The Everest Brothers: Ethan - Hutton - Bennett

by Scott, S. L.

  I know he’s not calling me by my title but how he called me by the nickname he used to use. His rebellious ways speak to me on such a personal level that I lose my train of thought. “I don’t know.”

  That rogue smile appears again, but this time, he turns my way, putting the slightest of distances between our bodies. “At dinner, all I wanted was to ask you a million questions just to hear your voice speaking only to me again. Despite the answers, I would have taken the hit to have your undivided attention. When you were in my room, all I wanted to do was kiss you. I felt you near before I saw you here. Do you know how hard it is not to touch you? Not to bend you over this surface and do what I’ve been craving for months?”

  Breathless, I ask, “Months?”

  “Months. Tell me, Ally. Tell me you can’t let go of me like I haven’t been able to let go of you.” He’s so much stronger than I am. His emotions come on the wings of a confession, but his body stays just far enough away from mine to make me miss his heat.

  “What do you want me to say, Hutton? Because what I want and what I can tell you aren’t the same things.” I look down, my heart hurting. “I can’t be with you.”

  “Why?”

  Raising my eyes along with my chin, I reply, “I’ve told you. I’ll lose everything. This country and the throne are rightfully mine. What do you want me to do? Toss that away like it means nothing.”

  “So you’ll toss me away instead? Princess?” The difference in his usage is apparent as his defenses go up. He puts cheese on one of the sandwiches and then tops it with bread.

  “You don’t want me to answer.” And I don’t want to say the words either. I’ve craved his touch, his kisses, lying in his arms in the early morning hours when the rest of the world is sleeping. Being so close to him now, feeling the coarse hairs rub against my skin, is breaking my heart. I need to be stronger than this . . . and he deserves a better answer than I can give him. He deserves not to be taunted because I can’t give him anything.

  “You’re right. I want a sandwich, and then I’m going to bed. The meetings should only take a few days. I appreciate the hospitality your country has shown me.” With his eyes staring into mine, he takes a bite of the sandwich, and with a full mouth, I’m sure just to bother me, he says, “Good night, princess,” and walks into the dark.

  The swinging door is the only sound heard, and I turn, resting my palms on the metal counter, hoping it can cool me down. When I look down, I see his creation. I read what is written in mustard on one piece of bread, “We once said,” and then read the other, “I love you.”

  We did, and I meant those words.

  I’m not allowed to mean them anymore, but as much as I want to deny tasting the words on my tongue, I can’t suppress the feelings I have for him inside.

  “Oh, Hutton.” I sigh, then slap cheese on the bread and take a bite of the sandwich, forever hiding the truth inside.

  12

  Hutton

  “Relax,” Bennett says, at ease in a burgundy leather wingback.

  Sitting in a matching chair across from him, I lean forward to stop my knee from bouncing by resting my forearms on my legs. “Bixby and Tracey. What are we dealing with?”

  He looks over at the pair across the library from us. They’ve been whispering frantically for the past hour while staring at a laptop.

  “They’ll be cut first.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Shrugging, he says, “Hunch.”

  I shake my head and then rub my temples. I didn’t sleep well, though it’s not the bed’s fault. That mattress was amazing and the pillows comfortable. My mind kept me up, my body itching to find Ally making me restless. I finally stopped the tossing and turning torture and went for a run around the palace grounds.

  The fog was thick, but the ground dry. The crunch under my sneakers was the only sound I heard for four miles. I ran hard, wanting to dampen the memories. I ran fast, needing to escape my traitorous heart. I ran as far as I could just to feel my heartbeat for any reason other than the sleeping beauty behind me.

  With exhaustion filling my muscles, I ask, “Are you ready for round one?”

  “I’m always ready.”

  He is too. Bennett’s a machine. It doesn’t matter if he parties late or works overtime, he’s always the first to rally. It’s time to be on top of my game. I was requested to attend this submission process to back the groundwork laid by my brother. Being the numbers guy, they didn’t want to waste time going over irrelevant details of Everest Enterprises. My proposal is solid. My brother’s pitch is spot-on. We’re prepared for this meeting.

