The Lying Season: A Second Chance Stand Alone Romance

by K. A. Linde

  As his lips fell on mine, the first firework exploded off of the Brooklyn Bridge. And I knew I was falling head over heels for this man all over again.

  26

  Sam

  “You drive a Tesla?” I asked with a shake of my head.

  “Yeah, I own a fucking Tesla!” Gavin cried.

  “You work for Dorset & King.”

  “And?”

  “It’s an oil company,” I reminded him, running a hand down the slick navy body of the car.

  “Yeah. Just because my family owns an oil company doesn’t mean that I don’t care about the environment.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “That literally makes zero sense.”

  Gavin just shrugged and popped open the driver’s side of the car. “Do you want a ride to the Hamptons or not, dude?”

  “I’d like to drive to the Hamptons. This thing is beautiful.”

  “Yeah. No can do,” he said with a laugh. He held his arm out wide. “Ladies, after you.”

  Lark and Whitley left their suitcases by the trunk and then slipped into the backseat, giggling like schoolgirls. Gavin and I added their two suitcases and our two duffel bags to the trunk. I still had no clue why they needed that much stuff for just a few days at the beach. But I was smart enough not to ask.

  Soon enough, we were zipping down the highway out of Manhattan and off to the Hamptons. The weather was perfect on Friday morning, and luckily, we were beating most of the traffic out of the city. It seemed most tourists were staying through the holiday weekend, which made sense. I was just glad to escape it for a weekend even if my parents had been disappointed that I wasn’t coming home. Especially since Jake’s birthday was Saturday. Not that I particularly wanted to see my brother.

  “So, I’m surprised your girlfriend isn’t here with you,” I told Gavin.

  He sputtered. “What?”

  Whitley cackled from the back. “Don’t you know? Gavin King doesn’t have girlfriends.”

  Gavin shot her a look in the rearview mirror. “Whatever. Charlie and I just aren’t serious.”

  “Have you ever been serious with anyone?” she asked.

  “I like to play the field. You should know all about that. Didn’t you and Keri just break up?”

  Whitley shrugged. “We made it, like, six weeks. That’s pretty good.”

  “I didn’t know that you and Keri broke up,” Lark said. “Admittedly, I have been a little invested in my own relationship.”

  “Hey, get all that D while you can,” Whitley said.

  Lark just shook her head. “Sure.”

  “And yeah, Keri was nice, but I think she wanted us to put a label on it. Make it official. And she wasn’t the one. If I already know that, then what’s the point of wasting my time? When the person is the one, then I’ll know.”

  “Will you?” Lark asked. Her eyes flittered up to mine, and she smiled.

  “Yeah. Of course I will.”

  Gavin shrugged. “I’ll have no fucking clue. If you’re supposed to know, then I think I’m fucked.”

  Whitley laughed. “Probably.”

  But I knew. And when Lark looked at me, I could see that she knew too. That we’d both known a long time ago, and shit had just gotten between us. It took work to make it work though.

  We finally pulled off of the main road and drove through glittering Southampton. Lark directed us the rest of the way to the Kensington Cottage, which she’d claimed was a beautiful house on the shoreline. I’d only ever heard stories about the Hamptons. That it was where celebrities and rich New Yorkers went to summer. It had always felt too surreal to even consider. Even more surreal to be here.

  “This one,” Lark said from the back, pointing at a house.

  We pulled up in front of what appeared to be an enormous mansion, and my jaw dropped. “I thought you said this was a cottage.”

  “Don’t you know cottage is just rich people terminology for mansion?” Gavin said with a laugh as he pulled into the driveway.

  The place was three stories high and looked to have dozens of bedrooms. It was sprawled on a giant lot with ample privacy from any neighbors. There was wealthy, and then there was Kensington wealthy, apparently.

  “Holy shit,” I breathed when I stepped out of the car.

  Whitley whistled too. “Yeah, damn. So glad my client wanted to move her breast implants to next weekend. This house is way better.”

  Lark just beamed at me. “Wait until you see the inside.”

  Gavin and I grabbed the bags and hauled them up the steps and inside. I dropped my duffel, and my eyes widened. Holy fucking hell. It was like stepping into a magazine spread. I’d only ever dreamed of designing and building something like this. My dad’s business tended to do more basic work. Monotonous work with little imagination. But sometimes, we got wealthy Chapel Hill clients who wanted our top-end lines, and we’d have some fun with it. I rarely missed construction work, but looking at this house made me wonder if I should have gone into architecture like my dad had wanted.

  “Are you still breathing?” Lark asked with a laugh.

  I shook out of my stupor. “Sometimes, the construction eye comes out. This house is…a marvel.”

  “I know nothing of construction and totally agree. It’s probably my favorite house I’ve ever stayed in. And all my friends and my parents have properties in the Hamptons. Nothing beats the Kensington Cottage.”

  I could see that.

  Then English appeared out of a back doorway. She rushed toward Lark, pulling her into a hug. “Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been cooped up with him for two days, and it’s been…” She trailed off as if she couldn’t think of words to describe how awful it was to have been here this long with Court.

