Just My Luck (The Kings)

“How many wedding showers have you ever been to?” Sloane’s question was shouted down the hallway from the open door of her bedroom.

I looked at my charcoal-gray slacks and brown leather shoes. My hand smoothed down the buttons of my shirt. “Exactly zero,” I answered.

Her laugh floated down the hall. “That’s what I figured. So . . . you should know that you’ll be wishing you were fishing with Granddad and the kids. These things—I don’t know . . . they can be kind of boring.”

I mulled over her unexpected words. “Boring?”

Clattering noises came from the bedroom, and while I wanted to see if she needed anything, I stayed where I was against the kitchen island, my hands stuffed into my pockets. My thoughts drifted briefly to my mother and whether she’d had a wedding shower, or if she knew my father had already been married. If she were still here, would this have been the type of thing she would attend?

None of that matters now.

Barefoot, Sloane appeared in the hallway. My heart stopped and my thoughts evaporated. Her hand was planted against her chest, holding up a scrap of a dress. I could see it was white, with delicate bows on the shoulders, but her arms hid much of the rest of it. The short skirt landed high on her tanned thighs.

“Can you zip me up?” Sloane made it to the end of the hallway and turned around. “I tried and I can’t get it.”

I moved toward her. Sloane’s hair was done up in a delicate knot, allowing full access to the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders. Her back was bare, the dress hanging open.

My fingers brushed against her soft skin as I worked my way down to the zipper pull. Goose bumps erupted across her skin as I took my time pulling her dress closed. When I closed the button at the top, my hands rested on her shoulders.

Sloane turned, smiling at me. “What do you think?”

Her hazel eyes shone up at me, the milky caramels and greenish browns melting together in the afternoon sunlight.

Without looking at the dress, I said, “You’re perfect.”

Her dimples deepened as she playfully rolled her eyes. “You didn’t even look at it!”

With a laugh, Sloane stepped back and swished her hips, sending the skirt of her dress in motion. It was perfectly short, showing off her long, tanned legs. The V in the front was dangerously low, and a ripple of desire shot through me. The subtle pearls sewn onto the dress caught the sunlight and added a soft, feminine touch.

The corner of my mouth lifted. “Like I said . . . perfect.”

She held up her finger. “I just have to get my heels and I’ll be ready. Thanks again for doing this. Apparently the groom being at the shower is a thing now.”

I shrugged. It really hadn’t mattered all that much when Sloane asked me to attend. If it made her happy, I would show up and do what she needed.

After more clatters and muttered curses from the bedroom, Sloane reappeared in pale-pink pointed-toe heels that made her legs impossibly long. Sandpaper coated my throat as my mouth went completely dry.

I stared at her and she frowned. “Are you okay?”

I shrugged. “Fine.”

Her mouth twisted as if she didn’t believe me. Her head tipped. “Are you sure? If this is too much, I can come up with some kind of excuse. I can⁠—”

I shook my head to stop her. “It’s not too much.” I sighed. “I got news from the PI, and I think I’m still reeling from it a little.”

Her hazel eyes went wide, her voice barely a whisper. “What did he say?”

I shook my head. I still couldn’t believe it myself. “He didn’t find out much about Mom, but he did find out some things about my father.” Sloane looked at me with expectant eyes, so I continued: “Turns out Russell King isn’t just a ruthless businessman. He’s a liar and a cheat. He was married before my mother. Has a whole family . . . only we are the secret bastard children.”

Sloane’s mouth dropped into a shocked little O as her hand covered her mouth. “Abel, that’s . . . oh my god.”

I swallowed hard. It wasn’t any easier saying it aloud. “Yeah, it’s . . . a lot.”

Her eyes searched mine as her questions tumbled out in rapid succession. “Did you confront him? Demand answers? What are you going to do? Does Sylvie know? Oh my god, she’ll be so shocked. Did your mom know?”

Her questions were valid but only intensified the throb at the base of my skull. “There’s still a lot we don’t know.” I frowned down at her, my eyes landing on her plush lips. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”

Her eyes softened. “Oh.”

“Listen, I don’t really want to think about any of that right now. Today is about putting on a happy face for the Bluebirds. They really want to celebrate you, and you should let them.”

“Are you sure?”

Fuck, why did she have to be so pretty?

“I’m sure.” I nodded with confidence. “If we’re late, I’m sure one of the Bluebirds is going to come pounding on the door in search of us. We should probably get going before we skip over fashionably late and are just late late.”

A tendril of soft brown hair slipped from her updo. She sighed and flipped it away, but it dropped right back into place. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

I clasped my hands in front of me. “It’s part of the show, right? Making people believe this is real?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.” Seconds stretched between us as we stared at one another. Finally, Sloane gently cleared her throat. “Do you think we should . . . practice?”

