Just One Scandal (The Kingston Family 2)

* * *

Beck felt the tension in the room. From Chloe’s stiff shoulders to the way her hands trembled as she hit the keys, he knew this move was taking everything she had inside her. And he was so damned proud of her.

Had he pushed? Yes, but nowhere she didn’t want to go. She’d just needed the right encouragement.

With the last tap of a key, they watched, waiting for the confirmation to appear on the screen. When it happened, she screenshotted the words. “And done!” She spun around to face him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. “I did it!”

“Yes!” He fist-pumped the air. “Go, Chloe!” he said, pulling her to her feet. “How do you feel?”

She treated him to a wide smile, the truest he’d seen since meeting her at her non-wedding.

“I feel free! I’ve been so worried about feeling like a failure if I don’t win or even final, but now that it’s done? So what if I don’t? I’ll find something else and try again. I have dreams and I’m entitled to them.” Her eyes shone with certainty.

“That’s my girl,” he said. “I mean…”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. I know what you mean.” She stepped away, obviously putting distance between them.

Distance he’d put there first. He needed to get his shit together when it came to Chloe and fast. Push-pull wasn’t his style.

He cleared his throat. “Just so you know, design professionals judge the contest, and there’s a good chance someone will notice your work regardless of where you place.”

Her eyes shone bright. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your belief in me. It’s been a while since anyone trusted in my skills. Not that my brothers aren’t great guys but–”

“They have their own ideas of what’s best for you. I get it. I think if Whitney had lived, the three of us would be the same way.” He let out a deep breath, surprised at how much better he felt admitting that out loud.

He never talked about Whitney. He kept everything bottled up inside him, safe and sound, memories he could take out and hold when he wanted to and push away when they hurt too much. He’d always believed looking at them in the light of day would be too painful to bear, but that admission hadn’t hurt quite the way he would have thought.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chloe grasped his hands, her cool palms bringing him back to the present.

He blinked and focused on her beautiful face. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Okay then.” She smiled. “Were you serious about going out for dinner?”

“Yes.” He’d have Ronnie make them a reservation. “Definitely.”

“Then would you mind if I went back to the loft to pull myself together? I can meet you at the restaurant if it’s easier.”

His gaze slid over her outfit, skinny black jeans with a white men’s shirt that shouldn’t look hot on her but did. And with her wavy hair pulled away from her face, he remembered what she’d looked like last night, his cock hard inside her, her soft body beneath his.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll come pick you up. Don’t worry about it. I had plans to have a quick drink with my brothers around six. Is eight o’clock too late?”

She shook her head. “Not at all.” She closed her laptop and gathered her things. “I’ll call an Uber.”

“Let me call you a car,” he said at the same time.

She laughed, her mood still obviously light. “I can get my own ride but thanks. See you tonight.”

She bounced out of the room and he watched her go, hair swinging behind her. His dick was hard in his pants, and his brain was on overdrive, confusion about what to do with his mixed feelings for her swirling in his head. Hence the drinks with his brothers. They knew nothing about meeting him, but he’d call them now. Because he needed them to help him sort his shit.

He glanced at the table and caught sight of papers Chloe had left there. He stepped forward to grab them to give them to her later when he saw the top page.

Realty listings.

Chloe was looking to move out.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Beck felt the gut punch of Chloe wanting to leave, which made no sense to him when he was actively keeping her at a distance. Luckily his brothers were more than willing to meet up after work, and at six p.m., he walked into Club TEN29, an upscale nightclub not far from his loft that was also open for drinks after work.

Beck had met the three owners when he’d rented them the building on property he owned. The men had made a huge success of their business since they’d opened four years ago, and Beck respected them for it. He spent time here with friends or his siblings when he wanted to relax early in the evening or make a night of it later on.