Troubles (Beekman Hills Book 1)

by K. C. Enders

  “I like to take care of people, help them when they can’t do things for themselves. I get to see life in all its forms—beginning through the end. There’s something beautiful about that, reverent.”

  My breath catches in my throat and I roll my lips in between my teeth.

  Her fork clatters to the table and she reaches for my hand. “Aidan, are you okay? I’m—did I say something?”

  “Erm, no. You’re fine.” I shake my head, unable to form the words just yet. Do I want to share this? Open up my heart the way I’ve already asked Lis to do?

  Her touch is warm when she reaches her hand to cover mine, soothing me—calming me. I look up and her lips are pressed tightly together, dipping down at the corners. This was supposed to be a nice dinner with a lovely distraction. How did I get to a place where I’m shoving down raw emotions at the same time that I’m wanting to bare my soul?

  I clear my throat and stare at nothing across the room. “I’m fine, I just—my brother just passed away. That’s…that’s why I’m here. In the States, I mean. I had to get away.” I blink back the sting in my eyes and force a tight smile to my lips.

  “I’m so sorry. What—do you—I’m sorry.” Lisbeth wraps her free hand around mine, grasping it between hers and for the first time since I watched Michael’s coffin get lowered into the ground, I feel able to say the words.

  “He died very suddenly, diagnosed and then gone in a matter of weeks.” How can that be? I don’t want to do this, have this huge heavy weight smothering us. “He was thirty-two—far too young to die, but he’d be pissed if he thought he were ruining our evening.” It’s true, actually. He’d be livid with me with how this is turning out.

  The laughter comes out unbidden and Lis looks a little shocked. “He was a smart-arse; I’m sure that comes as a huge surprise.” This is what Michael would want, how he would want to be remembered. “The night before he passed I was sitting with him and he said, ‘it was hard and fast, and over way too quick’ and then he cracked up laughing like a twelve-year-old boy.”

  Lis smiles broadly and nods her head. She seems to get it. The need to laugh and hold desperately the happy memories. I raise my glass to his honor and finish my whiskey.

  “So, you ran away.” It’s not a question, she says it like a fact.

  “I did. But I think I landed well.”

  We linger over coffee and dessert, conversation turning back to her school and my work—my photography. We share a dense, decadent chocolate cake, and thank fuck she’s focused on that, because I can’t take my eyes off her. The way her lips slide the gooey sweet chocolate off the fork. The way her tongue darts out to lick at every last bit. The way her eyes flutter closed, lost in the ecstasy of the moment. The moan that escapes her lips. I want to put that look on her face. I want to own that.

  Christ, I have to calm this shit down or the walk to her door will kill me.

  After settling the bill, I pull out her chair and guide her into the soft evening air. The walk back to her flat is leisurely and relaxed. This town is quaint—quiet and safe-feeling. The walkways are lined with trees and the business owners decorate their storefronts. Idyllic, really. The biggest danger to Lis right now is me. My thoughts are anything but pure and wholesome.

  At her door, she turns to me. “Thank you. I…this was great. Thank you.” Her lips—fuck—they soften and lift sweetly at the corners.

  “It was my pleasure, Lisbeth. Thank you.” I reach my hand up to cup her cheek and lean in for a good night kiss. Chaste. Respectful.

  But all my good intentions ignite, the moment my lips touch hers. I slide my hand through her silky hair to the back of her head. She gasps in a breath and parts her lips.

  That moment.

  That. Right. There.

  I slide my tongue along her lips and taste the sweet hint of chocolate. It’s overwhelming but not nearly enough. I deepen the kiss, tasting her. Our tongues tangle and fight for control.

  My senses return when I hear and feel her moan low in her throat. That noise—the one from the restaurant. The one that she gave the cake, but I wanted for myself. I stop. I have to. Placing a truly chaste kiss on her forehead, I take her keys, opening the door.

  “Good night, love.” I need to bang my head against the fucking wall and go before I get carried away. I turn and head down the stairs. To safety.

