Just My Luck (The Kings)

Three days living in Abel’s house and I already felt spoiled.

In that time, I’d learned that despite his size, Abel was unnaturally quiet. He moved through the house as though he were a ghost—the shell of a man I rarely caught glimmers of. Abel was tidy, but he also seemed unaffected by Ben’s discarded socks or the pieces of artwork that Tillie hung on his refrigerator.

Jared had never stepped up to be an involved parent, which meant all the responsibility had landed on me. Groceries, laundry, meals, nighttime tuck-ins—everything had been my responsibility from the beginning.

It was odd getting used to Abel clearing the table or sweeping up at the end of the night. More than once I caught myself standing around, wondering what to do once the kids were tucked in for the night and there wasn’t a mountain of laundry to be folded.

I still felt completely guilty that the kids and I had taken over every bedroom in his house. I didn’t even see Abel sleeping on the couch—I turned in early and he was up before the sun.

Still in bed, I checked my email and was thrilled to see I’d gotten confirmation from the bank that they’d received all the required paperwork. To their shock, I presented the official documents declaring Abel King and me legally married. Given the language in the trust fund documentation, I met the minimum requirements for a significant life event. I wasn’t completely draining the trust, but my withdrawal request was still more money than I ever could have imagined, and it would be deposited into my account within a few business days.

A giddy squeal ripped through me.

Once that money was freed up, I could officially invest in Abel’s Brewery and begin the hunt for a reputable contractor to assess my grandfather’s house and begin reconstruction. With any luck, I’d even have some leftover money to squirrel away into my savings account.

Staring at the large, unused half of Abel’s king-size bed, I let my mind wonder how much of that space his frame would consume. I curled into the pillow, and a tiny part of me wished it smelled like him—rich and warm and safe. Something had shifted inside me when we’d kissed at the courthouse. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t imagined kissing Abel once or twice before.

Fine . . . maybe several hundred times. Sue me.

With lips like his, I figured he would be a decent kisser, but I never expected his mouth to be so assertive, yet soft.

Commanding.

Hungry.

I groaned and rolled to my back, hoping to forget just how much I enjoyed that kiss. The comforting smells of coffee and cinnamon seeped into the bedroom. I quickly dressed and walked out to see Abel in the kitchen and the kids plopped in front of the television.This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

“Whoa. What’s all this?” I asked.

Tillie grinned. “Abel is making cinnamon rolls.”

“And not from the can like yours,” Ben added. I ruffled his hair as I walked past and playfully stuck out my tongue.

My eyebrow shot up as I glanced into the kitchen. “Is that so?”

Abel’s gaze flicked to me before returning to the rectangle of homemade dough in front of him. He was barefoot but dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. A comically small black apron was tied around his waist and dusted in flour.

A tiny pull to my heart pinched in my chest. “Morning, boss. What do we have here?”

Abel tipped his chin toward the coffee maker. “There’s coffee if you want it. Breakfast should be ready in about twenty minutes.”

I glanced at the clock, noting the time. “Chickens,” I called affectionately to the twins. “Granddad asked if you would like to visit the marina today. Are you up for it?”

“Yes!” they called without looking up from their cartoon.

I moved into the kitchen, giving Abel a wide berth as I reached for a coffee mug. He grumbled behind me as he smeared the dough with softened butter.

I peered around his massive shoulder. “Cinnamon rolls, huh?”

He didn’t stop, but generously sprinkled sugar and cinnamon on top of the butter. “I asked Ben and Tillie if they wanted eggs, pancakes, or cinnamon rolls, and this is what they chose.”

“Well, boss”—I hopped onto the island counter next to Abel to get a better view of him working—“color me impressed.”

He grunted and continued to work while I watched. Abel carefully rolled the rectangle into a log and used a sharp knife to cut equal-size disks. An energy buzzed around him as he worked, and his shoulders bunched. I couldn’t help but feel as though something was . . . off.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t look me in the eye. “I’m fine.”

My lips pursed. “You just seem . . . jumpy.”

The glass pan rattled as he placed it on the oven rack. “I’m not jumpy. I’m just—” He blew a stream of breath from his mouth and pinched his eyes. “I don’t know.”

