All's Fair in Love and Blood: A Romantic Comedy Novel

by Jennifer Peel

  Minute upon minute, our lips stayed tangled up. When the kiss did slow, he groaned against my lips. “Scarlett,” he whispered my name.

  My name had never sounded so good.

  “Kane, are you all right?”

  He kissed the corner of my mouth and my cheek before pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Always when I’m with you. Let’s get out of here.”

  The hour drive to Dawsonville was mostly a quiet one. Kane held my hand the entire drive and kept sneaking glances of me when he could, almost as if he were making sure I was still there. Something was off, but every time I pressed him to tell me what was going on, he brushed it off. He told me he only wanted this day to be about us. I was fine with that. Still, I wanted to ease whatever was bothering him, and I knew him well enough to know he was upset. I was missing his smiles and laughter.

  When we reached our destination, he had barely thrown the car in park before his lips were on mine again. This time his hands tangled themselves in my hair, making it come tumbling down around us.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said between taking my breath away.

  “You are too.”

  He chuckled lowly. He always laughed when I called him beautiful. It was good to hear his laugh. He sat back in his seat and took a deep breath. I had to catch my breath too.

  “Plan on me kissing you all day.”

  “Works for me.”

  He got out of the car, came around, and opened my door.

  I was trying to put my hair back up to no avail.

  Kane took my hand. “Don’t. I love it down.”

  “You say that now, but this humidity is going to make it look like I stuck my finger in a light socket.

  “Leave it down,” he begged.

  I tilted my head; something was definitely off. I didn’t ask again what it was. Instead, I let him help me out of the car. He seemed determined not to let me go even when retrieving my bag, his backpack, and the small cooler he’d brought. He carried each item and still held my hand as we walked the trail. The midmorning August sun was already blazing hot, and the humidity made it feel like a sauna. Thankfully, the trail offered periods of shade provided by the forest of trees, and it wasn’t an awful hike—very little elevation change and only a little rocky.

  There was so much I wanted to say. I wanted to plan our fall list and ask about the project Auggie had him working on, but whatever Kane was dealing with hung in the air like the humidity sticking to my skin.

  For three miles we made small talk about the weather and the beauty the trail offered. It was so unlike our normal talks. It was almost as if he didn’t want to have any meaningful conversations. The only thing of consequence we spoke of was the photo album Auggie had given to me. When I expressed how surprised I was by it, all Kane had to say was, “I’m not surprised at all.”

  “Why?” Kane knew Auggie wasn’t a sentimental man or an attentive father.

  “Let’s not talk about your father,” he growled.

  I let it drop.

  By the time we made it to the swimming hole, I was ready for a dip in the cool water. The rushing rapids sounded refreshing and being close to the river dropped the temperature about ten degrees, which was a nice reprieve. A lot of other people must have thought so, too, as it was crowded. Sounds of laughter and cheering filled the air as people made their way down the chutes of water and splashed in the pools below the rocks. Others were lying on the rocks and soaking up the rays.

  While I shimmied out of my cutoffs, I watched Kane spread out a blanket under the shade of a river birch tree before he took off his T-shirt. His golden-brown skin looked smooth to the touch. Sweat beads dripped down his taut chest and landed among his defined abs. I bit my lip, mesmerized by him. Still in shock that this man chose to be mine. It should give hope to all the shy, awkward premed students out there.

  I approached him, taking my glasses off when I reached him and gently tossing them on the blanket. I wrapped my arms around his beautiful body and rested my head against his hard chest. He didn’t hesitate to embrace me.

  “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

  Without a word, he scooped me up, and I threw my arms around his neck. He gave me a forced smile. “Time for a swim.”

  I let him keep his secret, for now.

  We entered the water together. I gripped him tighter, stung by the cold of the river. Kane didn’t seem to mind—he seemed reluctant to let me go at all, and even when he did set me down, he pulled me right back to him. I snuggled up against him, letting the nearby rowdy crowd splash us.

  Kane kept kissing my head and running his hands down my back and arms. His touch sent more shivers down me than the cold water.