  My flat is empty when I get there. I need time and a glass of whiskey to sort myself. Tonight’s distraction became an emotional carnival ride.

  She’s beautiful, and intriguing, and I want nothing more than to spend ridiculous amounts of time with her. Learning her, knowing her. Christ, the way I want to know her. The taste of her lips, and the ways they move. Her curves just barely hinted at under that dress she wore tonight. My thoughts are sinful, at best.

  Eyes closed, I lay my head back against the cushions of the sofa and let my mind go—just for a minute. I can’t stop it. Her chest rising and falling. Her pulse thumping to match mine. The feel of her skin beneath my fingertips. The pale pink flush on her cheeks as it creeps down into the neckline of her dress caressing the tops of her breasts. The featherlight touch as she moves her hands up my chest to land on my shoulders.

  Fuck.

  The key scrapes in the lock and I reach for one of the throw pillows on the sofa, jamming it down across my crotch and rest my tumbler of whiskey on top. Looking fucking casual, if I do say so. Finn tumbles through the door with a tiny little blond thing. That’s just what I need tonight; to hear them through the thin-as-shit walls. His “friend” is completely engrossed in him and hardly acknowledges me, but the laughing grin from Finn speaks volumes. Shoving the pillow aside now that I’m no longer going to embarrass myself, I grab my earbuds and glass, and head up to my loft bedroom.

  The squeals and giggles floating up the stairs promise to make tonight unbearable. I need to invest in noise-canceling headphones. Doesn’t matter how loud I crank the volume, I can still hear them, Finn and his pixie. I try my best to ignore them and just fall asleep, but I give up. Before I register what’s happening, my hand slides down my stomach to the waistband of my boxer briefs. Between the noises coming from downstairs and my lingering thoughts of Lisbeth, I reach in and grip my cock, stroking firmly. The release is not nearly satisfying—not near as good as what I imagine with Lis.

  Francie meets me at the door of the bar the next morning ready to tear into me. He was either waiting by the window or heard my piece-of-shit car coming from a mile away.

  “The fuck do you think you’re doin’?” he bellows, throwing his hands in the air spilling coffee all over the floor. I should have expected this. Talking Jimmy into trading shifts with me had been no big deal, but I hadn’t thought about how bad the fallout would be today. I’ve got to work a full double shift now, I’m stuck here until closing.

  “Francie, I took her out to dinner. That’s it.” I try to speak calmly, like I’m trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I walked her to her door and used my manners—made sure she was safe home and tucked away for the night. What did you think I was going to do to her?” He’s being ridiculous.

  Huffing a big breath out through his nose, Francie glares. “I’ve already talked to Lissy. I am well aware that ye behaved the gentleman.” What the fuck? “But that girl has been through enough. She doesn’t need you to work her up, lead her on and break her heart, Aidan. She doesn’t need that shite again.” He looks devastated, fucking heartbroken for her.

  “Francie, what happened with Lisbeth? I know her family is not involved, but something else must have happened to put you in this mode…” I move him toward the bar and grab his coffee cup to refill it for him while I grab some for myself.

  We’re going to settle this. I need to know what’s got him so up in knots. Fuck, I need to know what I’m dealing with in her.

  I’m clearly invested in this girl—but I’m not prepared for the shite I pull out of Francie over the next hour while I clean and prep McBride’s for the busy Thursd
ay night. It takes some prodding and a little Jameson in his coffee, but I think I get it. All of it. The whole shitty story of the fucking bastard that broke her heart.

  Francie assures me that I’ll not have to deal with the arse and Lisbeth’s sister, but, God help me, if I don’t feel my heart squeeze. I get it, now—Francie’s protection over her, Finn and Jimmy’s affection—she’s family to them. They’re family to her. Blood may be thicker than water, but love is thicker than anything.

  Chapter 7

  Lis

  That kiss. The sweet touches throughout the night simmered on the walk back to my apartment and then when he kissed me? I thought I was going to melt right there.

