She laughed at his Al Capone impersonation, but her smile faded as she glanced to the decking and the six-pack next to his chair.
“I’ve only had two,” he said, holding up the carton for her to see. “I know you and Erik are worried…” He released a slow, deep breath. “You had reason to be, but I’ve been working on it this weekend. I only had one on Saturday and none yesterday. I promise, it’s all good and under control.”
She wanted to believe him, but her eyes dropped to the bottle in his hand. “Then why are you sitting here, drinking alone? Has something happened between you and Lizbeth?”
“No,” he growled. “Nothing’s happened with Lizbeth, which is the problem.”
Kat eased back in her chair and twisted at an odd angle, making room for he-shit-it under her ribcage. “I’m not following.”
He sipped his beer while debating how much to say. He hated involving Kat in his bullshit, but she might have an idea where Lizbeth had run off to… And running was exactly what she’d done.
When he couldn’t reach her by cell early this morning, he suspected something was amiss. When he spoke with her assistant and found out she’d gone to Raleigh for the day and couldn’t be reached, he knew she’d gone into hiding. She never left without telling him where she’d be, or without making sure she left a detailed itinerary of how to reach her every moment of the day.
Except today, of course, when he’d specifically told her to expect him.
“You don’t happen to know where Lizbeth is, do you?”
“No, I haven’t talked to her since the party.” Disbelief clouded her eyes. “You don’t know where she is?”
He threw his hand in the air and gave a dry laugh. “Hard to believe, huh?”
“Erik was pretty upset after the party on Friday about something she’d done, but he wouldn’t go into details.” She glanced to his beer again. “What’s going on? From the beginning.”
He took a big gulp, then dove into his spiel about not being happy, but not wanting to hurt her before the wedding, yada, yada, yada. In the beginning, the logic made sense, but as he sat here recounting his sob story to Kat, thinking about Sam and all he had to lose, the whole thing sounded asinine. By the time he finished, he was more furious with himself than ever.
Kat quietly listened, allowing him to ramble until he ran out words. After a long silence, during which no one spoke but the crickets and a bullfrog, she said, “But?”
“But what?”
She huffed at his stupidity. “Something’s changed and you’re ready to end things now.”
Her steady gaze made him squirm in the chair like Spencer did when he did something wrong and was in hot water. Kevin wasn’t ending the relationship with Lizbeth because of Sam. That decision had been made before they met. The increased urgency, however, had everything to do with Sam, and that created a fair amount of guilt along with a touch of shame. Rather than respond verbally, he nodded, then looked away.
“You’re trying my patience here. What’s changed?”
Her response sounded like something Sam would say, and, despite the seriousness of their conversation, he laughed. “Sorry,” he said. “You reminded me of someone.”
When she failed to see the humor, he sighed and ran his thumb and forefinger across his forehead. “I’ve sort of met someone.”
“Oh, this is good.” The laugh in Kat’s voice brought his attention back to her. “Does Erik know? Does he get a chance at payback?”
He laughed, remembering the night he and the guys taught Kat to play cards. Only, they hadn’t taught her all the rules, thereby ensuring she lost pretty much every hand. The more they laughed and joked and poured shots down her, the more pissed off Erik became.
Things continued to deteriorate the next morning when Kevin offered to take Kat home, knowing how badly it would rip Erik to shreds. He’d made the comment to force Erik to get his head out of his ass and see what a good thing he had with Kat, but it had taken Erik a long time to forgive him.
“No, he doesn’t know.”
Her grin grew to obscene proportions. “Karma is a cruel mistress.” She sobered. “So you’ve met someone, and you don’t want to wait until after the wedding to make a move.”
“Yeah, uhh…” He tugged at his ear and stared at the water. “That line’s kinda already been crossed.”
“Oh.” There wasn’t any censure in her voice, only quiet understanding. “What’s her name?”
“Sam.” At her quirked eyebrow, he said, “Samantha is her given name. I wouldn’t recommend using it.”