  “You used to work with rockstars. You’ve had to pay off prostitutes and keep sex tapes out of the news. You convinced that one guy to have his wife say she was sick to explain her absence and had her agree not to divorce him for sleeping with other men until after his movie premiered.”

  English sighed. “I regret telling you about my profession.”

  “Court cannot be worse than that.”

  “He’s not. He’s a different kind of terrible.” She shrugged. “All of those people wanted my help. Court would rather throw his reputation and everything to deal with Jane in a burning building that he’d lit on fire himself.”

  “You’ll get to him,” Lark said.

  “Come on. I need your help with something before the shoot tomorrow.” She looked up at me. “You don’t mind if I borrow her, do you?”

  “No, that’s fine. I’ll just go find Court.”

  “Okay, great! He’s out back,” English said and then yanked a reluctant Lark down a hallway.

  I abandoned the bags, figuring I’d find out where we were sleeping later, and went in search of Court. I walked through the living room, past the dining room, peeked into the fucking insane kitchen, and then stepped through the back door. The view took my breath away. A giant deck with a large pool and hot tub. Past that was the Atlantic Ocean, waves breaking along the beach.

  “Wow,” I breathed.

  “Yeah, it’s nicer than the city views right now,” Court said.

  I turned to find him lounging in a chair with a beer in his hand. He was looking out toward the ocean, his gaze distant.

  “Hey,” I said. “I can’t believe you grew up like this.”

  He shrugged. “It was a total hardship.”

  “I can see that,” I said sarcastically.

  He grinned up at me. There was something of the spark of Court Kensington in that look. “It’ll be better when everyone is here for the party tomorrow. This house is made for parties.”

  “I heard that you’re giving English hell,” I said as I took the seat next to him.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is that what she said?”

  “Just that you don’t want the help.”

  “That at least is true. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. No one fuckin
g cares what I do. They never have.”

  I leaned back in my chair and surveyed the pool for a few seconds before responding, “I actually think you do need her help.”

  “Why is that?” he asked with bite in his voice.

  “Look, Lark and I were out yesterday, doing voter registration for the campaign.”

  “Isn’t that beneath you?” Court asked with a laugh.

  “It’s the backbone of the campaign. It’s pretty important. But when we were out there, we talked to a lot of voters. And at least a dozen people brought you up. People know what happened. They don’t like how it reflects on your mom, and they don’t want to elect her because of it.” I took a deep breath before saying, “And we need her.”

  “Why?” he asked, but the bite was gone.

  “Because she makes a difference.”

  “She’s a shit mother,” Court quipped.

  “She’s a great politician.”

  Court sighed. “I see where you’re going with this. I should just do what she says because the city needs her. Even if she’s never fucking cared about me.”

  “She seemed to care the day you were arrested.”

  Court was silent on that regard.

  “I can’t speak to it. I have great parents. But…I’ve been in this feud with my brother. A couple years ago, he did something horrible to me. For a while, I would blame my parents anytime they saw him. I’d refuse to come over if he was there.”

  “That sounds familiar. Penn and I didn’t get along for a long time either.”

  “Yeah, but I realized I was punishing my parents for what he’d done. So, I stopped. I still see him. We’re civil. We’re not the same, but it’s not my parents’ fault that Jake fucked up and that I don’t want to see him anymore.” I shrugged. “I’m not sure it’s your mother’s fault that she seems to know what the city needs more than what you need. Especially if you don’t tell her.”

  Court looked off in the distance for a long time without speaking. I thought he might tell me to fuck off or something. But eventually, he just nodded.

  “Maybe you’re right.” He glanced at me. “Is this what people who aren’t forced to repress their feelings learn from growing up in stable households?”

  I snorted. “Something like that.”

  Court held his hand out, and I shook it. “Come on. Let’s go get you beer. I need to be comfortably buzzed tonight since I have to be stone-cold sober in the morning for this magazine shoot.” He rolled his eyes. “If I have to play by English’s rules, I’m going to look damn good in that magazine.”

  I laughed as we stepped back inside and retrieved a beer. Gavin came back over, and we all went back on the deck, laughing and joking while the girls were off doing who knew what.

  And I realized that for the first time since moving to New York a year ago, I finally felt like I belonged. In this place. With this group. With Lark.

  It all felt right. I just hoped I could hold on to it without it slipping between my fingers.

  27

  Lark

  The house was empty.

  Sam had left with Gavin and Camden to go golfing. Whitley had plans to meet a friend for some shopping in town. Katherine had claimed she needed a spa day and would be over before the party tonight.

  Any minute now, the camera crew and photographers would be here to take over the house we’d spent all morning getting ready. English had had a cleaning crew come in and make the place spotless the day before, but after we’d partied a little harder than we’d planned the night before, we’d had to buckle down and get it sparkling again.

  Now, English was just tapping her foot and waiting for everyone to show up.

  “I cannot believe you managed to get Court Kensington into hair and makeup,” I told her.

  She shrugged. “I can’t either. He’d been adamantly against it up until this morning. Then he’d just complied as if he’d put all his energy into irritating me and then flipped on a light switch. I’m not complaining. I’m glad he did it. He’s gorgeous, but everyone needs makeup on camera nowadays.”

