Just This Once (The Kings)

I can’t even remember the last night I slept in my own apartment. Actually, that was a lie. It was weeks ago when Whip finally told me to stop sneaking around town and just leave some clothes at his place.

So much for casual.

Tightness still gripped my chest when I skirted questions from my mother about what I’d been up to, but otherwise Whip and I had been doing a clever job of keeping our relationship under wraps. If anyone noticed the absence of my car at the apartment, no one had said a thing.

Cocooned in his plush comforter, it felt like no one and nothing in the world could touch us. I stretched and reached for him, only to find his space in the bed empty. It was cool to the touch, so I shifted and gathered the blankets around me, hoping to steal their warmth. Lying on my back, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and stared up at the wood beams in the vaulted ceiling.

“Why have such a big house for one person?” It was a rambling, inside thought that tumbled from my lips.

For a moment it was quiet until I heard Whip answer from the bathroom. “I wanted to be sure my siblings had a place to stay if they ever needed it.”

Affection pierced my heart. “Do they ever stay?”

“No.” His clipped, one-syllable response was heartbreaking. I rolled to my belly and curled into his side of the bed. “Good morning.” Still groggy and feeling well used, I kept my eyes closed and smiled into Whip’s pillow.

“Morning.” The sleep in his voice made the syllables rough and cracked. I felt the bed dip under his weight before a light kiss brushed the top of my head. When he retreated just as quickly as he’d come, I blinked my eyes open.

Across the room, Whip’s back was to me as he was riffling through one of his drawers. He was already dressed for the day in slacks and a button-up shirt.

I sat up, tucking the blankets around me. “Early day?” I asked.

It was moments like these when unease skittered under my skin. Moments when I had to remind myself I had no hold over this man and that our arrangement was supposed to be casual.

Even when they feel anything but casual.

He turned, hitting me with the full force of Whip King, impeccably dressed in dark slacks and a shirt and tie. My stomach tightened at the way his chest filled out his shirt and nipped in at his tapered waist.

“My interview for lieutenant is today.” His face was unreadable.

“You’re a shoo-in.” I smiled brightly, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Dad loves you.”

Whip’s reply was only a strange, dismissive grunt as he turned to the mirror for one last check of his appearance.

My brain scrambled. “You deserve the promotion. He’ll see that.”

Whip offered a flat-lipped smile and nod. Worry pricked at my brain. I had picked up on a few signs that things were slightly off between us, but I’d found ways to rationalize each and every one.

Extra hours in his workshop. He’s finishing up his project while I worked with the Bluebirds on details for the carnival.

The internet search about a private investigator I’d peeked at over his shoulder. Probably something work related . . . maybe?

The woman’s jean jacket hanging in the back of his closet. Okay, fine. That one is kind of odd.

Before he left the bedroom, Whip stopped in the doorway. “Meet me for lunch if you’re free? Maybe we can drive a few miles out of town and find a quiet country road.”

I pouted. “I have plans to finalize the carnival. It’s our last hurrah. Plus, I promised Bug to help at the library. According to her, their Children’s Department is a travesty, and it’s the only way I know how to repay her for all her help with the foundation. Rain check?”

“Sure.” I got a curt nod before he checked his watch.

I frowned. “Everything okay?”

“Just nerves, I guess.” He crossed the room one last time and planted a kiss on my mouth.

I wanted to arch into him, let his cologne cloak me. Instead, Whip pulled back, leaving my heated skin to chill in the empty bedroom after he left.

Sneaking around was fun and forbidden at first, but lately it had been feeling more and more like a burden. Just last week we’d passed each other downtown, and I had to catch myself before I threw my arms around him. Instead, I smiled politely, waved, and kept walking.

It was pure torture.

There was no denying that my emotions were taking the helm. Logically, I knew Whip and I were spending every spare moment together. His actions matched his words. Whatever was blossoming between us was natural and evolving.

I didn’t need to worry about past insecurities or that he could use my feelings against me.

I just had to trust my gut.

Trouble was, my gut was telling me Whip may have more secrets than just the fact he was sneaking around with his boss’s daughter.

The summer sun filtered through the leaded windows of the Outtatowner Public Library, casting a warm glow on the creaky wooden floor. The familiar scent of well-loved books and the hushed murmur of whispered conversations greeted me as I stepped into the cozy building. The soft, ambient hum of fluorescent lights overhead mingled with the occasional squeak of chairs being pulled out and the rustle of pages turning. Mahogany shelves, lined with stories waiting to be discovered, reached toward the ceiling, their polished spines creating a mosaic of colors. The air held a quiet reverence, broken only by the rhythmic clacking of the librarian’s keyboard and the distant hum of the ancient air conditioner.

