From the minute I met Eva, she accepted me for who I am, flaws and all. She never judges. She only ever wants to help. If I didn’t think she’d instantly tell my brother, I would confide in her. I’ve come close once or twice when I’ve gone through a particularly rough patch, but knowing she’d tell Kade always holds me back.
“So, what’s going on with you? How is Harvard Law?”
“It’s good. The coursework is intense, but I’m keeping up.”
“And how’s the love life?”
Only Eva could refer to my “sex life” as a “love life.” I smother my snort of hilarity. “That’s actually what I want to talk to you about. I have a date next Tuesday, and I have no idea where to take her.” I pin puppy-dog eyes on her. “Help a guy out?”
Her eyes pop wide with excitement. “Who is this girl, and when can I meet her?”
I raise a palm. “Hold your horses. It’s one date. It’s not like I’m going to marry her.”
“This is huge for you. We both know that.” Eva’s grin is so wide it threatens to split her face. “Tell me all about her.”
So, I do. I tell her the little I know about Presley.
“She sounds wonderful, and you clearly like her. I’m excited for you.”
I shrug, shifting on the couch, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation is going. “Where should I take her? I’ve spent all day looking at options, and I can’t decide.” I exhale heavily.
“From what you’ve said, Presley doesn’t want extravagant gestures, so take her someplace cool, maybe a little off the beaten track. A bar with a good rep for food and a variety of craft beers maybe?”
“She works in a bar, so I want to take her someplace different.”
“What about that new restaurant, Moam? The food is supposed to be delicious, and they have a full bar with craft beer and a cocktail menu. Kade and I have been meaning to check it out.”
“Check what out?” my brother asks from behind us.
I stifle a frustrated groan. What the fuck is he doing home this early?
“Moam,” Eva says, setting her wineglass down and standing. She walks to her husband, flings her arms around his neck, and kisses him. It’s no chaste peck on the lips either. They are all lips, tongues, and teeth, and there is no denying the passion they share.
A tight pain spreads across my chest as I look away, not wanting to intrude on their private moment.
“What are you doing here?” Kade asks a few minutes later, adjusting himself in his pants.
Fucking gross.
I do not want to see that shit.
Eva removes the laptop bag from Kade’s shoulder, helping him slide his coat off as he frowns at me. “I thought you had to study.”
“Last-minute change of plans,” I lie, leveling him with a challenging look, daring him to push me on this.
“Kent has a date.” Eva pipes up, and I fix her with a warning look. “I don’t keep things from my husband,” she supplies. “Unless you tell me something in complete confidence. I didn’t think it was a secret.”
I eyeball my brother. “I don’t want the others to know. It’s only a date. It probably won’t go any further.” I know my family. They will gush like crazy if they find out I’m dating, and I could do without the familial pressure. It’s not like the odds aren’t already stacked against me and Presley.
“She must be really good in bed if you want to take her out,” Kade says, and Eva thumps him on the arm.
“I haven’t even kissed her,” I hiss, slamming my beer down on the table before standing. I am fucking sick of the judgment from my family.
“Wow.” Kade smiles, and it seems sincere. “You really do like her.” He clamps his hand on my shoulder. “Good for you, bro. I hope it works out.”
I bob my head, clawing a hand through my hair. “Thanks for the advice, Evelina.” I hug my sister-in-law. “I’ll check that place out.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Kade says, and I count to ten in my head.
“If you’re planning on lecturing me, save your breath,” I say when I step outside the front door.
“How long are you going to keep this up, Kent?” Kade leans against the side of my SUV, scrubbing a hand along his jaw. Bruising shadows linger in the space underneath his eyes, and he looks tired.
“Just butt out, Kade. I’m sick of everyone getting on my case about it.”
“You can’t do this forever. He’s your brother, Kent. Your triplet, and it’s killing him that you won’t talk to him. Won’t accept him. So what if he’s gay? It doesn’t change who he is to us. And Austen is a great guy. I think you would really like him if you took the time to get to know him.”