  But we still have to sit out here and wait. While Bennett scrolls on the screen of his phone, I stand in front of the modern prose section of shelves. The library is impressive in size, but the collection of rare books far exceeds any I’ve ever seen or even heard about.

  My left eye twitches when I find Shakespeare shelved here. “What the hell?”

  “What is it?” Ben asks.

  I should let it go, but I’m tempted to move them. Then again, the classic literature of Shakespeare wasn’t considered classic back then. Of course, his talent wasn’t recognized at the time either, making these dusty editions more confusing than ever. I almost pick one up to check which edition this is, but that’s going too far, so I take my seat again. “Nothing. Let’s go over the presentation.”

  Thirty minutes later, Mr. Yamagata and his assistant leave the library across the hall with big smiles on their face. He seems like a confident man in general, but his expression is almost celebratory.

  Shit.

  A petite, gray-haired woman with square heels and pointed glasses stands at the entrance to the library tapping the eraser end of a pencil on a clipboard. I feel like I’m back in school, and I’m being called into the principal’s office.

  We stand, and I follow Bennett into the meeting room. He’s the lead, but I’m his point person.

  * * *

  “I can’t say much, but I liked what you said today.” Jakob Sutcliffe isn’t anything like what I would think a prince would be like. He’s looking back at us from the passenger seat of one of their badass SUVs.

  Bennett asks, “Is this armored?”

  “Bullet and explosion proof. Of course, if something tries to blow up the vehicle, you have other concerns on your hands.”

  I bring us back to the meeting. “Do you think we’ll make it to the next round, or are you taking us out because you feel sorry we were already cut?”

  Jakob laughs. “You weren’t cut. We really did like the package plan you put together. Yours is the only one fully customizable. The other bids were specific but had no flexibility. I think you have a good shot of winning this bid.”

  I pat his shoulder. “Good news.”

  He adds, “We’ll celebrate Everest Media moving to the next round.”

  Bennett says, “Yeah, we will. So tell us, anything we need to know before meeting women here?”

  “No,” he replies, “nothing different from when I was in Los Angeles.”

  Bennett’s interest is piqued, and he sits up. “You were in LA? I lived there for a few years.”

  “I studied at Pepperdine.”

  “Damn, that’s a prime location.”

  “Yeah. It was nice. Those California girls will get you in trouble, though.”

  We laugh, but it hits home with Bennett. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Jakob says, “Video surfaced of me skinny-dipping in the ocean my tenth year of school. My ass is brighter than the moon at night, so I was quickly identified. My parents weren’t amused. My sister was vocal when the media tried to release the footage, or as she called it to tease me, the ass-age, and it was suppressed.”

  “Princess Arabelle or Marielle?” I ask, suddenly with a vested interest.

  “Belle. She gets a bad rap, but she’s got a good heart.”

  Ally with a bad rap? That doesn’t make sense. “A bad rap for what?”

&
nbsp; “She’s very . . .” He pauses, then says, “Strong-willed.”

  “Feisty,” I mumble, getting a clearer picture of the woman I know and the princess he’s talking about.

  Looking at me curiously, he says, “Yes. Precisely.”

  “Yeah.” I look out the window and see tiny lanterns lighting the cobbled streets. I know she is firsthand. She’s torn between duty to her country and duty to her heart. They don’t mix. “I heard your sister went to the University of Texas in Austin. Bennett and I both went there too. Small world.”

  The SUV pulls over, and Jakob hops out. When we get out, he says, “The pub’s up here.”

  “You can just walk around without security?”

  He shrugs. “Most of the time. We’re a small country and half of it’s family.”

  “And the other half?” Bennett asks.

  “Tourists. We get some of the hottest women in Europe visiting our shores. There won’t be a lack of females tonight. They outnumber us.”

  “Why is that?”

  Gripping my shoulder, he asks, “Haven’t you heard, Hutton?”

