Britani had the signature Kinder square chin and dimples, but a much more feminine version than her older brother. She’d grown into a beautiful woman over the last couple of years, but to him, she’d always be the little girl who sucked her two fingers and called him “Ky.”
“Of course you are.” He hugged the girl he’d known since she was six. “Besides, I couldn’t miss such a big day. You can officially vote this year.”
She released him and smiled with a mischief reserved for the baby of the family. “I know. Scary, isn’t it?” She peeked around his back, and her brown ponytail swung from side to side despite the intricate braid holding it in place. “So where’s my present?”
“You’ll get it tomorrow at your actual birthday party.”
Her nose scrunched up on her face. “Mom’s making me do it at the country club. For brunch,” she mocked.
Beck and Ty exchanged a smirk but didn’t comment.
Anne Marie swept into the room, looking very domestic in an apron and heels. “You kids have your ways of getting what you want. I have mine.” Her sharp Italian features and prim posture could be intimidating to some, but it was only a façade. Inside, she was kind, warm-hearted and the steady pulse of her family. “Now give me a hug.”
Tyler swept her up in a huge embrace, lifting her feet slightly off the ground. She balked, slapping his back, and he eased her back onto the marble.
Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. “You look tired.” She pushed a few strands of hair off his forehead. “Are you sleeping okay?”
“Yes. Fine.”
She spread his arms out, examining his stomach and then his back. “And you’ve lost weight.”
“More like packed on muscle,” he teased, slapping his abs. Working out had been the only thing keeping him sane up there.
Britani poked his stomach affectionately. “All I feel is mushy fast food. Journey says they actually chemically alter the meat to—” She froze midsentence. “Oh Ty, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s fine, Brit. We broke up a while ago.” A mistake he planned to rectify. “You can say her name.”
“Hun, why don’t you go see how your father is doing with the grill?” Sweeping her hand over already flawless hair, Anne Marie let out an exasperated sigh, a common occurrence when dealing with her daughter.
When Britani sulked away, she resumed her hostess smile. “Come on, you must be starving. I made your favorite guacamole.”
“Actually, I need the rest room first.”
“Of course you do.” She patted his arm, her expression solemn. “Come find us on the patio.”
Beck lifted his eyebrows when she disappeared. “If saying her name makes things this awkward, tomorrow is going to be a nightmare.”
Tyler shoved his hands into his pockets. “Have you seen her?”
“A few times, usually at brunch.”
He walked toward the bathroom, nodding absently. Being away had brought about one clear truth—the “break” he’d agreed to was no longer what he wanted. “She dating anyone?”
Beck leaned his shoulder on the wall. “A few someones. But no one I’ve taken seriously.”
Lowering his head, Tyler scrubbed his hands through his hair. His chest ached in the same way it always did when he thought of her. He’d mistakenly thought the pain would be cured when he left; it had only become worse. They could live on the opposite side of the world, and she would still own his heart.
Air rushed from his lungs. He needed the subject changed before he fell apart. “What about April?”
“Don’t get me started on her.” Beck’s mouth tightened, his dark eyes turning cold. “She still doesn’t show a hint of remorse.”
April had unceremoniously broken off her engagement with Sean and kicked him out of her condo with no explanation. “Has he called you?”
Beck shook his head.
“Yeah, me either.” Though Sean wouldn’t reveal what happened, Tyler had seen him the night before he left town. His heart was shattered, his right knuckles, cut and swollen. He hadn’t spoken to any of them since. That was eight months ago.
“I better go see if I’m needed.” Beck pushed off the wall. “I’d say welcome home, but it certainly doesn’t feel the same, does it?”
“Not even a little.” Regret burned against his skin, the same way it had since he’d walked out of Journey’s condo that horrible night. He’d been stupid, stubborn, determined to prove to himself he didn’t need anything or anyone. Prove he could be like his mother and not a man searching for some kind of direction.
