Page 47 of Never Kiss the Bad Boy

I don’t acknowledge the statement because I did almost ignore his text. It’s too easy to claim I didn’t see it, or was too busy, or boldly tell the truth, which is that I don’t want to talk to him.

But for some stupid ass reason, here I am. Glutton for punishment, I guess.

He’s got an entire living room’s worth of furniture in here—a couch and four chairs in a conversational circle on one side of the room by the fireplace, plus two chairs in front of his desk. Over the years, every kid has had a favorite perch, except me. I was never one to sit in here while Dad worked, didn’t curl up in a corner of the couch and read the way Kayla did or use the front edge of Dad’s desk as my own work space the way Cameron used to.

I mostly only came into this room if I was in trouble, and then, only by force, much like now.

I drop into a club chair, intentionally slouching and manspreading for precisely two reasons… one, to make myself appear completely at ease, and two, because I know it irks Dad for any of us to not appear proper and professional.

“What do you want, Dad?” I huff out.

He sighs and stands up, going over to his bar. “Chivas?”

I narrow my eyes at his back. Why is he plying me with top-shelf liquor in the middle of the afternoon? There’s a reason. Dad always has a reason.

“Sure. Maybe it’ll soften the blow of whatever you’re about to hit me with. Or we could get straight into it so I can start recovering from another one of our little chats about how I’m a failure, an embarrassment to the Harrington name, and what was it?” I cock my head like I’m remembering something I can’t quite put my finger on even though Dad’s words replay in my head all too regularly. “Oh, yeah, you wouldn’t have expected anything better from a hellion like me.”

“Kyle, I’m done apologizing for that,” Dad says, although my memory says he never truly did apologize. It was one of those ‘I’m sorry buts’, where by the end of it he made it sound more like I deserved it than actually apologizing. “At the time, neither of us were at our best. I was angry, you were in handcuffs, and the officer dropping you off said you’d been drag racing… again. I’m sure you’ve said things you wish you could take back too.” He hands me a heavy pour of whisky, his brows raised expectantly like he’s waiting for me to admit my own wrongdoings too.

I’m not going to.

Have I said some mean things? Yes. Would I take them back? Nope. At the time, I meant every word… I hate you, I wish I was born into another family, why did you even have me if you didn’t want me, and best of all, fuck you and the high horse you rode in on. Hell, I’d say them all again, even though it doesn’t reflect too kindly on me. But I don’t, which shows my own growth as far as I’m concerned.

Instead, I swallow the double finger of whisky in one gulp, like it was nothing more than a single shot. Dad gives me a disappointed look and sighs as he lowers himself into the other club chair.

Not behind his desk? Interesting. He’s playing at putting us on an equal field by sitting beside me, even though we both know we’re not peers.

“Does everything have to be a fight with you?” he asks. I hold my hands out for a second, like ‘what did you expect?’ because he knows what he’s getting when he calls me here. “Fine, I have an opportunity for you, though I’m second-guessing myself already.” He gives me a considering glare, and I can read every thought going through his head…

Where did I mess up with this one?

Why isn’t he like his brothers and sister?

What’s wrong with him?

“Don’t want whatever you’re peddling, Dad. I’m fine without whatever you’ve got.” As I say it, I remember last night, telling Dani that I’m happy with my life how it is, and that’s true. Or at least it is when I can avoid my dad. The rest of it, though? All fine and dandy by me, and I especially don’t want anything that’ll leave me beholden to my father.

Dad acts like I didn’t say a word, as per usual. “We have a prospective investment under consideration. It’s a hotel of sorts with an in-house water park that runs both indoors and outside. The park portion is in utter disrepair, which is why we can get it for a steal, and it will need a total renovation. I thought you might benefit from a large-scale job like this. It could make your company’s entire year.”

Dad knows I own a custom pool design and installation company. He makes it a habit to know what all of us kids are up to, one way or another. Not because he cares, but because he doesn’t want anything we might do to reflect poorly back on him and his reputation. And at one point, I might’ve considered something like what he’s suggesting. Hell, if it were an opportunity coming from someone other than him, I might still consider it. But it is Dad, and he’s acting like I’m starved for business while he holds this out like a filet mignon on a silver platter.

“No thanks.” I set the empty tumbler on his desk, specifically placing it next to the leather coasters he uses to protect the wood’s finish, and stand up. “If that’s everything, I’ll be going.”

“Kyle,” he scolds, “this could be a significant win for both you and Blue Lake. Don’t be rash and shoot yourself in the foot solely because it’s me bringing it to the table.”

Blue Lake Assets is Dad’s company. Before it was his, it was Grandpa Chuck’s, and after Dad finally retires the way he keeps saying he’s going to, it’ll be Cameron’s because he’s worked at Dad’s side for years and has earned it with blood, sweat, and tears. Maybe Kayla’s too because, though she keeps out of Dad’s target range, she bleeds Blue Lake too, like a good Harrington.

I freeze, pinning Dad with blue eyes that are markedly different from his, Mom’s, and all my siblings. Theirs is more like a summer sky, pure and brightly beautiful, while mine are faded, dirt-cheap denim. “No thanks. I’ve got jobs lined up for the rest of the year and a waiting list of people to get on my schedule when I open it for next year. I don’t need a pity contract, don’t need your help, and don’t want anything to do with you or Blue Lake after working my ass off to build my own reputation without the weight of the Harrington name dragging me down.”

“What’s wrong with the Harrington name? Our family is responsible for generations of growth, investments, and capital all across the globe,” Dad sputters, the vein in his temple starting to pulse.

“Exactly,” I say slowly, like Dad’s finally getting it. “And that takes priority over everything else, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t want a bothersome thing like a family or kids to get in the way of making your mark on the world, now would you? Don’t worry, Dad, if nothing else, I learned that from you. Work over everything, even family, which is why I’m putting my business over helping out with your ‘little investment’.”

Because I get it now. His ploy of sitting beside me, offering me fancy whisky, and framing this contract as a favor for me? Yeah, it’s all because he needs me more than I need him for this water park deal. Probably expecting some family discount or wanting oversight that a company without a family tie wouldn’t allow.

I stride from the room, ignoring Dad calling my name as I head toward the door, but as I pass by Mom’s conservatory, I hear her voice inside and pause.

Conservatory is a fancy way of saying Mom’s private office, where she spends time coordinating the family’s philanthropy, reading, and occasionally dabbling in acrylic painting after going on a girls’ outing with Luna to a bring-your-own-wine paint studio. Mom’s actually pretty good with a brush, and though no one’s going to hang her work in a museum, she has fun with it and that’s what matters.

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