King's Crown (Oil Kings Book 1) Page 4

  She was a Montana girl born and bred. It wasn’t the weather spooking her. “Ms. Brinkley.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t look at me.

  “Do I have to keep asking what’s on your mind, or are you going to tell me?”

  Her shoulders eased and she turned more in her seat. “That was intense.”

  “Firing an entire team? Yes.” My plan might’ve paid off, but it left me with a sour taste. I didn’t want her to fear me, and I shouldn’t care what she thought.

  “You can really shut them out of everything remotely?” Her voice was filled with awe. Huh.

  “Yes. We had it scheduled to do at a certain time. Their behavior and inaction was thoroughly documented.”

  “I heard that part.”

  “People could get killed on oil wells. People have gotten killed.” I stared out the passenger window and through the glass doors of the hotel. No one was in the hotel. “I once visited a guy who’d been in an explosion. He’d gotten badly burned and lost part of both legs.” I chuffed out a breath. “My lawyer told me not to, but I went anyway. The guy was barely old enough to drink. He was lying in bed, one arm bandaged, the lab girl was trying to get blood from his other arm, and his legs were… They just weren’t there. He was angry. So angry at the world. And at me. I couldn’t blame him. Ultimately, I’m responsible.” I switched my gaze to her, getting lost in her wide stare. “I don’t want it to happen again.”

  “What was his name?”

  Why the hell had I told her that? I didn’t know more than her name. And that she was in marketing. “Jack.”

  I got out of the vehicle before I could spill any more details of my life. She didn’t follow me.

  Inside, I stomped the snow off my boots and went to the counter. A woman politely smiled at me. “I’m so sorry. We’re full.”

  That stopped me in my tracks. “Full?”

  “There was a hockey tournament in town, and they’re all stranded. Motorists off the highway snatched the rest up.”

  Her words echoed in my head. Sleeping in my car in the middle of a blizzard wasn’t desirable, but I was also responsible for someone else, thanks to Emilia. “Do you know of any place that might have openings?”

  “Let me call around and check.”

  I gave her a grateful smile. “Do you mind? I’m sure it’s been a busy night.”

  She waved it off and picked up the receiver. “We do it for each other all the time. On days like this, you shouldn’t be driving all over town.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  As she made call after call, I milled around. My options were limited. A twenty-four-hour truck stop might let us park there for the night. We’d have amenities and gas since we’d be continuously running the engine. I doubted we could get back out to the airport and bunk down in the lounge, if it was even open.

  Two rooms. That was all we needed.

  “Sir?” The clerk had the phone under her chin, the cord dangling. “The Hotel LaBelle has one room open. It’s downtown.”

  One room?

  One. Room.

  I glanced outside. Snow, snow, and more snow. Did I have any options? It was a roof over our head, warm, and had beds. “I’d better not pass it up. The Hotel LaBelle?” I’d only been downtown a few times, but I could find it. “Thank you.”

  I left, making a mental note to phone the manager and compliment her effort.

  The task coming up was nearly as daunting as the firing had been. Back in the vehicle, Kendall expectantly watched me. I kicked the vehicle into gear. “There’s one room open at a hotel downtown.”

  “One room?” Her voice had gone high. She cleared her throat. “Only one?”

  “She called everywhere. It’s our only option.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Yeah. She sounded about how I felt. Shell-shocked and full of dread. I had spent the night with plenty of strangers, but never with a woman I wasn’t having sex with. And Ms. Brinkley was off-limits.

  There were only a few other cars on the road. Twice, I had to gun it through some sizable drifts until I rolled into a spot in the mostly full parking lot behind the hotel.

  I killed the engine, and the cold crept in fast, but neither of us moved.

  “I guess I’m not surprised this is the one with a room open,” she finally said. The stout brick building in front of us wasn’t the oldest building in downtown Douglas, but it was close. It certainly wasn’t the largest business in this section of town.

  We got out, grabbed our bags, and hurried inside. This time there was no offering to carry her bags or help her across the lot. The snow was past the tops of our feet, and a nice knee-deep drift blocked the door.