Nerves tittered through me. I lowered my voice so the kids wouldn’t hear our conversation. “Look, if this is too much, you have to tell me. Just say it.”

His dark eyes whipped to mine. “It’s not that. It’s not you or the kids. I just—” His shoulders slumped. “Sometimes I bake when I feel out of sorts.”

My eyes went wide as realization dawned on me. “Are you telling me you’re a stress baker?”

His eyes went flat, and he shot me an annoyed glare. “I didn’t say that.”

I grinned. “Yes you did.” I took a small sip of coffee. “If it’s not us, then tell me why you’re stressed.”

Abel leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed.

“I made an appointment to meet with my father to discuss the brewery. I’d like to officially introduce you two.”

My face twisted. “You had to make an appointment to talk to your dad?”

Sadness flickered across his face. “Yeah.”

“When?” I hid my own nerves by taking another generous gulp of coffee.

“Today. I was going to tell you but needed to work up the sack to do it. If you’re too busy or need more notice, it’s fine. I⁠—”

“No,” I interrupted. “It’s totally fine. It’s what we agreed to. I’ll do it. Granddad was eager to take the twins to the marina, so I am free most of the day.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed, but after a moment his deep-brown eyes met mine. “Thank you.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “We’re in this together, remember?”

Abel swallowed hard. “I remember.”

Russell King had a reputation, and clearly Abel was concerned about how this conversation was going to play out. I hopped off the counter and swiped my mug to get ready for the day. “Don’t worry, boss. I can show up, shut up, and wear beige.”

“Don’t.” His insistent tone made me pause as his dark eyes raked over me. “Just show up as you.”

My innards went gooey. I hid a small smile behind my coffee cup and headed toward the bedroom.

I had taken over a small section of the primary bedroom’s walk-in closet. Abel’s shirts and jeans hung in tidy rows along one side. My fingers grazed down the sleeve of the suit he’d worn to our wedding, and I smiled. I hadn’t realized it then, but the fact he thought to dress up made me feel special.

I glanced down at the slim band around my finger. I married him wearing jeans.

Scanning my clothes, I considered the fact Abel wanted me to dress as myself. Being friends with Sylvie, I’d been introduced to Russell King, but only in passing. Even I understood that being officially introduced to him as Abel’s wife carried weight.

Instead of my go-to denim cutoffs, I opted for a pair of slim tapered pencil slacks in a mossy-green shade. For my top, I pulled a sleeveless cream-colored blouse with a high ruffle neck and tone-on-tone cream stripes from the hanger.

After tucking my top into the pants and adding a slim belt, I slipped into a pair of sandals and looked in the full-length mirror. It certainly wasn’t all beige.

I looked at myself from several angles, and once I was satisfied that I looked like me, but a slightly refined version, I fluffed my hair and went in search of Abel.

He hadn’t bothered to change out of his dark denim jeans, work boots, and T-shirt. His eyes moved up my body from my painted toes to my face before stopping.

I held out my hands. “I got nervous,” I explained. “I opted for Sloane 2.0. You said to be myself, so you get the full Sloane experience.”

“It’s perfect. Ready?” Abel turned toward the door.

I nodded, rounded up the kids, and herded them toward the door. We arrived at the marina, and Abel walked with us while I met up with Granddad.

After giving the twins enough hugs and kisses to be embarrassing, I left them with Granddad. He insisted on shaking Abel’s hand and offering his congratulations. Shame stained my cheeks as I hurried the kids along and made them promise to be good for their great-grandpa.

As we walked back, the late-morning sun was already warming up, and I took a moment to watch Outtatowner come to life. “He likes you, ya know—my granddad.”

Abel nodded. “Bax is a good man. He’s never treated me any differently.”

Warmth and affection for my grandfather filled my chest. “He might be stubborn and he doesn’t listen to anybody, but he’s always been there for us. He opened his home when I needed it.” I bumped my arm into Abel’s. “Kind of like someone else I know.”

His acknowledgment was a deep grumble that settled between my legs.

Up the road, I noticed the Sugar Bowl already had a line forming, and other storefront owners were busy placing their A-frame sidewalk signs to welcome the guests. In my time here, I’d seen a few storefronts come and go, many catering to the tourists who helped the small town thrive. When I headed toward my car, a new store, Gleam & Glimmer, caught my eye.

