King's Treasure (Oil Kings Book 3)

by Marie Johnston

  “There it is,” Pearl gloated. “You want to eat him up.”

  “I already have.” Yeah, it sounded like I was bragging.

  “Then do it again.”

  Didn’t she think I wanted to? “I’m not a fifty-million-dollar hooker.”

  “I doubt hookers would complain about making fifty-mil from a client.”

  I scowled at her. “If I was just me, and he was just him, we would’ve been nothing but a one-night stand.” A memorable one. One that every guy afterward would have failed to live up to. “But I have Mother and Chief. He has his trust, and here we are. Married and acting like it was meant to be.”

  “Why can’t it be more?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why can’t you two fall in love? Do it backward. You’re married, now start dating.”

  I wasn’t like the women Xander had dated. I didn’t have to interrogate him about his history to know. He’d grown up in a rural, small town. He’d worked for a living. He didn’t eat at three-Michelin-star restaurants like the Abbots did. Or use chauffeurs. I doubted he even used room service. He’d dated women who could take care of themselves.

  “You said it yourself—you’re scared.” She shook her head and sat forward. “Come on, Savvy. Don’t let anyone have a say in this marriage other than you and Xander. Get to know him.”

  “Maybe he’s a cheater.” I didn’t think so. But my mind sifted for as many arguments as possible. I was prepared for a divorce in a year.

  Was I prepared to stay married?

  She wrinkled her nose. “He passed the sister test. How many guys have we dated that failed it?”

  My attention sharpened. My sisters and I were close enough in age that it had caused more than a couple uncomfortable moments over the years. Like when one’s boyfriend hit on another sister. One Abbot was as good as another to some guys. “What do you mean?”

  “Xander was coming out of the bathroom when I was going in.” And with a house full of women, Pearl didn’t wear much at night.

  “Don’t tell me.”

  “I had a shirt on.”

  “Did it even go past the top of your underwear?”

  She shrugged and picked at a thumbnail. “Didn’t faze him. Other than jumping and apologizing profusely like he was the one that had walked in on me, I don’t think his eyes dipped below my collarbone. He beelined for your room.”

  Where I had been fast asleep. “Good to know.” I wasn’t jealous of my sisters, but it was nice to know Xander didn’t have roaming eyes. At the airport, I hadn’t caught him eyeballing any of the gorgeous women walking past us. One woman had slept in the terminal with us, a supermodel type with long glossy hair, glowing skin, and a willowy body. I swear she’d picked her seat so she could stare at Xander the whole time, but Xander had only read a mystery novel he’d picked up at the gift shop.

  When he’d finished the book, he’d given it to a guy reading another book in the terminal we’d exited from. The smooth way he’d passed off the book told me that he did that all the time. He traveled so much, keeping extraneous items wasn’t an option.

  Pearl watched me, then opened her mouth. I wouldn’t like what she said. She could read me better than Brady, and be blunter about it. “You’re afraid he’s with you for the trust.”

  “He says he’s not, but it’s a lot of money, even in our worlds.”

  “I’m telling you, Sav, you’ve sold yourself short your whole life. You’re a strong, capable woman with the world at your fingertips. Making a few mistakes doesn’t mean you’re a hopeless loser who can’t do anything for herself.”

  “Says the army private.”

  “I was a sergeant.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Even worse.”

  “Different paths in life doesn’t mean one is better. If you got out of your comfort zone and stayed there, you’d find that out.”

  I got out of my comfort zone all the time. But dammit, she’d hit the target. I never stayed there. “I’m a privileged snot, is that what you’re saying?”

  After a beat of silence, she said, “I think you’re afraid Xander’s going to think you’re a privileged snot.”

  I averted my gaze to the bookshelves. I couldn’t look at my new husband, who was outside doing more manual labor around the house than I ever had. “I don’t know him well enough to know what he’ll think.”

  Pearl stretched her hands above her head. “Then go get to know him.”

