Yours to Hold: Ribbon Ridge Book Two (5 page)

Kyle leaned over the console and glared at her. “I think I already established that I could break in if I wanted to, but I also thought I’d proven myself to be a gentleman. Since that’s gotten me absolutely nowhere, I give up trying to be nice.” He started the car. “Don’t forget to call me.”

She watched him back out of the driveway and take off down the quiet street. Exhaling the tension that had bottled up during their bickering, she retrieved her spare key and let herself into the house. She quickly locked the deadbolt, not because she was scared, but because it was an ingrained habit. No, Kyle Archer didn’t scare her. At least not the way that Mark had. The fear she felt about Kyle had nothing to do with her safety and everything to do with her emotional well-being. In any other circumstance, she could see herself liking him, maybe even wanting to date him.

She blew air through her teeth as she went into the kitchen and set her purse on the built-in desk. Pouring a glass of her favorite Oregon pinot noir, she took a fortifying sip and tried to think of how she could avoid seeing him again.

Unfortunately, she was certain he wouldn’t give up. And she was just as certain that she didn’t want him to.

Chapter Three

H
OLED UP IN
his office Friday morning, Kyle scrutinized the names in Alex’s laptop for the hundredth time. He knew a lot of them—family, friends, Ribbon Ridge business associates and acquaintances. He didn’t know others, however, and those taunted him from the screen. Maybe it was time he included the family in this quest.

Not Dad because he wanted to give Dad satisfaction, not frustration, which was all Kyle felt at this point. He didn’t want to involve Sara. She was too busy with the renovation project, Derek and Chloe’s wedding, and Dylan. Kyle had never seen her so happy—a burst of warmth nudged through his dissatisfaction.

He also didn’t want to include Tori. She was the likeliest candidate, but she’d seemed distracted the past couple of weeks, and he wondered if she needed to get back to her job in San Francisco. He made a note to talk to her about it. He’d missed his siblings while he’d been in self-induced exile. Being here with them made him realize just how much, and he was eager to make up for lost time.

Except with Derek.

He heard his former friend-slash-current almost-brother moving around in his office next door. He was truly the heart and soul of Archer Enterprises. Dad was a good CEO, but he was a brewer at heart. Derek, on the other hand, loved all aspects of the business, and Kyle fully expected him to be the one to take over some day. The irony that his last name wasn’t Archer would’ve made Kyle smile in years past, but now it made him feel unsettled. Like Derek was more an Archer than he was. And that it was Kyle’s fault.

He shook the unpleasant thought away and stared at the names again. Why wouldn’t Maggie help him? Even the smallest thing could point him in the right direction. Hell,
any
direction. Maybe he should call her again.

No, he didn’t want to be a stalker. Especially after scaring her last night. He still felt really bad about that. And about calling her a shitty therapist. He winced. How did he expect her to help him when he came off all creepy and rude? He thought of the flowers Natalie had wanted to send his mom. Maybe he should send some to Maggie as an apology—she clearly liked flowers.

What the hell was he thinking? Send flowers to his dead brother’s therapist?
Pull your head out, Kyle
.

Not for the first time, he thought about meeting her in different circumstances. Asking her out for real. Working to make her smile and laugh—he sensed she needed to do more of that.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. It was a good thing because he couldn’t actually contemplate dating Maggie. Taking out Alex’s therapist would guarantee he didn’t earn anyone’s forgiveness. “Come in,” he answered, closing Alex’s laptop and setting it to the side of his desk.

Natalie poked her head inside and smiled. “Hey.” Her long, dark hair hung past her shoulders, and she tucked a strand behind her ear. “You have a visitor. Shane Dawkins?”

What the hell was his bookie doing here? Had anyone seen him? Would Derek or Dad even remember what he looked like? They’d only met him the one time.

Wanting to get Shane out of the office as soon as possible, Kyle shot to his feet. “Thanks.”

Natalie opened the door wider and moved out of the way.

Kyle glanced at Derek’s and Dad’s doors. Both closed. With a jolt of relief, Kyle turned to his one-time friend and bookie. Shane was a gym rat with close-cropped dark hair. His arms and chest were as beefy as ever and filled out his fitted black tee. He grinned as he sized up Kyle. “Damn, brother. Florida agreed with you.”

“Hey, Shane. Let’s get a cup of coffee downstairs and take a walk.” Archer Enterprises boasted a small café on the ground floor, and there were walking paths around the building. They’d stick to the one that circled the parking lot so that they wouldn’t be in view of Dad’s or Derek’s offices.