Tyler sagged against the wall, remembering every detail of the Kinder’s foyer down to the plastered cream walls and the feeling of complete panic.
Over ten years had passed since he’d come through this door carrying one suitcase and a chip on his shoulder.
And here he was again, as empty and lost as he’d been that night.
The walls in the Kinder’s kitchen used to be a pale yellow. In high school, he, Sean and Beck would tear through the house, ravage the refrigerator and leave a mess they’d be scolded for that night. Anne Marie would sometimes surprise them and leave a plate of homemade cookies or brownies. Every crumb would disappear.
Now the walls were a deep gray and instead of teenage laughter and razzing, gruff, irritated voices drifted from the room.
“You sure you’re ready to handle things if we go? Pierson is antsy and we just lost the Shapone account.”
Tyler could see Harold from the doorway, palm pressed on the counter. Even pushing fifty, the man was solid, broad shouldered and stood an inch taller than his son.
“Of course I’m ready.” Beck’s back was to him, but he could see his friend stiffen. He didn’t like his competency to be questioned, especially by his dad. “And Gary leaving had nothing to do with me.”
“I didn’t say that it did.” Harold rubbed exasperated fingers against his forehead. “But it’s natural to feel overwhelmed in a new job, and if you do, I want you to call Eddy. He already said he’d be happy to help.”
Tyler winced from the other side of the wall. Beck would take those words as a slap. Proof his father didn’t trust or respect him.
“Eddy retired for a reason.” Beck’s harsh, deliberate tone confirmed Tyler’s assumption. “And I don’t think I’ll earn too much respect if the guy I replaced has to come do my job.”
Before the argument could escalate, Tyler finished his trek around the arched entrance and made his presence known. “Need any help?”
Harold’s face brightened, and he moved past Beck in a swift stride.
Ignoring the way Beck didn’t turn, Tyler hugged the only real father figure he’d ever known.
“How was the drive?” Harold squeezed, crushing his ribs and then let go.
It had taken Tyler a while to get used to the overt affection in the Kinder household. Someone was always touching or hugging or fixing a shirt collar.
“Not too bad. Just glad I don’t have to do it again any time soon.”
“Now there’s a hint if I ever heard one.” Harold chuckled, his dimples deeper with age. “Don’t worry, as of today, you are officially on paid leave.”
Now Beck turned around. “You’re kidding, right?”
Tyler hadn’t mentioned the sabbatical Harold offered him. Six weeks to catch his breath, work on the new house, and rest after putting in seventy plus hours a week up in Dallas.
Harold pursed his lips. “He’s earned it.”
“You just lectured me about the volatility of my division. How am I going to take on management responsibilities when you’re pilfering my employees?”
Tyler couldn’t tell if Beck’s irritation was from the lack of help or from the fact that as Tyler’s new boss, he wasn’t given a say in the decision. Either way, this new normal between him and Beck was going to be interesting.
“Ty’s been gone for six months. His clients have already been reassigned. There’s no harm in waiting a few weeks bef
ore we transfer them back.” Harold’s reasonable and calm response made the muscle under Beck’s eye twitch. “And,” he continued, gaze intent on his son. “I directed Lynda to loan out Caroline for full-time marketing and research support. She’s sharp and a hard worker. Her help will free up your team for sales.”
Unable to stomach being talked about as if he wasn’t standing there, Tyler cleared his throat. “Who’s Caroline?”
“No one important.” Beck switched his gaze to Tyler, holding it with irritated indifference. “Dad hired her as a favor to an old college buddy. She started last month.” The slight lift in his tone made Tyler pause. Beck definitely had a strong opinion about this girl. He just couldn’t tell if it was positive or negative.
“I hired her because she’s competent and qualified.” Harold opened the fridge. “Want a drink, Ty?”
“Sure.”
The walls weren’t the only change in the kitchen. While Beck and his dad’s relationship had been strained before, now it had taken a nosedive into hostile territory.
Proving Tyler’s point, Beck stalked from the room without another word.
