by Tess Oliver
“Sure is. You ought to go say hello, Nate.” I focused solely on Kensington. She wasn’t the type of girl you made a bet over. She was the type of girl you thought about even when she wasn’t with you. “There’s some good food in the kitchen.”
The mention of food or, possibly, the fact that I was staring with pure admiration at his date snapped Harkin’s attention back to me. “Yeah, hey, this is my girlfriend, Kensington Modante.” She flinched at the word girlfriend and, again, when he made a point of saying her well-known last name.
She glanced at Nate. “I’m your date. Not your girlfriend. Big difference. And I’ve met Cole before.”
Now I really had his attention. “Oh yeah? You never told me that.”
Kensington sighed. “Really? Because I listed it in my daily email giving you the minute by minute break down of my day. You must not have read it yet.”
He stared hard at her, and something about the way he looked at her made me curl my fingers into fists. But she shrugged off his scowl. She definitely seemed like the kind of girl who could take care of herself. Smart, savvy and extremely hot, a powerfully good combination.
“Great talking to you, King,” Nate said. “I think we’ll go get some beers. Come on, Kensie.”
“Actually, you go ahead, Nate. Cole promised me a tour of his backyard.” She cast me a conspiratorial wink.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind, Harkin, I’m just going to show her around. I know you specifically wanted to see the ramps I have out back.” She’d started the fib, and I decided to use it to my full advantage.
“Right.” She turned to Nate whose attention had already drifted to a girl wearing a belly dancer costume. She seemed relieved. I led her out to the porch.
A large group of partygoers had gathered outside under the lights. The onion smell from the tacos was competing with the waxy smell of the candles Denver had lit on the patio table. From the amount of laughter and talking going on, it seemed everyone was having a good time. I should have been mixing in with the crowd, but I had something more important on my party agenda, namely getting to know Kensington.
Rodeo was sitting on the short wall that separated the inner yard from the rest of the property. He was sucking down beers and bullshitting with friends, but he caught a glimpse of us walking through the yard. His mouth pulled into an O shape when he saw that Kensington was with me. He shook his head in a disgusted gesture that was meant only for me. His mind was still heavy on the bet, but I’d all but pushed it from my mind.
Chapter 6
Kensington
The night sky was moonless and quiet, the perfect backdrop for stargazing. Something Dad and I had loved to do when I was younger. I actually missed it.
I glanced down at the flurry of satin dragging behind me on the cement walkway. I reached back and swept the long train over one arm. “Jeesh, the inconvenience of princesshood.”
“Love that fucking dress, by the way.” Cole tightened his lips. “Sorry, that word is sort of a big part of my vocabulary.”
He was embarrassed about cussing in front of me, and even though cussing didn’t bother me, I liked that he cared enough to regret it.
“I’m not actually royalty, so your colorful language is fine, even if not really befitting a prince . . . or princess, I suppose. Use it myself too, when necessary. Although, I’ll admit that when I pulled this dress out of my closet and tried it on in front of a mirror, I didn’t say love this fucking dress. I bought it last Halloween, and sadly, there were no princes at last year’s party. So I left the ball in my pumpkin coach and with both glass slippers in hand. Figured I’d drag it out and give it another go. Imagine my surprise when a charming prince greeted me at the door.”
“Knew I picked the right costume.” Cole glanced back toward the house. “So—Nate’s your date but not your boyfriend?”
“If he’d been introducing me to one of the energy drink models, believe me, he would have used the word date.”
I glanced sideways at his handsome profile. Lines creased the side of his mouth. He had one of those easy smiles that made you think he rarely frowned.
The patio led to a grassy area that had a trampoline, a set of dumbbells and some old chaise lounges. Past the grass was a long stretch of smooth dirt leading to a makeshift oval track complete with mounds of dirt for motocross. A small backhoe and tractor sat off the side of the track. Farther out were a ramp and a large square box filled with chunks of foam. Another ramp had been built near the back wall. The remnants of a failed grape vineyard stood parched and hopeless along the right side of the property.
“I heard you digging this track when I was riding. You’ve got yourself a regular man playground out here. Some people might consider it a waste of land, but I guess it suits your purpose.”
He led me toward the ramp at the back of the property. “Some people like to unwind with a beer and television after a long day of work. I like to play. My roommates and coworkers, Denver and Rodeo, both ride freestyle MX. They’ve both got a respectable amount of sponsors. Denver’s jumps are tight and impressive. Rodeo is a little more like watching a man break a wild horse. But he gets the job done.”
“And you? I saw you flying through the air a few times before our meeting out on the trail.”
“I’m learning some tricks. Mostly, I ride motocross”—he paused—”not professionally like your date but for fun. Probably could have gone pro if I’d had an attention span, which I don’t. Unfortunately, I’ve found that the higher the possibility of a broken bone, the higher the threshold of fun. It’s a grim fact of life, I’m afraid. But since you jump massive horses over fences, I guess you’ve already discovered that too.”
“I have had my share of visits to the emergency room. And I do like to unwind after the work day by riding. I’m still trying to visualize what a long day of work looks like for you.”
