I prefer single malt whisky, but on occasion, a beer really hits the spot. I take a sip and allow the liquid to cool my tongue before I swallow.
Carter and Axel each have a beer of their own, too, and we’re at a table at The Port as we listen to some band I’ve never heard of. Their ladies are at home with the kids.
They both prefer dark craft beers, but I prefer the Sam Adams seasonals.
I glance around at the selection of ladies. There are plenty to choose from, but so far, not one of them has caught my attention. They’re all blonde, I realize ironically, and none of them are Sylvie.
I’ve had more than a few look in my direction—and in the general direction of our table, where three good-looking guys sit—but my companions both have shiny rings on their left hands that proclaim they’re not available to be hit on. I suppose that doesn’t stop all women, though, as Axel has told us more than once. It doesn’t stop all men, either, when they see that same shiny hardware on a woman’s finger.
“How’s New York?” Carter asks.
I shrug. Now that I’ve actually shared the secret that I don’t want to be CEO of King out loud to someone, I have the urge to discuss it with the two people I’m sharing a table with tonight. Carter is maybe the only person in the world who might understand my plight, and Axel knows my family well and might have some insight I hadn’t thought of. I just don’t know how to broach the subject.
“The same. You miss it?”
He shakes his head and grins. “I’ve never missed anything less. I’ve got Courtney and Millie, the beach, The Port, my job at KC, this clown over here and his family,” he says, nodding toward Axel, who laughs. “Things are great, man, and they wouldn’t be this great if I’d stayed in New York.”
I sort of imagined offering up Carter as a backup to my dad if I ever got up the nerve to tell him I don’t want the position. There goes that plan. It appears Carter is happy with his life exactly as it is.
“Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to move here,” I confess.
“I wish you could,” Carter says. “Can you imagine the three of us back together again?”
Axel raises his glass in the air, and Carter and I automatically touch his glass with ours.
“We’d fuck some shit up,” I say, and we all laugh.
“Yeah, probably not like we used to,” Axel says.
“I don’t think Court would appreciate the shenanigans we used to get into together,” Carter says.
Axel shakes his head.
“Man, you two are so whipped.”
They both nod as if it’s a fate they’ve already accepted.
“Happily,” Carter says.
“Is it really that great? Being married and having kids? Tied down? Whipped to the very core?”
Carter and Axel exchange a look, and then they both nod. For maybe the first time in my entire life, I feel like an outsider with my brother and my cousin—my two best friends in the whole world.
“It really is that great,” Axel says.
“When you have your best friend waiting at home for you, that’s something,” Carter says. “And when you have a little minion you see yourself in, it’s pretty awesome. But, when you have a little minion you see your wife in…God, it’s like nothing else.”
Axel nods. “Jameson’s blond hair is the exact shade of Emme’s, but it’s more than that. I see him make little facial expressions like his mom.”
“And Millie’s got Courtney’s sass. She’s a little firecracker. Between the two of them, I’m totally outnumbered.”
“And you like that?” I ask.
Carter grins. “I do. More than I’ve ever liked anything.”
I fiddle with my pint glass for a second. “Can I ask you both a question?”
I look up, and they’re both looking at me with some combination of concern and curiosity.
“What would you do if other people expected you to do a certain thing or behave a certain way, but it wasn’t what you really wanted?”
“Can you be a little more vague about it?” Carter asks sarcastically.
I glare at him.
“Who cares what other people expect of you?” Axel asks. “It’s your life.”
“What if it was Dad?” I ask.
“Then I’d probably care a little,” Carter says. “Why? What does Dad expect of you?” He furrows his eyebrows as he thinks about what it could possibly be.
I blow out a breath. “King,” I say simply. “I don’t want it.”
Axel and Carter both stare at me.
“You don’t want it?” Carter asks.
I press my lips together and shake my head. “I’ve never wanted it. It was always just expected that I’d be the next CEO because it’s been in our family for generations.”
“Oh, fuck. What are you going to do?” Axel asks.
I shrug. “I don’t have any idea. I always just sort of planned on taking it anyway.”
“What do you want to do instead?” Carter asks.
“I don’t know. I don’t really have a backup plan.” I glance around the bar. “I’m content to stay in the VP position. I have plenty of responsibility there. I don’t want to run the whole company.”
They both look at me quietly as I open up and allow what’s been hidden away under lock and key to dump its way out of me.
“I like this place. I regret every day that I didn’t get on board when you two talked to me about it. I like San Diego. I see what you two have, and I realize maybe someday I want that.”
“You do?” Carter asks. He’s clearly shocked by all my revelations. “I thought you loved your life.”
“I do.” I shrug. “But I think maybe I’m starting to grow up. The way I live my life…it’s not as fulfilling as it used to be.”
Carter and Axel exchange another look, and Axel pretends to wipe a fake tear. “Our little boy is all grown up,” he says.
“Fuck off,” I mutter.
“We never thought we’d see the day,” Carter says.
“You fuck off, too.”
Axel holds up his glass. “To rewriting the contract on this place to get you on as co-co-owner.”
“Cheers to that,” I say, and Carter and I raise our glasses as well.
* * *
When morning comes, I’m ultimately glad I told Carter and Axel how I really feel, but my head is a jumbled mess of confusion.
