Page 67 of Perfect Composition
“Righty-ho.”
I text Kane to let him know to come to the house before sidling up next to Paige. “What can I do?”
An arm reaches out with a package of napkins. Instead of checking out her ass again—something I commend myself on—I try to peek inside. “Is this the magic closet? What else is in there? Horse feed? Cotton candy?”
Paige straightens, and I love the pink flush that makes the light dusting of her freckles pop. She’s holding a two-liter of soda. Both things remind me of those afternoons we spent in the sun before we’d ride her horse back to the Kensington barns before sneaking around the side to dash into town. After grabbing a fountain Coke, we’d sneak around the side of the building and make out just like normal teenagers on a date.
“Funny what I just remembered this very instant,” I murmur.
Paige’s face, which had begun to relax into a smile, closes up. “And my problem is I’ve never been able to forget. Here. Put this on the table.”
“Crap, Paige.”
“Let me by, Beckett. The past is nothing—nothing but past.”
But our past isn’t nothing. It’s a whole lot of everything. And we have to find a way to bridge the divide between then and now—if not for us, then certainly for our daughter.
When the doorbell rings and Paige scuttles by me to answer it, I tamp down the jealousy I feel when she smiles up at members of my security team, welcoming them into her home. Yeah, I just started tonight with a tasty course of denial.
I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep feeding it to myself.
PAIGE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Two words, people: special order! It is not the teenager at the grocery store’s fault that your Domaine Valette Pouilly-Fuisse is not available at your local Stop & Shop! It’s yours. Own your mistake and stop ruining someone else’s holiday by spending twenty minutes ranting at the poor kid.
— StellaNova
“Dr. Kensington, do you have to work while you’re here?” Beckett’s head bodyguard, Kane, asks me as he passes me the pan filled with garlic bread.
“No. I always close down my office for two weeks around the holidays. Normally the other doctors and I rotate who will be on call for emergencies over the holidays. Since they knew I intended on visiting this one in New York”—I nudge Austyn seated to my right with my shoulder before handing her the pan, which she eagerly accepts—“I’m not expected back until after the first of the year.”
“Before you go back, we need to have a conversation about your security.”
I had just taken a bite when he said that. From my other side, Beckett calmly whacks me on the back repeatedly to help dislodge the piece of bread I’m now choking on. “Maybe some better timing next time, Kane?” he suggests with some amusement. Damn him. I glare at him. “What? I’m not the one who suggested it.”
“But you’re not saying, ‘No, Kane. That’s a ridiculous idea. Why would Paige need security?’” I mimic his distinctive voice that has spent too many nights in my dreams.
He looks momentarily startled. “Do I really sound like that?” Everyone else around the dining room table tries to disguise their amusement poorly. Then he shakes his head to regain his train of thought. “Sorry about that, bird. It’s like I told Austyn right before we came in—was it just yesterday?”
Austyn nods and moans as she shoves in another bite of bread. I don’t fail to notice she attracts the attention of more than one of the men around the table. I wonder if her father does. Flicking a quick glance at him, I notice his jaw harden. “This should be interesting,” I murmur.
“What? Our conversation about your personal security or mine with Kane about him replacing his entire team with eunuchs?” Beckett says so calmly that Kane just snickers.
“Get used to it, Beckett. I have a feeling you’re in for a rough ride.”
“And I’ll be talking with your bosses about you too.”
“Why do you need security?” I ask suddenly. Everyone but Austyn freezes at my question. “I mean, I know you’re fairly notorious, Beckett, but I count…eight people? Isn’t that a bit overkill for the man StellaNova declared the decade’s rock god?”
His fork clatters to his plate. “I honestly don’t know how to respond.”
Austyn reaches over and pats him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m sureRolling Stonewill change their mind about you one of these days.”
The look he sends in her direction is so filthy I can’t help but chuckle. “Welcome to my pain. I blamed you—often—for her smart-ass mouth.”
His look changes from one of disgust to pleased. “What else did you blame me for?”