“Ah ha, the first dig about my social status. You don’t think I work, huh? Just playing and partying, the typical life of a rock star’s kid.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I always hate it when people judge me before they know me, and here I am doing the same.” There were a few plastic chairs sitting near the foam pit. Cole pulled them out, blew on them to get rid of the dust and motioned me to sit with a prince-like flourish of his hand. “Milady.”
“You really like to get into the part, don’t you?” I gathered up the satin train and sat down, suddenly hyperaware of just how exposed my legs were in the cut out dress.
Cole plopped, with a little less royal manner, into the chair. I smiled over at him. He had perfectly symmetrical features, the ideal California guy but with some ink and short cropped hair to break up the wholesome, just off the beach look.
Surprisingly, he seemed to be having a hard time looking directly at me as if he was shy around girls, which I was certain was not the case. “So, Cole King—ston, tell me about yourself. If you’re not the typical Beverly Hills born and raised type, then who are—?”
He finally worked up the courage to face me, and it was not the slightest bit disappointing. His gaze softened with some admiration as he looked at me, and I had to admit I was enjoying it. Gold crown or not, he could easily have rode up on any white horse and stolen away a princess’s heart with just his hazel eyes and his smile.
Cole reached over and tucked a curl of my hair behind the rhinestone clip. It was a gesture that caught me completely off guard, and it took me a moment to recover.
“I definitely didn’t have a normal childhood, and living with my dad, well it’s been an adventure, but mostly a good one. The only thing I really hated was how much time he had to spend away from Fin, Jude and me.”
“Your brothers?”
“Fin—Finley is a girl. She’s here at the party. She loves horses, by the way. And all animals, for that matter. She and her boyf
riend, Rett, run a non-profit rescue barn in the valley. Some Pig, her pet pot belly pig lives in my dad’s house. He basically rules the place.”
“I always wanted a pet pig, and I wouldn’t have thought twice about having him follow me around the house. You’ll have to introduce me to Finley.”
“I will.”
“And your mom?”
He smiled. “Guess you aren’t big on tabloid reading.”
“No, but I have two parakeets, and I find tabloids make perfect bedding for the bottom of their cage.”
He looked at me for a moment that seemed longer than a normal pause. “I knew I liked you the second I met you.”
“To be technical, the second you met me you were flying over the handlebars of your bike. I doubt you could have formed much opinion at that time.”
“True. Revise that. I liked you the moment you walked up and asked if I was all right. I was waiting for you to stomp over and chew my head off. But you didn’t.” He sat back. “Anyhow, each of us have a different mom. Jude’s died in an accident, and Finley’s doesn’t stick around town much. My mom used to be Dad’s accountant.”
“I’m an accountant for my dad’s business. Do you see your mom much?”
“Sometimes. She works in New York, and I don’t really like it on the east coast. Too many snow days for playing.” He waved his arm around the yard. “Sunshine and a lot of dirt, it’s all I need to be content. My dad fought to get custody of all of us, but I think we would have stayed with him anyway. And not for the reasons you might think, like the expensive houses and big parties. My dad is cool. There’s no other way to describe him. He made some mistakes and probably exposed us to too much of the grittier life of being a rock star, but at the same time, he’d help us build forts out of sheets and furniture and even climb under with us to tell ghost stories and eat peanut butter crackers. We were always his number one priority, and we all knew it. I should say know it. We’re adults but we are still his main concern.” There was so much genuine emotion in his face when he talked about his extremely famous dad that it was easy to see how much he loved him. “Dad grew up in a poor part of England. His dad left when he was little, abandoning his mom with three young boys and little else.”
“A true rags to riches story.”
“Yeah. I think it kept him grounded.” Cole had a deep, smooth laugh. It fit perfectly with the rest of him. “Well, I guess grounded doesn’t really work for my dad. But most people think he’s one of those wild, party till you drop guys with a girl on each arm. Which he is, although not so much anymore because Finley is extremely persistent, and, I might add, a little annoying, when it comes to Dad, Jude and me taking care of our health. Dad’s semi-retired now, and my sister stands over him every morning until he takes his vitamins and eats his yogurt and granola.”
I laughed. “Oh my gosh, what a picture that must be, renowned rock legend Nicky King eating yogurt and granola. Good for your sister. I’m always pestering my dad about his steak and eggs breakfasts. Our parents grew up with completely different habits. My dad still holds a piece of wheat bread as if it’s a foreign object. He said he used to eat this stuff called Wonder bread that you could clump in your fist and turn it into a white ball of dough. Delicious with ketchup, according to him.”
Cole looked at me with a serious lift of his brow. “Uh, that’s because everything is delicious with ketchup.”
“True. Maybe our generation isn’t so different after all.”
“I don’t know about that. My dad still can’t figure out how to use the damn remote.”
I laughed again and without thinking, I placed my hand on his arm. “Oh my gosh, have you ever gotten the—” I dropped my voice a few octaves in a pathetic attempt to mimic my dad, “when I was a kid, you had to get your butt off the couch to change the channel.”