  I pummeled through the drift and shouldered through the door, holding it open for her. Dim light filled the entry. The cream-colored walls looked dingier under the glow and the frayed carpet nearly as old as the structure.

  The main area was moderately better with a sparse check-in counter and two chairs by an end table, a rack of brochures on display. Another table lined the wall across from the counter. The carpet was decidedly cleaner, and the walls had old wallpaper, but it was well-cared for. Good. Maybe the room would actually be comfortable.

  An older lady with graying hair tied into two braids running down her back grinned. “Glad you could make it. Come on in. The name’s Gale, and I’ll get you settled right quick.”

  “It’s a cold one out there,” I said, going up to the desk and dropping my bag at my feet.

  Ms. Brinkley hung back, clutching her bag like it was a life preserver.

  “How many nights will you need it for?”

  I was about to say one, but I paused. “How long is this weather supposed to last?”

  Gale grimaced. “Gosh, we’ve already surpassed forecasted snow totals. I think the town will be shut down tomorrow for sure. It’ll take a full day after that to get the main roads cleared.”

  “Can I leave it open-ended?”

  “Absolutely. We’re rarely booked up solid.” She ran my card and gave us a key. A real key, not a key card. “Room 201 is up the stairs. We don’t have an official continental breakfast, but I also run the bakery next door. My apartment’s in the back, so I usually put out a batch of baked goods in the morning. I’ll make a few extra batches since you’re all stuck.”

  Gale pointed us to the stairs, and in only a minute we were standing outside room 201. The click of the key in the lock rang ominous down the otherwise quiet hallway. I opened the door and was greeted by darkness.

  Flipping the light switch with one hand, I held the door open with the other. “Ladies first.”

  Ms. Brinkley’s eye roll wasn’t as contained as she thought. She trekked in and stopped, her gaze glued to the right. I closed the door behind us, flipped the lock, and looked around.

  When my gaze landed on what she saw, only one word came to mind.

  “Fuck.”

  Chapter 5

  Kendall

  One bed. There was only one bed. And it wasn’t king-sized.

  Was it even queen-sized?

  “Okay,” Mr. King’s deep voice rumbled behind me. “I can sleep on the…”

  I desperately looked around the room. The wall was lined with a dresser that had a small flat-screen TV on it and an old desk that was nothing but four legs and two drawers. The only other seating option in the room was the desk chair, which was a level below what Mr. Golding had ordered for us in the office.

  “Sorry,” Mr. King said. “I didn’t mean to swear.”

  “It’s okay, Mr. King. I think the situation calls for it.”

  He roamed around the bed. The only other space in the room was a three-foot-wide path around the bed. Cozy. The comforter was the most modern thing in the room. Cream with reds and browns, it matched the older maroon thick paneled drapes over the window. The wood grain of the furniture was darker than the deep brown carpet. Everything seemed clean and well-cared for, but dated a good twenty years. Maybe thirty. Except for
the comforter and TV.

  His gaze lifted. The striking intensity in the depths of his amber eyes carried my internal thermostat higher. “Home sweet home.”

  For a night. Or two. “Yeah, uh. It’s a small room.” I circled around, looking for the best spot to put my suitcase. All I owned in the world was pared down inside this ratty luggage.

  I found a luggage rack in the closet that had less room than my old refrigerator. Muscling my bag on it, I managed not to grunt. Mr. King set his bag on the desk and unloaded his laptop. As I unzipped my bag, I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. He shrugged off his suit coat and draped it over the chair. His white shirt stretched over broad shoulders, and his muscled chest couldn’t be more obvious.

  “Make yourself comfortable, Ms. Brinkley. I have work to do.”

  “Are you hungry?” I was starving. The charcuterie plate on the plane didn’t hold me past noon, and we’d had no real lunch. Supper wasn’t looking good. “I can go round something up.”

  A faint smile tipped his lips. “And here I’m the rancher. Sure, whatever you can find.”

  I doubted that what I found was anything he’d eaten before.