  “Gorgeous, huh?” I asked, nudging her.

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Not Josh gorgeous. Just objectively a handsome man. Come on. You’ve slept with a Kensington. You can appreciate them.”

  “Oh, I can. They’re like perfect specimens. But I don’t really think of Penn as gorgeous anymore. He’s just…Penn.”

  “Well, Court is just Court too.”

  The doorbell rang, interrupting us. English straightened her perfect white suit and opened the door. The woman who ran the magazine that Court was going to be featured in gushed over English’s outfit, made introductions, and then immediately got to work, figuring out the game plan.

  “Where is Court?” the woman, who had introduced herself as Evelyn, asked.

  And then Court materialized. He was every inch the gorgeous specimen that we’d been describing before Evelyn’s team appeared. He was mouthwateringly hot. The hair and makeup team had only amplified his features. The hollowed cheekbones and chiseled jaw. The piercing blue eyes, cropped and styled dark hair, the full, perfect lips. English had dressed him to look preppy and effortless. Like a prep-school boy, all grown up.

  “Hello,” Evelyn said after she stared at him in shock for a few seconds. “I’m Evelyn Rothschild. I’ll be working here with the team today. We’re going to start by having you walk us around the house on camera. Our readers are going to die to see this house on display. When we’re done, we’ll end with a photoshoot. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”

  His eyes shot to English’s, as if to say, A few hours?

  But to Evelyn, he just smiled that charming Kensington smile and said, “Let’s begin then.”

  It took the better half of the day for Evelyn to get everything she wanted from Court. And though I couldn’t see what she was looking for, I didn’t doubt her talent. English had said she was a genius at what she did. And that she had the kind of reach they were looking for.

  “Thank you so much, Evelyn,” English said. She removed what I could have sworn looked like a couple hundred-dollar bills and passed them to Evelyn as they shook hands once more. “I cannot wait to see you run the feature on my client.”

  Evelyn smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Our readers will love him. I can just see this house tour going viral. Who knows? Maybe our readers will want to see a bit more of him next time.”

  English just kept on smiling. “Maybe if they’re lucky.”

  Then Evelyn laughed and left with her camera crew.

  English shut the door with a snap and leaned against it.

  “Did she just ask to see him without his clothes on?” I asked. “I wasn’t misreading that, right?”

  “She definitely did,” Court said. He ran his hand back through his hair, perfectly mussing the do that had taken a stylist a half hour. And then he unbuttoned his sleeves and began to roll them up to his elbows. “God, does this look better?”

  I laughed. “Much. Looks more like you.”

  “Rumpled?” he asked.

  “Just real instead of polished.”

  English was still leaning her forehead against the door. She slowly straightened. “That went well. I thought she’d ask for him shirtless a lot sooner. A second feature with you shirtless is better after we see the audience reaction to this one.”

  Court just shook his head. “Your job is strange.”

  She quirked a smile at him. “Tell me about it.”

  “But we’re done, right?” I asked. “No more photo ops for the weekend?”

  “We’re done,” English confirmed.

  Court sighed. “Good. We’re all getting fucking drunk tonight at my party.”

  English smirked at him. “Why wait for the party?”

  “Now, you’re speaking my language,” he said, following her into the kitchen.

  “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”

  Which was how the rest of the group found the three of us al
ready nice and drunk, lying out on the back deck in our bathing suits, not at all prepared for a party.

  Sam just smirked down at me. “I hope you put sunscreen on.”

  I turned my head to English. “Did I put sunscreen on?”

  “Uh…hours ago. I think.”

  “Fuck,” I muttered and then burst into laughter. “I’m going to be a lobster later.”

  “Come on. Let’s get that pale skin out of the sun.” He took my hand and helped me up. “We should probably get ready for the party before anyone else shows up.”

  English nudged Court. “Hey, party boy. Get your ass dressed.”

  He snorted and then sent her the most charming, intoxicating Kensington smile. “You get my ass dressed.”

  English rolled her eyes. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’d have to get someone into clothes when they couldn’t hold down their alcohol.”

  I left them bickering and followed Sam back to the room we were staying in. It was a giant room with a canopied bed at the center and a beautiful bay window with a reading cushion. It was probably my favorite room in the house.

  I flopped back onto the bed and giggled. “I feel so good.”

  “Did the magazine thing go this poorly?” he asked, stripping out of the polo he’d worn to the golf course.

  “Nope. It went great. English thinks it’s going to go viral. And Court miraculously behaved the entire time. He didn’t even fight English. I don’t know what got into him.”

  “Huh. I guess that would be me. I talked to him about it last night.”

  “Really?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbow. “You got Court Kensington to behave? Do you want to be his publicist?”

  He laughed. “Negative. Just his friend.”

  “You look good shirtless.”

  “Thanks,” he said with a half-smile. “How burnt are you going to be?”

  I stared down at my body and shrugged. “Mostly my legs, I think.”

  “Let’s get you in a shower and then lather you in aloe before this party.”

  I slid off of the bed and put my arms around him. “Thanks for taking care of me.”