King's Treasure (Oil Kings Book 3)

by Marie Johnston

  I didn’t want a few measly months. I wanted a damn lifetime with her. She knew that, but she’d already told me that wasn’t enough.

  I closed my laptop. Dawson was tense, but he didn’t say anything, just watched. I slid my computer into its case and loaded it and all my notes in my backpack. My camera was next.

  Dawson’s head tipped down as I rose. He thought he knew what I was doing. Savvy’s words rang through my head. People worry about you, Xander. When you take off and go radio silent for months, they worry. There were other people who cared about me and I’d been pretty insensitive when it came to them.

  “Can I borrow the truck? I need to go to Billings.”

  Surprise that I’d said that much rippled across his face. “Sure. Between me and Dad, we’ll figure out how to get it back from the airport.”

  “I’m not going to the airport.” I jogged upstairs. He was confused and I wasn’t helping. I’d message him when I got to my destination, but it was evening. By the time I got to Billings, it’d be late.

  I packed my belongings, seeing my few possessions with new eyes. Talk about a lack of commitment. Only it was all relationships I’d resisted committing to, not just my love life. I’d refused to commit to people or a place or even possessions.

  I dug the simple gold band out of the side pocket of my backpack. As I flipped the cold metal between my fingers, the word commitment echoed through my head. I shoved it back in, zipped up the pocket, and jogged downstairs and out the door.

  I hopped into Beck’s old pickup and fired up the noisy engine. The gas tank was full, but it would be nearing empty by the time I reached Billings. Savvy wouldn’t approve of the waste, but I wasn’t waiting for an Uber.

  The trip went quickly and I may have pushed the speed limit. I parked in front of my destination and sent a quick note to Dawson so he’d know where I was.

  I hopped out and grabbed my belongings. Nerves rattled my insides. I doubted I’d get turned away, but after the way I’d acted, I deserved it.

  I rang the doorbell and waited. Anxiety mounted with each second. The porch light shone on me like an interrogator’s spotlight.

  The door opened. “Xander? Is everything all right?”

  I swallowed the lump of panic over the papers burning a hole through my backpack and making it weigh at least fifty pounds more than it should. “Dad, I need to talk to you. I need your advice.”

  Chapter 22

  Savvy

  I waited at the top of the stairs, dancing from one foot to another.

  Mother walked inside and shook snow off her Max Mara double-breasted camel coat. I froze when I saw the papers in her hand. But there was no familiar manila envelope. As if Xander would’ve used the same one to return the divorce papers. Still, I could breathe again.

  “Did I get anything?”

  Mother glanced up, her pleasant expression startled. She shouldn’t be. I’d stood in the same spot daily since I’d let her mail the divorce documents off. “No, dear. Sorry.”

  She said the same thing every day. And each time, it was all I could do to keep from sagging against the railing as relief weakened my legs.

  Xander had to have the papers by now. He had plenty of time in the last few weeks to sign them and send them back.

  But he hadn’t.

  I trudged back to my room. Pearl’s room.

  I looked at my bedroom door. I needed to go back in there. It was one more step to take before I lived on my own. I wasn’t ready to afford a place in the city. New Jersey might be a good place to run my business with a cheaper cost of living, but I hadn’t looked around yet. That would make this all too real.

  With a sigh, I went back to the desk I’d been diligently working at. I was at a stopping point. It was New Year’s Eve, and getting ahold of anyone was impossible over the holidays. Anyone I’d tried to call and make connections with was on vacation or not interested in hearing about new projects until after the New Year.

  If I couldn’t work, I couldn’t sit at Pearl’s desk and stare at the wall. My bedroom was too much to hang out in before thoughts of Xander sapped my ambition and made me melancholy, but the sitting room had fewer memories. I’d start there.

  When I got to the door, I sucked in a breath. I’d avoided my bedroom and the TV room. I had to stop sometime.

  I pushed the door open and looked around. The TV hung above the electric fireplace. The couch was in the same spot. Xander hadn’t spent as much time in this room as in my bedroom. But I looked for his presence all the same.

  Pathetic. I’d sent divorce papers. I had to get over him.

  I dug around the cushions for the remote. The doorbell rang. Were we getting company? Pearl had said she wasn’t taking leave until January. Em and Carter were going to his family’s for the holiday. I was going to ring in another year married, but all by myself.

  Thinking about that wasn’t going to solve anything. I puffed hair out of my face. My holiday position had dissolved after Christmas, and I’d have to find something else to support me while I got my business going. I could job hunt while I watched a movie.

  “Sapphire?” Mother’s voice filtered in from the hallway.

  Crap. Had a courier sent the papers over? “I’m in here,” I called, stuffing my hand as far as I could reach through the seat cushions. Had Pearl lost that damn thing before she’d left and never bothered to tell anyone?

  “You have a visitor.”

  Me? I straightened and pushed a mass of hair off my face. Facing the door, I froze. Air whipped into my lungs and stopped. My face, flushed from being nearly upside down searching for the remote, turned cold. I was stunned. Speechless. Unbelieving of what was in front of my eyes.

