How Sweet It Is

by Dylan Newton

  Jaw clenched, Drake shoved through well-wishers toward Kate when, suddenly, a man stepped in front of him, sticking his hand out to shake. Drake almost barreled through the guy, except his green eyes looked familiar.

  Then, the man spoke.

  “You must be Drake Matthews.” The thin, balding man gave his hand a hard shake, his mouth unsmiling as he motioned for the woman holding tight to Kate’s elbow to come this way. “I’m Kevin Sweet, Katherine’s father, and I’ve got a real problem with you.”

  Chapter 23

  Kate thought she’d found the perfect hiding spot—standing behind the silent movie screen she’d rented—where she’d remain concealed until Drake had been introduced and made his speech. That way, she could lurk and do her job, armed with her spreadsheets and earpiece, but avoid having to explain to anyone why her skin was blotchy and her eyes were bloodshot.

  Even Imani, bless her heart, had offered her friend some eye drops for those “allergies,” playing along as if she didn’t guess that Kate had been crying this morning before the workers arrived.

  Well, she only had to suck it up for another few minutes. Then she could disappear into one of the off-limits rooms until this was all over. If luck was in her corner, she’d never have to speak with Drake Matthews again.

  “Uh, Kate, we have a problem,” came Carl’s voice in her earpiece.

  Kate peeped out from behind the movie screen. The hatchet bookmarks were still floating around, and the guests were joyfully scooping them up, pocketing several each, as Kate had planned. She’d coordinated this promo bit with Imani, who’d gotten it okayed and printed by Cerulean Books on the side and shipped directly to Drake’s mom, to be sure it stayed a surprise for Drake.

  At first, it had appeared that her idea had hit its mark. Drake’s face had that thoughtful, bemused look she’d come to know was a precursor to that slow, sweet smile of his, but she’d ducked her head back down to avoid that extra arrow to her heart.

  “What’s wrong?” Kate shot back, frowning.

  “Mr. Matthews is refusing the microphone. He’s…uh, he looks like he’s leaving.”

  Kate groaned, rolling her eyes. “Someone give me the microphone, and I’ll kick off the party then. Sooner we get things started, the sooner it’s over.”

  Annoyed, she strode around the inflatable movie screen to check out the scene.

  And ran directly into her mother.

  “Katherine, I’m so mad, I could shake you!” Then Kasey Sweet did just that, snagging the arm that wasn’t holding Kate’s clipboard and giving it a squeeze-shake. Her mom was dressed in a chocolate-brown sheath dress Kate had never seen before, and she’d actually styled her short brown hair, putting in more effort than she did before heading to work. “Why didn’t you tell me you were working for Drake Matthews? Here I thought you were just flitzing around. How could you have kept this to yourself?”

  “Wh-what are you doing here?” Kate allowed herself to be dragged along behind her mother out into the crowd of Drake’s fans as if she were a recalcitrant child. Then she spotted her father.

  Standing right next to Drake Matthews.

  Her heart fell to the very soles of her sore feet. She’d been sure nothing could make her feel worse tonight…and then chaos said, Hold my beer, and bam!

  Her parents were here.

  Kate dislodged her arm from her mother’s pincer grasp as they approached her dad and Drake. She felt the heat rise from her chest to her neck and face like a crimson tide of anger and embarrassment.

  “Who invited you?” Kate asked her parents, deciding that question trumped all others.

  Before they could answer, a skinny arm was tossed across Kate’s shoulders, and she felt herself dragged into a hug where her nose was mashed against the shoulder of a much taller woman dressed in a black pantsuit.

  “I did,” said her sister, Kiersten, grinning down at her in her usual impish manner. Then, with a toss of her deep auburn pixie cut, she nodded toward Drake. “Well, actually, he did, but I relayed the message. He wanted to surprise you.”

  “That was the call I took on your cell in the attic that day,” Drake said, clearing his throat. “I invited them before everything—”

  Kate held up a hand, not wanting him to lay out all that had happened at her family’s feet.

