My mouth falls open, and I take a step back. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
“What?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kris. The difference between us is I would have done what it took to make us work where you, you just did what it took to make you work.” He looks so surprised I could laugh. “I have a life, a boyfriend, family, friends, and a home I’m proud of. Can you say that? Can you honestly tell me you’re happy with Sophia and your life in LA?”
Kris closes the gap between us, his face only inches from mine. “At least I tried,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
His arm moves quickly as he wraps it around me and crushes his lips to mine. Kris’ tongue forces its way between my lips, and his other arm cups the back of my head. My body feels like it’s smoldering, slowly coming to life and turning into a fiery inferno.
“Am I interrupting something?”
I push Kris away and stumble backward, ashamed at my lack of control and furious that he’d be able to produce this kind of emotion from me.
“Todd!” I practically shout.
Kris stares at me, turns, and avoids Todd’s gaze as he strides away.
Todd smiles, looks over his shoulder, then back at me. “One day! He’s been here one day, and you folded like a cheap suit.”
“I-I…” Words fail me. I shake my whole body, trying to regain some composure.
“You slut.”
“I am not!”
Todd bursts out laughing. “No, you’re not, but honey, the way that man just kissed you, he’s got it bad for you.”
“He does not!”
“I might be gay, but I know what lust looks like, and if I hadn’t walked in just now, do you think you’d have stopped him?”
“Yes. No. Maybe? Ugh! I don’t know.” Throwing my hands in the air in frustration, I let out a sigh.
Todd looks so smug as he shakes his head and makes a tut-tutting noise. Then he places his hands on my shoulders.
“Next time he turns up, and yes, there will be a next time, you ring me immediately. It was pure luck I was driving by and saw his car. Unless, of course, you want to be alone with him?”
“He’s not mine anymore.”
“No, sweetheart, he’s not.”
Chapter Nine
Kris
Fuck it all to hell!
If the boyfriend hadn’t turned up, I would have kept going. The way she responded to me was just like it was when we were kids. No woman has ever made me feel the way Athena can. I thought as time wore on that it was merely a case of first love, and I was looking back on it with rose-colored glasses, but with my cock as hard as a rock from one interrupted kiss, I know that’s not the case. The feel, scent, and taste of her are better than I remembered.
Parking the car in front of the hardware store, I climb out and slam the door behind me, frustration and anger surging through me.
“Kris! How does it feel to be back in your home town?”
It’s then I realize a swarm of media is surrounding me. I put on an award-winning smile and give them a two-fingered wave. Cameras click away as more of them throw questions at me. I hold up my hands, trying to appease them.
“No doubt, you know I’m back home to celebrate my best friend’s wedding. I would appreciate it if you could give me and the happy couple some privacy while I’m here.”
“Is it true that you and Sophia Thorne are here to get married as well?”
“Absolutely not. I’m here for Ares Boswell who is marrying the lovely Ashlea Lynch. He’s a lucky guy. Yes, Sophia is with me, but this is not a double wedding. I mean, come on, guys, we haven’t been dating that long.” I chuckle and shake my head.
“They say love knows no bounds, and time is meaningless when it comes to true love.”
Laughing harder, I shake my head. “In this case, love does have bounds. If and when I get married, I promise to let you all know.”
“Are the press invited to the wedding?”
“No, this is a small, private affair.”
Smiling broadly, I shake my head and walk into the hardware store. Unfortunately, I am followed by more than one of them.
“Well, if it isn’t Kris Livingston,” booms the owner of the store, Mr. Roberts.
“Hello, sir.”
“Good to be back?”
“Yeah, it is. I’m going to be—” I stop and look at the crowd around me and decide I don’t want them following my every movement. “Gloves, I need gloves.”
“Aisle three.”
I look over my shoulder at the press and shake my head.
Mr. Roberts narrows his eyes at them and, in a very loud voice, says, “Unless you folks are going to buy something… out!”
Leaving him with them, I stride down aisle three to inspect the gloves. I need a heavy-duty pair. When I find the ones I need, I grab two pairs and take them up to the counter. Mr. Roberts looks them over before ringing them up.
“Helping your dad out tomorrow?”
“Yes, sir.” I lean over the counter and say quietly, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say where.” I cock my head backward to indicate I’m talking about the media.
Mr. Roberts taps his nose and holds out the card reader to me. Pulling out my wallet, I tap my card and head for the door.
“Do you want your receipt?” he yells at me.
“No thanks, Mr. Roberts. Good seeing you.”
What started out as ten reporters has now grown to twenty in the parking lot. They could ruin TB’s wedding by being intrusive. I climb into the car, dial my personal assistant, Gabby, and drive away.
“Hey, boss, how goes it?” asks Gabby in her usual upbeat voice.
“The press is here, a lot of them.”
“And?”
“Gabby, this is a small wedding, not a paparazzi free-for-all. Can you arrange some security to keep the vultures at bay?”
Her tinkling laugh filters down the line. “Well, you can thank Sophia’s people for that. The rumor is you’re getting married.”
“Fuck it all to hell. Sophia started that?” I grip the steering wheel tighter.
“Yep, afraid so. How is she?”
“She’s good. Gabby, can you fix this?”
“Sure can. Security, a statement from us, but you’re going to have to give them something.”
I scrub a hand over my face. “Like what?”
“How about some photos of you two all dressed up before the wedding? That should help with some of them.”
“But not all?”
I’m driving past TB’s café and decide to pull into the parking area out front.
“Nope, some will want those exclusive photos, you know that.”
“Gabby, lots of security, please.”
“You got it!”
She ends the call, and I get out of the car and walk into the café. I can see TB working out back, so I make a beeline for him.
“Hey, brother, how’s your day?” asks TB cheerfully as he opens an oven.
“The press is here.”
TB raises his eyebrows at me. “And?”
“And they’ll try and crash your wedding.”