Kit

by S. M. West

  “She doesn’t work there anymore?” Maggie asks.

  “No.” Willow looks from Maggie to me. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but Flora was the only one allowed back there. Elliot left her in charge, and get this—the construction company used for the job were her brothers.”

  “Really? Why didn’t I know any of this?” The questions are more for myself than Willow but she straightens, her eyes growing round as if I’ve put her on the spot. “Sorry, I’m not blaming you. It’s more that I’m surprised I didn’t know this or think to ask at the time.”

  “You might not remember, but Elliot made it seem like a huge surprise for you.” Her tone carries a hint of scorn at the mention of him and in light of what this all means, I can’t say I blame her.

  We’ve never talked about Elliot, other than work-related stuff, but I had the impression she didn’t particularly like him. She likely held her tongue because I was dating him. I wish I’d asked or been more attuned to my reservations about him back then.

  “When he showed me the renovated room, he made it seem like I’d complained about the supply closet or something.”

  She nods, wrinkling her brow and twisting her lips. “Yes, and while the work was being done, he made a big deal out of it and didn’t want any of us to burden you with all of the details.”

  “What’s Flora’s last name? And do you remember the name of the construction company?” Kit pulls out his phone, glancing up at Willow.

  “Brown,” Willow says at the same time I say, “Flora Brown.”

  He groans at the common last name and Willow continues, “Off the top of my head, I can’t remember the company name, but I’m pretty sure we would have it in our records.”

  “The clinic’s gone. The files must be destroyed,” Logan says as if needing to remind us. I’ll never forget the explosion.

  “True, but most of our files are electronic. All invoices are scanned and archived,” Willow says.

  “Not only beautiful but smart.” Logan winks at her and I roll my eyes.

  “Okay, enough with the flirting.” Nick’s patience is wearing thin.

  “I can’t help myself.” Logan flashes a self-deprecating smile and Willow looks away, uncomfortable. I glare at him, giving him my best cut it out look.

  “What about Flora Brown? Do either of you know how to get in touch with her?” Kit moves us right along, now focused on his phone. “You don’t want to know how many Flora or F Browns there are in the city.”

  “I can get her home number from our files.” Willow shoves her hands into her pockets and I smile, thankful for her help.

  “That’s if she hasn’t changed numbers. How up to date are your files?” Nick steps closer to us.

  “I updated the files just before Flora and Elliot left, and that was five months ago.” There’s something to Willow’s tone that pokes at my insides, and the sensation only intensifies when she avoids my gaze, staring past my shoulder.

  “Elliot and Flora left at the same time?” Kit’s pointed question sucks all the air out of the room like a knife to a balloon as it connects with the strange vibe I’m getting from Willow.

  “Were Elliot and Flora close?” Logan’s now at my back, stepping into Willow’s line of sight.

  “No,” I say while Willow says, “Yes.”

  “Yes?” I cock my head to the side and wrinkle my nose, traveling back to that time at the clinic, trying to recall something I may have blocked. It is possible I never noticed anything more between Elliot and Flora?

  “Ye-s-s.” She pauses, evading my gaze by looking to Kit. “Flora worshipped Elliot. He could ask her to do anything, and she’d do it without question. I always figured she’d left and gone to work with him but I can’t say for sure.”

  “Okay, let’s start there.” I try to keep my voice neutral, not wanting her to think she’s upset me. She hasn’t.

  There’s something niggling at the back of my mind, but it isn’t Elliot and Flora. It’s more Willow’s reaction to this topic. Why is she avoiding me? Does she think I’m upset she didn’t say anything about Elliot and Flora? Does she think she should have said something to me at the time?

  I shake my head, trying to let it go. “In addition to getting us Flora’s number, can you check where she’s working now? Elliot’s at—”

  She cuts me off. “I know where he is. The clinic still gets the odd call for Elliot and I’ve had to pass along the messages. I should get going”—she turns toward the door— “and leave you guys to get ready for tonight. If you need anything else, let me know. I’m here to help in any way.”