Flashes of Sloane’s skin, dewy and slicked with sweat, as my cock pumped into her raced through my mind. “Practice?”

She shrugged. “People expect us to be comfortable around each other. We are married, after all.” Her nose scrunched. “I don’t know . . . don’t you think it will be weird to kiss in front of everyone?”

I frowned. I hadn’t thought about having to kiss Sloane in public. So far, outside of the actual ceremony at the courthouse, any affection between Sloane and me had been very, very private. Touching her—kissing her—in public seemed extremely dangerous.

I managed only a weak, noncommittal shoulder jerk.

Sloane exhaled. “What if we try once? Right now. Just to make sure we don’t seem awkward around each other.”

My blood hummed. “You want me to kiss you right now?”

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and she nodded.

I stepped forward, crowding her space as she peered up at me. Even in heels, I towered over her slight frame. Testing the boundaries, I brushed the back of my fingertips down her bare arm. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” Her single-word response—throaty and full of desire—shot through me.

I clasped her hand and the wrist. “And this?” Slowly I pulled her hand to my mouth, brushing my lips across her knuckles.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Dropping her hand, I traced the lines of her neck with my fingertips before encircling her throat. My hips moved forward, pressing into her as my dick twitched behind my zipper. Sloane melted into my touch. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Her throat moved beneath my hand, and she nodded, her eyelashes fluttering down as she closed her eyes.

I leaned forward, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “I don’t think I will have any issues kissing my wife.”

Before she could respond, I pulled her mouth to mine. She opened for me with a soft moan, allowing our tongues to tangle and brush against one another. My other arm wrapped around her as I deepened the kiss, delving into her mouth and savoring her. One leg moved against me, desperate and needy for more.

Had it not been for remembering how drop-dead gorgeous she looked, I would have hiked that fucking skirt up and railed her against the kitchen island without a second thought.

Sloane deserves more.

With a tug of my teeth on her lower lip, I released her before I let that kiss carry us too far. My fingertips toyed with the loose strand of brown hair as Sloane stared up at me with wide, curious eyes.

A smile formed on my lips when I realized our kiss had stunned her silent. “Do you think that will do?”

Her voice was breathy and light. “That should do it.”

I popped a playful kiss on her lips and walked toward the door, feeling a unique and unfamiliar sense of lightness. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

Wedding showers were a fascinating study in female relationships. While the Bluebirds had organized it, women from all over town were present. I knew Sloane didn’t have family outside of her grandfather Bax, but you would never have known that.

Bug had opened the King family estate to host the afternoon garden party. Sloane had informed me that the bride and groom were supposed to arrive fashionably late, so by the time we drove up to the house, cars lined the driveway. A massive floral swag with white and pale-pink flowers hung at the front door, welcoming the guests.

From beyond the door, we could hear soft chatter and laughter. Sloane stared at the massive oak front door, then turned to me. “Ready?”

I slid my hand down her arm, twining her fingers with mine. “Ready.”

Together we walked into my aunt’s home. Music played softly in the background, and lively chatter grew louder as we made our way through the home. At the back of the house, the solarium was nothing but warm, afternoon light streaming through floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Women spilled out of the back entrance and into the beautifully landscaped backyard. Champagne and juice stood next to a tray of fruit on decorative wood skewers.

Bug and the Bluebirds had gone all out for Sloane, and affection for my aunt rolled through me. I placed my hand on the small of Sloane’s back and leaned in. “This is all for you, wife.”

She smiled up at me, but the edges wobbled. “It feels like too much,” she whispered as her wide eyes took in the massive floral arrangements that decorated the tables.

“I promise, for you, it’s not.” I lifted her hand, and my lips brushed across her knuckles.

“Aww! Aren’t you two the cutest!” My little sister MJ’s voice broke through the crowd as she moved between two women I didn’t know. Behind her, Emily Ward, my brother Whip’s girlfriend, followed.

I offered a small wave. “Hey, MJ. Emily.”

MJ smiled at me but moved straight for Sloane, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Oh my god. You look so good! Sylvie told me your dress was killer, but this is amazing!” She held Sloane’s hand out so she could take in her outfit. “You’re like Bridal Barbie but hot!”

MJ looked at me, her eyebrows bouncing suggestively. “Nice going, bro.”

Emily and Sloane embraced. I’d watched their friendship slowly bloom whenever Emily and Whip visited the brewery. She was the local librarian and the perfect complement to my younger brother’s wild streak. Somehow they just fit. I wondered whether people looked at Sloane and me and thought the same thing.