  “Yeah. We don’t need to go there.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing he did invite us, otherwise we’d never have spoken to you,” Kate’s mom said, indignant. “You’ve been ducking our calls for a month, and you missed out on a golden opportunity! Did you know that your father called in a personal favor to get you into the last spot for the MCAT prep class offered in person at—”

  “Give it a rest, Mom,” Kiersten said, talking over her mother’s diatribe, rolling her eyes. She gave Kate a wink. “Can’t you see we’re having a ‘Take Your Family to Work Day’ with Kate? About time. And this is all great, by the way. Thanks for inviting us, Mr. Matthews. Don’t you think it’s great, Dad?”

  Her father, whose nose had been deep in a glass of wine, swallowed. His green eyes scanned the crowd, and Kate saw the moment when he’d recognized several A-listers from not only the Lloyd Harbor area, but the national scene.

  “It’s a wonderful event, Katherine. Clearly, top-notch. I can see now why you didn’t want to do our grand opening.” Her dad gave her a nod, as if acknowledging a good move on the chess board. “I suppose we’re pretty small peanuts in comparison to this.”

  “Well,” her mother said, smoothing down her sheath dress, “you can’t blame us for asking. I mean, we are your parents.”

  “Wait. What? You wanted me to help with the grand opening as…your event planner?” Kate asked. “Not to work at the surgery center?”

  “Of course! Something you’d know if you’d return our calls,” her mom said. Then her eyes got that crafty look again. “Plus, maybe if you see what we’re doing there, you might just find you have it in you to finish up those twelve credits.”

  “Mom!” Kiersten gritted her teeth in a smile as she elbowed her mother in the ribs. “Give it a rest.”

  Her mom’s face softened, and to Kate’s surprise, she found herself wrapped in a brief hug.

  “Kiersten’s right. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about that later, and this is a fantastic book launch you did for Mr. Matthews. I had no idea…” Her mother waved her hands to encompass the decorations, the food, and the beaming guests, and then Drake himself, her eyes wide with what Kate swore was admiration. “…that this was the level of things you did.”

  “And after Kiersten told us the job you were working on, we worried that the reason you weren’t answering our calls was that this guy,” her dad said, jerking his thumb in Drake’s direction, “was working you to death. Or worse.”

  Drake’s eyebrows rose, and not in a politely interested way. “Worse? Worse how, exactly?”

  Kate struggled with who to focus on first—her parents, who’d just given her the validation she’d been striving for since college, or Drake, who looked angry enough to spit nails at her father’s tacit insult. Finally, she blew out a breath, shaking her head.

  “I don’t have time for any of this right now. I’m working,” she said, pivoting on her heels…and spinning directly into Imani and the three drinks she was balancing in her hands.

  “Oh, Katie!” Imani gasped in dismay as red wine sloshed out of the glasses and onto Kate’s white suit. “I’m so sorry! I was bringing drinks for your folks. I-I didn’t expect you to turn!”

  Kate held out her dripping clipboard, her eyes widening at the cold, wet shock of the liquid hitting her skin.

  “Oh, shit,” came Carl’s whisper in her earpiece.

  Dreading what she’d see, Kate looked down at herself. The wine transformed her into a woman who’d apparently just survived a gruesome stabbing.

  “Perfect.” Kate shook wine from her plans. “Just fantastic. Now I look like a character from Halloween Hacker. I’ll just wander ov
er to the cupcake table and stand behind there and blend right in. Like a damned prop.”

  Imani set the empty glasses down on a nearby table. Snagging the wet papers on the clipboard with two fingers, she shook off the excess wine. “I’ll take it from here and introduce Drake to do the welcome speech. You’ve got lots of time. Go inside and find another shirt.”

  “Imani, we’re so happy to see you, sweetheart,” Kate’s mom gushed, giving Imani a bigger hug than she’d just given her own daughter. “It’s been so long. Do you know, the other day I was looking through some old boxes, and I found some photos of when you lived with us after your mom passed. I thought you might want—”

  Kate stalked away, trying not to let this wardrobe snafu, coupled with her parents’ arrival, be the factor that drove her over the cliff into a full-on flip out. She was Kate Freaking Sweet. She was a boss. No. She was the boss. She…

  Was attracting a crowd.