I shouldn’t be here unannounced like this. I should go back home to my apartment in New York. I should go to the bar with Miller, go home with yet another woman I’ve never met, and be thankful for the fact that I’m not tied down.
But I can’t stop thinking about what my brother and my cousin said last night. They’re both happy being tied down. They both went through phases of one-night stands, but they were never as dedicated to it as I’ve been for all these years.
I want to talk to Sylvie again. I want to know if there’s something there between us or if my mind is playing tricks on me. I have to know.
I didn’t go home with anybody last night, and I took Carter up on his offer to stay with him—mostly because his house is right on the beach and we wear the same shoe size.
I lace up his running shoes and head out to the beach as the sun is just starting to peek over the horizon.
It’s early, but there’s also a three-hour time difference between California and New York. I’d normally already have been at the office for an hour by this time.
Instead, I’m stretching on the beach in San Diego before a morning run. I’m hoping the sea air and the burning lungs will help me redirect my focus and calm my turbulent thoughts.
It probably would’ve worked, too, but it didn’t.
Because of her.
I start running away from Carter’s house, and I go down by the water to where the sand is packed tighter. Running on sand is basically hell, but it makes a great workout.
The beach is fairly quiet but for morning runners and the occasional elderly couple walking near the surf. Just as I start to hit my stride, I notice a woman running toward me in the distance.
I can’t help my eyes as they run down her nice figure. She’s curvy with these great legs, even if she’s a little shorter than the women I typically take home. I can’t tell if she’s blonde or brunette from this distance because she’s sporting a baseball cap. There’s something oddly arousing about a woman in a baseball cap. My eyes float down to this woman’s tits. They look constrained behind a sports bra. It’s the way they bounce as she jogs toward me—I can tell they’re pushed down, and the sudden rush of blood to my dick tells me I want to be the one to liberate them from their confines.
As we run toward each other, I can’t help but think that her body reminds me an awful lot of Sylvie’s, and when we get really close to each other—like we’re about to run past one another—I realize it’s because it is Sylvie.
I stop dead in my tracks, which I know is horrible for my muscles, but I’m dumbstruck that she’s actually here on this beach when she’s all I’ve thought about for the last week, when I just missed her yesterday at the Baker Media office.
She runs right past me, focused on her exercise.
“Sylvie?” I say, but she either doesn’t hear me or chooses to ignore me.
I’m not letting her pass me by—not like yesterday. Not again.
I turn in my route and easily catch up beside her. She wears earbuds, which explains why she ignored me a second ago. She finally tears herself from her running trance and looks over at me, and then she slows to a stop.
She yanks out her earbuds. “Carson?”
“Hey cupcake,” I say with an awkward little wave.
“What the hell…” She trails off as she stares at me like I’m a figment of her imagination. She pants a little from her exercise, and it’s like a flag signaling directly to my dick. I imagine her panting as I slide out of her after we’re both spent and satisfied.
How the fuck am I supposed to continue my run with this boner?
I clear my throat. “My brother lives just up that way,” I say, motioning ahead of us as if that explains everything.
“And you’re staying with him?”
I nod. “I’m just in town for a few days. I had some work things to take care of.”
“Oh,” she says. “Well, it was nice seeing you.” She moves to stick her earbuds back in her ears, but I stop her with a hand on her arm.
“Go to dinner with me while I’m in town.”
She looks surprised. “I…um…I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Some of the most genius inventions in history were born from bad ideas.”
“Like what?” she challenges.
“Like the slinky.”
“That’s a genius invention?”
“Fine,” I concede, racking my brain for another one. There’s got to be something else. “Uh…oh, what about penicillin?”
“Dumb. Everyone knows that story, plus I’m allergic.”
“Tough crowd,” I mutter. I raise my fist into the air. “Fireworks.”
“Fireworks?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Yes, fireworks. I read somewhere once that some chef was experimenting and stuck some ingredients in a tube. When it exploded, fireworks were born.”
“All right, I’ll give you fireworks. What’s your point again?”
I chuckle. “That just because something’s a bad idea doesn’t mean we shouldn’t give it a try anyway.”
She presses her lips together. “Look, Carson, I appreciate the effort, but I can’t tonight.”
“Why not?”
“I’m going out of town for the weekend. I leave this afternoon.”
“How about breakfast, then?”
“Boy, you just don’t give up, do you?”
I shake my head and lower my voice to a gritty husk. “When I want something, Sylvie, I go after it. I don’t stop until I get it.”
I see her physical reaction. She trembles. Even though she’s caught her breath in the short time we’ve been standing here, she resumes her panting. Her lips part and her eyes glaze.
“Well I hate to inform you of this—again—but I’m not available. Not tonight and not tomorrow because I have plans, and not next week because I have a boyfriend.”
I shrug. “Minor details. I’m willing to wait until you don’t.”
She laughs. “I don’t doubt it. William would probably appreciate if you stopped asking, though.”
I lean in close to her and lower my voice further. “But what do you want, cupcake?”
Her reaction says it all. She wants me to keep asking. I can see it in her eyes, in the way she fingers a lock of hair that fell loose from her ponytail, in the way her teeth dig into her lip, in the way her nostrils flare in anger at my nickname for her.
“I’ll be back in town soon for business, and you better believe I’ll be asking again.” I give her a grin, and then I turn and continue my run down the beach in the opposite direction.