Cole leaned against the back of the chair and stretched out his long legs. “Yep, I’ve heard the tragic story many times along with the pitiful part about only having a few channels to choose from.”
“Right. Only a few channels and three of those were news at night.”
He glanced down at my hand on his arm. I’d left it there longer than necessary.
“What about you, Kensington?”
“You can call me Kensie. I know Kensington is a mouthful. It was my grandmother’s surname.”
“It’s a very cool name.” He looked pointedly at my bare legs. “And, may I add, with my colorful language, that you have a fucking awesome pair of legs.”
I felt my cheeks warm. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d blushed at something a guy said. I couldn’t remember the last time a guy had asked me about myself either. I seemed to have been dating a lot of egocentric men.
“It wasn’t exactly rags to riches for my dad. More like cheap, fifty percent off jeans to designer jeans. He worked hard to make the business a success, and, at the same time, he always made time for me. I’m an only child, which is apparently my fault because my mom loves to recount the”—I lifted air quotes—“hellish twenty-four hours that was my birth. It scared her off of having another baby. Supposedly. But she’s a good mom. She wouldn’t ever crawl under a fort and eat peanut butter crackers with me, but she never stopped me from pulling her expensive sheets off the bed to build one. I’d bring all my Barbies and their horses, of course. A happy girl never goes anywhere without her trusty pony. Kind of lonely not having siblings, but I can’t complain about any of it.”
I glanced toward the house. More of the party had moved out to the cool night air. A good Santa Ana wind had kicked up, making the tiny decorative lights vibrate as they cast their glow over the crowded patio. A dark, handsome and slightly menacing looking guy was walking toward us. He had on a black leather motorcycle jacket and black motorcycle boots, but something told me it wasn’t a costume.
“I think one of your guests is looking for you.”
Cole turned his attention toward the house and smiled. “That’s my brother, Jude. You’d never guess it from looking at him, but he’s an artist.”
A laugh shot from my mouth, and I covered it in embarrassment.
“That’s all right,” Cole said. “He looks like he should be riding with a motorcycle gang, and trust me, he’d fit right in because badass is his middle name. Or so he thinks. And he’s pretty much right. But he’s one hell of an artist.”
Cole stood up and I followed. “Bro, you decided to grace us with your presence.”
Jude was a much darker, brooding version of his brother. His smile immediately softened his appearance. He nodded my direction, and they gave each other a quick hug.
“Hey, Jude, this is my neighbor, Kensington.”
“Nice to meet you.” Jude glanced around and shook his head. “Like what you’ve done to the place. Where are the swings and slides?”
“If I’d known you were coming, I would have set some up. Along with one of those big bouncy things.” Cole pointed to Jude’s black t-shirt and coat. “You put a lot of thought into that costume.”
“Thanks for noticing. I’m wearing orange underwear.”
“I’ll take your word on that.”
“By the way, Dad says he’s pissed he didn’t get an invite. I suggested he cut you out of the will.”
Cole laughed and his crown slid sideways. He righted it. “Then this would become the world’s most expensive Halloween party.”
“You should have invited your dad,” I suggested. “I’ll bet he’s a lot of fun.”
Cole’s prince cape was flapping in the strong breeze. He pushed it out of his way. “Yeah, he’s fun. The problem is, when he’s around—to put it in his own words—the other sorry blokes don’t have a bloody chance in hell with the women.”
“That’s a great British accent. You know we California girls get a little giddy when we hear one. You sho
uld use it more often.”
“Yeah? I’m all for giddy. I’ll remember that little trick next time we aren’t standing here in front of my brother.” Cole looked at Jude. “Where’s Eden?”
“She’s inside with Fin.” Jude’s green eyes had a hint of gold in them as he looked at me. “Thought I saw a giant pumpkin coach out front. And I see you’ve already found the frog. He’ll probably transform into a man any time.”
“Actually, I haven’t worked up the courage for the kiss yet,” I said.
Jude shot a questioning look at Cole.
“She came here with a date,” Cole informed him.
Jude gave a halfhearted grin. “That’s never stopped you before.”
“Speaking of dates,” I said, “mine is waving to me from the porch. I suppose I should go talk to him. Nice meeting you, Jude.” I curtsied to both of them, whipped my train up over my arm and scuttled across the dirt on my clear plastic slippers.
Nate’s mouth was pulled into a tight line. “What the hell, Kensie? You just disappeared. They’re blending some margaritas in the kitchen.” He put his arm around my waist and went to kiss me. I turned my face so his mouth landed on my cheek.
Nate’s arm tensed around me. “You sure do hold a grudge. Let’s get you a drink. Then maybe you’ll soften up your attitude toward me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my attitude, Nate. But a drink sounds good.”
He led me to the kitchen. A guy with dark hair, blue eyes and broad shoulders that were straining the thin fabric on a Star Trek shirt was pouring drinks from the blender.
“Hey, Denver, this is Kensington,” Nate said as he grabbed a drink from the counter.
I knew his face and it only took me a second to place it. “Denver, you were in my calculus class in high school. I remember the teacher, Mr. Elberg, would ask you for help when he couldn’t figure out a problem.”