“Does she know about Lizbeth?”
“Hell no.” He shook his head as panic clogged his airway.
Kat quietly contemplated the situation and, after several uncomfortable minutes, said, “You’re one of the most honest and upfront men I’ve ever met. I understand why you didn’t want to break up with Lizbeth until after the wedding, but…” She scooted around in the chair so she could see him face to face. “Why did you move into this new situation so soon?”
“It just happened.” He ran a hand over his face at the lame excuse. “She’s a building inspector and we met through work.” He grinned, thinking of their initial meeting. “The first time we met, she shut my ass down. Well, not my ass. The job. Had she shut my ass down, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
His chest filled with warmth at Sam’s willingness to go above and beyond her responsibilities to help him. “While I was here Friday evening,” he said, “she was at home, working on one of my projects, finding a solution to my problem.”
“She certainly sounds more like your type.”
“She is. She grew up around construction and loves it. She always wanted to go to work with her dad, but he wouldn’t let her until she was big enough to climb into the truck by herself. She’s a tiny thing, barely over five feet now. I can only imagine how little she was then…” As his mouth ran away at one hundred mph, an image of Michaela flashed into his mind. “Actually, I have a perfect picture of what she would’ve looked like. Her name is Michaela, and she’s the sweetest little girl in the world.”
He paused and swallowed the knot in his throat. He’d fallen so hard for that little girl he couldn’t stand the thought of not ever seeing her again. And that was nothing compared to the way he felt about her mamma. How in the hell had this happened in such a short time?
“Michaela is her daughter?”
As Kat absently ran circles over her belly, he wondered what Sam looked like pregnant? How had labor and delivery been for her? As ridiculous as it was, he found himself growing incredibly sad because he’d missed the miracle of Michaela’s birth.
“Yeah. She has curly blond hair and big blue eyes. She’s cute as can be and precocious as Spencer. The two of them together are a mess.” He couldn’t hide the silly grin breaking loose. “This past weekend with them was the best I’ve ever had.”
He shook his head and sobered. “But if Sam ever found out I was involved with someone when we got together, she’d never get over it, nor would she forgive me.”
Kat frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a very forgiving or understanding partner.”
“She has serious trust issues, and for good reason. Everyone in her life has let her down in one way or another. Her dad didn’t take care of the business side of things, so when he died suddenly, she was at the mercy of her mom and brothers. Her brothers doubted her ability to carry on the family business, and her mother sided with them. They sold the business out from under her, leaving her with nothing. Shortly after, her husband decided their marriage wasn’t working and found someone else—his secretary.”
Kat sucked in air between her teeth and grimaced. “Ouch. I can see how that would make it difficult to trust again, but still…” She winced. “You’re gonna screw up from time to time, just like Erik. Just like me.” She grinned and batted her eyes while scrunching up her shoulders. “I know you think I’m perfect, but I’m really not.” She grew serious and bit
her upper lip. “If she doesn’t have the capacity to forgive and move on, your life will be very difficult.”
“I don’t know about all that, Kat, or if the relationship will last forever. I do know I can’t be tacked onto the long line of people who failed her. I just can’t.”
Kat nodded and took a deep breath. “So what are you going to do?”
He turned sad puppy dog eyes on her. “You wanna help a poor, worthless son of a bitch out?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “How?”
“Lizbeth isn’t answering my calls or returning any of my messages.”
She groaned. “Shit, you want me to call her.” It wasn’t a question or a no, but she wasn’t happy about being dragged into his stupid high school-ish drama.
“No, I just want to use your phone. She might pick up if she thinks you’re calling. I don’t want to cause you any problems, but I need help. Hell, I’ll throw my phone in the river, say it went overboard and can’t be used and that’s why I’m calling from your number.”
Kat sighed, and with her belly leading the way, pushed to her feet. “You don’t have to go that far. I have a working relationship with Lizbeth that I’d like to preserve for the shelter’s sake, but you’re family. I’ll do whatever’s needed to help you make this right. Come on over to the house.”