  Xander stood in the doorway, his hands tucked into a pair of new jeans. A Henley-style shirt I hadn’t seen before hugged his muscles and caressed his hard abs. His hair was still on the long side, but it’d been trimmed and was brushed off his face. His backpack was slung over a shoulder.

  Damn, he looked fine.

  I looked like one hard blow would send dandelion puffs all over the room. The only thing I had going for me was that I’d showered this morning. Otherwise, this college sweatshirt and black leggings had seen better days. I blew hair out of my face. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  A gentle hand pushed him inside and shut the door behind him. I was locked in with Xander. The dark circles under his eyes did nothing to detract from his handsomeness. I drank him in. Tall. Broad.

  His boots dug into the carpet. New ones. Had he bought everything to come see me? Or had it just been time to swap in a new set of clothes for the ones he’d trashed going all over the world?

  “I . . . uh, got your papers.” His jaw muscles flexed, but he wasn’t angry. Determination simmered in his gaze.

  “I thought it was for the best. The money isn’t mine.”

  He didn’t argue that it wasn’t his neighbor’s either. He didn’t beg me to wait until we’d both filled our bank accounts and our pockets. He just nodded. “How’ve you been?”

  Shitty. Depressed. Bored out of my mind. Caught between wishing I’d never met him and treasuring every second we’d had together. “Good. You?”

  He nodded again. “Same. I’ve been working on my new business.”

  My brows popped. “Where’d you go?”

  He blinked, trying to understand my question, then clenched his jaw. Well, he deserved it. It was a natural question. This was Xander. “I’ve been staying with Dawson.”

  We’d had a big argument and he hadn’t gone anywhere?

  Right, because I’d left.

  “Is it what we talked about? Your business?” What we’d talked about doing together?

  “Yeah. Want to see?” He lowered his backpack. He was going to dig out his computer, and then to look through everything, I’d have to sit next to him.

  “No, thanks.”

  He froze, then slowly slid his computer back into his bag. “No problem. I’m sure you have
your own stuff to do.”

  “Yep.” Words halted on my tongue to describe everything I’d been doing and all my thoughts and how I really hated turning his dad down because that would’ve been a dream. “It’s a start, and it’ll take a while.” Frustration welled. What the hell were we doing? Prolonging the pain? “What are you doing here, Xander?”

  “I came to talk. I haven’t been very good at that.”

  “Look, I know you don’t want the divorce, that we’re so close to the money—”

  “I’ve been with Dad for the last few weeks.”

  The words shocked me to silence.

  After a moment, he pressed his fingertips together and continued. “I got the papers and realized that maybe a man who’s been married twice, pretty successfully, might be able to give me some advice.” His smile was wan. “He had a whole ton of advice banked. But we talked. I showed him photos and what I’ve been setting up. And we talked some more.”

  It must’ve been significant enough to bear repeating. “You talked about your mom.”

  “Mama. Me. Him. Everyone else. I told him about every country I’d been to. He had to take some time off. Kendall arranged it so he could work from home while I finished planning . . .” His gaze turned tortured, yearning gleaming in the brown depths. “Planning where I’d like to live.”

  “Like a house?” He was going to stay somewhere? Long-term?

  “Like a home. But Savvy, every time I think about a home, I think of you. It’s going to be just a house without you.”

  “But I can’t . . .” What couldn’t I do? Live with the man I’d fallen in love with? The man I married. “What did your dad say?”

  “To talk to you. To find out what you wanted and if we could make it work together. Then he said from there, it’d all figure itself out.”

  “Where would you live?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  That sounded like heaven. “But wouldn’t you have to travel for your new business?” Was it the same thing we’d talked about that day we confessed our love to each other and had toe-curling sex under the sun all afternoon?

  Heat licked up my body. I’d purposefully avoided thinking about anything physical with Xander. Other than piling pillows behind my back every night, and maybe warming them with a heated blanket so it felt like a semisolid body behind me once in a while—or every damn night—I’d been successful.

  Forgetting what Xander felt like and tasted like and how good it could be between us was impossible with him standing right in front of me.

  “We could still travel. Or I could, if you weren’t able to.” My expression must’ve given him alarm. He rushed on. “But we’d talk about when and where and how long I’d be gone. It wouldn’t be long-term. I’d be more than willing to work around your vacations. I have ten years of material to work with.”

  I blew out a hard breath as my notes and spreadsheets danced through my mind. “I doubt I’d get much for vacations for a while with what I’m doing.” The moment I could hire another employee was a long way off.

  “Dad said he hasn’t been able to find an applicant that fits the position as well as you.”

  Hope surged. “He’s just saying that.”

  “Not really. You’re refined and can behave in a board room and at a conference, but he’s also seen you with your boots dirty and your hands full of barn kittens.”

  They weren’t exactly feral. Dawson and the guys who worked for him spoiled those things and they were cuddle monsters.

  “He said several applicants want to either scare off environmentalists, thinking they’re protecting the company, or secretly take down the company and use it to land an even bigger position. But the way you talked to him about the oil world and wind energy, and how you interviewed Dawson about the beef industry, impressed him.”

  “I’m not exactly impartial when I’m married to you.”