  Once we’d cooled off, we headed back to the blanket. Neither of us spoke about eating the food Kane had brought. There seemed to be more pressing needs, though I wasn’t sure what those were. We soaked each other in while lying on the blanket together, my head on his chest. My fingers danced down his wet skin.

  “That feels good,” he whispered.

  “Thank you for this summer, Kane,” I spoke quietly.

  He embraced me tighter. “It was one for the books.”

  “It’s been the best summer I’ve ever had.” Those words seemed so inadequate and not truly what I wanted to tell him. I needed him to know what the past three months had meant to me, what he meant to me. With my heart full of emotion and beating wildly, I propped myself up on Kane’s glorious chest.

  He offered me a smile.

  My trembling fingers touched his lips. “I love your smile. I love you,” I said, so breathy it was as if it were whispered by the light breeze. For a moment, I experienced such sweet relief telling him how I felt. I was filled with the hope of him reciprocating my feelings. It didn’t last long.

  His eyes grew wide before he tightly shut them and let out a heavy sigh. “Scarlett, have you ever been in love before?” It seemed as if it pained him to ask.

  How could he ask that? The man had needed to teach me how to kiss. He knew I had never been in a serious relationship before him. “No.” I sat up, trying not to cry. I was an idiot. I should have known he didn’t feel the same way. I reached for my glasses, intent on walking back to the water or back to his car—anywhere to be alone.

  Kane reached for my hand. “Scarlett, stop.”

  “Please, let me go,” I cried.

  “No. You need to listen to me,” he begged before gently turning my face toward him.

  Hot tears of embarrassment started to stream down my face and onto his hand.

  He wiped a few tears away while tenderly looking at me. “You are so young. You need to live more life and fall in love again and again,” he struggled to say.

  “You sound like my father.”

  “Your father is right,” he snapped.

  I felt as if he had slapped me. I tried to look away from him, but he wasn’t having it.

  “Scarlett, I’m not trying to hurt you,” his tone softened.

  “Too late. Is it because I’m not beautiful and stick skinny like all your other girlfriends?”

  He let go of my face. “How could you think that?” he asked angrily.

  “Did you love any of them?” I choked out.

  He hesitated, seeming reluctant to respond. It gave me all the answer I needed.

  I scrambled to stand and put my cutoffs back on.

  He gently grabbed my arm. “Scarlett, I’ve been promoted to senior global manager,” he spat out, as if he were upset about it. Which was odd, considering that was huge for him and what he wanted. He hadn’t expected he would reach that level for another year or two.

  “Congratulations,” I said, a tad snarky. I mean, he’d just crushed my dreams and I was supposed to celebrate that one of his came true?

  He hung his head. “I’ll be based out of London.”

  “What?”

  “Your father told me yesterday,” he growled. “I’m moving next week.”

  “To London? As in Engla
nd? As in across the ocean?” I grabbed my stomach, hardly able to catch my breath.

  He nodded.

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  “Tonight.”

  “So, what was all this today?”

  He ran the back of his hand down my cheek. “It was me trying to say goodbye. To come to terms with . . . well . . . it doesn’t matter.”

  It mattered to me. “What about us?”

  He swallowed hard. “Scarlett,” he whispered, “you’re going to go to medical school and live your life. You don’t need me to do that.” Some emotion crept into his voice. “Long-distance relationships aren’t feasible.” He sounded like he didn’t even believe that.

  “We could try. I’m willing to try. I want to be in your life, Kane.” I sounded like a ridiculous schoolgirl.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “Are you saying you don’t want me?” I squeaked out. I wanted to know what had happened to change his mind. How could he go from telling me yesterday that I was one of the best things to ever happen to him to saying I should go live my life without him?

  He opened his eyes and whispered, “I didn’t say that.”

  “What are you saying, then?”

  He hung his head, then opened and shut his mouth several times before replying, “Goodbye.”

  I never knew one word could crush my soul and leave me feeling so empty I couldn’t breathe. And I certainly didn’t know one person could make me so happy and hurt me so profoundly. It was a pain I had never known.

  It made me wish I had never met Kane Hudson.