  The movement caught the attention of the men working outside. I glanced over, right into Xander’s direct stare. He lifted a gloved hand. They weren’t the traditional puffy winter gloves meant to get him from a warm house to a heated car to a ski lift. These were grungy, beaten-up gloves that had been used for years.

  I waved back.

  Pearl rose and drifted toward the door. “You have a year. Just sayin’. You licked him, you can keep him.”

  Xander was back at work, this time clearing a path from the patio to the shed, where the landscaper stored much of the lawn equipment he didn’t need in the winter. The landscaper said something and he turned around.

  I jumped out of the chair before I could be busted staring again. He was my husband, but Pearl’s stalker comment would hit too close to home if I sat here longer.

  Get to know him.

  What would it hurt?

  For once, I was going to escape the endless loop of questions in my head and do something. I went down the hall, my slippered feet whispering on the cherrywood floors. I stopped at the closet. It was full of fluffy ski gloves, snow pants, and parkas. Gear we packed and took to Aspen once a year, then had cleaned and packed away for another year.

  Opening the door, I peered in like I was in the middle of a horror movie and the killer was going to jump out at me. I yanked on the chain hanging next to the bulb. When the light turned on, the closet went from dark and creepy to fluffy and colorful. I grabbed my fuchsia winter coat and shrugged into it. The boots I’d worn yesterday were in the closet by the front door. They should be good enough. They weren’t made for actual snow, but they’d keep my feet warm.

  I found gloves on the top shelf and made my way through the silent house to the front door and located my boots. Carrying them, I went back through the house toward the door to the patio. Mother stepped out of her office, her reading glasses perched on her nose and a paper in her hand.

  “Oh, Sapphire.” She took the glasses off and dropped them to her chest. I’d teased her that the 1950s was calling and wanted their reading glasses chain back, but it didn’t bother her. For good reason: she rocked it and I’d told her that too. Mother was a lot of things, but unstylish was not one of them.

  She tilted her head at my coat, her gaze dropping to my boots. “Is something wrong?”

  “Xander’s outside, so . . .” I didn’t even know what I was doing, only that it seemed weird he was out there working and I was bored inside.

  “Yes, I saw him helping Michael. He’s . . .” Her smile wavered, then solidified. “Different than what I expected.”

  “You don’t mind that he’s helping Michael?” Not only did she know the landscaper’s name, but she didn’t mind if the neighbors saw her new son-in-law helping the help?

  She blinked. “Why would I?”

  I had no answer. I’d spent a lifetime not getting my mother, and times like these hammered it home. “Yes, he’s certainly different.”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “I imagine that’s what got your attention.”

  Sometimes she surprised me with what she saw and understood. It was too easy to assume she was oblivious or uncaring, an unthinking follower of her status’s demands. Then there were times like this. “His looks helped.”

  Her chuckle was like the tinkling of chandelier crystals. Mother had more sophistication in her left pinky than I did in my whole body. “The fireplace in the sitting room is electric if you two get too cold out there. Just go in and turn it on.”

  Her words summoned a long
-forgotten memory. Me and my sisters would spill inside after building snowmen. We’d find Mother and Chief sitting by the fireplace, deep in conversation.

  Those times were some of my favorite memories. The thought propelled me out the sliding door to the patio. Xander turned at the sound.

  I hadn’t been in the backyard during winter in years. Now that I was out here, faced with my new husband, I had no idea what to do.

  Xander

  My little snow bunny’s gaze darted all over the yard like she was looking for shelter before a predator could snatch her up. She took a tentative step. And another, her boots crushing the remaining snow that Michael intended to sweep clean.

  Overkill in my opinion, but he didn’t mind doing it and the Abbots didn’t mind paying. It also gave me something to do, which in this house was a godsend. I’d never been so bored. When I went back home, Dawson always had chores for me. If I traveled, I had to worry about the necessities or I could fall back on taking pictures. The Abbots had staff do any and all manual labor. They had their groceries delivered, and they had a driver. The only reading options were the military history paperweights on the shelves in the library. I’m sure there was a TV somewhere, but I wasn’t one to sit and binge shows. And there was no one to talk to.

