”

  He drops to the ground, his back resting against the tree. “We’ve all been screwed up since our parents passed. Especially Harry.”

  “Harry?” I say, plunking down next to him.

  “Our youngest brother.”

  “I wondered who the sixth sibling was. Why haven’t I seen him around yet?”

  Nathan laughs bitterly. “Yeah, well, that’s not surprising. In fact, it would have been more shocking if you had seen him.”

  “Why is that?”

  He stares at me. “Because he left seven years ago.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nathan

  A week later, Jackson invites me over for dinner at Rory’s house. I bring Jude. There’s no way I wouldn’t. After that day in the orchard, when we made love—there’s no other way to describe it—we’ve grown closer.

  Even if I wanted to stop it, which I don’t, there’s nothing I could do to keep myself from wanting to be around her every minute of the day. The more time we spend together, the more natural this thing between us feels. And with Jude practically living with me now, it’s harder than ever to resist.

  When I found out her hotel was a four-hour drive round trip, I threw a huge fit. Absolutely would not shut up until she checked out of her hotel. It wasn’t terribly manly of me, I will admit. But, hell, no way was I going to let her drive all that way.

  Not when I have a perfectly cozy bed. And kitties. And lots of bourbon. And my perfect abs, which I’ve caught her drooling over multiple times when she thinks I’m not looking. Essentially, my apartment is the perfect abode for sexy Miss Shaw. We’ve had more than enough time for sex, sex, and more sex since she checked out of the hotel.

  Operation Fuck You Silly is proceeding very nicely.

  But as we pull up to Rory’s house, nerves stir my stomach. Apart from the memorial in my bar, I haven’t brought Jude to hang out with my brothers. That kind of official is way too intense for my liking. I’m not an official kind of guy.

  But I can’t just leave her in my apartment, while I go eat. She’s a guest, and I’m not a dick. Not that kind of dick, anyway.

  After I turn off the ignition, we stare up at the farmhouse in silence. Jude must feel what I do, because she doesn’t get out of the car. I give myself a mental slap. There’s no reason to make this weird. It’s just dinner.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you told me about your brother,” she suddenly says.

  My head whips toward her. “Yeah?”

  She shrugs, still looking out the window. “About how you miss Harry. That he disappeared after your dad died, leaving the rest of you here. You were the closest to him, right?”

  “Yeah. Still am, I guess. He calls me the most, although months can go in between calls. At least we can still check out his social media accounts. It’s not like he’s hard to find, being a famous Instagram model, and all.”

  Jude turns to stare at me, her eyes sad. “That is true. But it occurred to me while we were driving over here that you sometimes seem lonely despite having all this family. And I’m also lonely, but that’s because I essentially have no family. We’re almost like mirrors, you know? Our situations are flipped, and yet we feel similar. And I just wanted to tell you that that actually makes me feel … less alone.”

  My hands clench the steering wheel as an electric current zaps through me. She’s right. Holy shit, she’s totally right. Is that why we’ve had this connection right from the start? Is this why sometimes I look at her and feel like I can’t breathe?

  My mind instantly shies away from this revelation. I won’t think about this. Not right now. Not ever, really. Whenever I contemplate my estranged brother or how my father lost his mind after the death of our mother, my chest hurts so much I immediately distract myself with anything I can get my hands on.

  Maybe that is loneliness. Maybe Jude is right. But like usual, I don’t intend to analyze any possible deeper meanings. There’s nothing I can do about either situation, and agonizing over it will only depress me further. Fuck that shit.

  So instead, I pull her toward me and kiss her hair, whispering, “Thank you.”

  “Are you going to sit in the car all night, or will all y’all come in so I can finally eat?” Jackson calls from the porch.

  Jude snorts and pulls away. I experience an immediate sense of loss, like my own well-being improves in direct relation to her proximity.

  “We’re coming!” I call back as I climb out of the vehicle. Jude follows me around the hood of the car. I pull her into my side, leading her up the front steps to Rory’s house, where we always hung out as kids since our own farm is right next door.

  Jackson’s brows raise. “What’s this? A plus one?”

  Jude grinds to a halt, mortification flashing across her face. “You said I was invited!”

  I nod toward the bottle of bourbon she’d insisted on bringing. “With that, you’re always invited.”

  “Um, yeah, but that’s usually in addition to an actual invitation.”

  We reach the porch steps. I glare up at Jackson over Jude’s head, not-so-subtly warning him to behave. “It’s no problem, is it, Jackson? You wouldn’t expect me to leave her alone in my own apartment while I ate with you, would you?”

  Jackson looks like he’s about to either keel over from a heart attack or rub his hands with glee. Aw, shit. I should have thought of that before I opened my stupid mouth. Now he’s going to get all excited thinking I have a live-in girlfriend and I’ll never live it down.

  Not that Jude’s my girlfriend. But still. Even Jackson himself has only finally gotten back together with Rory a few weeks ago. Neither of us are relationship experts.

  Huh. We’re actually in uncharted territory, the two of us.

