Tristan (The Kendall Family #1)

by Randi Everheart

  In the distraction, Sophia leapt forward, swinging for Seth, whose eyes widened as he jumped back. Sophia missed, but the taller one was closer now and raised his hands defensively. She slugged him in the nose, a flash of blood splattering both of their shirts. He fell back into Seth. Just then, a shot of pepper spray flew past Sophia from behind and splattered on the wall, narrowly missing the other attackers. She turned, and before the boyish one could improve his aim, Sophia kicked him in the crotch. He crumpled but without the scream she expected. The hallway and freedom beckoned beyond. Sophia scrambled over the boyish one and ran for the front door as the microwave started beeping.

  “You cunt!” Seth screamed, coming after her. “Get back here!”

  In the foyer, Sophia snatched the car keys from a table and unbolted the door, opened it, and ran through. A glance back showed Seth charging from the kitchen, eyes afire. She sprinted in her socks to her silver Acura RSX, unlocking it with the remote before jumping inside and punching the red ignition button. The car started as Seth came through the front door at a run. Sophia stomped on the gas and spun out in the dirt. Seth changed direction, running for his black Dodge Challenger.

  “Oh, my God,” said Sophia, realizing he’d follow. She careened out into the street on the wrong side and flipped on the headlights as she barreled down the road. Behind her, the roar of Seth’s car preceded the sight of it hurtling onto the pavement in her rearview mirror, the lights coming on and sweeping side to side as he righted himself and came on like Death.

  * * *

  Whether by day or night, Sugarloaf Inn exuded a welcoming atmosphere appropriate for a bed-and-breakfast. Like the other properties owned by the Kendall family—Comus Winery, Sugarloaf Stables, Kendall Motorsports, and their family home—the inn featured a blue roof, front door, and shutters accenting a white facade. As the orange sun neared the horizon, porch lights and an interior glow made the inn stand out in the growing gloom. No other buildings were near the intersection where it stood. From the rear patio, the inn offered unparalleled views of Sugarloaf Mountain, the shadow of which fell over it now.

  That’s where Connor and Quinn Kendall sat, each nursing a glass of Sugarloaf Riesling, the shrimp scampi Connor had made long gone. He was the family’s best chef, though that wasn’t the reason he’d taken over the inn. Their mother had successfully run it until dying of cancer, when Connor was fourteen. Of the six siblings, he was the most affected by the loss, which had left Quinn, the eldest, in charge of everything for a while. Once old enough, Connor had taken the inn because he loved the memories of her here. He was now twenty-four and despairing of ever having his own family.

  “So when’s it gonna be your turn, little brother?” Quinn asked, as if reading his mind. At six foot six inches and barrel chested, he cut an imposing figure even while leaned back in the wicker chair, one hand stroking a brown goatee. A mane of wavy brown hair reached his neck, adding to the impression of a bear.

  “For what?” Connor asked.

  “Getting hitched. Who knew Tristan would be first?”

  Connor stifled a sigh. He was the second youngest, older than Tristan by a year. They were sometimes taken for twins, both having blond hair, fine cheekbones, and strong chins. But Connor had brown eyes to Tristan’s green, and he kept his hair just long enough for girls to take a handful, not that any had tried in a long time. “It should’ve been me.”

  Quinn arched an eyebrow. “With Victoria?” he asked. Tristan and Victoria were about to be married.

  “I mean getting married. To whoever. Tristan runs out of here to go sport bike racing for years. Then he shows up, hooks up with his old flame right off, proposes, runs a new business, and now they’re getting married. And she’s pregnant.”

  Quinn smiled. “I know you’re happy for him, so please try not to sound bitter around them.”

  Connor laughed sheepishly. “I know. I’m just venting. The wine helps,” he said, swirling the glass.

  “You’ll find her, man.”

  Connor shook his head. “Not around here. There’s no one to date. I love Comus, but we’re a million miles from life. And life isn’t coming here. You know it just as well as I do, since you’re no better off. At least you can hook up with girls at the winery. I can’t even hook up with a guest here because they’re never single. Everyone’s at least twenty years older than me anyway.”