  Mrs. Abbot had retreated to her office to rule the Abbot world. Chief was gone and I got the impression he was gone a lot. Pearl was around between classes, but she wasn’t who I wanted to talk to.

  Since we’d had lunch with our fathers, Savvy had been a different person. Skittish. Uncertain. Subdued. The bold, determined woman who’d challenged me when I was taking pictures and marched to the altar with the confidence of a card shark approaching a high-stakes poker table hadn’t made a reappearance.

  I missed that Savvy.

  I had to do something that’d break the ice between us, but small talk in the snow wasn’t it. I stooped down and grabbed a handful of snow. Straightening, I packed it into a loose ball and eyed her.

  Her expression turned wary. “You’d better not be thinking about—”

  I lobbed the snowball, a gentle toss that wouldn’t take her out.

  A squeal escaped and she darted out of the way. It landed with a splat behind her. I grabbed another handful.

  “What are you . . .” She narrowed her eyes at me and dove for her own handful.

  In the second that she was turned and bent over, I aimed and threw my snowball at her ass.

  Snow splattered her pants and she jumped, losing what she’d gathered for snow. “I can’t believe you hit me with my back turned.”

  “You don’t grow up with three brothers and pass up these opportunities.”

  “Sisters aren’t easy either.” She swooped down and loaded both hands.

  My laughter was eaten by the wind as I loped through the snow to get out of range. A thunk hit next to me. A solid thump landed square in my back.

  “Nice,” I called and made another snowball.

  She was advancing until I faced her and sprinted, my work boots cutting into the snow.

  With a yell, she spun and ran across the lawn. The snow was slushy enough to slow her. She was wearing snow pants and I wasn’t, but that didn’t stop me. I dropped my snowball and tackled her, spinning her to keep from plastering her into the snow.

  Her holler rang across the lawn as she landed on top of me. Her breath whooshed out, the condensation cloud dissipating with mine. I wanted to laugh, but I waited, my heart clogging my throat until she let out a full-bodied laugh.

  She slapped me on both shoulders. Her thick gloves hampered the hit even more than my coat. “Xander! You’re going to be soaked.”

  “It’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m two miles away from my cabin in a heavy forest full of bears and an impending snowstorm.”

  “That sounds scary.”

  “Newbie mistake in Alaska.” I kept my arms around her. Her weight on top of me wasn’t enough to warm me and the longer I stayed in the snow, the more soaked my jeans would get. But I’d lie in a glacier for hours just to keep her here. “No bears found me worth feasting on.”

  “The scariest thing I’ve ever had to face in the winter was a snowman Em put a Friday the Thirteenth mask on. She built it right outside my window one night after I went to bed. I couldn’t sleep for a week.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Ten.” Her cheeks glowed red and her breath puffed out. Sexy and adorable at the same time.

  “We can build a snowman right now. Make it a pudgy, cute one.”

  “You need to get into dry clothes.”

  “That’ll wait.”

  She pushed off and my body mourned the loss. “If we hurry up and do it, will you get inside and change? I’ll come up with something warm to drink. Is that good?” She held out a hand.

  I was tempted to grab her hand and pull her down on top of me again, but I didn’t want to backtrack on the small amount of progress I’d made. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I rolled up, taking her hand to help me up though I didn’t need it.

  “I’ll start with the base.” She crouched and wadded some snow together, then rolled and packed it.

  I wasn’t the kind of photographer whose camera was never far away. On the road, I had to earn a living. Sometimes, I kept it with me in order to make sure it was safe and secure. Other times, it was less hazardous to keep it in my luggage or find a lockbox. But I regretted not having it hanging around my neck right now.

