Kinsley is the first to greet me. “What’s this bullshit I hear? Since when are you leaving me? I’m going to have to line all the rooms with baseball bats just to replace you.”
“Is that what I’m tantamount to? A glorified stick?” I give her a quick embrace before taking a seat. “You’ll need a Glock at least.” The thought of Kinsley handling a gun while shaking with fear doesn’t sit well with me, and I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.
“No guns,” Stevie says while carefully placing Maddie’s car seat between us. I reach down, and my precious little niece latches onto my finger with her entire hand. She’s strong. Of course, she is. She’s a Lionheart. I frown a little because she has Cannon blood in her, too. I’m willing to overlook that since she’s so damn cute. She’s a living doll, and as much as she looks like the spitting image of her father, I love her from her tiny head to her tiny toes. I couldn’t love her more if she was mine. I plan on protecting her until the day I die, and there’s nothing a single Cannon can do about that.
Aspen swoops in, ushering a cool breeze with her right along with Macy. I do a double take. I didn’t forget she was going to be here. Hell, she was the reason I was dreading my meal. But it seems I may have forgotten how cuttingly beautiful she is. Either that or her beauty managed to magnify itself over the span of just a few hours. On the upside, there’s not a Cannon spouse in sight. That’s one thing I’m appreciative of. Ford and Carter believe in giving my sisters the space they need to be themselves. Or perhaps everyone here knows that I would eventually stop coming if they began to take over the one sacred meal I share with my sisters.
“Sorry we’re late.” Aspen lunges at Kins with a hug. “So much traffic on this side of town. Plus, I drove her past your place, so she could get a feel of it.”
The knot in my stomach tightens. It was my ridiculous idea, and now I get to watch as it takes flight. All the more incentive to make that move I’ve been eyeing for some time now.
“I’m so excited to have you! We’re going to have so much fun!” Kinsley drills on a million miles a minute as if she’s never lived with anyone in her life. “You’re going to love your bedroom. It’s the only one with access to the rooftop terrace. Of course, it has a balcony, too.”
“I have the room with a rooftop access.” I stop my sister short.
“But you’ll be leaving, remember?” She shoots me a pissy look that says, How dare you even think of abandoning me. I will wreck your world for even considering it. Kinsley and I have gone around the block with this before. She begs me to stay, and I always give in, but with another warm body in the house, I no longer feel obligated to fall prey to my sister’s moody little head games. It wasn’t really me she wanted. It was the assurance that if she felt the need to scream her head off someone would be there to call the police.
“I’m not leaving tonight.” I shoot a look of my own. One that says, Don’t screw with me. “Unless that’s what you’re hinting at.”
“No, please, don’t do that.” Macy lands her hand over mine, and I eye it until she gently places it onto the table beside me. “I can stay at the Davenport or sleep on the couch.”
“There’s a bed in the back office.” I offer Kins a hard glare because we both know that’s the only logical place to put her. I glance to Macy. “You’ll be more than comfortable there until I move out.”
“Don’t rush on my account.” She bats her lashes at me, and my dick ticks. Exactly what kind of game is she playing? “I’m used to very little, so a bed is really all I need until I can get on my feet.”
Stevie leans in. “Did you find a project you’re interested in working on?”
“Luke approached me. Luke Van Der Wolff.” She gives a casual nod, looking to me for a moment from under her lashes as if I should understand who this Luke person is. Van Der Wolff. What the hell kind of a name is that? “We’re working on a few new developments with the graphics department. I’ll give you a full report by the end of the week.”
“Sounds great.” Stevie’s jaw goes slack. “I’m so impressed with you. And here I was worried you wouldn’t like the environment.”
“I told you she was a go-getter.” Aspen takes Maddie from her car seat and puts her on her own baby bump. “She’s a Cannon, and Cannons always get what they want, don’t they?” She nuzzles her nose to Maddie’s.
“Mmm…” Macy bites over her lip as she looks to me. “They do, don’t they?” There’s a level of wanting that wasn’t there earlier this morning. Not that I expect it from the girls that service me. She was getting paid for all I knew.
I take a deep breath because if it’s one thing I don’t care for it’s shutting a woman down when she is so brazenly asking something from me. “One of these days a Cannon isn’t going to get what they want.” I don’t take my eyes off hers, and a strangled silence takes over the table.
Macy shrugs. “Or maybe one of these days she will.” There’s a challenge in her voice as if to say, Game on.
I want to laugh, but I’m too pissed to move.
We order dinner while the conversation revolves around Kinsley and her storied affair with Dillon Collete who works on the show my sister was fired from last spring. Their affair is long over, as is his marriage, but for Kins you would think it was her crowning achievement.
The smile melts off Macy’s face, and I can guess why. She’s not that into cheats. Kinsley isn’t scoring any points with her, but, then again, neither am I. I’m pretty sure she won’t be staying too long at the bungalow. I’m pretty sure Aspen and Stevie’s offer of a roof over her head is a lot more appetizing right about now, screaming babies and all.