  “Guess not.”

  “Women rule here. We’ve only had one king. King Sutcliffe. He had five daughters and refused to give up the kingdom he worked so hard to establish to a man who would change the name and take over.”

  I must have missed that tidbit. Knowing there’s a queen is one thing, but realizing the reason behind it is a whole other thing. “Fascinating.”

  We reach a door that looks more like it leads to a dungeon than a pub. Pulling it open, Jakob continues as we walk inside, “He decreed only women rule in Brudenbourg. So the firstborn daughter always ascends to the throne.” Nodding at the bartender, he apparently hangs out here enough to know the important people.

  “Probably wise.”

  Jakob laughs. “Probably. With hearts of lions, women are still the fairer sex in looks and in measure.”

  Sitting around a square table off to the side near a dartboard, Bennett asks, “What happens if she only has sons?”

  “It falls to the next female in line for the throne. A sister. A cousin. An aunt. Who knows really? It’s never happened.”

  “Amazing. So if Princess Arabelle chose a different path—”

  “She won’t,” he answers casually as if this is common knowledge. “She was born and bred for this life. She only rebels because there’s a restless fire inside her. Once she’s crowned, she’ll settle down.”

  I like that fire inside her. I’d hate to see it extinguished. “What do you mean?”

  He says, “Texas was Belle’s get out of Dodge card. Although she could get into the business program on her own merits, my parents pulled strings since it was past the deadline. She was here on a Friday and there by Sunday.”

  “Why?”

  “Several things, but mainly it was decided she needed an image makeover. The people of Brudenbourg love her because they feel like she’s one of them. She fucked up a few times. Dated cads. Drank too much. Partied too hard.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “Not when you’re the future queen.”

  I have so many questions, but two pitchers arrive with three pint glasses and an eyeful of cleavage that, by the looks of it, wants to bust free from the green ruffled shirt squeezing them. Since she’s bending over me, I try to be polite and not look, but the waitress is proud and brushes her tits on my shoulder. “Can I get ye anything else?”

  “We’re good,” I reply, keeping my eyes forward. Her tits come to rest against me as she leans down and says, “Jakob Sutcliffe brought me the delicious meats tonight. Don’t go gettin’ too drunk, all right, handsome?”

  Wow. “I think we should order another round now.”

  My back is whacked. “He’s funny too.”

  Jakob is laughing, but Bennett has his eyes on her ass as she walks away. Jakob says, “Sabine Rosalie is fucking fine, but her daddy has a shotgun longer than my leg that he rigged into a four barrel.”

  “I can see why,” Bennett says. “She is . . . wow.”

  I add, “And friendly. Very friendly.”

  My brother can’t seem to put his eyes back in their sockets, though he manages to form a complete question. “Are all Bruden women that hot? Your sisters sure are.”

  I half expect Jakob to throw a punch. The guys I know back home are protective over their little sisters. Jakob just drinks his beer. When he sets it down, he says, “I’m afraid so, and stay away from my sisters.” He gets up, and says, “I’ll be back.”

  Bennett laughs a little too hard. “Too late.”

  As soon as he’s gone, a grin I recognize as trouble slides into place. “What did you do?” When he keeps grinning like the cat who ate the canary, it dawns on me. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t, Ben.”

  “I didn’t.”

  I exhale, relieved. “Keep your distance from Marielle, or we could lose this whole deal.”

  “Look at her, though, Hut. She sure is fine.” He adds, “One little make-out sesh won’t harm anything.”

  “The fuck it won’t,” I say, running my hand through my hair. “Stay away from her. Don’t fuck this up for us.”

  “Why are you griping at me? You’re the one banging his other sister.”

  “I’m not banging her; that’s why I have a case of royal blue balls, fucker. He doesn’t know about Ally and me nor will he.”

  “No wonder you’ve been so fucking uptight lately. You’ve lost your sense of humor, and you have no patience. The doctor prescribes a night of fucking to ease the pain.”