“It’s not going to happen, man.” I kick at the gravel underfoot.
“You can’t avoid them forever. And if you’re planning to skip out on their wedding, think again.” He straightens up. “Man up, Kent. The next time Keats texts you, reply. Go talk to him.”
“It’s not that simple,” I say through gritted teeth.
“It really fucking is. You just talk.”
“You don’t understand. I—” I cut myself off because there’s nothing else I can say. I can’t do this now—or probably ever. I certainly can’t bring this up with Keats a few months before his wedding.
“You’re right, I don’t. Enlighten me.”
I stare at my brother’s troubled expression. “I can’t.”
Disappointment crosses his features as he shakes his head. “Why won’t you tell any of us what’s wrong? This is just like your teenage years all over again. You’ve shut down and shut us out, and you might have gotten away with that crap when you were a kid, but you’re a fucking adult now, Kent, and it’s time to start acting like one.”
“Fuck you, Kade.” I push at his shoulders. “You’re not my father, and you don’t know shit about me.”
“I know if you don’t fix things with Keats before the wedding you’re going to regret it.”
CHAPTER NINE
Presley
I check my reflection one final time in the mirror, pleased with the result. The black dress is plain, but it hugs my curves and skims my thigh, and I hope it’s sexy in an understated way. I don’t want to give Kent the wrong impression. I want to look good without it being an invitation. If he thinks he’s getting into my panties tonight, he’s got another think coming.
The pile of clothes on my bed illustrates how difficult dressing for this date has been. I don’t recall ever being this indecisive when I was dating Lync, and the situation with Chris was entirely different.
I add a colorful choker around my neck before sliding my feet into my knee-length lace-up boots. They have a medium stiletto heel, and I like the confidence I get from the extra few inches in height. Kent is tall so I can wear them and not worry about towering over him. I spritz some perfume on my neck and my wrists and add another layer of deep-purple lipstick to my mouth. Deciding I’m done, I snatch my red leather jacket and head out into the living area to wait for Kent.
A smile crests over my mouth, like it does every time my gaze gravitates to the flowers Kent sent me. I sniff the blooms, but only a lingering scent remains. They have lost their freshness and are starting to wither; however, the flower-pressing kit arrived today, so I plan on spending my day off tomorrow drying and pressing the flowers. When they are ready, I intend to stick them on the drawing I’ve sketched, and then I’m gonna frame it and hang them on the wall.
It might be overkill, but I think a girl should always remember the first time a guy gave her flowers.
Kent rings the door at exactly eight, and I’m pleasantly surprised at his punctuality. A rush of butterflies invades my tummy, and I’m trembling a little as I grab my purse and head toward the front door.
I draw a brave breath as my fingers curl around the door handle.
Here goes nothing.
Opening the door, I force myself not to react when I get an eyeful of Kent. He looks utterly fuckable in his black d
esigner dress shirt and tight-fitting jeans. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, highlighting the glorious ink on his arms, and with the way his shirt is stretched across his impressive chest and biceps, I’m going to have a hard time keeping my eyes on his face tonight.
“Liking what you see, Presley baby?” That notorious shit-eating grin comes out to play.
“Meh. I’ve seen better,” I joke, attempting to hide my lust behind humor.
“Well, I haven’t. You look fucking hot.” His gaze rakes leisurely over my body like a sensual caress, and desire coils low in my belly. He whips a single purple rose out from behind his back, handing it to me. It’s set within a small square glass vase, and I’ve never seen anything like it. “It’s an infinity rose,” he explains, sounding a little nervous. “The woman in the shop said it would last a year if you leave it in that and don’t water it.”
Our fingers brush in the exchange, his touch heating me instantly. “It’s stunning. Thank you so much.”
I leave it on the kitchen counter, set the alarm, and lock the door. Kent lets me walk first, trailing behind me, and I’ve a sneaky suspicion he’s checking out my ass.
