Page 21 of Just This Once

He was always angling for something.

“JP and I are working on a deal, and they’ve become a bit of a problem.”

I lifted an eyebrow but didn’t contribute to the conversation.

“The building I have my eye on would be an asset—an asset I plan to acquire.” On the outside he appeared calm, but I could see the annoyance ripple through him before he tamped it down. “Problem is the historical society is hell-bent on declaring it a historical landmark.”

“Is it?”

My father’s lip curled. “Does it matter? It’s going to be mine.” His dark eyes looked me over. As the years passed I had mastered the art of not squirming under his assessments, but my skin still went hot. “Women have always had a soft spot for your charm. Perhaps applying a little pressure is in order.”

I bit back an oath. “That doesn’t really have anything to do with me.”

Dad’s nostrils flared, but he remained steadfast and offered a small smile. “What’s good for the family is good for you, William. Don’t ever forget that.”

Good for the family.

My whole life was an endless loop of choices and decisions made in the best interest of the King family—to increase our wealth, to save face. Never once because it was anything that any of us wanted or needed in our lives.

I should be disgusted at his manipulation, but the truth of the matter was, my father had been the only person in my life who had never left.

And for that, I owed him.

I tossed the rag on my workbench. “Chief Martin’s wife isn’t typically around the fire station.” Marilyn Martin was a sweetheart, always smiling and bringing treats into the fire station. When she looked at you, her eyes held a maternal warmth that was fascinating.

Dad smiled. “Ah, but I’m sure there are times when you see her.” He shrugged. “Just a small conversation if you find the time. That’s all.”

That’s all. Yeah, right.

I knew my father meant for me to dissuade Mrs. Martin and the historical society from claiming the building so he could purchase it. With me, he saw an opportunity and wasn’t afraid to exploit it.

Defeated, I met his gaze. “Sure.”

I stood, still unsure of where to go next with this conversation. I had known this man my entire life and had yet to find a way to truly connect with him.

My father finally broke the silence. “Well, I’ll let you get back to”—he waved a dismissive hand over my workshop—“whatever this is.”

He turned and my shoulders slumped. I had done so much to ensure I was nothing like Russell King, only to never have the balls to truly be any different at all.

You working late tonight?

Royal

Checking in on the new apprentice but then I’m free. What’s up?

I was thinking of having a few at the Grudge. Want to join me?

Royal

Can’t get your own dates?

Fuck off.

Royal

Maybe you’re hoping to run into a certain librarian?

I never should have told you.

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