  Savvy’s joy radiated off her as she crawled in the snow. To keep from staring and making her so uncomfortable she’d scrap the snowman idea, I dropped to my knees to start the snowman’s midsection.

  While we worked, we only chatted about our project. How big should the base be? Should I start on the head now? I don’t think we have any regular carrot sticks, just baby carrots. But it was enough. The Savvy I’d met in Vegas emerged and took charge.

  She rose and brushed off her knees and clapped her gloves together to shake snow loose. “Why don’t you assemble it and I’ll find eyes and a nose?”

  “You got it.”

  She tromped away and I did as she asked. My legs were turning numb, but I kept on. Getting frostbite on half my body was worth waiting to see her reaction at the finished snowman.

  “Here we are.” She appeared behind me as I was packing snow between the connections to keep it stable. “Black olives are going to have to work for the eyes. I’m not hunting down charcoal. And we were out of carrots but had celery.”

  I stood back to watch her push in the eyes. She produced a purple fedora and a gauzy scarf she’d probably stolen from her mother’s part of the coat closet.

  She took a step back next to me and we eyed our work. She rolled her lips in and tilted her head.

  It didn’t matter how she looked at it, the effect wouldn’t get better. “He looks like he’s ready to catch a show on Broadway.”

  Her head dropped back and she laughed, a hearty sound that rang across the white lawn. “An Abbot snowman would be more likely to go to the theater than sledding like Frosty.”

  We grinned at each other, the dry air growing charged between us.

  “Oh!” She clapped her hands. “The milk is probably warm for the hot chocolate. You need to get changed.”

  “Hot chocolate?” I’d drunk a lot of things over the years, but I hadn’t had hot chocolate since I was a kid. Probably since before Mama died.

  “Yes. I threw a pot of milk on the stove to warm up while we finished. You must be freezing.”

  I was, but I’d build an army of snowmen to have another afternoon like this again.

  She took off inside, rattling off instructions for putting my clothes where they would be laundered. I took that to mean neither her, her sister, nor her Mom—and definitely not Chief—did their own laundry. I couldn’t see her lugging a basket of wet jeans outside to hang on the line like I usually did.

  In Savvy’s bedroom, I took off my wet clothes and found the one pair of flannel pa
nts I lugged around the world. This house didn’t invite lounging in pajamas, but the skin on my legs stung as I warmed and flannel wouldn’t add to the discomfort.

  I was rolling on a sweatshirt when there was a soft knock on the door.

  “Yeah?”

  Savvy poked her head in. She’d thrown her hair up into a messy bun that bounced when she moved. She still wore the black leggings and pink long-sleeved shirt she’d had on this morning. “The hot chocolate is ready. I turned on the fireplace in the sitting room.” She shifted and bit her lip, her hand still on the doorknob. “Want to watch a movie or something?”

  I wanted to spend more time with her and that sounded perfect, but to keep from scaring her back into her shell, I kept it light. “Turned on the fireplace?”

  She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stifle a smile. “Yes, Montana boy. It’s electric.”

  “All right, city girl. But I’m gonna have a hard time calling it a fireplace.”

  That earned me a head shake as she turned to go and I followed her downstairs to the den. We passed her Mom’s office, but the door was closed.

  The house was quiet. We weren’t alone, yet I had her to myself. As she turned on the big TV over the fireplace, I settled on the plush couch that didn’t fit in with the estate feel of the rest of the house .

  I yanked the brown cashmere blanket off the back and spread it over me and my rapidly warming legs. Other things were going to demand my blood flow if she kept standing in front of me like that, her shapely legs glowing from the light of the fake fire.

  She flipped through streaming services, holding the remote even though she was standing a foot away from the TV. “What do you want to watch?”

  Careful of the steaming cup on the coffee table in front of me, I put my feet up. “Come sit and we’ll decide together.”

  She looked over her shoulder at me, then at the rest of the couch. I purposely hadn’t left much room. She could sit on the love seat, but I patted the cushion next to me, hoping she’d choose to help me warm up.