  Francie has been blowing up my phone most of the night. I ignored it all through dinner, but when it rings as I lean my back against the door, I answer.

  “Lisbeth, where’ve you been?” he fusses and just that quickly, I’m pulled from my happy little bubble. His voice sounds mildly panicked. “What are you doing, love? Tell me you’ve got your head on straight and you’re not gettin’ caught up in a boy.” He sounds pissed.

  “Francie, I’m fine. We had dinner and talked,” I soothe, hoping I can calm him down a little. “Aidan walked me home and was an absolute gentleman.” Surely that’ll put his mind at ease—or not. I talk to him for a good twenty minutes over the background of a full McBride’s. The last thing I want is for Aidan to get ripped apart for taking me out.

  It’s time for me to start dating again. I’ve been working so hard in school and life to move forward from the devastation that Maryse and Rob left me with.

  Like Gracyn said, this might be the perfect distraction.

  Aidan is nice, but this isn’t where his life is. His family, his career, are all back in Dublin and this is just a temporary reprieve.

  Francie finally calms and promises not to lay Aidan out in the morning.

  Ending the call, my thoughts go straight back to that kiss. It’s all I can think about while doing my thing and getting ready for bed. I return the dress to Gracyn’s closet and grab my laptop as I hop into bed. I slide under the covers and get comfy, pulling up a new browser to Google Aidan Kearney. And his photography. I have no idea why he’s working in a bar.

  I scroll through images of children in third world countries. Images of major political players across the globe. Of celebrities and their families. I scroll through the seemingly endless photographs, stopping when my eyes start to blur. Aidan is not just talented, he might well be famous. The photos he’s taken have been published, printed, and shared thousands of times over. He’s had his work in every major news outlet, both print and digital.

  Then there are pictures of him in a school uniform showing an adorable, much younger version of Aidan. His dark hair flops down over his forehead, but his eyes. His eyes are the same. They are an absolutely stunning clear dark blue like the evening sky as the moon chases the sun across it. There is a cute little girl sitting with him. Her blond piggy tails are lopsided, but her bright green eyes are all smiles for Aidan. I don't even think when I crop her out and save the picture to my desktop.

  I fall asleep thinking of him, about why a relationship with him won’t work. We’re in such different places looking for much different things.

  With most of the staff being on spring break, I’ve worked back-to-back shifts Thursday, Friday, and Saturday this week and I’m absolutely exhausted. But I made the rest of my tuition for summer session and a little extra.

  I drag ass home after closing up the bistro late Saturday night. I need a shower so bad right now and then to just crawl into bed. I want to wash away the grease and sweat. And, I really, really want the hot water all to myself, just one last time before Gracyn gets back.

  I thought she was getting home tomorrow, but the lights are on and the sound of water running hits me as I throw my keys on the table by the door. “G, you here?” Instead of waiting for an answer, I crack open a bottle of wine and pour us each a glass. I have a feeling we’re going to need it to get the dirt from this past week out of Gracyn.

  “Hey, is that you?” she yells as she slides into her room and shuts the door leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her. “Go shower—I know you feel gross. I’ll open some wine for when you’re done.”

  “Way ahead of you.” It’s like she knows that she has no choice but to spill her shit. I grab my shorts and a thermal tee, and pray for just a little hot water.

  “Oh. I think I might have used all the hot water, so…” And there it is, reason 4,852 that I need to graduate early and start making real money. Our place is so small and so old, we’re never guaranteed enough hot water for both of us.

  I rush through my tepid shower to find Gracyn curled up in the corner of the couch. “Why are you home early?” She looks up from refilling her glass with this look on her face that I can’t quite place. Sad, maybe, but not quite. “Are you okay? I hardly heard from you this week.” She’s already shaking her head before I can finish the question.

  “Let’s talk about you. How was your date with…what’s his name again? Tell me about your week.” She’s in full-on avoidance and I give her the squinty eyes as she downs half her glass of wine.