  “You see the people on both sides. That’s what he wants.” Xander shrugged. “No pressure. It’s yours whether we stay married or not.”

  “I have a nonprofit idea in mind.”

  “You could do both.”

  I scowled. I didn’t feel like I could do even one of them right now.

  “You could, Savvy. I’d be around to help.”

  I’d be around to help.

  He hadn’t flown around the world to find me, but he had gone across the country. Was that good enough?

  More importantly, he’d done the emotional work I’d accused him of avoiding. He’d done it and he didn’t want to get divorced and it wasn’t about the money. He was thinking about putting down roots, trying to find a way to meld both of our dreams together.

  And he was here. In the same room with me. He hadn’t rushed off when the papers had arrived at his place. He’d remembered what I’d said and he’d done his due diligence. He’d proved himself.

  That left me with only one more question. “Did you sign the papers?”

  Xander

  My heart plummeted. Did you sign the papers?

  She still wanted the divorce. Dad had warned me this was a possibility and he’d talked me through it. Every time I’d wanted to be the idealistic artist and insist that love was all we needed, he’d talked me off the fanciful ledge.

  What are you going to do if she still wants the divorce? How will it make you feel and how will you deal with it? Be specific.

  The good news was that I’d predicted everything I’d feel accurately. Disappointed. Depressed. Like I’d fucked up the most important thing in the world. The bad news was that I wasn’t prepared for the devastating strength of those feelings. My chest burned like someone was ripping it open. I wanted to drop to my knees and pound my head against the floor, chanting dumbass. I wanted to walk away and keep walking. Not talking to anyone ever again sounded like a great plan.

  Tell her what you feel and what you’re thinking. In the end, you can only be honest.

  “I love you, Savvy. I’m ready to make this work, and I’ll understand if you aren’t. But I had to come here and tell you in person that I want you, and I want to be with you always and I don’t care where in the world we do that.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. If someone walked in, it’d look like we were having a stand-off. Her with her arms crossed and me, closed off like always. “I married you so I could be with you. That feeling hasn’t gone away.”

  Her gaze softened, her eyes misty. “Why don’t you get those papers out?”

  Crestfallen, I did as she asked. My stomach wanted to revolt, acid swirled to work its way up, then everything went numb. I could hurt later.

  I should’ve called her when I’d received them. Should’ve asked her if she wanted to talk first. Should’ve told her that I had to mend some fences with Dad because I needed his help to un-fuck everything I’d done. Instead, I’d made her wait. That was unacceptable.

  My fingers fumbled on the front zipper of my backpack. “I signed them.”

  “Let me see them.”

  Wishing I could delay the inevitable, I handed them over. We were one step closer to divorce. I wanted to shove my hands in my pockets again, but I forced myself to stand still.

  She took them. Her expression, determination cemented with resolve, cut through me worse than a butcher knife.

  She looked me in the eye, gripped the papers, and ripped them down the middle.

  “Wha—” I didn’t dare read into the action. Maybe she had more official documents. Maybe she wanted more from me before we divorced. Maybe she wanted me to wait for a month before we were done like I’d made her wait.

  “Where would you like to live?” she asked, half of the contract dangling from each hand and a sly smile on her lovely face.

  Still too scared to hope that I was hearing her correctly, I thought for a moment. “You seemed to be infatuated with Montana, and I’d be close to home, but we might want to look for land closer to Billings so it’s easier for you to travel here. I know that you’d rather not use a private jet. But anywhere.
I’ll go anywhere with you.” I took a step closer. “Does this mean . . .”

  “Yes, Xander.” She closed the space between us and dropped the papers. They fluttered to the floor as she flattened her hands on my chest and gazed up at me. “I love you too and want to stay married.”

  My grin barely had a chance to form before I slammed my mouth on hers and lifted her up. I swallowed her giggle and she twined her legs around me.

  “God, baby,” I managed to get out while devouring her. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d fucked up too bad.”

  “Me too.”

  “You didn’t—” I couldn’t get any more words out. She tightened her legs around me and blood drained from my brain. The message that this woman and I were still on had reached my dick and it pounded behind the fly of my pants.

  Now was not the time to maul her. We’d just reconnected. I wasn’t going to go farther than kissing when we were in the sitting room of her house.

  “On the couch,” she gasped.

  I turned enough to keep from tripping on my backpack and dropped to my ass. She moved her legs to my sides, straddling me.

  The kiss deepened. I did more than taste her, I consumed her. I wanted to run my hands up her sides, but it still felt like too much too soon.

  Until she started wiggling that fine butt of hers. Sitting wasn’t exactly easy with as strong of an erection as I had, and the pressure of her body grinding against mine only added to the exquisite pain.

  “Savvy,” I groaned. I couldn’t tell her to stop. I didn’t want her to, but this was a special sort of hell.

  She abruptly pulled back and slid off my lap.

  Left bereft, my head spun. “Sorry, did I . . .”

  She whipped her shirt over her head and stole my words. Those creamy breasts I’d craved each night were cupped by a light pink bra. The bra hit the ground. Next, she shucked her pants and underwear off and kicked them to the side. I couldn’t look away. My goddess was in front of me.