  At the door, she spins to face us and rests her eyes on me. Her expression is more like herself, tender and kind, and my heartbeat hits its natural rhythm once again. We’re okay.

  “Thanks for everything, and I’ll call you tomorrow.” I give her a hug and everyone says goodbye.

  I shut the door and rest my back on the door. “Well, it looks like we have something to go on now. Hopefully Flora will have some useful information, like what the hell Elliot was doing.”

  It’s wishful thinking, but if they were an item, there’s a chance. A slim chance but it’s something.

  “Yeah, I think we should talk to Flora first thing tomorrow, in person.” Kit places his phone on the counter. “We’ve got a couple of hours until the party.”

  He sounds about as excited as I am for the reception tonight. As much as I’d like to miss it, I can’t, and that thought reminds me of our conversation before Willow arrived.

  “Nick, what were you saying about Maggie not going tonight?”

  Maggie opens her mouth to say something but my brother beats her to it. “Yes. We’ve got some good news.” He pauses as a face-splitting smile dawns across his face. “Maggie’s pregnant.”

  “What?” I bounce on my feet and run to them, pulling them both into a hug.

  Kit and Logan are next to congratulate the new parents-to-be. I’m laughing and tears spring to my eyes, unable to control the overwhelming sense of joy filling my chest.

  My brother is going to be a father.

  “How far along are you?” I wipe at the tear slipping from the corner of my eye.

  “I'm just three months, so it’s still early.” Maggie holds up her hand in caution but she’s beaming.

  “That’s why she isn’t going tonight.” Nick wraps his arms around her middle, hand splayed against her still flat stomach. “I don’t want her anywhere near this. And Caro, you’re going to have to stay with Kit for now.”

  “Okay.” I’m not wild about the idea of imposing any more than I already have on Kit, but I agree, it’s best to keep Maggie out of this.

  And truth be told, I want to stay with Kit even with everything that’s going on. This feels like a second chance. Like maybe once all of this is behind us, we might be able to try again.

  I don’t know if that’s something he even wants. He could be with Sally.

  “That’s cool.” Kit’s tone is casual, as unaffected as if we’re talking about the possibility of snow tomorrow, and it pisses me off.

  I can’t tell if it really is fine or if he’s as anxious as I am at the idea of being stuck together. Or maybe it’s something else and he’s just doing a really good job of hiding it? Am I imagining a hint of heat in his gaze?

  He has already made arrangements with Maggie to skip the garage until I can return home safely. This means it’s just the two of us, with only this situation to keep us busy, all day and all night.

  My heart thunders and I place a hand over my chest, willing the organ into a steady rhythm. But it’s useless. I can’t get a hold of this unbridled sensation coursing through me.

  Smashed to pieces by my own doing, my heart has never felt so alive, and I’m scared. It’s as if someone’s breathed life and hope back into me.

  And now, how the hell am I going to keep the few pieces of my heart together as I deny myself the man I love?

  Kit

  �
��I'll be at the party tonight, but after that, I’m not taking the lead on this.” Nick’s tortured tone breaks the unspoken tether between Caro and me.

  He’s not happy with sitting this out—he never has before—but Maggie and the baby must come first.

  “Absolutely. I’m on it.” Welcoming the relief at no longer being captive to Caro’s pointed stare and also needing to reassure Nick, my tone conveys my commitment to keeping his sister safe. At all costs.

  “Good. And Logan’s backup.” Nick rakes a hand through his dark hair. “I’ll be in the background. Throw the grunt work my way. I’ll make the calls. I'll do the research, but you and Logan have to be out there.”

  Maggie rubs at his arm to soothe his guilt. Nick’s a take-charge kind of person, and taking a back seat when his sister is in danger is difficult for him.

  “I’ve got your back.” Logan pats my shoulder and I don a wry grin. “We better get a move on. The party is in two hours.”

  “Yeah. We’re heading home, and I’ll see you there.” Nick hugs Caro, dipping his chin in goodbye at both Logan and me.

  Maggie and I hug once more. “Congrats, you’re going to make an awesome mom.”