Kyle led Shane down the wide, open staircase and over to the café bar, where he asked for a black iced coffee while Shane ordered a caramel latte. Shane reached for his wallet, but Kyle swiped his card first. “I got this.”

Shane laughed. “You’ve changed, man.”

Kyle’s shoulders bunched with tension. “What brings you all the way to Ribbon Ridge?” Shane lived in Northeast Portland, a good hour and forty-five minutes away.

“Heard you were back in town. I’m headed to the beach for the weekend, and I wanted to stop in and say hi. It’s been a long time—what, four years?”

“Something like that, yeah.” As if Kyle could forget. That night almost four years ago was crystallized in his brain. He’d been out of time. Owed Shane and his boss thirty grand. Was in danger of being thrashed to within an inch of his life if he couldn’t sell them on his repayment plan. Cold sweat dappled the back of his neck as the barista handed him his coffee.

Shane picked up his latte, and Kyle led him out the front doors into the bright summer day. “What brings you back home?”

Kyle looked at him askance, squinting against the sunlight. Sensitivity had never been Shane’s forte. “My brother committed suicide.”

Shane waved his arm like he was going to smack himself in the head, but didn’t. “Oh shit! Sorry, dude. I forgot about that. I did hear about it, though. Really sorry that happened.”

“Thanks.” Kyle tried to think of something else to say, but he didn’t want to continue a friendship—or whatever their relationship had been, because really, “friends” didn’t threaten to break your fingers so you couldn’t cook—with him. “Listen, Shane, I’m not gambling anymore, so if you’re here to solicit . . .”

Shane slapped him on the back. “God no. Dude, really, I just wanted to check up on you. Say hi. Catch up. How was Florida?”

Good for a while. Kyle had gone cold turkey and hadn’t gambled once in three and a half years. Until Alex had died. Then in a matter of weeks, Kyle had burned through the savings he’d accumulated in Florida and found himself in over his head again, forcing him to sell his car to pay his bookie and dash out of town as fast as he could.

“It was fine. Beautiful beaches, laid-back lifestyle.”

Shane’s mouth split into a wide grin. “Gorgeous babes, I’m sure.”

Kyle let his lips curve into a smile. “Yeah, lots of those.” And not one had kept his attention long enough for him to want to form a relationship, but then Kyle wondered if anyone could. He’d had a girlfriend one year in high school and an on-and-off girlfriend who’d really been more of a fuck buddy in his early twenties, but long-term girlfriends had never been his thing. And marriage? Forget it. Not interested. He’d been shocked when he’d heard Derek was engaged. They’d made a pact in high school to stay single at least through their twenties so they could be young and free and enjoy life. Would they have done that if their friendship hadn’t crashed and burned?

Kyle forced himself to pay attention to Shane, though he longed to escort him directly to his car. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Oh, you know, same old, same old.”
Still booking, if you’re interested
.

Kyle heard the invitation loud and clear but ignored it. “Still training at the gym?”

“Yep. I’m thinking of opening my own place in the next year or two. Business has been good.” He looked askance at Kyle. “Real good.”

Kyle stopped on the path and turned toward Shane. “Look, I don’t want to be a dick here, but you’re sort of from a part of my life I’d rather forget.”

Shane sipped his latte. “Sure, sure, I get it. And I’m not here to pressure you or whatever. You were young then. But look at you now . . .” He gestured toward the high-end office building with the Archer logo stamped on the outside. “You’re part of the family now. I bet you’re rolling in dough with your trust fund. I won’t let you get in over your head again.”

Kyle gripped his coffee cup. Dad had taken control of his trust fund and ensured Kyle didn’t inherit it when he turned twenty-five, like every other one of his siblings had. And he’d likely never get it. “I’m actually not rolling in anything except family upheaval. I’m here on a temporary gig while my brother’s doing an internship. Then I’m going back to cooking.” At The Alex, where he’d oversee a world-class restaurant. It was the first time in his adult life he’d felt energized by something other than a game of chance.

Shane snorted. “Eh, I don’t see it. You’re a great chef and all, but you were bored.”

At his last job in Portland. The upscale Northeast Portland eatery he’d helped put on the map—and that had fired him when his gambling addiction had overtaken his life. “I wasn’t bored. I was unfocused.” He’d been floundering, feeling like a failure because he’d dropped out of college, and even though he’d graduated at the top of his culinary school class, he’d had to work crap kitchen jobs because of the lousy economy. “Shane, it’s great to see you,”
not really
, “but I hope you don’t take this wrong when I say I think I’d rather call it quits here.”

Shane looked up at the hills where the monastery was situated. “That’s a bummer, but I get it. You still have my number?”

