Kinley

Bright light hits my face like a sledgehammer, and I groan, pulling a pillow over my head.

“Get up, Kinley.” Foster’s tone allows no argument, but I greet it with a middle finger.

A cool breeze chills my skin as the blanket is pulled off of me, and I sit up, blinking at the brightness of the room. I’ve barely seen daylight for the last week since I threw Holt’s lying ass out of Foxhaven.

My bedroom has been my constant companion, along with a truckload of chocolate and wine. Cliché, I know. I always thought those sappy movies where the woman loses all will to do anything because of a break up were overdramatic crap. But no, I feel like I’ve been drained of all desire to exist outside of my cozy retreat, wrapped inside my fuzzy blanket.

“Your time to wallow is over. The Labor Day Picnic is today, and you know the guests want to see you.”

I usually love circulating among the activities and watching the kids play during the picnic, but I can’t seem to make myself care about anything right now.

“Everything is set up. It’ll go fine without me.”

“Nope. Get the hell out of that bed and into the shower. Harriet is sending a housekeeper up here to clean your place.”

“I can clean my own suite,” I grumble.

“Obviously not. Now, are you getting in the shower or am I putting you there?”

One glance at Foster’s stern face tells me he’s not kidding. Sighing, I scoot to the edge of the bed and stare up at him. My chest feels heavy, but at least I’m not crying. I’ve cried more in the past week than I’d like to admit. The look on my face must be pathetic though, because his expression softens, and he sits beside me, putting his arm around me.

“I know it’s hard, Kin. I’ve been there, remember? And when Finn left me, you were there to drag me back out into the world. You have to let me do the same for you.”

I lay my head on his shoulder and voice the issue that’s been tearing me up. “He didn’t care about me at all. It was all fake.” The last four months flit through my mind, all the fun we had, our trip to the Keys, Holt singing for me, his body moving inside mine. How could we share all that and it mean nothing?

“I know he cared about you. It doesn’t excuse what he did. Forming a relationship with someone based on a mountain of lies is about as wrong as it gets, but I saw how he was with you. He cared, Kinley. That wasn’t fake.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“No.” He tightens his arm around me. “They fooled the whole world and they’re still fooling them. Do you really think you should’ve been able to guess he was an identical twin who was impersonating a famous lead singer because a record label paid him to? Come on, that sounds crazy. Straight out of a daytime soap opera. I’m waiting on someone to get amnesia or go into a coma.”

My laugh sounds strange to me, but it brings a smile to Foster’s face. He’s not supposed to know any of this. Sully tried to get me to sign a document saying I wouldn’t expose their secret, but I refused. Not because I have any intention of announcing it, but there was no way I was doing anything those assholes wanted after how I was treated. Clark and Herb know since they witnessed the clusterfuck, and I’m not sure if they signed Sully’s paper or not. The only people I’ve told are Foster and Anavrin. I know neither would say anything, and frankly I don’t care if their deception comes out.

It’s time to leave all that behind me. I want to try to forget this past summer and focus on the goals I had before Holt blew everything to hell with his sexy smile and charming personality.

“It is crazy,” I agree, and get to my feet. Foster watches as I go to my closet and pull out some clean clothes. “Are you still talking to Liam?” I wasn’t the only one dipping into the celebrity pool.

“He texted me earlier.” Foster shrugs and grins at me. “It was just a hook up.”

“If he wants to again?”

“I’ll be on him like a fat kid on a donut. Good god, Kin, the man is all muscle and cock.” Foster doesn’t do serious relationships since he got his heart broken a few years ago. Since then, Liam is the only man I’ve seen him even communicate with after sex.

There’s a knock at the door and Foster hops off the bed. “Go wash your grimy ass. I’ll let the housekeeper in, then we’ll go get this picnic started.”

“You don’t have to babysit me. I’m okay.”

He drops a kiss on top of my head before walking toward the door. “You’re stuck with me today. Better just accept it.”

Every bit of me wants to run a hot bath and spend the day there instead of having to face people who are going to have questions I can’t answer, but I turn on the shower instead. The hot water helps, taking some of the tension from my muscles, and I wonder for the first time how Holt’s eviction has been handled by the media.

I’m sure they don’t know he was thrown out, but I can imagine the speculation now that we aren’t being photographed together anymore. It’s probably better I don’t know. I’ve purposely avoided the gossip sites and entertainment news because there’s only so much I can take at once, but when I emerge from the bathroom, Holt’s face glares at me from the TV screen.