  “Thanks, Kit.” She bites at her lip to stop from crying, and Logan, always the one to lighten the mood, swoops in and wraps his arms around the two of us.

  Once we’re alone, Caro grabs Willow’s things and takes them into the bedroom for a shower. Since there’s only one tub in the loft, I gather my tux and other things, preparing to shower, shave, and dress once she’s done.

  Yeah, I have a tux. Dressing up was never my thing, but since working at the garage and dealing with vintage cars with huge price tags, I’ve had to attend many events and auctions where you need to dress the part.

  While I wait, I read the text Sally sent an hour ago. She wants to see me, and I’m at a loss as to how to respond. Our ship has sailed, and I’m still ambivalent as to whether I ever wanted a ticket aboard. I have to tell her as soon as Caro is safe.

  She’s a great person, but starting something, or even exploring something, with any other woman feels wrong. That’s my problem. Any woman who isn’t Caro feels wrong.

  Not wanting to dwell on this, I check my messages. There’s only one, a short terse message from Mr. Pinter about his Ford. I can’t help but feel like I’m blowing this opportunity.

  I dial his number, glancing up at the closed bedroom door, hoping I have enough time to make the call before Caro is out.

  My work isn’t a secret, but Caro has the uncanny ability of seeing through me like glass. One look and she’ll know how important this purchase is to me and being able to pull my own weight at the Phoenix. No one has accused me of anything, but I don’t want people to think I’m riding Maggie’s coattails.

  The old man picks up on the second ring. “Pinter.”

  “Mr. Pinter, it’s Kit Jensen.”

  “Mr. Jensen, I’m surprised to hear from you. From your silence and neglect, I had the distinct impression you were no longer interested.” His disdain laces every word.

  Shit. Did I just lose this sale? Bile burns its way up my throat.

  “That isn’t the case. I’m still very interested, Mr. Pinter.” I amble over to the window, staring out at the mauve sky. “There’s just a lot going on right now and unfortunately my schedule has been upended.”

  I flinch at the deep-throated harrumph crackling through the phone line. “Mr. Jensen, don’t ever ignore me or leave me waiting. I have two other offers on the thirty-four that I’m seriously considering.”

  I'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he isn’t telling the truth. If he did have other offers, he wouldn’t be taking my calls, especially if the offers were better than mine.

  I did my research before reaching out to Pinter, and in addition to all of his other quirks, he’s a ballbuster. Before me, a few dealers came close to closing the sale but the old man walked away each time. I can’t have that happen to me.

  When I told Maggie about the car, she was thrilled at the prospect of bringing the beauty back to its original magnificence. And we both know a job like this will only add to the buzz and profile of the Phoenix.

  “Mr. Pinter, are you available day after tomorrow to finalize the deal?” I’ve already sent him the papers, and so far, he’s said he’s good with it.

  Silence. He likes to leave me hanging—it’s one of his quirks. I wait him out, willing to give him an earful of my breathing if that’s what it takes.

  “That sounds fine. But Mr. Jensen, this is your last chance. If you cancel or don’t show up, don’t call me again.” We agree on a time and Pinter ends the call.

  The mess in my gut lessens and I can’t help but smile. I’m going to close this Pinter deal.

  An hour later and Caro’s waiting at the front door. She’s in stilettos and a long satiny emerald gown with a side slit, the bronze of her toned leg peeking out. Her dark masses of curls are down and swept off her face.

  I stop a few feet from her, not trusting that I’ll keep my hands to myself. She is irresistible. She’s tall at five feet ten, but with her heels, we’re almost head to head. I could reach her mouth, kiss her, without having to bend.

  My tongue gets stuck to the roof of my mouth and I’m unable to say a damn thing. Clenching my jaw, I force one foot in front of the other and grab my keys off the ring on the wall.

  I barely give her a sideways glance, even more determined not to look at her when scents of jasmine and spice hit my nostrils. Why do I want what I can’t have?

  “You look nice.” I’m such an idiot. Is that the best I can come up with?

