Duched (Duched #1)

by Xavier Neal

  “Not really hearing one.” When he lifts his eyes to mine I make a silly face that receives a chuckle. “Do you even have nachos in your country?”

  “Something similar,” he informs at the same time he fills my glass. “They're made with pita bread chips, mashed chickpeas, melted Swiss cheese and topped with olives.”

  I gag. “I think I threw up in my mouth a little bit there.”

  He shakes his head, fills his own glass, and replaces the bottle. “It's actually quite delicious, especially with a pint.”

  “Nothing out of your mouth sounded remotely delicious.”

  “Not even olives?”

  “Olives are like reject jalapenos.”

  All of a sudden the playful disagreement is interrupted by the concierge who is approaching with a tray full of dishes. Gracefully, she places a basket of fresh baked bread, bottle of olive oil, an unusual looking brown dip, and bruschetta bread between us.

  You wanna know what the hell that brown crap is too, don't you?

  As the woman sets plates down directly in front of us, Kellan kindly asks, “Melinda, did you remember to bring the menu as well?”

  “I did.” She offers me the one page menu being cradled by a thick holder. “And the special for the evening is Spicy Mussels with Shrimp Marinara.” Once the object is in my grip, she politely asks, “May I get you two anything else at this time?”

  Kellan places his cell phone down on the table and gives her a nod of dismissal. “No. But thank you. I'll send you a message when we're ready to order.”

  “Enjoy.”

  After she's cleared the room, I quickly point to the unfamiliar food on the table. “What the hell is that?”

  “Truffle and porcini mushroom dip with artichoke chunks and feta cheese.”

  The casualness of his answer causes me to shake my head. “You can't say that like it's every day shit.”

  He cocks a smile. “To me it is.”

  “Did you forget the whole beer and burgers talk yesterday? I thought you said you were a good listener.”

  “I am, but where would the fun be if I didn't push your comfort levels as you've pushed mine.”

  Don't agree with him again!

  Kellan smiles again. “You like that I push back, don't you?”

  “You like that I push to begin with.”

  “Yes,” he admits and reaches for a piece of bread. “Now, you're not allergic to anything are you?” Seeing the glimmer of an idea begin to stir in my mind, he points a stern finger. “Don't lie to get out of trying it either.”

  “Not allergic to anything,” I sigh and sneer at the dip again. “Do I really have to try that?”

  “Yes.” Kellan uses his fork to place a little on the soft bread. “One bite.”

  My disgusted expression doesn't change.

  “Don't be a pussy,” he scolds and offers me the piece.

  “Did you really just-”

  “I did,” he interrupts. “And I'll continue to call you that all night until you try it.”

  No...No way. That looks like mud water with dying frogs in it.

  “One bite and you can ask me one question you want of any kind and I'll answer completely honest. No clever retorts. No circumventing.”

  The offer sways my decision. “Do I have to ask it now?”

  “It can be used like a get out of jail free card. It'll never expire and can be used at any time.”

  “Even in a crowded room full of people.”

  “Even then.”

  I give the brown dip an additional glance before shaking my head. “Nope. Stakes are still too high. I love my taste buds too much.”

  Kellan has the bite he's been offering to prove it's at the very least not harmful.

  Not that I was worried it was. He's not exactly a stranger on my doorstep with coffee any more.

  “One bite and you can ask me the one question and I'll have the chef prepare you the best bacon cheeseburger you've ever had in your life.”

  Temptation finally surpasses the point of no return. “One. Bite.”

  “One.”

  Kellan smears the dip on another piece of bread and offers it to me. Instead of wasting any more time staring at the questionable concoction, I shove the whole thing in my mouth, and let the assault on my taste buds begin. Burst after burst of bold flavors swarm together until I'm pushed back in my seat from the overwhelming rich taste.

  Holy hell. I think I just had a foodgasm.

  “Delectable, isn't it?”

  I nod while savoring the flavor floating on my tongue.

  “I've got fantastic taste.” His eyes give me a long, lingering stare. “Obviously...”

  Side stepping his compliment, I reach for another piece of bread. “Can you cook?”

  “No.” He has a sip of his champagne. “It's never been important to learn.”

  “Meaning?”

  “When I'm in Fayweather, if I'm not staying at the palace or our family's country home on the outskirts, then I'm crashing at our high-rise penthouse in the city, all of which have cooks. Other than that, I live in and out of hotels, dining out almost every night.”

  Between bites, I manage to ask, “You don't have your own place? Anywhere?”