The fridge door slammed. “Did Anne Marie tell you about our trip?”
“No, she didn’t.” Tyler took the offered Dr. Pepper bottle and unscrewed the cap.
“Now that Britani is officially an adult, I’m taking my wife on a cruise. Four weeks on the water with just us, touring all the ports in Italy and Greece.”
The sentiment in Harold’s voice surprised him as much as the words did. Harold practically lived at the office, setting a precedence that most of them tried to replicate, Beck especially.
As if he could read Tyler’s thoughts, he placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “It’s never good to neglect the ones you love. It will sneak up on you and one day they’ll be gone.”
Since Anne Marie was out back setting placemats around the patio table, Tyler knew Harold was referring to Journey.
“You’ve changed in the last year, Ty. Grown cold again. Anne Marie says it’s because I’m working you boys too hard.”
Tyler swallowed, his throat suddenly hot and stingy.
Harold’s hand cupped his neck, firm and affectionate. “Use this time wisely, okay? Find the man you’re supposed to be.”
He said it as if Tyler had a clue who that person was.
Chapter 3
Tyler paced along the edge of the buffet table, chewing the side of his thumbnail. A habit he’d picked up in the sixth grade and hadn’t been able to break since. Brunch started an hour ago. Britani had already opened her gifts and Anne Marie had just announced they would be cutting the cake shortly.
Journey should be here already.
His eyes strayed to the empty doorway, lingered there long enough to annoy him. He shoved his hand in his pocket, the skin around his nail raw and irritated.
He’d picked this spot in the back of the room intentionally. Partially hidden by a ten-foot plant and protruding column, the corner allowed for concealed observation of the dining room. He’d wanted to see Journey first. Wanted to get his thoughts in order before approaching her.
His gaze shifted around the room, landing on his best friend. The stern set of Beck’s lips and the way his body was angled toward Rob Monson, the financial division chief, meant they were talking business. Business that likely included the Pierson account since Tyler had seen him mouth the name more than once.
The two men exchanged a few more words and then moved on from each other, neither looking all too pleased.
Tyler relinquished his hiding place to approach his friend. “More issues?”
Beck’s gaze snapped from the entrance. “What? Oh yeah. Pierson’s giving me a hard time about our rates. The guy is demanding a fifteen percent discount. Best Rob said he can give me is seven.” He checked his watch, then discretely slid his phone from his pocket. Screen blank, he shoved it back in. Beck had been fidgety all morning. Monitoring his phone more than a teenage girl.
“Expecting someone?” Tyler asked, slightly amused.
“Not really.” Again Beck’s face turned impassive.
He opened his mouth to poke at him more when his own phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled out the device, recognized the number and silenced it. “Hey, do you know an Eric Stein?”
“No. Why? Is he a potential client?”
“I don’t think so. He’s left me two messages insisting I call him. He says he’s a probate attorney.”
Beck’s head reared back with the same surprise Tyler shared. He had no family. No rich uncle to leave him a fortune. “Do you think it’s a mistake?”
“It has to be.”
“Or a scam.” Beck lifted his eyes to the entrance again, offered Tyler a sympathetic smile and a smack on the arm. “Though I have a feeling Eric Stein is about to be the least of your concerns.”
Adrenaline shot through every vein as Tyler focused his attention on the other side of the dining room. The air in his lungs thinned and the circling buzz of small talk and laughter dulled to silence.
Journey stood in the middle of the entrance, a blue shawl slung over her shoulder; a small wrapped gift box clutched in her hand. Others in the room took notice just as Tyler had; they always did. She had an aura, a delicate island touched only by the sun.
Her mom stood to her right. Though both beautiful, they looked nothing alike. Journey was all grace and softness. Lillian was trying to revive her youth in all ways money could buy, but the lingering bitterness of an unsatisfying life made her seem harsh and tired. Last he knew, the two of them weren’t speaking, but then again, Journey was never good at staying mad at people. She was too forgiving, too loving to ever really hold a grudge.