Sunbeams painted patterns on the worn carpet, guiding my steps through the doorway, where adventure and romance awaited readers on every shelf. The air seemed to shimmer with the promise of hidden tales. I sucked in a lungful of breath and closed my eyes.

Since my childhood, libraries had always been a safe space.

A refuge.

Somewhere I could read tales of romance or adventure or live through the perils of a murder mystery from the safety of its walls.

Despite its charm, the library was surprisingly empty as I wound my way through the stacks toward the heart of the building. A few children picked through books, but I immediately understood why Bug had sought out my help. I worked with kids every day and knew that in its current state, the Outtatowner Public Library, with its muted greens and drab beiges, was extremely un-fun.

When Bug saw me, she ended her conversation with the librarian and met me halfway. “Glad you could make it. Thank you for coming.”

“It’s the least I can do for everything you’ve put in motion for the foundation. How can I help?”

Bug started walking, and I fell in step beside her. “I have volunteered at this library for a long time. It hasn’t changed much in those years, but there are some of us who are starting to feel like that’s a problem.”

I hummed and considered as she continued.

“Our adult programming is strong, but the programs for kids are underwhelming. We see fewer and fewer children every day. We can’t keep up with phones and video games. I was hoping someone with your experience could help generate a few new ideas. Help liven things up around here.”

I rubbed my palms together. “First, I am honored you thought of me. I have always loved what libraries can do for their communities.” I looked around and thought about what the children of Outtatowner could gain from visiting the library. “I guess my first thought would be whether or not you’ve developed programs for mid-kids or teens?”

“Mid-kids?”

“Kids around first grade until middle school. They’re not babies, but they’re also not teenagers yet. A lot of fun learning happens in those years. It’s during that critical time, you establish the library as a safe haven of sorts. They’ll be more likely to hang around as teens if you’ve lessened the barrier to entry. Kids love tech. The library should fully embrace that.”

A half-formed vision filtered into my imagination. I could see children building, exploring and laughing within those walls. It could be done with the right amount of vision, and resources, of course.

I only hoped Bug could see it too. “A library doesn’t need to only be a place where people come to check out books. It can be a place to gather and commune with their neighbors. It has the power to change communities—even make something like the King–Sullivan rivalry obsolete—but you have to start with the kids. Give them a place to gather. Somewhere they can explore, connect, and be inspired.”

Bug planted a hand on her hip. “Quite the impassioned speech for someone so new here, but I like your style.”noveldrama

“There’s always been something about a library that feels—I don’t know . . . hopeful?” I raked my fingers along the spines on the shelf.

Her eyes narrowed at me, but her lips held a faint smile. “You’re a bit of an odd bird.”

I smiled widely at her. “Thank you.”

Bug smirked. “I mean that in the best possible way, of course. When you live here as long as I have, you realize that many of the people born and raised in a small town often have small-town ways of thinking. We hate to admit it, but sometimes outsiders can bring in fresh perspectives. I will talk with the board to see about some of these changes. Can I get you to write a few ideas down that I might present to them?”

Realizing a compliment from Bug was a rare thing, I simply smiled. “Of course. I’m glad I could help.”

I turned to leave, but Bug stopped me when she raised a hand in the air. “One last thing before you leave. This thing between you and Whip. Will it be a secret for much longer?”

I went still, the walls of the room pressing in on me. I froze, unsure of how to react.

When I didn’t respond, Bug’s eyebrow lifted in challenge. “Do you deny it?”

Wide eyed, I barely shook my head as the blood whooshed between my ears.

A satisfied smile crossed her lips. “Just as I thought.”

“How did you—” I sputtered.

Bug smiled. “Not much gets past me around here. People ramble, mostly to hear themselves talk, but if you really listen, you hear all kinds of interesting things.”

Panic seized my chest as I imagined my father finding out what we had been doing. “Do you think my father knows?”

Her lips pursed. “Would that be the worst thing in the world? For you to be involved with a King? You’re both consenting adults.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that. My dad, he—” Ugh. I don’t know how to put this. “For me, in the end, it would be fine. My dad is protective, sure, but for Whip . . . he really deserves that promotion, and I don’t ever want to be the reason he doesn’t get it.”

“We all make choices.” The ominous tone in her voice sent shivers down my back. “Chief Martin seems rational enough to promote a man based on his merits and not the company he keeps. Plus, I’m certain my nephew is smart enough to know when to call it quits, and when to fight for what he deserves. Don’t ever forget—he’s a King.”

I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the job or something else entirely, but the finality in her statement had me nodding along like an idiot. “Yeah, I’m . . . I’m sure it’s fine. We just hadn’t really talked about making anything official. Things are still kind of new.”

“Of course, I understand. But for discretion’s sake . . .” Her eyes flicked down my front as her eyebrow crept up her forehead. “You may want to wear something other than my nephew’s T-shirt if you’re planning to keep gossip to a minimum.”