Kevin grabbed Kat and squeezed her tight, which wasn’t all that much considering a watermelon lay between them. “Thank you. I know this is childish, stupid bullshit. And I didn’t want to do this over the phone, but she’s not giving me any choice.”
As they crossed toward the steps, she said, “I just hope Lizbeth doesn’t make your life hell over the next few weeks.”
“You and me both.” However, knowing Lizbeth, and based on the way she handled things today, that would require a miracle.
* * *
After three unsuccessful calls to Lizbeth, Kevin was done. Beyond done. He’d tried calling from Kat’s cell and their house phone with no luck. His only option was to leave a message. He couldn’t think of a shittier way to end a long-term relationship, but Lizbeth hadn’t given him any choice. He refused to go back to Myrtle Beach with this hanging over his head.
The third time her voicemail picked up, he left a short, to-the-point message.
“Lizbeth, since you disappeared and refuse to take my calls, I’m assuming you know why I came to Riverside. Not being available doesn’t change the ending. Call me when you find time and we’ll work out the details of how to handle things over the next few weeks.”
He hung up and turned to Kat. “Too harsh?”
“I don’t think so,” she said with a slow, sad shake of her head and helpless lift of her shoulder. “You told her you were coming to Riverside to talk, right?”
“Yeah.” He thought back to his explosion the previous day. “She was whining about the caterer and a potential storm…” He blew out a breath and rolled his neck in a circle. “I went off on her. She wanted me to tell her everything would be okay, and I couldn’t. I told her we needed to talk and haven’t heard from her since.”
“I’d say you’re right. She thought by avoiding you she’d prevent the inevitable.” She crossed the kitchen and wrapped him in a supportive hug. “You did your best to talk to her face to face, but she’s not cooperating.” She let go and stepped back. “You and Lizbeth never made sense to me, but I thought my own prejudice clouded my judgment. Even though that’s not how you wanted to do things, since you made that call, your shoulders aren’t hunched, your brow isn’t furrowed.” She scrunched her nose up and grinned awkwardly. “You don’t look like a bomb with two seconds left on the clock.”
He wrapped his arm around her neck and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks.” He felt guilty for leaving a cold message on Lizbeth’s voicemail, but Kat was right. Who would’ve thought guilt was lighter than the emotional baggage he’d been carrying around for the past six months? “Mind if I take one for the road?” he asked, grabbing a bottle of water from their refrigerator.
“Of course not. Help yourself to anything you like. Do you want me to fix you something to eat?”
“Naw, I’m good.” He gave a naughty smile. “I have plans tonight, so I need to get going.”
“Oh boy.” She put her hands over her ears. “La-la-la-la-la. I don’t even want to know.”
“No, ma’am,” he said with a grin. “You don’t.” Halfway to the door, he stopped and pivoted around. “Hey, do you have an unwashed shirt of Erik’s that smells like him?”
Kat’s mouth fell open and she blinked a half dozen times before regaining her composure. Resting her arms on top of her belly, she cocked her hip to the side and said, “I always knew there was a massive bromance between you two, simmering just below the surface. I never thought you’d go so far as to ask for one of his shirts to sleep with, though.”
“Damn, I thought we’d kept it well hidden all these years.” Heading toward their master bedroom, he said, “Can I have a little bottle of his cologne, too.”
Kat stood flat-footed, mouth dropped open. “You’re serious? You want one of his shirts? And his cologne? What are you up to?”
Kevin laughed at the thought of her finding out his plans for Erik’s shirt. Erik would want details. Kat would be la-la-la-laing again. Continuing toward their bedroom suite, he said, “Again, you don’t want to know.”
Chapter Seventeen
He hadn’t figured out all the details of making Sam’s fantasy threesome a reality, but he knew who to call to put the pieces together. Lucas Steele, owner of Myrtle Beach’s premier kink club, had seen and probably done everything possible. A master of mind games, at least in the sexual sense, if anyone could help Kevin pull this off, it was Lucas.