He did, but he resolved to delete it from his contacts as soon as he got back to his office. Would that matter? Though it was programmed into his phone, Kyle had memorized his number so that he could call him from anywhere, and the digits were still emblazoned in his mind.

“Take care of yourself, Shane.”

Shane nodded. “You too, bro. Really.” He slipped a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and slid them on. With a wave, he walked to his car and got inside. A woman sat in the passenger seat and leaned over to kiss him.

Kyle turned and stalked back to the building. He jogged back up the stairs and passed Natalie without saying a word. When he got to his office, he stopped short. Both Dad and Derek were standing there waiting for him. Anger, scalding and brisk, assaulted him as he moved past them. “We don’t have a meeting scheduled. I’m busy.”

Derek closed the door. “What was Shane Dawkins doing here?”

Shit, they’d seen him after all. Kyle went behind the desk, using it as a sort of shield.

Dad’s brow was creased. “I wanted to talk to you about something, and Natalie said you’d stepped out with someone—Shane.”

Damn it
.

Kyle shrugged. “So? He just stopped in to say hi on his way to the beach.”

Dad stepped toward the desk. “If you’re gambling again, I need to know. I can’t let you work here if—”

“I’m not.” Kyle set his coffee down on his desk and ran his hand through his hair. “Jesus, Dad, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Okay, I had to ask,” Dad said, but Kyle couldn’t tell if he believed him or not.

“You actually didn’t. You could try trusting me instead.”

“In time.”

“How much time?” Kyle snapped.

Derek moved forward, his dark blue eyes cool. “As long as it takes. You don’t get to waltz in here and act like everything is okay. Did you even deal with your addiction? How do we really know you’re not gambling? The last four years of your life are a complete mystery.”

Kyle stared him down. “I don’t owe you anything.”

Derek’s lip curled. “I don’t owe you anything either—even though you think I do. I’m never going to apologize for bringing in Rob to save your ass. Family looks out for its own, and there’s no shame in asking for help.”

Kyle hated Derek’s superior attitude. “I get that your parents died and for you, this family—
my family
—is all you ever wanted, but you never fail to understand that my perspective, and hell, that of all my siblings’, isn’t the same as yours. Stop trying to make us all feel like loser assholes because we don’t cling to the mother ship.”

Dad set his hand on Derek’s shoulder and gave him an encouraging look before turning his sharp gaze on Kyle. “You’re right that your perspectives are different, but that doesn’t make Derek’s any less valid. It might be nice if you tried to step outside yourself for five minutes and realize you aren’t the center of the universe.”

“Oh, that’s just great. All I need is another ‘why can’t you be more like Derek’ speech. Too bad Liam isn’t here so you could compare me to him, too.” Liam was Alex’s identical twin—in looks only. Whereas Alex had been small and ill, Liam had come out of the womb fighting. He was the oldest, the smartest, the most successful, and also the biggest jerk—or so he’d become in the last five years as he’d grown his Denver real estate empire. “Is it any wonder why I left, Dad? How the hell am I supposed to compete with these brothers of mine? I will
never
be what they are. I’m a college dropout. A chef whose entire future is based on a project that fell into his lap because his brother killed himself.”

Dad and Derek both stared at him, and the weight of their judgment was more than Kyle could bear. He pulled his keys from his top drawer and stalked past them.

“Where are you going?” Dad asked.

Kyle opened the door but turned to throw them a glare. “Out. Maybe the racetrack or the Indian casino. Why don’t you guys bet each other on which one?”

Without a backward glance or telling Natalie where he was going, he left. In the parking lot, he realized he’d left his coffee upstairs, but there was no way he was going back. Not today.

Climbing into the car, he pulled his phone from his back pocket and texted Natalie.

Heading to The Alex for the rest of the day.

He put on his sunglasses, then started the engine and drove through the lot, stopping at the driveway as Natalie’s response chimed.

I don’t know what happened, but I’m here if you ever need to talk. Sorry.

Kyle set the phone down between the seats and pulled out of the lot. As he drove up toward the monastery, his phone rang. Swearing, he glanced at the display, not intending to talk to Dad or Derek, though he never expected the latter to call him. He was shocked to see that it was Maggie Trent.

Turning on the Bluetooth, he answered the call. “Hey!”

“Kyle?” Her voice—and yeah, it was sultry all right—washed over him, soothing his ire.

“Yeah. I’m . . . surprised you called.”

“Me, too.” She laughed, but the sound was jangly, like she was nervous. “Um, I would be happy to meet you and look at Alex’s laptop. Okay, maybe not happy, but I’m willing to help.”