  “Not into MILFs or cougars?”

  Laughing, Connor said, “No. Child-rearing age only, please.”

  “How many did you want again?”

  “Enough that I mix up their names.”

  Connor sighed, shrugging it off. He wished Quinn hadn’t brought it up, but there was no ignoring it. The wedding was supposed to happen here in the big white tent that stood just feet away, the tables and chairs all laid out under it. Weddings happened at the inn all year round. Between that and the couples usually staying here, he made a living off of other people’s love and sometimes felt like his nose was being rubbed in it.

  The brothers rose, taking a tray with dishes and silverware through the patio door and down the hall.

  “When are the first guests checking in?” Quinn asked.

  “End of the week. I’m glad the renovations are done. I want my life back.”

  “I thought we just established you don’t have one?”

  Connor gave him a playful punch in the arm as they entered the foyer. And there he stopped, for a young woman stood on the hardwood floor, glancing over one shoulder at the front door and then back at him. A tumble of disheveled, orange hair hung over one shoulder of a white, collared, button-up shirt that was haphazardly tucked into skin tight, black shorts with no pockets. Her drop-dead legs, the little white socks accentuating her calves, made Connor stare.

  “Oh,” Connor began, trying to ignore his arousal. “Hi. I’m sorry. We were just out on the patio. Can I help you?” With a wink, Quinn took the tray from him and disappeared into the kitchen.

  The girl nodded, hesitant green eyes darting from Connor’s masculine Adam’s apple to his broad shoulders, slender waist, and the muscled thighs peeking out from his corduroy shorts. He was barefoot and could’ve been a foot model. Something about him seemed wholesome and yet rugged. She had a sudden urge to jump into his arms and bury her face in his tanned neck.

  “Um,” she began, “yes, is there a, uh, room available?”

  “Yes. Actually, the whole place is. How many rooms would you like?” He laughed, but when she didn’t react at all, he felt like a dork and flushed. Only then did he notice just how uncomfortable she seemed. She again glanced over one shoulder, her face serious. He looked out the door, not seeing anything unusual on the front porch or beyond it. Biting his lip, he suggested, “Why don’t you come over here and I can get you checked in?”

  “Okay.”

  As he moved to the foyer’s registration desk, he looked past her for suitcases but saw none. “I can get your bags from the car once we’re done here.”

  “Oh, I, uh, I don’t have any. Not with me.”

  That surprised him. Sometimes couples did arrive in separate cars, though he always suspected such people were cheating on their partners. Hoping for a better answer than that, he asked, “Is someone joining you?”

  “No,” she said, almost too empathically.

  He nodded and glanced at her legs, noticing the socks once more as he grabbed the registration book. “Oh, you didn’t have to take your shoes off. It’s okay.”

  She looked embarrassed and admitted, “Um, I wasn’t wearing any, actually.”

  Connor wasn’t sure what to make of that. Barefoot or shoes was one thing, but just socks was odd.

  Quinn re-entered the room with truck keys in hand. “Hey, brother, I’ll see you later. Hi, Miss.”

  “Hi.”

  Quinn shot Connor a grin and gave two thumbs up behind the woman’s back as he left.

  Clearing his throat, Connor opened the red book and flipped through it. He preferred this old-f
ashioned way to the computerized systems taking over the world. With pen in hand, he asked, “What name? I’m sorry, I’m totally forgetting my manners. I’m Connor Kendall.” He reached out, excited for a reason to touch her.

  “Sophia Turner.”

  She took his hand. He didn’t let go at first, and neither did she, holding hands for several seconds before breaking contact. She looked away shyly.

  Connor smiled, wanting to taste her name on his lips. “Hi, Sophia.”

  She blushed. “Hi, Connor.”

  “How long will you be staying?”

  “Oh, uh, I guess just tonight.”

  He’d never heard someone express hesitation about that. Something was off. “Okay.”

  “I might want to stay longer, if that’s alright. I just don’t know. Yet.”

  “Sure. You can let me know any time. You’re the only guest, so we have rooms.”

  “We?” she asked, looking around. “Is there someone else here?” He was married. That had to be it. She frowned.

