My eyes rove over the diner, and it’s like stepping back to the 1960s. The black-and-white checkered, tiled floor contrasts perfectly with the red-and-white themed booths. Quirky signs dot the walls at odd angles in a strangely stylistic fashion. Black, white, and red drapes frame the windows. It’s contemporary and old-fashioned, mirroring my first impression of the town.
People sit on high stools in front of a long counter at the top of the restaurant. An old-fashioned jukebox throws out tunes from another era, and my foot taps idly off the floor. A shadow darkens the tabletop and I look up at the musclehead clearly checking me out.
His shoulders are so broad it’s a wonder he squeezed through the door. Bulging arms stretch over a fitted green shirt, and he wears black cargo shorts and black-and-white runners. His sandy hair is half-hidden under a branded cap. “It appears the rumors are true.” He’s blatantly undressing me with his eyes. “Nice.” He whistles appreciatively.
“Fuck off, Jeremy.” Keaton says. “And stay away from her.”
“Now, now, little Kennedy.” Jeremy tousles Keaton’s hair in a condescending manner. “That’s no way to speak to your elders.”
“Speak to this.” Keaton gives him the middle finger, and I almost choke on my laugh.
“Don’t mind this douche.” Jeremy reaches out and takes my hand uninvited. “He is utterly clueless when it comes to the opposite sex.” Keaton’s face turns puce as Jeremy winks, then lifts my hand, and presses his mouth to my knuckles.
I wrench my hand back and pin him with a ferocious glare. “On the contrary.” I lean forward on my elbows. “Keaton has been perfect company all morning.”
“Damn.” He rubs a hand over his stomach. “You are too fucking cute. You’re killing me with that accent.” Lifting a hand to the side of his mouth, he hollers, “Yo, guys! Get over here already!”
There’s a virtual stampede to our booth, and I squirm in my seat. Keaton groans and rolls his eyes. At least seven or eight boys loom over the table, taking their fill of me.
They are all giants. Like, at least six foot three or more. Most of them are examining me as if I’m a Big Mac with fries, and it’s creeping me out. But I won’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they are getting to me. Schooling my features into a disinterested line, I stare impassively at them.
One of the guys hangs back. He’s very good-looking with blond hair and crystal-clear blue eyes. He shoots me a sympathetic look, and I smile. The boys in front of me go wild, and some jackass starts spouting crap about pretty Irish eyes and smiles. I tune them out as I wonder what kind of stuff is in the water around here.
“Clear out! Coming through,” a confident female voice shouts out, and the hot crowd dispels. I slump in relief. The pretty waitress with the pink hair slides a plate in front of me, nudging the remaining guys out of the way with her hip. “Get lost, Jeremy, or I’ll have you thrown out.”
“You wouldn’t dare, Rosie,” he retorts.
Fixing her hands on her slim hips, she glares at him. “For the millionth time, my name is Rose. R.O.S.E with no I. And I would, and you know it.”
He backs up, palms raised. “’Kay. You win. I’m going. Lovely to meet you, Ireland.” He winks, blowing me a kiss before he reclaims his seat.
Ugh. I shiver all over.
I look up at Rose. “Thanks.”
“No problem. He’s a total jerk, and he’s riddled. You should steer clear.” She winks as she moves on to the next booth.
“Does everyone from your school come here then?”
“It’s a popular hangout,” Keaton confirms, before taking a huge bite of his burger.
After we’ve finished eating, Keaton heads to the bathroom while I studiously avoid looking in Jeremy’s direction. He has barely taken his eyes off me the entire time.
A sign on the far wall summons me, and my feet move of their own accord. Leaning over the counter, I gesture for Rose’s attention, pointing at the notice. “Are you still looking for a waitress?”
“Yeah. You interested?”
“Definitely.”
Something flickers in her eyes. “Any experience?”
“I worked part time in a restaurant back home in Dublin, and I’m a quick learner.”
“You can handle yourself?” She gives me a brief once-over.