Foster glances back from his place on the couch. “Looks like the secret’s out, Kin.”

The next image is a split screen with Holt and Marcus, and the host is far too excited as she reveals pretty much everything they’ve been trying to keep hidden.

“Wow,” Foster marvels, looking back and forth between the two men’s faces. “They really do look exactly alike.”

“Turn it off,” I grumble. I don’t want to see it. My time in that world is over and I have my own life to worry about. That doesn’t stop me from wondering how Holt is dealing with this. The whole world now knows he was standing in for his brother. The fans may be fascinated now with how they pulled it off, but there will be plenty who camped out for pictures of Marcus, or got an autograph they now realize isn’t real, who will be pissed off.

“Sorry,” Foster says, hitting the power button on the remote. “At least you won’t be a homewrecker in the media now.”

“Hopefully, they’ll forget I exist.” Since Holt and Marcus left, the crowd outside the gate has thinned to a few die-hard fans who suspect he may be back.

A final glance in the mirror shows me I managed to cover up most of the puffiness in my face with makeup. I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be to face the public. “Okay, let’s do this. The kid’s races start in a few minutes.”

Foster follows me out the door. “The three-legged one last year was hilarious. Remember when the brother and sister won because she kept going after he fell, and dragged him across the finish line? The kid ate a mouthful of dirt,” he laughs.

A giggle spills out of me. “The kids are always the best part of the picnic. Let’s stop in the bar so I can check on things before we head outside.”

“How is Heather doing?” No one seemed to think it was a good idea to hire the mother who abandoned me as a child, and I understand their reticence. After the last few weeks though, I don’t care what they think. Holt lied to me, and Dad lied to me for years. Trust issues, meet Kinley.

We step out of the elevator, and I pause to greet a few guests loitering in the lobby before continuing. “I told Kate to call me if there were any problems, and I haven’t heard from her, so I assume everything is good.”

The bar bustles with business as expected. Couples take advantage of a few hours alone while their kids enjoy the picnic games outside. My spirits lift a little as I stop to chat with a few guests I’ve known for years. Screw Holt and all the drama. I worked hard to make today a success and I’m going to enjoy it.

Foster sees a friend and goes to talk with him while I approach the bar.

Kate grins at me. “Hey, Kinley. You want a drink?” It’s early afternoon, but what the hell.

“I’d love one of your fruity masterpieces.”

“You got it.” Kate has a gift when it comes to creating her own drinks, and they’re always delicious.

“When does Heather come in?” I ask, taking a seat at the bar.

“In about thirty minutes.”

“How has she been working out?”

Kate places the drink in front of me. “So far so good. She knows her drinks, and the guests like her.” She gives me a pointed look. “Might have something to do with her telling anyone who will listen that her daughter is the owner.”

I sip my drink and close my eyes. Mmm…raspberry and lemon. “Kate, if there are any issues, please let me know. I don’t want her using me to get any favoritism.”

She grins and nods at Foster as he joins me. “Your dad used to tell me the same about you.”

“Ha! If anything, I caught the complaints because I was related. Like I had any control over how long a room service order took to be delivered when I was fourteen.” We all laugh while she whips up a drink for Foster as well.

“What’s your mama say? Does she like working here?”

“It’s got to be better than making license plates,” Foster murmurs, and I snort, smacking his arm.

The truth is I don’t really hear from her much. Granted, I’ve shut myself away the last few days, but she didn’t call or come to my room like Clark and Harriet did. “She hasn’t really said one way or another, so I guess it’s all good.”

Laughter rolls across the room, and I follow everyone’s gaze to see Clark standing in the hall in a red, white, and blue jumpsuit. “Oh no, did he lose the dunk tank lottery?” I ask, waving to him. A big guy like him in bright spandex really is a sight.

He waves back, then surreptitiously gives me the middle finger by scratching his earlobe. Every year we all put our names in a bowl and the name drawn has to be the victim in the dunk tank. The kids love it. Dad used to volunteer just for the fun of it, and others usually end up jumping in as well.

Foster and I drain our drinks and thank Kate before heading outside. It’s a gorgeous day. Labor Day can go either way. We had just as much chance of cold rain as we did the warm, sunny weather we’ve been gifted.