Once he got into an area with consistent cell phone coverage, he called Lucas’s club. When the front desk hostess answered, he asked for Lucas, not Master Lucas, as protocol dictated.
Right on cue, the sweet, soft-spoken sub said, “You mean, Master Lucas?”
Within the scene and especially at the club, everyone referred to Lucas as Master—something Kevin refused to do, mostly just to irritate his friend. Kevin understood why those within the lifestyle showed Lucas the respect he’d clearly earned and deserved. But he wasn’t in the lifestyle, and unless at the club or within a setting requiring the respect, he refused to call his friend Master.
It had become a thorn of sorts he enjoyed pricking Lucas with when the opportunity presented itself. Like now. “That’s what I said… Lucas. Tell him that’s who I asked for too, no Master.” He chuckled at her small gasp.
“Yes, sir,” she squeaked. He really shouldn’t mess with Lucas’s subs like this. The poor thing was probably terrified Lucas would take a pound of flesh from her for addressing him so disrespectfully, regardless of Kevin’s command. But Lucas would never punish the messenger, and Kevin couldn’t pass up the opportunity to aggravate.
Twenty minutes later, Lucas picked up. “Mazze, been a long time. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Man, I didn’t even tell her my name. You’re good. Tell me something. If I’d asked for Master Lucas, would you’ve answered faster?”
Lucas’s deep, rumbling laughter rolled across the line. “Maybe. Poor Chrissie is going to need a ton of aftercare because of you. I thought she would break down trying to deliver your message.” The sound of the club dissipated and Kevin figured Lucas had gone into his private office. “What’s up?”
“I need help—”
“Oh, really?” Lucas interrupted, his amusement clear. “You should’ve thought of that before you traumatized my sub.”
Unconcerned, Kevin continued. “My girl wants to play out a fantasy threesome, with only the two of us. Something I’m happy to do if I can figure out the logistics of making it real. I know…” Kevin exhaled in defeat. “Okay, I’ll concede this point. You’re a master of the mind-fuck, so how do I get my girl to believe there’s two of us when it’s just me?”
“Hang on. I
need to write this down… Mazze conceded…”—Kevin could make out the sound of a pencil scribbling on a piece of paper—“and referred to me as Master… What’s the date?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Kevin laughed. “Don’t get used to it; it won’t happen again.”
“We’ll see.”
“Can I make this work or what?”
“Yeah, absolutely. This’ll be fun. Here’s what we’re going to do—”
“We?”
“Yeah, we.”
Lucas laid out the plan while Kevin drove. Thirty minutes outside of Myrtle Beach, he called Sam. He hadn’t talked to her all day, other than a brief text to check on her ankle, and he was surprised at the tremble in his fingers as he dialed her number.
There were several possible reasons for the geyser of sweat on his neck and lip: fear she’d somehow found out what he’d been doing; concern his planned threesome would fail miserably; or a subconscious worry she’d changed her mind about continuing to see him, even on a limited basis.
Whatever the reason, bats were bouncing off the cavernous walls of his gut, making him twitchy as hell. “Jesus, you’d think I was seventeen—”
“Hey.” The sound of her happy voice erased all concerns, past, present, and future, and put a smile on his face.
After twenty minutes of general conversation, he got down to business. “Michy’s in bed, right?”
“At eleven o’clock? Of course.”
“Good, because you’re about to have company.”
Pause. “I am?” She tried to sound cool and aloof, but he caught the hitch in her voice.
He trusted Lucas’s instincts with this type of thing, but as he ran over the plan in his mind one last time, his heart hammered erratically and he struggled with a little hitch of his own. “Go to the bedroom. I’m about to give you a shopping list.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
He grinned at her attempt to be distant, even through her heavy breathing.
“Oh, you want to. Now, get the blindfold, those cuffs buried in the bottom left corner of the drawer… the soft ones. I don’t want to hurt your wrists. The medium butt plug, lube, a towel, condoms.”
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