“Nice boots,” he says when we exit the building.
My lips twitch. “Let me guess, you’re imagining me flat on my back, naked except for the boots wrapped around your neck.”
“Damn.” He adjusts the front of his jeans. “I wasn’t before, but I am now.”
“Liar,” I tease as we approach his car.
“All right. I’ll admit it,” he says, opening the passenger door for me. “I was imagining something like that, only my vision was dirtier.”
I lean against the door. “Now, I’m intrigued. Don’t leave a girl hanging.”
He moves his face in close to mine, his eyes dipping to my waist. Pressing his mouth to my ear, he says, “My fantasy was similar, except your hips were arched and I was eating you out with your booted thighs squeezing my face.”
My panties are instantly drenched, my core pulsing with need. It’s been way too long since I was laid, and that acknowledgment sends all kinds of alarm bells ringing. I’m in even more danger with this guy than I thought. Resisting Kent will not be easy. “Holy fuck.” I slap a hand across my chest. “I’m sorry I asked.”
He saunters off with an arrogant swagger, and I’m grateful for the few seconds to compose myself before he gets behind the wheel.
***
The waiter escorts us to a table in the corner, offering us some water while he sets the menus in front of us. I’ve never heard of this place, but that’s not strange. On the rare occasions I venture into downtown Boston, it’s usually to drink not eat in some fancy-pants restaurant.
The décor is nice with its dark wood tables, velvet-backed chairs, low industrial-type lights, and exposed ceiling, but it’s a lot more formal than my usual hangouts, and the crowd seems older too.
I cast a surreptitious glance around as I pretend to peruse the menu, and most of the men are in dress pants and shirts, while the women wear expensive gowns. I shift on my seat, feeling a little out of my comfort zone, but I’m determined to force my concerns aside and enjoy the night.
It’s not every day I get taken to a place like this.
I refocus on the menu, and my eyes almost bug out of my head. “I think the waiter gave me the wrong menu,” I tell Kent, raising my eyes to look at him. His brows knit together as he glances between his menu and mine. I lower my voice, stretching across the table as I say, “The cheapest entrée is one hundred dollars.”
“It’s okay. I’m good for it.” Kent’s tone is dismissive but not arrogantly so. I suppose, if you’re him, having grown up in a family as wealthy as the Kennedy family, it’s not something you give much thought to.
I want to tell him he doesn’t need to spend this kind of money on dinner, but I don’t want to insult him either, so I mash my lips together and say nothing.
Across from us, a party of ten is being seated, and I don’t miss how several of the women gawk at me, their eyes raking my body, and my ink, with barely concealed derision. Even though my dress is short, it isn’t revealing, but to them, I probably look like a hooker. I hold the skinny blonde’s gaze for longer than is socially acceptable, but she was rude first, staring at me like she couldn’t believe I have the nerve to sit here.
“You got a problem?” Kent asks, stabbing the woman with a dark expression. “Because I’ve got to say I don’t much like the way you’re looking at my date.”
Her eyes pop wide as she blatantly eye fucks Kent. “You’re a Kennedy,” she rasps in what she probably thinks is a sultry tone. To me, she sounds like she’s got a ten-pack-a-day habit.
“And you’re a rude bitch,” Kent says, standing. Deliberately turning his back to the woman, he pins his eyes on mine. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
I don’t need to be told twice. Grabbing my jacket, I hold my head up high as Kent escorts me from the place with his hand pressed protectively against my lower back.
“Fuck, Presley. I’m sorry about that,” he says when we’re outside.
“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”
He takes my hand, lacing his fingers in mine, as he walks me back toward where he parked the car. “I asked my sister-in-law for advice on where to take you, and she suggested Moam. But Eva and my brother are older, and it’s more their kind of place. Definitely not mine.”