  Kellan shakes his head. “No. I never stay in one place long enough to need one. It's one of the benefits of being able to work from anywhere that provides an internet connection.”

  Unsure how I feel about that, I finish the bite, grab another hunk of bread, and state, “I can't cook either.”

  “No?”

  “Nope. My roommate does most of the cooking since it's her boyfriend who eats most of our food and I usually have dinner at my parents on Sundays, so I'm pretty much covered. Before living with Jovi, I grew a huge appreciation for microwavable meals.”

  Kellan has another drink. “Can't say I've ever had one.”

  “Lucky you.”

  He flashes me a smile.

  “You know, for a guy always eating meals on the go, you sure don't look like it.”

  “You can thank lacrosse for instilling a great workout regimen in me.”

  “Lacrosse? What is that? Like hockey in the field?”

  “No...That's field hockey.”

  His jeer causes me to snap. “Thought maybe it was like the whole you call it football, we call it soccer thing.”

  “It is football,” Kellar argues. “You use your feet. Hints the name. Americans are just too stubborn to accept it.”

  I glare at his comment before tossing the last piece of my bread at him.

  He chortles and brushes it off.

  “Oops...” I playfully sneer. “Didn't mean to get your 4,000 dollar suit all dirty. Oh wait. Is this one the same price or dare I assume more?”

  “More.”

  Surprise drops my jaw. “Seriously?”

  “Important date. Better suit.”

  I continue to tease, “Better suit, better shoes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Better cologne?”

  “You tell me.” He winks.

  I wet my lips in an attempt to prevent from admitting just how much I enjoy it. “Same watch though? Did you forget to pack others?”

  Suddenly, Kellan's playful demeanor dissipates.

  Not my best joke, but definitely not a mood killer.

  He gives the accessory an adjustment and informs, “It's the only one I wear. My mother gave it to me for my birthday.”

  “Mama's boy?”

  “I was when was she was alive.”

  The confession shuts my mouth tightly.

  Oh shit...I didn't mean to...I shouldn't have said...I...I messed this up.

  An uncomfortable silence struggles to settle between us yet he pokes, “Daddy's girl.”

  I attempt to smile. “What about you? You close to your father?”

  Kellan's body hardens further. “Not really. When my mother passed away we built a mutually enjoyed emotional wall between us.”

  “How did she die?”<
br />
  “Breast cancer.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Almost 15 years.”

  I reach for my glass. “What about your brother? Are you two close?”

  “Practically identical,” he finally begins to smile again. “Even if you think he's hotter.”

  “By like a point.”

  His eyes light up. “Oh, just one now?”

  “Maybe like half of one,” I whisper before having a sip. “Do you just look alike or is he a cocky, art hating sports loving asshole too?”

  Kellan lets loose a hearty chuckle and the sound seeps through me in unexpected ways.

  Is it weird to enjoy hearing someone laugh this much?

  “We're different in ways that matter,” he replies. “We were more alike before he met Sophia, his wife.”

  “Do you not like her?”

  “I adore her. She drives my brother mad just because she can.” The sound of his laughter continues to reverberate around the room.

  It does not sound familiar...

  “In fact, he asked her out seven times before she agreed to have coffee with him.”

  “Seven times?” He nods rapidly, and I playfully squeak, “I knew I should've held out longer.”

  Kellan rolls his eyes. “That long and I wouldn't have been in town anymore.”

  The realization of this moment being one of our only causes my shoulders to drop.

  I know I don't have any right to be unhappy about that. We just met. We hardly even know each other...

  “Dance with me.” His declaration is proceeded by him wiping his hands on his napkin and standing up.

  “You're not gonna ask?”

  He extends his hand for me to take. “No.”

  After wiping my own, I drop it in his, and allow him to whisk me away to dance.

  I swiftly wrap my arms around his neck while his hands take their time delicately exploring my curves in their pursuit to rest on my hips. His attempt to handle me with tenderness is so surprising it pulls a sweet sigh from my lips.

  One minute he's Prince of Pompous Asses and the next he's Prince Charming. I'm gonna need him to decide one or the other. He can't be both. I...I...I don't know how to handle both.

  “What are you in town for?” I softly ask as our eyes meet.

  “The Collin Murphy Foundation charity run. They are a research foundation in Doctenn that helps fight Childhood Cancer. Their main base is in Fayweather, where I'm from, but they partner with a slightly smaller branch here in the states. One of my old mates from boarding school is highly involved in the American division. He suggested an annual run to help raise funds in the states after hearing about the triathlon we do in Fayweather. I've come every year to participate since it began.”

