Page 29 of Cool for the Summer

Kingston twirls the stem of the glass in his hand. “Pete inspires loyalty in his friends.”

“That’s because he’s better than all of us,” Donovan says.

“Too true.”

“So you guys are all friends from the city. But how did you end up in Rosedale?”

“I take full credit for discovering this gem of a hamlet. The city was wearing on me and I wanted a weekend retreat, so I rented a car and just started driving around, looking for inspiration. I stumbled upon Rosedale one morning and I just knew. I walked into the real estate office on Main Street, asked them to show me whatever was in my price range, and I put in an offer on my house that afternoon.”

My nose tingles from Kingston’s romantic spontaneity. Or maybe it’s the bubbles from the wine. “So why don’t you live here full-time?”

“I spend more time here than I used to, but I still have to make an appearance at the office a few days a week.” Kingston sniffs. “But I’ve had an absolutely shit week at work, and I want to blow off some steam. Who wants to play some poker?”

“I’m game, but let’s order food first to soak up this alcohol,” Donovan suggests. He takes charge of ordering the pizza and we put in an eclectic selection.

“We’re lucky Sergio is here this weekend,” Kingston says, clapping his friend on the back. “He’s a terrible poker player.”

“We’re not playing for real money, are we?” Sergio asks, alarmed.

“Nah,” Kingston says. “We play for bragging rights.”

Even better, in my book.

We nibble and chat and drink until the pizza arrives, and we’re sick of swatting bugs away. I should have asked Donovan to get some citronella candles while he was out today.

“We better move this party inside. Donovan, you go ahead and take the pizza to the living room and I’ll bring plates.”

“I’ll help you,” Kingston says. Sergio excuses himself to use the bathroom, leaving Kingston and I alone as I count out a stack of Jack and Pete’s heavy white bistro plates.

“Van treating you all right?” Kingston asks.

I’m surprised at his directness. “He’s been great. Why?”

“He can be a prickly one. But you two seem like you’re getting along.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

I laugh and shake my head. “We’re getting to know each other.”

Kingston chuckles. “Niiiice,” he says, drawing out the vowel sound.

“Not like that.” Not that it’s any of his business. But I get the feeling that Jack asked him to check up on me—this is probably Kingston’s interpretation of the request.

“All right.” He puts his hands up in surrender. “Van’s a player, always has been since I’ve known him. Just figured I’d warn you.”

It’s nothing different from what Donovan himself already told me, but my stomach sinks anyway at hearing someone who knows him better, warning me away, as if my little crush on him is painted on my face.

“Yeah, no worries,” I say, trying to turn it into a joke. “We’re just housemates. He’s not even my—” I was going to say type, but I can’t make myself lie.

Kingston rolls his eyes, not buying it for a second. “Yeah, with those thick black eyelashes and that mouth and those shoulders? Van’severyone’stype.”

I sigh. He’s not wrong. “Doesn’t matter if he’s my type as long as I’m not his,” I grumble.

“Oh, you think so?” Kingston laughs and looks me up and down blatantly. “If he hasn’t made a move on you, that’s not the reason why.”

“Thank you?” I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere. “We’re just housemates. He told me he doesn’t hook up with his roommates. And I’m not really a one-night stand guy, anyway.” It’s true that if Donovan wanted to hook up, I’d be hard-pressed to say no. But it might be less painful to pass up the opportunity than to pretend I wouldn’t want more.

“Oh, fair young Beckett. Stick to those principles. I admire a young man who hasn’t been ground down to dust by the dating scene. It gives an old man like me hope.”

Kingston’s what, thirty-five? Sometimes I wish I was older and had things figured out already. Kingston has an amazing career and a home—I wonder what his house is like. I’m so far from any of those things, but if I think about that, I’ll start drowning my angst in too much bubbly. “You’re not old. Grab those forks, will you?”

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