“Nor mine,” I agree. “It’s a beautiful place, and I’m sure the food is gorgeous, but I think the one-hundred-and-sixty-dollar steak would stick in my throat. I could buy groceries for two weeks with that.”
We pull up in front of his car, and he spins around so he’s facing me. “Does my money bother you?”
“It doesn’t bother me. It’s just not something I’m used to, and like I said, I don’t need extravagant gifts or meals.” I gesture at myself. “This is me. I’m a no-frills kind of gal.”
Kent reels me in flush to his body, lightly landing his hands on my hips. “Don’t undersell yourself, Presley baby. You’re the real deal.”
I’m not sure what kind of emotion I’m conveying, but it’s enough for him to elaborate.
“I mean it. Most girls are only interested in me because they want sex, money, or celebrity. You want none of those things, and you have no idea how fucking amazing it is to meet someone with no agenda.”
“I never thought about that before,” I admit, placing my hands on his shoulders. I might as well take advantage of the opportunity while we’re pressed up against one another. “That sucks.”
“It does.” He leans his face in closer, and my heart stutters behind my rib cage. Blood thrums in my ears as his lips press against my cheek. Fiery tingles zip all over my face, and an embarrassing little whimper escapes my mouth.
Kent pulls back, his lips curling in amusement, but he doesn’t comment on it because a camera flash goes off in our faces, and he curses under his breath. Opening my door, he urges me inside. I watch through the window as he has a heated exchange with the guy holding the camera. It’s a professional camera, strapped around his neck, so I’m guessing this guy is a paparazzo.
“Fucking parasite,” Kent hisses, climbing behind the wheel.
“Is everything okay?”
Resting his hands on the wheel, he turns to face me. “That will probably show up online tomorrow. He was fishing for information about you, but I told him nothing.”
“Thanks, and don’t worry about it. I don’t care.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it, looking contemplative. Shaking his head, he starts the engine. “So, I know this little Italian place. It’s not much to look at, but the food is to die for, and—”
“Sounds perfect,” I say, smiling enthusiastically. “Let’s go.”
“This is more like it,” I admit, a half hour later when we’re tucked in a cozy little booth at the back of the quaint little Italian place, having just ordered. The room looks like it hasn’t had a
makeover since the sixties, but the place is clean and warm, and it feels homey. More importantly, I don’t feel like I stick out here.
“I should’ve just taken you here in the first place,” Kent says, stretching his arm across the back of the booth behind me.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I wanted to impress you.”
A grin lets loose on my lips.
“What?”
“I like that you’re honest.”
“My honesty usually gets me in trouble,” he says, placing his hand over the glass as the waiter moves to pour wine in it. “I’m driving,” he explains, pushing my glass in the waiter’s direction.
“How come?” I ask after the waiter has left.
“I’ve got a big mouth and little filter, and sometimes I say things to deliberately piss people off.”
I burst out laughing. “Shocker right there.”
He stares at me with an indecipherable expression, and now it’s my turn to ask, “What?”
“You have the most amazing laugh, and your beautiful face just lit up like the Fourth of July. You should do it more often.”
I grin. “Why, Kent, that might just be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I sincerely hope that’s not the case. And if you’re relying on me to sweet-talk you, you’re in a world of trouble.” His blue eyes latch on to mine, and I momentarily forget how to breathe. We’re sitting so close our thighs are brushing, and every aspect of his gorgeous face is magnified at this proximity.
“I have a feeling you’re too hard on yourself,” I say before taking a sip of the crisp, cold white wine.
He shrugs. “Let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about you. I’m sure that’s infinitely more interesting.”
“I beg to differ, but what do you want to know?”
“Tell me about you. Your family. Where you grew up.” He drinks from his glass of water as he waits for me to talk.
“Not much to tell. My parents died when I was nine, and I grew up in the foster care system until I aged out at eighteen.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
Reforming Kent: A Stand-Alone Angsty Bad Boy Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 10) Page 7