“Yep.” My eyes drill into hers, daring her to challenge me.
She ponders for a minute or two. “Yeah, I think you can. Hang tight.” She darts into the back, returning a moment later with an older man with dark hair and hard hazel eyes. His skin is heavily tanned and lined, and it’s hard to gauge his age. He is tall and broad with a flabby stomach that hangs over the band of his trousers. “I’m David.” He offers me his hand, and I shake it, trying not to grimace at his clammy grip. “I own this joint.”
We talk for a few minutes, and I notice Keaton hovering beside me with an amused expression on his face. David asks me to come back on Friday for a working trial, and I leave the diner with a massive smile on my face.
“Why the hell did you do that?” Keaton asks once we’re securely tucked in the back of the car.
“I need a job.”
He almost gags. “For what?”
“For money. What else?” I pin him with a skeptical look. “Haven’t you ever had a job?”
“Nope, and I plan to stave that off for as long as possible.” He leans back in his seat, holding his hands behind his head.
“I like working. It’s good to feel independent. And I like having something else besides school and swimming.”
“You don’t need to. You’ll get an allowance like the rest of us. Dad’s going to blow a gasket.”
“He’s not my dad, and I don’t get why it’s such a big deal.” I cross my arms, as a surge of irritation surfaces. I agreed to come and live with them, and I will be respectful of their rules, but they’re not going to cage me, or turn me into something I’m not. I’m no sponger, and I like to be financially independent. I refuse to take their money.
The car drops us off at the front entrance, and the door opens immediately. A gorgeous blonde-haired girl waits to greet us, and I blink profusely. For a minute there, I thought it was Alex. Or a green-eyed younger version of Alex. This girl sports the same edgy haircut, the same type of stylish clothing, and an equally warming smile, except hers doesn’t quite meet her eyes.
“Courtney,” Keaton greets the woman. “You’re early.”
“No,” she chastises, pinching his cheek in an affectionate manner. “You’re late!”
I stand awkwardly in front of them, feeling like an intruder. “You must be Faye. I’m delighted to meet you.” If her grin was any wider, it’d split her face.
“Nice to meet you too.”
“Come on through,” she says, motioning me forward. “We have lots to get sorted.” She steers me to my bedroom, locking the door firmly behind us. “You didn’t email me your sizes, so I had to improvise.” She looks me up and down with a contemplative expression.
“My phone is broken. Sorry.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. Here you go.” She extracts a shiny, silver phone and hands it to me. “I switched your old sim over and transferred all your data so you should be good to go.” My mouth hangs open. This is the latest model and so hard to get back home. Plus, I have a custom Kennedy Apparel phone cover.
“How did you kn—”
She ushers me into the walk-in wardrobe. “It’s my job to know these things. Come, let me show you how to coordinate your outfits.”
I don’t know how long we stay in there, but it feels like centuries before we emerge into the fading daylight. Who knew trying on clothes could be so exhausting? I feel like I’ve just swum one hundred lengths of the pool with a ten-ton weight strapped to my back. I have never seen so many expensive clothes in my life. Thank God, none of them had any labels on. I
’d probably collapse if I knew exactly how much my entire wardrobe cost.
All those clothes and not a single pair of jeans in sight. None of them is anything I’d ever pick for myself. Cute dresses, skirts, and tops are not my usual style. I’m much more of a jeans and tee type of girl.
“Faye?” Courtney drags me back into the moment. “Did you hear me?” A note of frustration enters her tone.
“Sorry, Courtney. I was a million miles away.”
She gives me a stiff smile. “I said do you need anything else?”
“No, I’m good.” I tuck my hair behind my ears. I’m not going to appear ungrateful. I brought enough jeans to see me through the next few months, so I’ll manage. “Thanks so much. I appreciate you doing all that for me.”
“It’s my job.” She’s decidedly snippy all of a sudden, and I detect a trace of bitterness. It’s almost imperceptible, and most would probably miss it, but I have an uncanny ability to pick up on stuff like that.