  “Haven’t you ever cared about anyone? What about . . .” I snap my fingers as I try to recall her name. “What’s her face? You brought over for the Super Bowl.”

  “Ashley? She was crazy. Like fucking psycho crazy. I once woke up to her trimming my toenails and storing them in a jar that had nails in it, and she talked to me in this baby voice. What a fucking dick softener that is.”

  Starla comes to mind. “I hate that, too.”

  “The baby voice disturbs you more than the creepy toenail collection?”

  Chuckling, I correct, “Both behaviors send me running.”

  “Thought so. So I know you’re all wound up about Belle—”

  “Ally.”

  “Whatever, dude. But that Sabine Rosalie.” He whistles and plucks the front of his shirt. “She’s a looker, and for some odd reason, she seems partial to you. So it seems to me that you’re caught between Sabine Rosalie and a hard place. Why don’t you find a soft place to land for the night? I spy two very large soft spots coming our way now.”

  Sabine Rosalie drops another pitcher on the table and pours the remainder of the first into the second while pressing against me. “You’re Americans?”

  “We are,” I reply, looking at the full pitcher of beer.

  “Like movie stars. Are you staying at the palace with Jakob or in Luxum tonight?”

  Bennett asks, “What do you recommend, Sabine Rosalie?”

  She takes the empty seat next to me and rests her chin on the palm of her hand. Batting her eyelashes, she says, “I know a cozy place just down the road from here. What’s your name, handsome?”

  “Hutton?”

  Shit. Of all the times I hear my name roll off her tongue, it has to be when another woman is flirting with me? Fuck.

  Sabine Rosalie pops up from the seat and curtsies. “Princess.”

  Ally nods once, but says, “Sabine Rosalie. Long time, no see.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” With tension flaring, she bounces out as soon as she stands. There’s definitely a story given the chill between them.

  I start at the heels that highlight Ally’s toned calves and work my way up, slowly taking in every inch and enjoying the journey over her bare legs. Up higher, I’m met with a very short dark blue suede skirt. Fuck me. Last night was torture to my cock when she was in the kitchen in those boxer shorts, but this? It’s almost too much. Talk about kicking a man when he’s down. Sh
e hits hard and looks so good doing it.

  A fitted white T-shirt gives a sneak peek of a lacy bra underneath. Makes me curious if it matches her panties.

  Her hands are on her hips, and I remember another time she stood like that. The biggest difference between then and now? Clothes.

  It’s not gone unnoticed that she’s looking better than the last time I saw her in Austin. She may carry new burdens, but her body is incredible. I stand, letting my gaze glide up her body to appreciate those curves I love to trace . . . with my tongue. “Princess.” See? I can play along.

  The daggers in her eyes disappear as the heat from her anger cools. “What are you doing here?”

  Jakob shows back up. “I brought them. What are you two doing here?”

  “Girls’ night.”

  Jakob’s mouth drops open. “Is that—”

  “Marielle,” Ally replies with a proud grin. “I finally got her in a pair of jeans.”

  Standing, Jakob says, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to have her here, Belle.” He walks around her and heads straight for his younger sister.

  “What’s wrong with jeans?” I ask, watching Marielle argue with her brother.

  Ally looks back but shows no real concern. “We’re supposed to dress demurely,” she mumbles. “Screw the rules. At least for tonight.”

  She’s too fucking hot for demure. “Because of the whole royal family thing?”

  “Pretty much,” she says, taking the chair that Sabine Rosalie briefly occupied. “Hey, Bennett.”

  “Hey, Al.”

  My mouth falls open as I sit down. “How come he gets to call you that? What happened to the whole princess respect thing?”

  “I loosen up under the influence of a good stout.”

  She sets her almost empty glass of dark beer on the table, and says, “Want to buy me another?”

  “Sure thing,” I snap. “Bennett.”

  He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “Fine,” but still heads for the bar.

  With only a few minutes alone, I decide to take her in. She’s different here. Mixed up. Hard to read. Completely vexing.