  “Aidan.” I’ll give her a little space before I press. “It was great. We talked over beers Wednesday night and he…he pulled me in for that kiss you seemed to think I needed. Francie about lost his shit over that and then we talked about you being away and me having to stay here and work, and school and his—” I pause to take a breath from my crazy and Gracyn looks really sad. “G, talk to me. I’ll give you every detail later, but, honey, you need to tell me what happened. Is it…? Do we need to call the police? Do I have to kick someone’s ass?” She’s staring into her glass with an intensity I rarely see on her. “Gracyn, talk to me. I’m really starting to worry.”

  With a huge sigh, she refills both of our glasses and finally looks up at me. “I…I met someone.” I try to school my features, but I feel my eyes growing wide. Gracyn has sworn up and down that she will not get serious with anyone until after she graduates. She never really wants to talk about why, but she’s stuck to it for the past two and a half years. I give her the go-ahead nod so she’ll keep talking.

  “He’s in a band that was playing at one of the beach bars and,” she forces a huff of air out through her nose, “it’s just shitty timing. He’s in a band, for God’s sake, did I mention that? He’s in a band.” She goes back to staring down her wine and I struggle, not knowing what to say.

  Gracyn’s studying to be an accountant. She’s supposed to take over her dad’s accounting firm, so a guy in a band is pretty far outside her wheelhouse. This doesn’t fit to Mr. George’s ideals at all, but I feel like there’s more to it.

  “Tell me why this one is a big deal.” She glares at me over the top of her wine glass and I shrug, deflecting her hard look. “What’s he like?” I draw out the he, hoping she’ll at least give me a name.

  “His name’s Gavin, and he’s different, not like…” She shakes her head, seeming to need to pull herself together. “God, he’s so interesting—well read, crazy smart…” She draws her brows together and gets lost inside her brain.

  “Where’s the bad part, G?” This girl has been my rock, and it kills me to see her struggling like this.

  She pinches at her lower lip and blinks several times before continuing. “We spent hours upon days talking on the beach—arguing over books and getting to know all the crazy, stupid little things about each other. He hates pickles, and loves documentaries.” She looks so far away from this place—this moment.

  “And then I came home and he moved on to his next spring break gig with his band. The end.”

  “But you got his number, right?” The look on her face tells me everything I don’t want to hear. “G, you did, didn’t you? Exchanged numbers—email? Facebook?”

  “We deleted each other’s contact info before I left. You know how this goes, the timing was shitty and that’s the end o
f it.” I can’t believe her. “Now, tell me about Aidan.”

  Chapter 8

  Aidan

  She comes in a couple hours after I open for the day. It’s been weeks since we had dinner. Since I left her at her door with just that kiss. It’s been playing on a loop in my fucking mind.

  School is her priority, she was clear on that. Very clear. And I respect that and her need to devote time and energy to her studies. I waited a full week before I texted her, other than the one I sent the next morning telling her how much I enjoyed our evening. But she didn’t respond. Since then, I’ve spent a lot of time talking myself out of pursuing her. A lot of really good reasons to let this thing go. I’m not long for this small town.

  The photo shoots I’ve picked up over the past couple weeks have gotten me noticed again by the right people. Maybe it’s too soon to get back to it? It’s been less than six months since I stepped away from my camera, from my career. My family—Michael and his wife— were so much more important at the time, but if I wait any longer, it’ll be that much harder to get back to it. I can’t lose momentum again.

  But, this girl.

  She settles in at the corner of the bar, dropping her bag on the chair next to her. The push and pull of her is bloody confusing. I make my way over to her, wiping the bar as I go. “Wasn’t sure I’d see you again. You weren’t avoiding me, then, were you?” Christ. Where the fuck did that come from?

  “Sorry. It’s been crazy. I…” She sighs pointing to the Guinness tap, her head tilting to the left just a little. “I had tons of work this week and spent every last minute in the hospital. I’m exhausted. I don’t know if I’m gonna make it.”

  Hospital? “Are you all right?” I reach across the bar for her wrist, my thumb automatically caressing the tender skin that I love. I’ve completely forgotten all about letting things go.