Page 90 of Just This Once

Her laugh was too sharp and quick. “No.” She lifted a shoulder and smiled before dropping a kiss against my mouth. “I’ll see you when I see you. Promise.”

The poised mask she presented to the world had slipped into place, and I really fucking hated it. Last night was intense and profound, yet the woman in front of me seemed completely unfazed by any of it.

“Yeah. I guess I’ll see you later.” Irritated at my own stubborn pride, I strode past her and out the front door toward my shop. Flaying myself open for her last night to simply wake up and have her stare at me was too much. I needed a distraction. Minutes later, when she didn’t seek me out but rather got into her car and drove away, was all the confirmation I needed.

Last night didn’t change a damn thing.

I spent the next several hours tinkering in the workshop. Sawdust clung to my sweat, and I regretted not grabbing a shirt and shoes before I had gotten to work. I was angry—at myself for opening my stupid mouth, at her for not havinganythingto say in return, at the whole goddamned situation. Everything was fucked, and I didn’t see a way to fix it.

An engine cut in the driveway, and I stupidly hoped it was her. Instead, my father stepped from his Porsche. When he headed toward the front door of my home, I seriously considered hiding in the workshop and ignoring him altogether.

Instead, ever the fool, I called out for him. He took his time making his way across the grass to my shop. No one rushed Russell King.

“What do you want?” I asked, too weary for false niceties.

“Is that any way to greet your father?” His eyes ran across my chest, and he sighed. “Jesus. I will never understand this affinity you have for working with your hands.”

I wiped my palms, sending tiny particles of sawdust floating between us. “Yeah, I know that, Dad. Did you need something?”

A slick smile spread across his face. “I came to offer my congratulations.”

The throb in my head intensified. “Congratulations?”

“Lieutenant King has a special ring to it.” He winked. “Almost as good as Chief, but we’ll get there one day.”

Lieutenant. Holy fuck, I—I got the job.

He reached out his hand as though he might land it on my shoulder, but thought twice and stuffed it into his pocket. “This benefits the entire family, son. Well done. Once the chief’s little daughter moves on and is out of the way, we’ll be in great shape.”

My brain snagged on his effortless dismissal of Emily.How the fuck did he know about Emily’s probable relocation? Fucking small-town gossips...

When I stayed quiet, he filled the silence. “Trust me. I know women like her. Full of big ideas and a soft heart. That’s not the kind of partner a future chief fire officer needs.” A pompous smirk tugged the corner of his mouth before his eyes hardened. “Let this be a reminder for the future, that when I ask something of you, I’m not asking.”

The gears churned and clinked in my head as if they were rusty and groaning with this information. There was something darker about what he was saying.

Irritated, I stood straighter. “You don’t have a clue what I need.”

He scoffed, his face hardening. “I know exactly what you need. Taking care of problem women isn’t something you need to worry about. I can handle that. You focus on the job and keep working toward the next step up.”

A terrible sinking feeling pressed down on my shoulders. Emily had mentioned that Principal Cartwright confirmed it wasn’t Pokey Lambert that complained about the shoes. Someone else had called the principal and shined a light on Emily’s insubordination.

It wasn’t gossips that tipped him off to Emily’s employment issues... he knew because it was him.

Suddenly it was clear that my father had called the principal as a punishment for me disobeying his request that I talk with Mrs. Martin about the historical society building. Undermining Emily’s career was his way of flexing his power... and it had fucking worked.

Fury burned through my veins.

My father made no qualms about fighting dirty to get what he wanted, and what he really wanted was for his son to climb the ranks in the fire department so he could use me as leverage. He saw what was blossoming between Emily and me before even I did. He saw it and took care of it in the only way he knew how—to destroy it.

Silence and tension stretched between us.

“Whip,” my father began, his eyes cold and calculating, “you’re old enough now to understand the importance of family legacy. The town looks up to us, and it’s our duty to uphold the King name.”

I shifted across from him. The time had come to start confronting the ghosts of our past. My thoughts flicked back to the box of my mother’s belongings, shoved in some basement and long forgotten. Emily’s confirmation of my suspicions replayed in my mind, infusing me with resolve.

“Legacy, huh?” I said, my voice carrying a hint of bitterness. “What about Mom? What’s her place in this legacy you’re so keen on preserving?”

Subtle shock danced across his face at my audacity of speaking about my mother.

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