  Heading back downstairs, I used the time to myself to have a little panic attack. Alone with Mr. King. One bed. Sleeping next to Mr. King.

  Who was I kidding? I wasn’t going to get any sleep.

  Gale was busy wiping off the table. She peered over her shoulder. “Oh, hey. I was just going to raid my pantry for snacks. I figured you’re all going to be missing dinner.”

  “That’s so generous of you. I can’t imagine any of us expect you to feed the whole hotel.”

  She squatted and tugged out a bin that was stored underneath. “Over half of my guests are long-term residents. They have the suites and probably their own food, as long as the electricity stays on. That only leaves ten rooms, with mostly single travelers that struck out of getting a room at the bigger chains right off the busy roads.”

  “Can I help with anything?” Please. I couldn’t go back to that room. Mr. King was working. The TV would bother him, and I didn’t bring anything to read. Maybe I could sacrifice some data and download a book on my phone.

  “You don’t need me putting you to work. Might as well enjoy a little relaxation time with your husband.”

  My laugh was nervous as I felt. “We’re not married. We’re not…together. It’s a business trip. An awkward one.”

  She paused over her task of riffling through the tub of napkins and paper plates, her eyes twinkling. “The whole one bed bit doesn’t help.”

  “Yep.” I tugged at my suit coat. It was a little too form-fitted. Once in my life, I’d like to be able to tailor my clothes. Take a little out at the bust and the hips and find a way to keep material from bunching around my waist. It was like I had to pick between modesty and covering my ass as I bent over to grab a fallen pen.

  She eyed me. “You don’t want to go back to your room, do ya?”

  “Is it that obvious? He seems nice and all, but I literally just met him today. I was supposed to go interview for…a different arm of the company.”

  Straightening, she chuckled. “That’s going to make a good story someday. Downright scandalous if this snow starts taking down power lines.”

  My heart clambered into my throat. “I hope not.”

  “Don’t worry. This place has a backup generator. Why don’t you get napkins and plates arranged, and I’ll go in the back and see what I can find.” She tapped the bin with the toe of her loafer. When she left, her lips twitched like she was fighting a grin.

  The task Gale gave me didn’t last nearly as long as I hoped, but she returned, her arms laden with bowls, bags of bread, and a jar of peanut butter.

  “I hope no one’s allergic.” She unloaded all her items, and I helped her line them up. “I usually have that stuff made from sunflower seeds, but it’s my favorite so it’s gone.”

  “I love me some SunButter. Do you mind if I make a couple of sandwiches and bring them up?”

  “Help yourself. You get first pick. Make sure to grab some apples for later tonight. I also have a few cases of water I save for emergencies.”

  “I hate to use up all your emergency stock.”

  She shrugged and started for the door behind the desk. “I’ll fill some jugs just in case we lose water. And I haven’t raided the bakery yet.”

  Once she disappeared, I dug out the bread. Gale had also brought a jar of grape jelly. What would the bakery items be? My stomach rumbled. This was fine dining for me. What would Mr. King think?

  I peered outside. Darkness had settled early, thanks to the cloud cover and continuing snow. Now it was falling in steady huge chunks. Every once in a while, the wind would kick a few swirls around by the door, but other than that it was hard to tell how deep it was. Unexpected roomie or not, I was glad to be indoors.

  I’d miss my interview. I gasped. Oh no! I hadn’t thought to call Ms. Boyd about the interview. The way Mr. King handled that meeting…

  The hunger pangs in my belly turned to flutters. He’d been commanding, firm, and efficient. The three people he’d fired had all tried to argue and he’d shut them down. None of it was an act. He had the reports and data to back up everything he accused them of. They were lucky to only lose their jobs—and he’d told them that.

  I’d sat next to him, my knees trembling, my body heating until I could combust.

  God, it was so hot.

  Then the weather and the room. I had to call Ms. Boyd.

  I grabbed a few bottles of water from Gale before I went back upstairs.

  Dammit. The key.

  I was looking like a fucking noob left and right. The only appendage free was my foot. I lightly kicked the door three times.