Her dark dress molded to her curves and while her smile was quick and gentle, Tyler knew it wasn’t authentic. Her lips were too tight, her normally piercing eyes neither focused nor alert.
“Want me to go with you? Ease the tension a little?” Beck offered.
“No. We were together eight years. I’m pretty sure I can go say hello without an esco—” Tyler paused when a man he didn’t recognize followed in after her. He slipped Journey’s shawl off her shoulders and brushed his fingertips over her exposed skin.
Beck took a step closer, putting them shoulder-to-shoulder “She’s brought him before. His dad owns six dealerships between here and San Antonio.”
Tyler tried to sort through the tangle of emotions in his chest. He’d never really known jealousy before—their relationship problems were never caused by outside interference—yet standing there, he felt a violent urge to strangle the guy. Every instinct in him raged that Journey was his. His alone to comfort and touch.
Heat continued up his neck until he noticed her shiver of disgust and the small, almost imperceptible way she moved her shoulder to end the contact. His heart began to settle, his fist loosening at his side. Whatever Journey was doing with this guy, it wasn’t for her benefit.
She stepped away, glancing slightly over her shoulder. Another practiced smile graced her lips, illuminating her high cheekbones until suddenly it stalled. Bright blue eyes met his, relief somehow intermixed with alarm.
Tyler rolled his shoulders. “Wish me luck.”
Beck chuckled next to him. “Good luck. Just don’t make a scene.”
“Me? Not a chance.”
Strides deliberate and long, Tyler passed through the crowd to the trio by the door. Journey was the only one who didn’t seem taken aback, probably because she’d been watching him since they’d made eye contact.
He stopped a foot from her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come.”
She lifted the purple square box in her hand, the giant zebra striped bow smashing slightly against her dress. “It’s Britani’s birthday.”
“I know.” Ty took a step closer and casually brushed his lips across her cheek. “That’s only half the reason why I’m here,” he whispered.
A throat clearing had him stepping back.
“Hello, Tyl
er,” Journey’s mom said through a tight lipped smile. “I thought you were off gallivanting in Dallas.”
He leaned down and brushed his cheek against hers as well, feigning a politeness that took an extraordinary amount of willpower. Lillian Hawthorne’s distaste for him hadn’t softened with time, even with her own divorce highlighting the family’s failures. To say she felt him a step down from Beck Kinder was an understatement. The Mitchell name held no power, no prestige, and therefore Tyler was a waste of time.
“No gallivanting, I’m afraid. Just lots of work.” He lifted his gaze to meet Journey’s. “Far too much for any sort of social life.”
Her reaction surprised him. She wrapped her arms tightly across her chest as if she wanted to tie herself into a self-protected bundle and leaned into her date.
The guy’s hand immediately found her waist, tugging her tighter against him.
It required a great deal of willpower—something Tyler had never been especially known for having—not to pick up a fork and skewer the jerk’s fingers.
But that behavior would only validate Lillian’s opinion of him.
Shifting his focus, Tyler extended a hand for two purposes. One it got the guy’s paws off his girl and two, he could ascertain the guy’s weakness. “Tyler Mitchell. I’m an old friend of Journey’s.”
Her date detangled his arm to shake his hand. “Winston Carter III.”
The guy had a tight grip, one meant to intimidate. Too bad Tyler wasn’t easily derailed. He’d been subjected to men like Winston for years—wealthy, arrogant, entitled. What he wasn’t used to was Journey giving any of them the time of day.
When Tyler didn’t move, Winston pulled back his hand and pressed it into the small of Journey’s back with more pressure than necessary. “Let’s get some food.”
She stumbled forward, though quickly regained her footing.
All the politeness drained from Tyler’s body and he shifted instantaneously, putting his body directly in her path. He didn’t often let the vengeful kid from his youth surface, but Winston was about to get a full on example of what life was like on the other side of the tracks.
Until I Knew Myself (Bentwood Book 1) Page 3