  “Just a figure of speech. I mostly run the place by myself. That was my brother leaving. I have some staff normally but not for a few more days. We just finished renovations so no one’s checked in since we reopened.”

  She nodded. A few days with this hunk didn’t sound like such a bad thing; he was sexy enough for the thought to intrude despite Sophia not exactly being in the mood for romantic thoughts. She noted the lack of a wedding ring.

  “How did you want to pay for the room? It’s $120 a night, by the way.”

  The number startled her. A poor college student had to plan for expenses. One night wasn’t too bad, but with Seth and his goons out there and her mother gone for a whole week, Sophia might need more time here. Or maybe somewhere cheaper. A hotel full of strangers struck her as more dangerous despite security cameras and the like. But until Connor asked for a form of payment, she hadn’t realized she’d fled with nothing but the keys in her hand. She bit her lip and turned red.

  “I’m so sorry. I…I forgot my purse.” She stopped there, unsure what to say. She glanced nervously over her shoulder, having actually forgotten about Seth for all of two minutes, but he could drive by and see her car out front any second. Unless she had to leave in it. But the risk of being found if she ventured back out onto the roads was too great, and there was no way she was returning home for a wallet. She’d lost him after a harrowing chase of nearly an hour and had no intention of being found again.

  Watching her, Connor’s eyes softened. “It’s okay. We can settle in the morning if you want.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, no problem. Country folk, you know. We’re nice that way.” Connor thought she looked so relieved that he decided to waive the fee altogether, but he’d tell her later.

  Sophia smiled. “I’m one, too.”

  “Really? From where?”

  “Just down the road.”

  “Oh yeah? Where? I sort of need your address for the booking anyway.” When she gave it, he said, “That’s not five minutes from here. Do you want to go back and get your purse, or anything else?” He wondered why she’d need a room so close to home, though the obvious reason was trouble back there, which everything about her suggested. He didn’t want to pry and added, “You know what? Forget I said anything. The deposit is not an issue. I just thought that if you wanted to…”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t need anything that can’t wait.”

  “Sure.”

  “Is there more parking out back? I can move my car. You know, to make way for someone else,” she added lamely. Realizing he had no other guests, she bit her lip, which just made him want to kiss it.

  “Usually only family parks there, but I can move your car for you if you’d like.”

  She nodded and he came around to her. When she extended the keys, he let his fingers brush her palm while scooping them up. She looked down and then turned to watch him go, eyes dropping to his tight ass and watching him slip on shoes.

  “Hey, Connor,” she began, and he turned. “Thank you.”

  He flashed his best smile. “You’re welcome, Sophia. I’ll do everything I can to make your stay a great one.”

  Outside, Connor’s eyebrows shot up on reaching her car. He saw what looked like fresh damage on the driver’s side, as if she’d scraped along something black. Curious, he walked around to the back and saw the bumper had been struck, too, also by a black vehicle, judging by the smudged paint. He checked the other two sides of the vehicle but saw nothing. Then he noticed her watching him from inside, looking impatient.

  He got in, seeing only empty plastic bags, candy wrappers, a discarded coffee mug, and an empty pretzel bag. No phone either. The car came to life and he backed up, then pulled it around back on the gravel driveway, stopping beside his light blue BMW 3 series convertible. He was about to turn off the engine when a hunch made him put it in reverse and back it into the detached garage, closing the garage door. If someone was after Sophia, he wasn’t letting them have her. He wanted her for himself. And as long as Sophia was under his roof, she was under his protection.

  As he walked toward the house, a Dodge Challenger roared up to the intersection and stopped, the driver’s dark silhouette turning toward him for long moments as the gravel crunched beneath his feet. The car didn’t move for a long time—longer than was appropriate for a mere stop sign, considering the absence of other cars—and only when Connor reached the back door of the inn did the car’s black color register on him. As he opened the door, the car took off with a squeal of tires on pavement, disappearing into the near-complete blackness. The lights of Sugarloaf Inn gleamed brightly in the night, and the girl inside smiled at Connor as he reappeared before her.

  End of Connor Chapter 1

  To learn what happens next, purchase Connor.