  He swung it open, his brow cocked. I bet he didn’t even look in the peephole. Faced with his broad chest and the way his muscles were clear in the cut of his shirt, I’m sure a robber would have second thoughts. I know I was.

  He held the door open. “I see you were successful.”

  “Gale has got us covered.” I set the plates in front of the TV. It was the only available space since he’d moved into the desk. His computer was open, a notepad and pen to the right and a stack of papers and his phone to the left. “I need to call Ms. Boyd—”

  “Done. I messaged her a moment ago.”

  “Oh. Okay. Do you think she’ll contact Mr. King—um, your son?”

  Gentry’s lips thinned and he glanced at his desk, like he wanted to dive back into work but I was blocking the way. “I contacted Beckett as well to let him know he’ll have to wait to schedule the interview until we know when we can get out of here.”

  “Thanks.” He’d sounded so grim. What did I do wrong? Had he told Ms. Boyd we were sharing a room with only one bed? That’d be awkward for all parties involved.

  I stepped back between the bed and the wall. He lifted another brow.

  “You’re working. I’m trying to stay out of the way.”

  “Ms. Brinkley, I think this room will make it impossible to avoid running into each other. You might as well get comfortable.” His gaze dropped to my boots, and it was like a vacuum opened between us. My chest grew tight and his expression hardened, but not like he was mad, like he was…

  I was being foolish.

  “You might as well call me Kendall.”

  He dragged his gaze back to my face and I struggled harder to draw a decent breath. “Ms. Brinkley will work fine.” He grabbed a sandwich and went back to the desk.

  I blew out a gust of air. This weather had better pass over soon.

  Chapter 6

  Gentry

  She was sleeping behind me. I could loosen my restraint and look up into the mirror. The reflection was of an angel. She’d let her honey-blond hair out of its hold and changed into an oversized white T-shirt and loose cotton pants full of cartoon characters. Thankfully, she’d kept her bra on. That shirt would hide nothing.

  And I so badly
wanted to see everything.

  Unlike what my sons thought, I didn’t spend every night with a different woman. I had dry stretches too. This one was particularly long. Tonight felt like forever.

  Since Ms. Brinkley had so thoughtfully brought me food, I’d ignored her. She did the same after my refusal to use her first name. As if formality would keep me from wanting to know what she tasted like, or if that little whimper she’d let out in her sleep was a sound she also made during sex.

  Ms. Brinkley with her wide innocent eyes and those bare feet with fuck-me red polished toenails was driving me crazy.

  She’d messed around on her phone for hours, tossing and turning, each movement taunting me to stare at her in the mirror. I was very aware of the position of power I was in. She was unemployed and being sent to seduce my son by my mother-in-law.

  She wasn’t Beckett’s type. What was Emilia thinking? He dated women who made a career in front of the camera, be it anchor on the local news or social media darlings that were as famous for their bodies as their number of followers.

  Was Ms. Brinkley on social media? Did she follow my son?

  I dropped my gaze to the screen. Numbers wavered in my vision. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Doing this without reading glasses was giving me a headache. Now that Ms. Brinkley was asleep, I could put them on.

  As I was digging them out of my bag, Ms. Brinkley’s phone lit up and vibrated against the tiny end table.

  She sat up and grabbed her phone like she was programmed to do so on the first ring. “Hello? What? No, calm down. What now?”

  I tried not to eavesdrop, but it was impossible. In the mirror, she met my gaze and paled. She scooted off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

  The thin door was no match for her words.

  “For heaven’s sake, tell Wendell to quit bugging you.”

  Did Ms. Brinkley have kids? I had no idea how Beckett felt about dating women with kids, but she was so young. Was she married? Had Emilia sent a legitimate applicant and not a prospective bride?

  Her exasperated voice drifted right through the walls. “Lenny, slow down. Are Mom and Dad working late again? What?” The last word cracked harder than a whip. I nearly flinched. When I caught my reflection, I was smiling. I liked seeing that side of Kendall. “When are they supposed to be back? Uh huh. Okay. Put Wendell on.”