When I approached my parked car, I paused. “Hey, do we have time to make a quick stop?”

Abel nodded. “Of course.”

I smiled and reached for his hand. I didn’t miss the subtle jerk of his wrist, and I shot him a plain look. “Seriously?”

He swallowed. “Sorry.”

“Just”—I motioned to my side—“come here.”

Next to one another on the sidewalk, I looped my arm into his. “Not bad, right?”

He shifted his shoulders. “It’s fine.”

I laughed and playfully rolled my eyes. “Fine? We’re married, or did you already forget that?”

He glowered down at me. “I didn’t forget.”

Satisfied, I smiled. “Good. So we need your dad to believe this, right? So . . . you can’t act like I’m about to bite you anytime I touch your arm.”

He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

I rounded him and planted my hands on his biceps before shaking them out. “Loosen up . . . and don’t be sorry. You wanted the full Sloane experience, so you’re going to get it.”

Once his shoulders relaxed, I slid my hand into his and tugged him down the sidewalk. When we reached Gleam & Glimmer, I motioned toward the door. “After you.”

He pulled the door open and waited impatiently for me to step inside. I smiled and slipped past him.

The store was simple and clean. Glass display cases lined the edges of the room, with one large case in the center. A woman stood at the back of the store and smiled brightly as the bell on the door announced our entrance.

“Welcome to Gleam & Glimmer, Outtatowner’s premier jeweler.” She didn’t need to mention it was also Outtatowner’s only jeweler. “What can I help you two find?”

I straightened and tightened my grip on Abel’s arm. “We’re looking for a wedding band.” My head jerked toward Abel. “For this big guy.”

The woman smiled and moved toward a display case on the side. “Certainly. We have a variety of men’s wedding bands in various styles and materials. When is the wedding?”

“Already happened! We just couldn’t wait, so I cartwheeled to the courthouse and put a ring on this handsome fella before he could get away. Trouble is, I forgot the ring part.”

The woman laughed with me as Abel shook his head. Despite his surly demeanor, I caught the hint of a smile on his lips.

I turned to him. “So, husband. What do you like?”

Abel looked at the arrangement of men’s wedding bands in the case. “I don’t really know.”

The woman took his hesitance as an opportunity to shine. “We have titanium, wood, classic white and yellow gold, even rings with diamonds and gemstones if you’re looking for something a little more flashy.”

Abel shifted his stance. “Just something simple. Traditional.”

A flutter rippled across my chest. I looked down at the case and found a simple band similar to the one I wore, only thicker and more suited for a man’s hand. “What about that one?” I pointed to it.

The woman followed my finger and plucked the band from its cushion and placed it on a black mat in front of us. “A classic choice.”

I held out my own hand. “I thought it matched mine.”

Abel stared at the band in stunned silence as if he were staring at another prison sentence.

“Do we know your ring size? It’s unlikely it will fit out of the case, but you could try it on and see if you like the style.”

When he didn’t move, I picked up the ring and slipped it onto his left hand. My eyes went wide. “It fits.”

Abel flexed his hand and stared at the ring.

“Do you like it?” I whispered to him.

His eyes caught mine and he nodded. “I do.”

A giddy excitement raced through me. “We’ll take it!”

Before he could back out, I presented my debit card.

Abel stopped me with a brush of his hand against my forearm. “I got it.”

I smiled, hoping the clerk wouldn’t see our back-and-forth play out. “No, really. It’s the least I could do.” I leaned in closer. “Besides, I can take it out of your cut of the trust fund.” I winked and Abel softened at my gentle teasing.

“I’m paying.”

A flutter erupted inside my chest at his soft, yet commanding, voice.

“Okay.” I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

Once the ring was paid for, we hurried out of the store. In the light of day, we were immediately thrust back into reality.

I looked up at the shining sun and exhaled. “Guess we should go break the news to your dear old dad. You ready?”

Abel looked at his ring and flexed his hand again. “I guess there’s no turning back now.”

I beamed up at him as a flurry of nerves tickled my tummy. “Nope.”