After the dinner debacle is over, I walk Stevie to her Range Rover, holding Maddie’s car seat as if it were made of glass—and apparently lead because it’s heavy as fuck. I snap the car seat into place and give my sister a quick hug.
“So?” She shakes her head at me as if I should know what she’s referring to. “Are you interested in her or something?”
“What? No. Hell no. Not interested. Definitely not interested. She’s a kid. I’m sorry some idiot broke her heart, but I don’t want any. She can find another door to knock on—proverbially.”
“Very good. It’s just”—she runs her hand through her hair—“you were sort of rude to her all night, and I couldn’t get where you were coming from.”
“I wasn’t rude. I was just being myself.” I give her a pat on the back, hoping this entire conversation will go away. “Who’s this Luke guy anyway?” His name rises from my throat like a ball of acid. Just because I’m not interested doesn’t mean I want Luke interested. Macy is vulnerable right now. Nobody understands that better than me.
Stevie lifts those heavy lids of hers in my direction. She pops her hip to the side as if to contest the idea through body language. “Not interested, huh?”
“I’m interested in Luke.” That didn’t sound right, but still, I don’t want the hint of anything Macy and I did in my office today to come out, especially not to my sisters.
“Liar. But since you asked, he just started with the company. A Merlin import. He’s in the training phase—just as excited to be here as Macy, so they make a nice fit.” She shrugs. “You know who else might make a nice fit with Macy?” Her watery eyes sway in front of me as if trying to put me in a trance.
“Not me. And for once, I think Ford would agree. Hell, all of the Cannon brothers would side with me on this one.” Now there’s something to chew on.
“Okay, I’m just saying a good catch like Macy will be scooped up before you know it. She’s a great girl with a great family,” she says that last part stern like a warning. “And before you say something sarcastic, I mean it. The Cannons are great people. Your little niece is one of them, so you’d better agree with me.”
“I do—partially. And as for this Luke person, he’s welcome to scoop her away anytime he likes. I’m a Cannon-free Lionheart, and that’s the way I intend to keep it.”
&n
bsp; Stevie leans in and pulls me into a sweltering hug. Indian summer is in full effect, taking our fall up to August-like temperatures. “I know what happened all those years ago, Linc.” Her voice is raspy, barely there as she whispers against my neck. “You need to learn to let someone back inside. It can’t feel good doing what you do.”
A pinch of rage spikes through me and then leaves as quickly as it came. Of all the people to understand what happened, I suppose Stevie would be the one since she—we lost her twin sister Claire so many years ago.
“Nothing happened to me,” I assure her. “I’m fine. This is just who I am. I’m not damaged in any way, shape, or form. I happen to like a fresh girl in my bed night after night. Is that such a bad thing? And before you answer, not everyone is going to find what you and Ford have.”
“Aspen did.”
“That’s because you and Aspen are special. I’m just like everyone else. If I ever did bother to get married, I’d probably just become another statistic. I’m not wasting my time looking for something I’m not interested in. So don’t hold your breath for an invite.” I give her arm a quick squeeze. “If you want, you can help me look for a new place. That would make me happy. I’ll need a woman’s sensibility, or else I’ll land myself next to a brothel.”
“I heard that.” Aspen unlocks her car, and it burps to life. She’s suspiciously alone, and I can feel the void of Macy’s presence as wide and deep as a canyon.
“Where is she?”
“Kins is taking her to the Davenport.”
A swell of relief floods me. There’s still time to get out.
“She’s clearing her stuff and bringing her to the house tonight. Play nice,” she scolds.
“Ditto what she said.” Stevie hops into the driver’s seat.
I wait until both of my sisters take off before heading to my car. It’s my job to keep them safe as their self-appointed bodyguard.
There was one person I couldn’t keep safe.
Nope. Not letting anyone back into my heart.
Especially not a Cannon.
Bed of Stars
Macy
Kinsley Lionheart is a gas. Literally. All she does is blow hot air from her mouth, that voice of hers gnawing away all of my nerves until there’s just a raw bundle of tissue in its wake. I’m not trying to be rude—that’s Lincoln’s department—but her late night discussion—in depth as it might be for a subject lacking serious depth—regarding La Perla versus Victoria’s Secret is starting to sand my bones to sawdust.
I give an open-mouthed yawn, stretching my arms to the ceiling, just praying she’ll take the hint. She happily settled me into my new room, but has stayed for the last two hours treating this as a middle school sleepover with nonstop discussions regarding boys and her insistence to know whether or not I thought she was morally bankrupt for sleeping with an “unhappily” married man. I answered no, even though a part of me wanted to slap her back to reality. Slapping your host is a line I’m not in the mood to cross, so her pretty pink cheeks (a gel stain from MAC—a detail among an entire graveyard of details she’s been killing me with) are safe for now. Besides, I’m not into judging people. It’s just something I’ve never cared to do. I don’t know why men cheat or why women help them do it. Clearly, she’s no longer with this turd, and neither is his wife. I say good riddance. I have no clue if Leah stayed with Bradley. I refuse to answer anyone’s calls, texts, or passive aggressive social media messages with the exception of my mother. And, unlike the old version of myself, who was both incapable of judgment and hate, I do have a serious disdain for both Leah and Bradley. I hope they rot in the sun on some exotic beach until their skin bakes right off. It gives me a certain pleasure to envision them shedding their dried-out flesh like a couple of aging snakes. It sounds perfectly painful, like what they did to me.