  “I would never dream of denying a beautiful woman like you, Jude,” says Jackson, slyly glancing at me and then grinning outright when I shoot him a death glare. “We’re happy to have you join us.”

  We follow Jackson inside. Rory’s putting out silverware at the dining table. When she notices Jude, her brows lift but she says nothing, calmly going to the china cabinet to get another setting. Jackson marches right over to her and whispers something in her ear.

  It doesn’t take a genius to figure out Jackson is gossiping about us. Not only is he one of the biggest gossips around—not that I can talk—but also Rory’s gaze flicks from Jude to me, before she rolls her eyes and whispers something back, no doubt ordering him to behave.

  This might have been a strategic error.

  “Can I help you with anything?” Jude asks Rory.

  Rory smiles and nods toward the bourbon. “How about you pour these two idiots some of that. I know you’re big on bourbon, but I just opened a Cabernet, if you want some.”

  “That sounds great.”

  They disappear into the kitchen.

  Aaaaand Jackson proceeds to grill me. “You brought her here?”

  “Of course.”

  Jackson pulls back, studying me intently as if he’s a general re-reading the battlefield. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “Of course.”

  “Look, why don’t you just get it out of your system.”

  Jackson’s face lights up. I swear, he’s just like a younger, male version of Alice wh
en it comes to his younger brothers. “So you’re doing her? Is it serious? Oh, yeah, it’s totally serious,” he adds, noticing how my expression flattens at his crudeness.

  “It’s not serious,” I say anyway, although a small voice in the back of my head calls me a liar.

  Jackson nods. “Okay. Sure. How long is she here for, anyway?”

  “She’s supposed to be here for a month. So another couple weeks now.”

  Jackson opens his mouth as if to reply, but then pauses, shakes his head, and says instead, “So. Axel and Andrea.”

  I roll my eyes. The day after we helped him in the orchard, Andrea showed up at the farm and tore Axel a new one. Deservedly so, but even more surprisingly, Axel actually groveled. Well, for him, anyway. Now she’s back working at the farm, but as to their relationship status, he’s on very thin ice.

  “Christ, am I glad I didn’t have to give him my accountant,” I say. “You and I both know the man is a complete asshole. Axel would have gone postal working with him. Thanks for that, by the way. Because you refused to give him Rory’s accountant, he traipsed all the way out to the orchard to ask me when Jude and I were—”

  “When y’all were what?” Jackson says when I wisely shut the hell up right before telling him we’d been fucking.

  He still gets it, though. My brother’s a filthy little shit.

  “You screwed her? In the orchard? Like, in broad daylight? Was it any good?”

  “I’m not telling you that.”

  “So incredible, then. You wouldn’t have brought a shitty lay here.”

  “Don’t speak about her like that,” I snap.

  Jackson howls with laughter. “Caught you. Man, are you gone.”

  And what a piss-poor way to put it. Because I’m not the one who’s gone.

  That would be Jude. She’ll be gone in a few weeks. Gone. There’s absolutely no reason for her to stay. And I’d never ask her, even if I thought that was a good idea. Jude’s about to get the promotion she’s always wanted. She won’t stick around. Why would she?

  So I’ll be here. Alone.

  My heart seizes at the thought. Maybe this isn’t worth it. Isn’t this the reason I’ve never had a serious relationship? Isn’t this why I’ve vowed to stay single my whole life? My father loved my mother literally more than his own life. My apple is going to fall verrrry far from that tree, thank you.

  But that vow doesn’t fix the situation I now find myself in.

  Truth is, that night she walked into my bar all I felt was simple lust. I figured it would stay that way, especially since I’ve known from the start that her time here is temporary. But now it’s only been a few weeks, and we’re already tangled up together, emotionally, physically, professionally.

  Untangling those strands isn’t going to be so easy. I should start now, while I still have a chance of remaining intact. If I already care so much, isn’t another two weeks only going to make it worse? I am my father’s son. What if I end up like him? What if her leaving ruins me? I refuse to let that happen. Maybe I should pull back a bit. At least emotionally. That would be the smart—

  Female laughter drifts out from the kitchen. Jackson and I glance at each other. “I don’t know about you,” says Jackson slowly, “but I typically am a fan of being wherever beautiful women are laughing. Just one of my general guidelines in life.”

  I clap him on the shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  We head into the kitchen. Jude and Rory are laughing hysterically, hands clasped over their hearts. Instantly, I rub my own, but in pain instead of levity. They look so normal, standing there laughing. Like they’ve been doing it forever. Like they belong.

  Like Jude belongs. Here. With me.

  Fuck, maybe I am a goner. I glance over at Jackson. He’s staring at Rory with unmitigated love. There’s no other word for it. He’s been trying for years to get Rory to forgive him for whatever dumb shit he did in college. But I doubt he ever stopped loving her. Just one look at the guy proves how much he cares for her.

  I don’t look at Jude that way. I can’t. I won’t.