  She doesn’t seem bothered or insulted by my limited vocabulary or lack of eye contact.

  “You always did clean up really well.” Her plum-colored lips slide into a lopsided grin, and she steps into my space, running her hand down the front of my jacket.

  My heart leaps as if trying to claw its way out of my chest, toward her hand, her touch. Steadying my breath, I go for playful, not wanting to ruin the night before it’s even started.

  “Well, I’m all for wearing a tux.” I flash a wicked grin and she arches a brow, waiting for me to go on. “The first time I wore one, my girlfriend loved it so much, I had one of the best nights of my life.”

  She barks out a laugh and her head tilts back, exposing the creamy, sensual curve of her neck. Waves of silky dark curls ripple down her back, which my fingers itch to touch.

  Her sheer joy, evident in that lyrical, flirtatious sound of hers, strikes low in my belly. Fuck my life, this woman.

  Suddenly, she straightens and looks at me. Her cheeks are now pink, a few shades lighter than the color of her lipstick, and she’s glowing.

  “Oh, what a night.” Her eyes darken, heating with what I’m pretty sure are memories from prom night. “It was amazing, wasn’t it?”

  The desire in her eyes, something I haven’t seen in a while, causes my heart to skip a beat.

  Not in a good way.

  It hurts.

  Caro hasn’t looked at me like that in years, and there’s nothing I can do to keep that look. To make her want to be with me, look at me, like she is right now.

  I’m a decent guy and try to do good. Always. Even when I was on the wrong side of the law, as fucked up as that sounds.

  But I’ll never be the man she wants.

  “Let’s go,” I choke, heart in my throat.

  Traffic is heavy on most of the roadways, and the drive is filled with awkward silence. We pull into Casa Loma, a heritage landmark and one of the only true castles in North America, nearly forty-five minutes later.

  Luxury vehicles line one side of the entrance, with a few drivers, some who easily double as muscle, mulling around smoking, on their phones, or chatting. A few wear jackets embossed with logos like a padlock, shield, or trident, signifying private security firms, whereas others are traditional chauffeurs. Any way you dice it, the whole set-up reeks of wealth.

 
Inside the Gothic revival style castle, there’s a growing crowd. Women in jewels and dazzling evening gowns and men in tuxedos roam the conservatory where the reception is being held. This is so not my scene, but rather than focus on how out of place I am, I’m on high alert, constantly examining the area for any threats.

  The room is centered around a breathtaking stained-glass ceiling and surrounded by windows overlooking the gardens. It must be something to see in the day with the natural sunlight setting the room aglow.

  The idea behind tonight is to ply these wealthy socialites with food and drink until they’re feeling so good that they’ll open their hearts and wallets to the Home.

  It’s worked before and Maggie’s good at partnering with the right people, donors themselves, to help her put together the best invitation list. From what Nick has told me, the Home is doing really well and nights like tonight make a big difference in how much they can help those in need.

  Nick and Logan are easy to find, both looking just as uncomfortable as I feel among Toronto’s high society. I spend my time observing our surroundings while Caro talks with this or that hospital administrator or one wealthy person or another. She’s gracious and relaxed, and I get lost in just watching her.

  “How you doing?” Logan sidles up beside me, sipping from a bottle of sparkling water.

  “Fine. Good to have you back.” I eye him warily. “Are you staying put this time?”

  He shrugs and looks away. That pretty much says it all. He’ll be on the move again soon.

  We don’t talk about it, but he wasn’t always a wanderer. As an only kid from a crappy home with not much of a family to speak of, he’s like a brother to me and a solid friend. Always here. Until Phoebe.

  He fell madly in love with Maggie’s best friend and she broke his heart. She lives here, in Toronto, and that’s why he doesn’t want to be here. Or at least, that’s what I think.

  “Hey, I’m like the wind. Always on the move and hard to say what direction I’ll be headed tomorrow.”

  “Wow. Deep, man.” I grin, mimicking the sound of a pothead.

  “Shut up,” he snorts, bumping into me. “I’ll stick around until Caro’s safe. After that, I can’t say.”