King Maker (King Maker 3)

A knock came at the door and Isla’s face lit up. “That must be Jonas.”

Kalen grumbled before shoving a fork full of food into his mouth. I would have laughed if it didn’t feel as though an ocean separated us.

“Isla, you get more beautiful every day.”

I turned my attention to a rock-solid looking man who bent to kiss her cheek. He wasn’t fat but not skinny either. Another word I would say was solid. He had a head full of salt and pepper hair.

“And you must be Bailey,” he said, smiling as he walked over to shake my hand.

A glimpse at Kalen and I could see he wasn’t the happiest of men to find someone clearly enchanted with his mother.

“I’m Jonas. I own the pub down the hill. Isla is kind enough to offer me a home-cooked meal every now and then.”

“Is that the only reason you come sniffing around?” Kalen all but growled the words like an angry bear.

“Kalen,” Isla admonished. “I won’t have you be rude to my guest.”

Kalen stood and dropped his napkin on his cleaned plate. “I have to go.”

I stood too. “Can we talk for a minute?” I asked him, ready to apologize and explain my misplaced words from last night.

“I think we’ve said all that needs to be said.”

But and please hung on my tongue, but they weren’t given freedom as Kalen stomped out of the house.

“That laddie,” Isla said, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t think I’d taught him manners.”

Steps on the stairs announced Gabe’s and Turner’s appearance. Isla took over being host as I gathered mine and Kalen’s plates and headed to the sink to wash them.

That didn’t stop the hurt that speared my heart. But I wouldn’t give up. Not yet. I’d made a mistake, and hopefully it wasn’t too late to change it.

Sixteen

After breakfast Turner coaxed me to take a walk.

“It’s almost like home,” he said.

“It is. I can’t believe I’m here.”

My first trip outside of America. Though that hadn’t been the plan a few months ago. My failed honeymoon should have been.

“Are you okay?”

I gave him a brave smile. “Yeah, actually.”

I’d dodged a bullet. I would have married Scott for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m not just talking about that.”

He wanted to know if I was thinking about the kidnapping.

I looked off in the distance. “I can’t say I’m free of the nightmares. But I think I’m okay.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

A therapist would probably recommend it.

“No, not really,” I practically whispered.

I wanted to stop seeing the man’s face in my head, and talking about it only brought it to the surface even though he was in jail.

We walked more in silence, hand in hand, until he pulled me to a stop.

“Look,” he said, pointing off in the distance.

“Wow. Sheep.”

He laughed. “I think that one has got his eye on us.”

The big guy was several yards off, but I couldn’t help but wonder how soft he might feel if I could get close enough to touch him.

Turner, reading my thoughts, steered me in another direction.

“No. Let’s leave the sheep be,” he said on the tail of a chuckle.

They were wandering free, though they were numbered with what appeared to be spray paint. Something I would ask Isla about later.

For a long time we talked about home and all we missed after we found a spot to sit. Though there was a chill in the air, I had no desire to go back inside.

Never once did the conversation steer to us, which was what I needed at the moment until I broke that.

“How did you find out about the opportunity in Africa?” I asked.

His face radiated excitement as he spoke.

“A friend from college thought I might like it. She emailed me.”

Where I should have felt a twinge of jealousy, I didn’t.

“Someone special?” I asked.

He lost some of that warmth. “No, just a friend.”

Everything became awkward. Again, I’d stuck my foot in my mouth. When I tried to let go of his hand, he wouldn’t let me.

“Just let me hang on to you a little while longer.”

I got up and we began to walk back.

Every step back to the cottage was closer to the end I wasn’t sure I was ready to face. I loved this man with all my heart. I just didn’t love him enough to be worthy of him.

My silent thoughts were derailed when we neared the house and found a woman with long dark hair knocking at Kalen’s door. Isla opened it with Gabe peeking around her skirt. We weren’t close enough to hear what was being said at first.

“He’s here. I know he is,” the woman said.

Isla finally spotted us, but glanced away quicker than I could read her expression.

“Or maybe I can wait and hang out with your grandson until he’s available.”

Fear graced Isla’s face. “He’s out back,” she said begrudgingly.