  Everyone in the backyard had quieted as she strode past them, some with half-expectant grins, like she was part of the scare team, or paid entertainment, representing some dead character from a past Matthews book. Ignoring the stares from guests, she wove through the rest of the people, retreating into the Victorian’s back door and into the fifties-era kitchen—an area blocked off from anyone but family. And staff, like her.

  “Kate, wait!” Drake’s voice sounded behind her. “Take the back staircase and I’ll get you a shirt from my room.”

  “I don’t need your damn shirt,” Kate spat, but raced up the back staircase, thinking to at least use the larger bathroom to sop up the stain with a towel. “In fact, I don’t need anything from you, Mr. Matthews.”

  She shoved the antique door at the top, and when it wouldn’t give, she used her hip against it just as Drake came up behind her, pushing with his forearm.

  The door gave way with a loud creak, spilling them into the upstairs hallway, both grappling for balance and using each other to avoid toppling over. A line of fans extending from the middle of the hallway to the stairs that led to the attic all turned to gawk at them, as did the posted security guard.

  One man in a black concert T-shirt that said Disturbed slowly raised his cell phone. “Is that…? Hey, that’s Drake Matthews!”

  It was creepy how fast the orderly line of people devolved into a berserk mob of reaching hands, flashing cell phones, and shouting. The security guard was knocked down in the melee, and fans stumbled over his body to race down the hall toward them.

  Kate stood there, gaping in disbelief, until Drake grabbed her around the waist from behind.

  “Get in here!” Drake lifted her, hauling her backward into the closed door that led to the guest room. Fumbling with a key from his pocket, he held her in one arm against his hip, away from the crowd, high enough so that her feet only skimmed the floor.

  Finally, he had the door open, dragged her inside, and the door slammed before a fan could reach a hand or foot to stop them. He jammed the door closed with his shoulder against the wood, as he worked an old bronze skeleton key into the keyhole, managing to get the tumblers to turn and lock it. People knocked and then pounded on the other side.

  “It’s like a zombie movie,” she gasped.

  Drake set her down in the dark room. “Thank God Zander gave me the key, or we’d have been crushed outside the spare bedroom.”

  Kate heard him cross the floor and then turn on a vintage green glass lamp, lighting the small bedroom and probably, she knew, her blotchy skin and bloodshot eyes. She turned away, staying silent.

  “Kate. I’m so sorry,” Drake said behind her, his voice low and intense, compared to the fans outside still knocking, shouting, and creating a ruckus that drowned out the security guard’s shouted orders for them to get back in line. Drake was silent for a heartbeat, and then admitted, “I’ve been a total jackass.”

  “Which time?” Kate crossed her arms over her stained suit coat, then grimaced as the cold, wet fabric hit her skin. She unbuttoned the jacket, shrugging out of it and folding it so the stain was on the inside before setting it on the hardwood floor. She was glad she’d worn a black shell underneath. While it was wet, it didn’t show the stain. “You mean when you talked to Kiersten and invited her and my parents to the launch without consulting me, or when you accused me of selling you out for my own gain?”

  “Both. Although I’d meant the invite to be a good surprise. You’d said your parents had never seen your work, and I wanted them here to see you hit your goal,” Drake said, and as Kate spun to face him, he shrugged. “I knew whatever you planned tonight would be perfect and EVPLEX-worthy.”

  “Well, you got that wrong on both scores.” Most of the steam had evaporated from her anger, leaving only exhaustion.

  “No.” Drake closed the distance between them but didn’t reach for her. “You may not get an award for tonight, but nobody can deny the perfection you created.”

  “Mr. Matthews!” shouted a man’s voice outside the door. “Can you please sign this?”

  A pen came shooting into the room via the crack under the door, followed by a piece of wrinkled notebook paper.

  “Oh, this is ridiculous!” Kate tapped the earpiece still in her ear, activating it. “Carl? Can you please send security up to the second floor of the Matthews mansion?”

  “Uh, sure, boss,” came Carl’s voice. “You’re not thinking of bouncing the guest of honor, are you? Because I don’t think that’s wise. Cooler heads need to prevail, Kate.”