The lawn is filled with laughing, chatting people, gathered around the games. Some watch their children, cheering them on, and some join in the fun. Lance, the boy who works in the boathouse, announces the three-legged race and the children come running to have a ribbon tied around their ankles.

An older lady beckons to me from her seat at one of the temporary tables that dot the lawn. It takes me a moment to recognize her.

“Mrs. Jadlen! How are you?” I exclaim, leaning in to hug her when she gets to her feet. The Jadlen’s have been coming here every year since I was little.

“I’m doing just fine. I brought my grandkids this time, let my daughter have a week of peace.” She gestures to the two boys who are trying to stand up with their ankles tied together.

“I’m sure she’s happy for it. It’s good to see you again.”

“Sit, sit,” she insists. Foster waves and walks away to talk to a group of guys, so I take a seat at their table. “This old fart isn’t any kind of company.” She gestures to her husband who is snoring away in his chair. “I was sorry to hear about your father, honey. He was a real good man, never had a bad word to say about anybody. He’ll be missed.”

“Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you decided to keep his legacy going with this place. I’ve come here every year for twenty years. And you’ve outdone yourself with the Labor Day festivities.”

Her smile is genuine and kind. It throws a knot back into my throat and I swallow it before I reply. “I hope to see you here in another twenty years.”

“God willing and the creek don’t flood,” she laughs. I have no idea what that means, but I laugh along with her.

The whole day flies by in a blur of meetings like this. Grandparents, parents, kids, cousins, there’s so much love and happiness surrounding me there’s no time to be maudlin. As the sun starts to set, Anavrin and Foster find me and take a seat with me on the dock.

“Looks like today was a success,” Anavrin remarks.

“Couldn’t have gone better,” I agree. “It’s made me rethink some things.”

Foster and Anavrin glance at each other, and I know they think I’m talking about Holt or relationships, but for once, he isn’t my primary thought.

“Dad wanted to cater to elite clients. Make this a getaway for the stars, but I don’t think it’s what’s best. For Foxhaven or me.” Leaning back on my hands, I stretch my legs out and cross my feet. “This place has always been home to me and the guests are like a surrogate family. And that’s what I want to focus on. Families.”

They both smile at me. “Your dad would’ve wanted you to follow your instincts, Kin,” Foster says.

Anavrin nods her encouragement. “What kind of changes are you thinking?”

“I’m not sure yet. Adding a larger playground, maybe with a spray park. And those presidential suites could easily be renovated into a more family friendly version, maybe for long term stays. We have a few families I think would be interested in that.”

Foster smacks at a mosquito on his arm. “I think it sounds like a great idea.”

This is the first time I’ve sat down all day and exhaustion is setting in. Yawning, I get to my feet. “I’m heading up for a long bath, then bed. You two are welcome to the guest room,” I offer.

The glance they give one another makes me grin. “I’m okay, I promise. Thanks for sticking with me the past few days. I’m going to focus on the future of Foxhaven. I’m done obsessing over a rotten, lying, fake rock star.”

The last words come out a bit more vitriolic than I intend. There may still be some anger there, but hey, it’s barely been a week. Before they can respond, I turn to Anavrin. “Do you want to go shop for furniture with me tomorrow? I’ll be able to move into my cabin soon.”

“Yes!” she exclaims. She already helped me choose the flooring and paint colors. Anavrin is good with decorating. Me, not so much. “I’ll pick you up around one?”

“Sounds good.” I give them both a hug, and head back inside.

After such a wonderful day, I’m really trying not to let the melancholy thoughts sneak back in, but by the time I’m neck deep in bubbles, I know I’m fighting a losing battle.

I miss him.

I wonder where he is, what he’s doing, and who—if anyone—he’s doing it with. It’s everything I can do to prevent myself from Googling him. No doubt the soulless tabloid sites would have the answer to most of my questions, but I’m better off not knowing. I just want to forget this whole summer ever happened.

“This place looks amazing!” Foster exclaims, as he tours my newly furnished cabin.

“It should. We’ve spent three weeks getting everything just right,” Anavrin groans, flopping onto my new couch.

I sit next to her and push her leg with my foot. “And you loved every second.”

A smile jumps to her face. “I did. I can’t wait to help you redecorate the suites.”

A loud noise from outside makes me jump, and we head out to see a large truck filled with gravel. “Good! They’re here to do the driveway. And the sod has already been laid so I won’t have mud all over the place.”