Mom used to say I was a shrewd people watcher, a good judge of character.
There was a time when I might’ve agreed, but after what happened, I realized the brutal truth: I was actually a terrible judge of character.
Chapter Eight
Dinner is a pretty awkward affair. James must’ve decided to invent his own version of twenty questions as he launches into a lengthy interrogation, asking me all about my school and my friends back home. I notice he steers clear of any topic involving my parents. I’m not sure if that’s for my benefit or his. Kalvin smirks every time I speak. Kyler studiously ignores me, and Kent looks bored to tears. Keaton is the only one who engages in conversation with us.
I offer to serve dessert purely to take a break from the tension at the table. I’m instantly suspicious when Kalvin hops up to help. I’m slicing the cake when I feel a slight pressure against my leg. Kalvin leans around me to slide plates onto the counter. His body pins me from behind, and his hand lands heavily on my upper thigh. I shriek and every head at the table turns in my direction. Kalvin’s hand rubs up and down my thigh as he laughs quietly.
Is this his idea of a joke?
I decide to call his bluff. “I think it’s rather foolish to feel me up while I’m in possession of such a big knife.” I speak clearly, brandishing the sharp utensil in the air. “And you should know I’m not opposed to using it.”
The bench screeches as James shoves it back, stalking around the island unit toward his son. There’s a thunderous look on his face. Kalvin steps back, holding up his hands in defeat. “Chill, Dad. It’s hardly my fault if Faye has no sense of humor.” I whip around and glare at him. “You know I was only kidding.”
“Try that again and I’ll cut it off.” I slice the knife through the air to drive my point home.
James gently takes my wrist and removes the knife from my grip.
“My hand or my dick,” Kalvin asks, seeming unperturbed.
“That’s it. Out now.” James stabs a finger in the direction of the door.
Reaching around me, Kalvin grabs a piece of cake and stuffs half of it in his mouth before sidling back over to the table, blatantly ignoring his father. He drops onto the bench beside Kyler, grinning at me through a mouthful of chocolate crumbs. He sticks his middle finger up at James, and he sighs in exasperation.
Shaking my head, I hand the plates around.
I’ve only taken a couple of spoonsful of cake when something warm brushes against my leg. My eyes dart to Kalvin automatically. His devilish grin tells me all I need to know. I narrow my eyes at him as his foot starts stroking up and down my calf. His gaze is challenging. This guy does not know when to quit.
Let’s bring it.
My move.
Under the table, I slip my foot out of my sandal and discreetly angle my body forward. Very slowly, I lick the chocolate cake remnants from the back of my spoon in deliberate, seductive strokes. At the same time, I stretch my leg out and begin a journey up the inside of his leg. Kalvin’s eyes pop wide and he jumps a little, but his eyes stay locked on my tongue. Kyler glances sideway at him, following his gaze to mine. He surveys us intensely. Keaton and James are chatting away, and Kent is staring off into space, totally oblivious to anything around him.
I move my foot higher and higher, and a dark glint flashes in Kalvin’s eyes. His smile is mocking. He doesn’t think I’ll follow through. He’s about to find out that I don’t back down from a challenge. My foot hits that sensitive area between his legs and he gasps. I can’t hide my smile. I curl my toes as my foot makes a circular motion back and forth across his hardening length. A teasing smirk plays across my lips as I quicken the pace. The mocking quality is missing from Kalvin’s stare now, replaced by something much darker. I move my foot even faster, and he squirms in his seat. Kyler’s eyes drop to Kalvin’s lap, and I know he can see what’s going on, but his expression doesn’t falter. Kalvin jumps in his seat, rattling the table, and James levels a perplexed look at his son.
“You okay over there, Kalvin? You seem awfully jumpy tonight.” I don’t know how I manage to say it with a straight face.
He looks almost pained as he grits out, “Peachy.”
When it’s obvious he’s almost at the point of no return, I pull my leg back and sit up straighter in my chair.
Now, that’ll teach him.