  “No, the security isn’t for Drake. Yet.” Kate gave Drake a sour look. “We’ve got a mob of readers who overpowered the upstairs guard and have me and Drake barricaded in the guest bedroom at the end of the hall.”

  “The bedroom? How terribly inconvenient for you both.” Carl snickered.

  “Just send the security guys,” Kate snapped. “I’ll have Drake down as soon as possible.”

  Before Carl could say anything else suggestive, Kate tugged the earpiece out, tossing it on her suit coat. When she stood, Drake was a foot from her. As she opened her mouth to tell him off, he held up a hand, a pleading look on his face.

  “Please, Kate,” he said, pushing up his glasses, then running a hand through his hair. “Give me a chance to apologize. Then we’ll all go down and fake smile, and I’ll sign books. You can leave, and your crew will clean up, and we can all go our separate ways, if that’s what you want. Before that, I need to apologize to you, sincerely, for being such a fool.”

  Kate crossed her arms, willing herself to be hardened steel. She would not cry in front of this man!

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’m a writer. My job is all about living in my head, using my imagination to invent subplots where none exist—usually with characters who have the worst motives possible. When those pages were leaked, my knee-jerk reaction was to assume you’d purposely done it, like Rachel, for your own gain.” Drake gave her a crooked smile. “After drowning myself in booze and pity, my family reminded me of something: fiction isn’t reality. And you’ll never be the villain, Kate. That’s not who you are.”

  Kate’s chin wobbled, and her eyes filled. She blinked rapidly, sniffing.

  “I can’t believe I left those pages behind, Drake. It was unforgivable.” Her throat constricted with unshed tears. “And the resulting hoopla was all my fault. I totally ruined your book launch!”

  The pool of tears in her eyes had gotten so deep, Drake’s face doubled and blurred in her vision until they finally cascaded down her cheeks like a fast-moving waterfall of misery.

  “Don’t cry.” Drake groaned, closing the remaining distance between them and enveloping her in a fierce embrace. “You ruined nothing. After the council shut down your permits, you still pulled off an unbelievable event in a little over two days. And it’s not a circus.”

  Kate clung to him a moment more, then made herself unwrap her arms from around his neck. She came off her tiptoes, swiping at her eyes, grateful for the waterproof mascara she’d thought to wear
this morning.

  “A-are you just saying that?” Kate gazed into his warm, amber eyes. “Do you like everything?”

  Drake’s hand cupped her face, his thumbs wiping the remaining moisture from her cheeks. Instead of answering, he slowly lowered his mouth to hers, his gaze questioning as he gave her ample time to dodge.

  Dodging his kiss was the last thing Kate wanted to do, and she tilted her chin up, meeting him halfway. His lips met hers in a soft caress, and then he eased his tongue into her mouth. She moaned, sinking into him, and Drake deepened the kiss, sending off sparklers of desire through her body.

  She crushed against him, wanting to eliminate any space between them, and something jabbed her chest.

  “Ow!” She backed away, cupping her breast. “Something’s stabbing me.”

  “I forgot.” Drake unbuttoned his suit jacket and reached inside, pulling out a long, white rectangular box. He handed it to her, and then looked around the bedroom, sighing. “This isn’t where I’d hoped to give this to you—in my guest bedroom, with the zombie horde pounding on my door. I wanted to give you this gift as a thank-you for putting up with me these weeks.”

  A gift? Kate knew she was flushing—she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a gift from a guy. Curious, she lifted the lid and gasped.

  “Oh my gosh! This is exquisite!”

  Kate pulled a silver necklace from the box, holding it to eye level to appreciate the design. It was an intricate glasswork of yellow and orange ovals embracing a blue, shield-like shape in the middle, all surrounded with thin black leading.

  It was an exact miniature of the stained-glass window pendant she’d drawn him while they were in the mausoleum, on their first “research” trip together.

  “This is my apology to you for being a jackass, and it’s also a promise,” Drake said. “You can plan as many of my book launches as it takes you to win that EVPLEX. I promise to give you carte blanche for whatever outrageous, crazy extravaganza your mind dreams up, and I’ll strong-arm my neighbor next time into okaying every, last, insane permit idea, too.”