A guy who must be six foot five and a mile across the chest hops down out of the truck and approaches us. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, An,” Foster murmurs. “This one is mine.”

“No freaking way that guy is gay,” Anavrin replies under her breath, smiling at the man as he approaches.

“He’s a big, burly bear that will be in my bed tonight,” Foster insists.

“Bet,” Anavrin argues.

The poor guy has no idea what he’s walked into.

His muscles flex and pull as he walks up. “Ms. Matthews?”

“Kinley.” I reach out and shake his hand.

“I’m Porter. I’ve got your gravel. You want it spread all the way to the connecting road, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nods at me. “Smart choice. You’ll be bogged down in mud in the spring out here.” He looks around. “It’s a beautiful place.”

“Thank you, I’m just getting moved in.”

He studies me for a moment. “You look familiar.”

Great, he’s seen my face plastered all over the tabloids.

“Didn’t I do some work for your father? Over at the resort?”

It takes me a second, but I realize I met him a few years ago when he laid gravel for a parking area at Foxhaven. “You did. That was about three years ago. I’m surprised you remember.”

“I never forget a beautiful face.” He flashes me a seductive smile.

Foster mutters a curse from behind me as Anavrin drags him away from us.

For a second, I sort of freeze up. “Thank you,” I finally reply, feeling like an idiot who no longer knows how to act when a guy is interested in me.

“I don’t want to seem too forward, but I’d love to take you out for dinner sometime if you’d like to go.”

I can feel my face heating up as an internal argument rages. The guy is sexy as hell, and I should be all over this, but the wariness I feel is instant and deep. It’s been nearly a month, and part of me knows I should be moving on from what happened with Holt, but another part is screaming and hiding in a corner.

“You have no idea how tempting your offer is, but I’m still getting over a breakup. It’s just not the best time.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I get it. I’ll tell you what. Maybe I could give you my number and you can text or call sometime if you feel like it. No expectations.”

He seems like a genuinely nice guy, but I’ve learned to doubt my instincts when it comes to men. Still, I can’t see the harm in talking to him and keeping my future options open.

Grinning at him, I hand him my phone, so he can enter his number. As soon as he does, I text him a smiley face, and his eyebrows jump up. “Now you have my number too, but like I said, I’m not looking to hook up with anyone right now.”

“I understand. Whatever guy let you go is a complete idiot. I just have to throw that out there.”

A few drops of rain start to fall, and he glances back at his idling truck. “I’d better go get the job done. I hope to hear from you.”

“It was nice to see you again, Porter.”

He returns to his truck to spread the gravel, and I head inside to get out of the rain that’s now coming down faster. Early October rain isn’t the warmest.

“Tell me you have plans to ride that man like a wild horse,” Foster says as soon as I step through the door.

“He asked me out.”

Anavrin squeals, and I hold up my hand. “I turned him down.” They both gaze at me, and I shrug. “I’m not ready yet. But I did trade numbers to keep in touch. So, who knows?”

Foster gives me a small smile and nods. “Baby steps are good. You’ll know when you’re ready. And the day will come when you won’t give that asshole Holt another thought.”

“Uh, I don’t think that’s going to be anytime soon,” Anavrin says, turning up the volume on the television.

My peace of mind would be a lot easier to maintain if his every move wasn’t broadcast on the news, but for once I’m glad I know, because this is going to destroy him.

The headline seems to jump off the screen and wrap around my heart.

Marcus Singleton Killed In Car Crash. Father Critically Injured.

A pretty blonde looks grim as she says, “A one car accident in Nashville today has taken the life of Marcus Singleton, the beloved lead singer of the band Jilted. His father, who was a passenger in the car, is critically injured and being treated at Nashville General Hospital. There has been speculation that Marcus may have been intoxicated when he drove his car into a tree, but we cannot confirm that at this time. This comes just weeks after the revelation that Mr. Singleton’s twin brother, Holt, has served as his double on many occasions, much to the chagrin of Jilted fans. As you can see, Holt Singleton has arrived at Nashville General Hospital to be with his family. We will continue to follow this story and bring you updates as it develops.”

The footage shows Holt rushing into the hospital, and I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s okay. Thank fuck I saw a snippet about Marcus changing his hairstyle, so I know I’m actually looking at Holt.

His brother and father are all the family he has and watching him rush inside with that stricken look on his face shreds me.

He’s all alone.