  “Which was?”

  “This will be the 5th year.”

  Impressed by his commitment, I offer him a smile. “How long is the run?”

  “5K,” he casually replies. “Nothing I can't do in my sleep.”

  His ego’s overdue appearance causes me to roll my eyes.

  “Care to join me for the event? I can pull a few strings and arrange you a spot if you like.”

  “That would be the worst date ever.” The two of us laugh and I add, “Seriously. That's not the way I prefer to be sweaty and winded.”

  “I can gladly arrange other ways to accomplish both of those.” When my eyes lower to a disgusted glare, he chuckles, “You should swing by the run. Cheer me on. The encouragement would be welcomed.”

  My face tilts sarcastically. “Because your ego really needs any more attention?”

  Kellan gives me a small shrug. “Couldn't hurt.”

  We snicker and move the conversation along. He explains some of the different departments the money raised from the run is funneled into and also regales me with stories about some of the young visitors waiting for them at the finish line, whose lives have been positively affected by the efforts of the foundation. Kellan enthusiastically explains how his mother was a huge donor to the non-profit organization from the moment they started in their country and used to take him along to the hospital when she would visit the families with supplies. As he recalls delivering meals, playing board games with dying children, and playing practical jokes on doctors just to see the patients laugh, his entire presence illuminates to the point it's impossible to look away.

  How can anyone be two people at once? You've met him. He's all flashy suits and cocky comments one minute and the next, he's this. He's caring and concerned with something so much larger than himself. Determined to make a difference in lives most people wouldn't give a second thought to unless they were directly being affected by it. It's like having someone splash white paint on a black canvas. The contrast isn't just striking. It's beautiful.

  “I'm rambling,” Kellan says in a slightly embarrassed tone.

  “It's adorable,” I warmly reassure.

  His blue eyes flash relief before his grip tightens. “So adorable you want me to kiss you now.”

  “Wrong.”

  You shh.

  Kellan lightly laughs, licks his lips, and lowers his voice, “Give me ten seconds to change your mind.”

  “Seven.”

  Swiftly, his mouth descends mine, taking advantage of my parted lips from a word barely finished. The moment our tongues touch an immediate irrefutable hunger is ignited. His fingertips lock onto my hips while we begin a battle in uncharted territory. The need for dominance from both of us is apparent. Within seconds, every roll of our tongues is so aggressive and so avaricious it seems that the only possible way to sate our appetites is to devour more of each other. To put me on a list I swore I was too good for. To put me on a list I hate to admit I want to be added too.

  Kellan's lips abruptly slip from mine, leaving me breathless. “Only needed five.”

  The cocky remark is reward with my mouth conquering his this time. A greedy groan rumbles through him that's short lived by the sound of another vibration. Our tongues briefly connect once more before I'm pulling away insisting he answer it.

  “Could be important,” I whisper, hands sliding down his taut chest.

  God that's firm....

  “More than this?” He gives me a stern expression before shaking his head. “Not a chance in hell.”

  I briefly bite my lip before letting my better judgment do the talking. “Probably not, but why don't you make sure?”

  The vibrating pauses, which is when Kellan attempts to argue again, only to be cut off by the sound starting its second round.

  He folds his hands with mine and I tease, “You think I'm gonna run away while you talk on the phone?”

  “Not risking it,” he sighs as he moves us back towards the table.

  The minute we arrive my eyes steal a glance of the face lighting up his screen.

  She looks really familiar...Oh my God, wasn't she in the spy movie that just came out?

  Before I'm given too long to further decipher where I know her from, the woman's face disappears, from him ignoring the call. At that moment my grip on his loosens, I realize I've just been saved by the blonde.

  That would've been a completely different T.V. show huh?

  Kellan quickly attempts damage control. “She's no one special.”

  “According to you they never are.”

  A hurt expression begins to cultivate. “Brie-”

  “How long after you've screwed me until you begin to ignore my calls? Until I'm just another number on a long list of other numbers you let lie around for in case of pussy needing emergency?”

  “Brie-”

  “You say you don't lead anyone on, but what the hell do you call this here with me? All this wining and dining. Is this just really extended foreplay?” His mouth twitches to reply, but I lift a hand to silence him. “Never mind. I don't really want the answer to that. Look, you asked me to dinner and I technically ate with you during this time, which means I fulfilled my end. I'd like to go home now.”

  Ke
llan runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “There's no convincing you to stay, is there?”