“Hello? Are you there, Macy? It’s me, Kinsley.” She laughs at her own quasi-literary reference. “I’d better let you get to bed. You’re starting to zone out.” She slides off the mattress.
If only I’d known an hour ago.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I must be exhausted.” Not true, but I was zoning out. “Did you say something?”
“Nothing important, just wanted to know if you were okay sharing a bathroom with my brother. This one is being remodeled, and the one downstairs is a bit farther than necessary. Either way, if you knock, I’m sure he’ll let you walk right through. He’s just a door away. Goodnight, Macy. I’m really glad to have you.”
“Good night! I’m really happy to be here.” Happier than she’ll ever know. I wait a few minutes before checking my hair in the mirror and wiping off the errant eyeliner from the suitcases puffing up my face. I give my cheeks a quick pinch before heading down the hall in my short shorts and skimpy see-through T-shirt. Cash mentioned he was interested in revenge, and what better way to get it for him than to become bedmates with Lincoln Lionheart? Surely he knows a thing or two about Merlin’s future nefarious plans. Oh, hell, who am I kidding? This midnight visit is more booty call than it is corporate treason. I’m ready to back my virginity up to the edge of Lincoln’s bed and offload it if he’ll let me. He’s already started the process; I’m hoping he’ll finish it. With my virginity gone, I’ll begin my new life without any of the constraints from my old one. I can imagine Bradley’s face if he knew. His gaping mouth. His eyes filled with a false sense of horror. How I wish I could have beaten him to the fornicating finish line and wounded his ego the way he did mine. There isn’t a person on the planet that deserved what he and Leah did to me.
“Knock, knock,” I say as I give a gentle tap over Lincoln’s door. He doesn’t answer, so I do it again with a bit more vigor. Still no response. I crack the door open and spy him on the bed. The room is dark save for the flickering light of the television. The room itself is massive with a sitting room up front near the panoramic ocean view.
He’s shirtless, the bottom half partially under the sheets with a naked leg strewn over the bed like a tree trunk. His bare foot twitches as I examine him. His chest is as wide as a refrigerator. The cut ridges over his ribs are annunciated in blue shadows, and a twist in the sheet artfully hides his package. From this angle, it does look like a rather expansive gift—Merry Christmas to my vagina. “You mind if I come in?”
“Yes,” he answers without shifting his gaze. “Go away.”
“Aren’t you Mr. Manners?” I let myself in, sealing the door behind me and twisting the lock to keep wandering sisters safely on the other side. “Kinsley said it would be okay if I—”
“She was wrong.” He never lifts his gaze from that strobe light going off in front of him.
“All right,” I say, climbing onto his abnormally tall bed. I’m not waiting for an invitation from a man who left his stinging signature in the deepest part of me for the better half of the day. “Let’s drop the bullshit.”
“The bullshit is you getting on my bed. Off.” He switches the channel, and the room goes black for a moment.
“That’s how it felt,” I whisper as I lie down on the pillow beside him. He lands the television on some old comedy and turns up the volume a notch.
“I’ll bite. How what felt?”
“When the room went dark—that’s how it felt the moment my life changed. I was headed down one direction, thought everything was mapped out for me for the next fifty years, and then boom. My world went black—noiseless. I made a U-turn, and here I am in your bed.”
He closes his eyes in what I can only guess is a fit of frustration. “Macy, I’m sorry you went through hell. I really am. Go to sleep. It’ll take your mind off the pain for a few hours at least. I should know.”
“You should?” I lean up on my elbows to get a better look at him. The colors in the room come together and break apart at regular intervals, dipping him in blues and purples with the delicacy of a watercolor. “How do you know?” I’m intrigued with this new brokenhearted version of the beast he’s panning out to be.
&
nbsp; “Never mind how I know. Get going. I’m tired.”
“Are you always so eager to boot a woman out of your bed? Or are you exclusively into sleeping with them in your office? It’s a screw-the-Cannons thing, isn’t it?”
He leans back to get a better look at me—to properly scathe at me, and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I get it. There’s bad blood, and you’re not into niceties.” I had no idea the dislike between my uncles and him ran so deep. It’s almost scary. I’m literally in bed with the enemy. New Me says, Well done.
“What are you saying?” he grumbles.
“I’m saying, being nice isn’t your thing.” I sit up and pull off my T-shirt without giving it a second thought. My bra is neither La Perla nor Victoria’s Secret much to Kinsley’s chagrin, I’m sure. It’s a Target special that came in a two-pack, but it holds the girls where they’re supposed to be, so for that I’m grateful. And, right now, I have the girls strategically positioned in Lincoln Lionheart’s direction.