  Searching for a distraction, I glance down at the book they have open on the kitchen counter in front of them. My eyes widen in horror.

  “Rory, you didn’t!”

  Rory laughs harder. I lunge for the book, but Jude rips it away and holds it high over her head.

  “What is—no, Rory! Hell!” Jackson shouts, lunging for the book as well.

  “Why would you show that to her?” I cry.

  “Ummm, because it’s adorable.”

  “No, it’s not!” my brother and I screech in unison.

  Jude makes a big show of flipping a page. “Oh, yes. It totally is. Super adorable. Very masculine, I might add.”

  “I’m pleading the fifth,” Jackson says, throwing up his hands, “we were children, for fuck’s sake.”

  Rory snorts. “Oh, I know. I was there too.”

  “I can’t … believe … you smeared it all over your faces!”

  Jackson stretches to his full height. “Well, we’d gotten our faces painted before. Obviously. What else were we supposed to do?”

  They crack up again. “Generally lipstick is reserved for, you know, the lips,” says Rory.

  “It was your fault, you know,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. “You wanted to do the fashion show.”

  “You could have said no!”

  “What else were we going to do? Our mom never let us in her closet. It had all these great hiding places and mysterious boxes that must have contained treasure. We’d been dying to get in there. At the time, a frilly dress seemed like a small price of admission.”

  “That’s got to be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” says Jude, her finger stroking the worst of the bunch, a photo of all six of us King brothers and Rory and her two siblings. We’re all wearing various dresses of our mothers, the hems so long they drag along behind us. Rory and her sister are wearing a pair of their mom’s heels, so big on their little feet they’re unable to walk.

  And Jackson’s and my entire faces are covered in bright red lipstick. Our mom’s very beautiful, very expensive Chanel lipstick.

  I still remember her face the moment she saw us, a flash of horror, then exasperation, followed by genuine amusement. She didn’t say a word, just held out her hands for us to take as she led us down for the group photo.

  I smile softly as I stare at her in the photo, standing in the back with Rory’s mom. Hell, she looks so young. How did I never realize how young she must have been? Even then, she looked frail. But Harry was alive by then, and after …

  “That was a really good day,” Jackson says softly. I nod, throat suddenly tight.

  I glance up, unable to stare at the photo any longer. Jude’s staring at me, her own face sad, like she knows what I’m thinking. And it occurs to me that yes, she probably does. Somewhere in her own house, Jude almost certainly has a similar photo with her brother.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jude

  I’m making coffee a few days after our dinner with Rory and Jackson when Nathan comes up behind me and pulls me into him. I smile, but continue scooping grounds into the maker.

  “I woke up this morning and you weren’t next to me,” he whispers, voice still rough from sleep.

  My smile widens. “Someone has to prepare for the conference call with Northwood. Seeing as how he’s my boss, I figured that must be me.”

  “Hmph. I was hoping to—”

  “Don’t finish that thought!” I say. “If you do, we’ll end up in bed again, and the call is in less than an hour.”

  Hell, I can’t even believe those words came out of my mouth. I’ve never put a man before my work in my life. And I suppose that’s not exactly what this is—but nor is my head entirely focused on work, either.

  Not like there’s much of it to do. I still don’t get why Northwood wants me here for a month. I’ve never spent more than a week or two onsite before. This deal sho
uldn’t have been any different. Frankly, there isn’t even much for me to do.

  While Nathan still hasn’t shown me his secret Old Abe’s stash—if he even has one—I pretty much know all the ins and outs of his business by now. I’m almost at the point of begging Axel to put me to work in his orchards all day just for something to do.

  What’s the real reason Northwood wants me here? Maybe I’ll finally figure that out during this call. He has to know I don’t have a full month’s worth of work here, and while I can also start getting ahead on some upcoming projects in the meantime, it’s not like Northwood to essentially give an employee a month off.

  Did any of those employees face a similar situation before they were fired or quit? Did they sense something was wrong? Maybe I should quit fooling around with Nate and focus on solving this mystery, even though my body screams in protest at just the thought that I’d never touch Nathan King again.

  Lips descend on my neck, pressing a line of kisses from my collarbone to my ear and pushing all thoughts of Northwood aside. Nathan wraps his arms around me, pushing me into the counter as he slides a hand under my shirt.

  “Have we ever discussed,” he says against my skin, “my thoughts on your bossy corporate outfits?”

  I snort. “Yeah, no. We have not. Too bossy for you?”

  “Oh no. Very much the opposite. Do you even own pants? All you ever wear are skin-tight skirts. They perfectly outline your ass. A man is only human.”

  “So what you’re saying is … you like them.”

  He presses his erection into me. “You tell me.”

  “Yeah, I think I’m picking up the signal you’re sending.”

  “We could have showered together,” he groans, sliding his hand from under my shirt to beneath my waistband.

  “Yes, we could have. And then we definitely would have missed the call. I know you, actually.”

  Nathan groans theatrically, then removes his hand. “I suppose you’re right. But I want it on record that I am very disappointed in this development.”