I shook my head and sucked a steadying breath into my lungs.

Of course they didn’t. People looked at us and wondered what in the hell Sloane saw in a monster like me.

Sloane clutched MJ’s hand and allowed her to lead us into the fray. Women oohed and aahed over Sloane. Casual questions tumbled over each other—How long had we been secretly together? When did we know there was something more between us? How did the kids take the news?Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

My ears buzzed.

I found solace in Sloane’s steady and sure answers.

We’d been together in secret for a long time—there was just no fighting those feelings!

We knew right away there was something special between us.

The kids are thrilled.

I moved like a wooden doll, lurking behind Sloane like some dark shadow, hoping no one would actually speak to me. I didn’t want to fuck this up for her.

“Here.” Sylvie came up behind me with a champagne flute. “Looks like you need this.”

I grabbed the drink and downed it in one gulp. “Thanks.”

Sloane was being walked out of the enclosed porch by MJ and Emily and led into the sunny backyard when she turned and caught my eye. You okay? she mouthed.

I smiled and nodded. Delight sparkled in her eyes, and the joy that radiated from her made this whole circus worth it.

“Abel,” my aunt called. “It’s time for the first game.”

Beside me, Sylvie barked out a laugh that she tried to cover with a sip of champagne as I nearly growled. “Game?”

Bug scoffed. “Yes, of course. Come on.” She gestured with her hand. “Hop to.”

Sylvie pushed me forward, and I begrudgingly made my way outside. Two chairs were placed in front of a semicircle of tables. Women from all over my small town sat at the tables with small plates of finger foods and champagne. Sloane sat in one of the two chairs.

The walk to the seat next to her felt like a death march. All eyes were on us, and my skin itched beneath my collar.

When I sat, Sloane leaned over. “Relax. You look like your head’s about to pop off.”

I didn’t look at her. “Maybe it feels like it.”

Her hand patted my thigh, and I warmed at her touch. My eyes lifted to hers as she smiled. “We got this.” With her gentle squeeze on my leg, I relaxed into the chair.

Bug handed each of us a small dry-erase board and marker. “We’re going to play a little game where we ask questions and the bride and groom answer.”

Well, fuck.

Bug smiled at the eager women. “The guest with the most points at the end will win a special ‘date night in’ basket. It’ll be a fun little game to see how well the couple knows each other.”

Double fuck.

Beside me, Sloane laughed, and the soft tinkling sound helped me relax and lean into the ridiculousness of it all. If this made her happy, I could put up with the charade for her.

“First question,” Bug called out. “Where did you meet?”

Easy.

I scribbled down my answer. At Bug’s command, Sloane and I turned the boards to reveal our answers.

Bug looked at our answers and smiled. “If you said the brewery, give yourself a point. Next question . . . how did the proposal happen?”

My blood tingled. Do we tell the truth? Do I make something up?

My eyes flashed to Sloane, but she was already writing something down. Unsure what to do, I scribbled my answer: Sloane proposed to me.

After we turned our boards, Bug laughed, and I sagged in relief. “That’s right, Sloane proposed!” A variety of swoony awws and polite claps moved through the small group of women keeping score.

I looked at Sloane and she winked.

“What is the bride’s favorite color?” Bug asked.

I considered my options, my hand hesitating over the white board before scribbling the first answer that felt right. Rosy pinkish.

I turned the board over, and Sloane leaned to see my answer. Her face split into a grin, and she tipped her board so I could see.

Dusty rose.

I winked back at her, feeling more confident as the game wore on.

“Okay, here’s a doozy,” Bug warned. “What is the bride’s shoe size?”

Without hesitation, I scribbled my answer.

Getting into the game, I found my shoulders relaxing. It didn’t matter that eyes were watching us. With Sloane it didn’t feel as though I was on display—it was more like I was part of the group, celebrating with people who cared for Sloane.

Questions varied from my middle name to Sloane’s first job to her favorite band. I nailed them all. When Ms. Tiny was announced as the winner, she accepted her gift basket prize with a rare smile. When Ms. Mabel peered over to look at its contents, the ornery old woman snatched it from her view.

Sloane was radiant. Elegance shone through her smile and the poised manner in which she carried herself. She was warm and engaging, and I stood in awe of her.

At my side, she leaned in. “How did you know all those answers? I didn’t know half of the ones about myself.” She laughed.

I wound my arm around her waist, pulling her close. “I pay attention.”

Her hazel eyes danced with delight as she whispered, “Best. Husband. Ever.”

With a sense of ease and without an ounce of hesitation, I pulled her into me and openly kissed my wife in front of the whole damn town.