The look in his eyes shifts, and he scrambles out of his seat as if there’s a nuclear-charged rocket up his ass. “Uh, bathroom.” He dashes from the room as I clamp a hand over my mouth to stop myself from exploding.
Kyler faces away but not before I see a slight smile tug up the corners of his mouth.
Kalvin may have won round one, but I’ve nailed this one.
“Can I talk to you?” I ask James the next morning after we’ve all finished eating breakfast.
“Of course. Join me in my study.”
His study is located on the mezzanine level accessed by the staircase in the lobby. The master suite, which he shares with Alex, is also up here along with their private living area. He steers me into the study, and my jaw hangs open. It’s exactly like one of those libraries you see in old stately homes in the movies but without the high ceilings. It’s all dark wood and dim lighting. Row upon row of shelves is filled with thousands of books. An elegant mahogany desk and chair lies to one side while two huge grandfather chairs, covered in red velvet cushioning, rest in front of an old-fashioned open fireplace. It’s a million miles away from the modern interiors of the rest of the property. There’s a certain old-world charm about the room that is instantly inviting.
“Take a seat,” he says, and I plop down. He walks to his desk and retrieves two large leather-bound photo albums. “I presume you want to ask me about your mum?”
“Yeah.” It’s barely been out of my thoughts since I found out about my secret relatives in America. “Why were you two no longer in contact?”
He sighs deeply as he pours himself a drink from a crystal decanter. Noticing my skeptical look, he says, “I know it’s early in the day, but I need a drink for this.”
Sitting in the chair beside me, he looks lost in thought. His chin lifts and his piercing blue eyes stare into mine. He looks far too young to be a father to so many children. I guess it must be all the good living.
“I was nineteen when your mum ran away,” he starts explaining, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “We were as close as any two siblings could be. Closer, perhaps.” He looks away as the ghosts of the past resurrect to taunt him. His Adam’s apple jumps in his throat. “Our parents died when she was fourteen and I was sixteen. Did she even mention that?”
“She told me her parents died in a house fire and that she had to fend for herself after that.”
He shakes his head sadly. “She wasn’t alone. She had me. In a lot of ways, we were better off. Our parents were … neglectful at the best of times. Saoirse and me were a
lways close but never more so than when we were on our own. I got a job in the local factory so I could take care of her. I insisted she stayed in school so she could complete her education.”
He clamps his hands around his nose and mouth. When he speaks again, he’s all choked up. “I was happy to do it. I loved her, and I only wanted the very best for her.”
James genuinely loved my mum. That is as obvious as the nose on my face. So what happened that Mum relegated him to the back of her mind? So much so that she acted as if he didn’t even exist? “Why did she run away? She must’ve been young.”
“She had only turned seventeen three months previously.” He averts his eyes. “We’d had a terrible argument, and she hadn’t spoken to me in days. I came home from work one day, and she was gone. All her stuff was gone.” He lifts the glass and takes a drink while I wait patiently for him to continue. My nerves are hanging by a thread. I chew on the corner of my fingernail, and my heart is thudding in my chest.
“I’d no idea where she went, and no one had seen anything. I was working a full-time job, so I couldn’t just take off to find her. And at first, I thought she’d come back. When she didn’t, I spent every weekend searching for her. I trailed the length and breadth of Ireland. I posted notices in all the main papers. I canvassed her friends continuously. But no one had heard from her. It was as if she’d vanished into thin air.”
I lean forward in my seat. “So, that was it? You never saw her again?”
He tilts his head back and drains the remainder of his drink in one go. Briefly, he closes his eyes. “Oh, I found her all right. Years later, when you were living in County Waterford.”
My spine goes rigid at the mere mention of our former home, but James doesn’t notice.
His eyes glisten with unshed emotion. “She gave me no explanation. She barely gave me five minutes of her time. God, she was so cold.” He shakes his head at the memory, and his breath rattles in his chest. “She told me, in no uncertain terms, to stay away from her. That she never wanted to see me again.”
Finding Kyler (The Kennedy Boys #1) Page 6