  The After

  What came after was eight grueling years of medical school and my residency. Marked by my attempt to forget Kane and do exactly what he’d said to do—fall in love. Oh, I tried and tried. But how could I give my heart to someone when it was no longer mine? Despite my best efforts, I never came close to feeling how I had during The Before. If that wasn’t bad enough, apparently stealing my heart wasn’t everything Kane wanted. No, he wanted it all. He was out for blood. My blood. Little did he know, that spelled war. And this time, I didn’t intend to lose.

  Houseguest

  Eight Years Later

  I was doing the right thing. Right? I’d been asking myself this for hours as I drove from California back to Georgia. Honestly, I’d been asking myself the same question for years. Which was crazy, seeing as I’d just spent three grueling years completing my clinical pathology residency at Stanford. Not to mention the four years of med school at Johns Hopkins before that. It was a little too late to second-guess my decision now. I was going to work for my dad at Armstrong Labs. It was set in stone, no backing out now. What were dreams anyway?

  It’s not like forensic pathology was as glamorous as TV shows made it appear. Not to say that forensics wasn’t amazing. I mean, forensics helped put away serial killers and solve famous kidnappings like the Lindbergh case. It also gave families closure and peace of mind. Sure, Armstrong Labs was paving the way for innovative blood plasma treatments, which was vital. And my new position as lab director would be important. If only that made me feel better.

  I cranked up Loreena McKennitt on the car stereo. I needed a little Celtic music to soothe my soul. The miles seemed to stretch on forever, yet they were going by too quickly. The closer I got to Atlanta, the more I questioned myself. More like my sanity. I wondered if my father would ever see me for who I really was. Would becoming his protégée finally accomplish that? When I was ready to take the reins of Armstrong Labs when he eventually retired, would I finally get more than a pat on the back and a new car, like he had given me when I’d graduated with honors from medical school? He had asked that I stay with him while I looked for my own place. That was something. It gave me some hope that we could have the kind of relationship I’d always wished for. Plus, while I stayed with him, there would be no stepmother or stepsiblings at the house to distract from our time together, as Auggie hadn’t been remarried in two years. I guess ten marriages was his limit. Hallelujah.

  Stepmother number nine had been a doozy. The woman, who was younger than me, called me before the wedding to say she expected me to call her Mom. Let’s just say I hadn’t gone to the wedding, and I’d informed Auggie I wouldn’t be attending any of his future nuptials. I refused to deal with any more demanding stepmothers. It was bad enough I was going to be working with several of my ex-stepsiblings. One in particular. The real reason I was questioning myself. Kane.

  Kane, the shining star of Armstrong Labs, the COO, the second-highest-ranking person in the company. Thorn in my side. My first love. I’d thought he would have disappeared by now, but no, he was in my face like a breaking news flash on a twenty-four-hour cycle. Whether it was the company newsletter or the quarterly reports highlighting all his accomplishments that Auggie made sure to send to keep me up to date, Kane was always mentioned. Even worse were the holiday dinners. Seriously, our parents had divorced seven years ago, so why in the world did he keep coming to Christmas dinner? He had his own family and mine obviously had issues. The only reason I even showed up was because Auggie, for some reason, always asked me to come and Naomi still lived in Atlanta. She was good incentive to go home. I’d even stayed with her a few times, although I’d stopped after she said it hurt Auggie’s feelings. Regardless, Kane had no business being there.

  He was the reason I’d started bringing dates home. Of course, he had to one-up me and started showing up with supermodels. I won’t even go into how he played a part in scaring off my now-ex-fiancé. Okay, maybe I will. He’d told Ethan last Christmas that he had the personality of a dry piece of toast, and then had the audacity to lecture him on how he should be treating me. Really, the man who’d left me for London without a thought. Who had treated me as if I were nothing more than a summer fling. Ethan had treated me fine, thank you very much. So he might have occasionally stopped me midsentence to record his thoughts. He was a history professor at Stanford, and he was constantly thinking about his lectures. When brilliance struck, he never let the moment pass—like ever, even during intimate moments. Sure, it got annoying, but Ethan was intelligent, and he could be very thoughtful. I couldn’t tell you how many times I had come out of the lab after a brutally long day to find a rose on my windshield with a little note that said, I love you. And he gave the best foot rubs.

