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“What about you?” Kingston asks me.
“I need to shower and change. Other than that, enjoy my day off,” I shrug.
“We’re going to dinner,” Kingston declares.
“Oh, we are?” I nod and question.
“Yeah,” he states.
“Are you asking me?”
“It was a request,” he chuckles.
“And what is the dress code?”
“Clothes would be nice, Briar. Can’t have every Tom, Dick, and Harry staring at you,” Kingston snorts. “A dress. Wear a dress.”
I watch my brother’s face turn red with embarrassment as he says this, and I snicker.
“Good to know,” I snort.
“Guess I’m going to have to use my tip money for this,” I mumble, hoping no one heard that. I’m not a charity case.
“You’ll be taken care of. No arguments,” Kingston steps closer to me and peers down at me, “I want to do this. We’ll go after the gym.”
“You don’t have to,” I object.
“I want to,” he says and leaves it at that.
We eat in silence, companionable silence. He cooked eggs and they’re the best I’ve ever had.
“We should get going,” King states, collecting the dishes. I go to wash and he stops me, saying he’ll do them later.
“I have to change first,” I remind him.
“We’ll stop at your apartment and we’ll wait for you,” Kingston says and I just sigh.
“Let’s go,” I say.
A little while later we’re walking into the gym and I notice Lane in the corner, watching me. He glares and then walks away. What is his problem?
Holden
There she is. Why is Lane glaring at her? What’s his fucking problem? She’s dressed so simple in jeans and a tank top, but her beauty still stands out. I know I sound like a stalker and I need to get a hold of myself. I know her name is Briar and that the boy is her brother, Thorn. Just my luck, she’s into Kingston.
Briar
“I’m going to run home first and then grab a coffee across the street,” I tell King as Thorn climbs into the cage.
Kingston strolls toward me and bends down, brushing his lips across mine. It’s so soft and gentle and surprising.
“Be safe,” he says as I head out the door.
I run home first and grab my grandmother’s earrings. If I’m dressing up, I’ll need them. On my way out the door, I get a text from an unknown number saying to meet at the coffee shop. I’m assuming it’s Kingston. I guess Thorn gave him my number. I don’t reply. I park and head across the street. Kingston is already seated and holds a cup out to me.
“Mint Chocolate latte,” he smiles at me.
“Thank you. Where is Thorn? Did he give you my number?”