  Ethan was long gone now thanks to Kane berating him and Auggie telling him he wasn’t the right man for me right after Ethan asked him to pass the ham. How would Auggie know that? Auggie didn’t even know me. I had told Ethan I didn’t care whether or not my father approved of him, but right before Valentine’s Day, Ethan said he’d been thinking since Christmas that maybe we weren’t right for each other. He said my father’s wealth bothered him. Apparently, that kind of money went against his principles. What? He taught wealthy people’s children at Stanford. Not only that, he said he was concerned about the strange attachment my stepbrother seemed to have to me. Hello? Kane wasn’t my stepbrother. And hadn’t Ethan noticed Kane’s bombshell girlfriend who had practically sat on his lap during Christmas dinner? To top it off, he’d decided he didn’t want to move to Atlanta. He didn’t think it was fair he had to give up his job for mine.

  Truthfully, I wasn’t as torn up about our breakup as I should have been, not that I would ever tell anyone that. I guess it said something, though. There had been only one man I’d ever been truly heartbroken over. That man was the reason I was thinking of turning the car around. But how often would I really see Kane? He would be up on the executive level doing his thing, and I would be in the lab doing mine. And when I did have to attend meetings, I would ignore him. I definitely wouldn’t think that age had made him more attractive. Nor would I remember what it was like to run my hands through his thick brown hair, or the way his chocolate caramel eyes could see right through me. For sure, I wouldn’t dwell on the way his kisses could set my soul on fire and the fact that no matter how I’d tried to find someone to light the flam
es again, I’d only ever felt a few sparks and maybe an ember or two.

  Kane needed to marry one of his supermodels and start going to see her family for the holidays. Better yet, he should find a different company to work for. He would never reach his goal of becoming a CEO of a Fortune 500 company by the time he was forty-five if he stayed at Armstrong Labs. Unfortunately, that honor would be mine. And the first order of business when I became CEO would be to fire him.

  I really needed to stop thinking about him. We were over. So over. And I was no longer the awkward girl who got her hand stuck in her bra while retrieving cake crumbs. Okay, so things like that still happened to me. Even last Christmas, in front of the man himself, I’d had a little mishap when my sleeve had caught on fire as I’d reached for the rolls and had gotten too close to the candle’s flame. Of course, Kane had been the first to spring into action. He’d thrown a glass of water on me, then had peered at me with that look he used to give me that said, “You are so adorable.” Oh, how I longed to loathe him. Somehow, I never could.

  Note to self: buy only fire-retardant clothing, and don’t eat cake in front of Kane. In fact, don’t do anything in front of him.

  When I hit I-20, I stepped on the gas. I might as well get it over with. Eight years ago, I’d realized dreams were just that—dreams. There was no use second-guessing myself now.

  I drove through the gate of our house in Arden-Habersham. It was as beautiful as ever, though it still didn’t feel like coming home. I reminded myself it was temporary. I planned on spending the next few weeks hunting for a townhome or condo before I started my new job.

  I parked in front of the four-car garage, and when I stepped out of my vehicle into the sweltering July early-evening heat, I swore my hair went, “Ooh, humidity,” and puffed out to twice its size. Marco, my hairstylist in Stanford, had assured me the humidity would be no match for the smoothing cream he’d recommended. He was a liar. I was going to miss the arid air of California.

  I still had the garage code, so I punched it in and went back to my car while I waited for the door to go up, ready to get out of the sauna that was called Atlanta summer. To my surprise, the spot was already occupied by a red Porsche 911 Carrera. I swallowed hard. The test-drive with Kane popped into my head. My heart beat faster than the car could go. I had to take several breaths to calm down. Once I was breathing normally again, I began to wonder why Auggie would buy a Porsche, especially the same model and color He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named-or-Remembered said he would buy as soon as he reached C-level. Did he and Auggie buy matching Porsches? Was it a bonding moment for CEO and COO? Auggie did like fine cars, but he was more a Mercedes kind of guy. So weird. Maybe it was Auggie’s midlife crisis car, except one would think his last prepubescent wife should have taken care of that itch. But who knew when it came to Auggie?