Page 11 of November's Bad Boy: Kacen
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grab it, thumb hovering over the screen. I almost text her. My fingers type out "Are you okay?" but I delete it. Then type, "Can we talk?" and delete that too.
Instead, I finally send a message to Kingston.
Me: Made a mess already.
He’s going to read too much into that. Or worse, not enough.
My phone buzzes almost immediately.
Kingston: That’s what second chances are for.
Tossing the phone onto the bed, I drag a hand through my hair. Whatever last night was, it changed something. I don’t know what it means, but I know I want her more than I did back then. And this time, I’m not going to screw it up by pretending I don’t.
Spending the rest of the morning at Kingston’s desk, I answer a few emails and review the property reports he left for me. He’s got an entire folder marked “Downtown Development,” with sketches and handwritten notes in the margins. One of them has Ruby’s name circled in bold, next to a list of vendors. I sigh. If she’s involved, I won’t get through the week without being volunteered for something.
Right on cue, my phone buzzes again.
Ruby: Emergency meeting at the community center. Don’t be late. Bring coffee.
I groan and grab two from the corner café, because if I’m walking into a Ruby Nelson situation, I’m not doing it without caffeine. Though why I need to bring coffee when she serves coffee at the Merc, I’ll never know.
The center is bustling with the usual small-town energy turned up to eleven. Jensen’s trying to wrangle a stack of donation boxes, Hades is lounging under the front window outside like he owns the place, and Ruby is already bossing people around with a clipboard in hand and a gleam in her eye.
“Look who showed up almost on time,” she says, snagging one of the coffees before I can offer it.
“You texted me less than an hour ago.”
“And yet you’re not holding a clipboard. We’ll call it even.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s this about?”
“Friendsgiving. Community potluck, volunteer signups, seating chart drama, the usual.” She waves towards the tables that are already being rearranged. “And since you’re now officially back, you’re on the committee.”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“You don’t have to agree, sugar. You just have to lift things and not break them.”
I open my mouth to argue, but that’s when I see her.
Natalie.
She’s bent over a folding table, with her hair pulled into a messy ponytail and a deep scowl on her face. Since she hasn’t seen me yet, I take a second to watch her. Even though I should look away, and give her space, something keeps me rooted there like gravity.
Ruby sees the direction of my stare and clicks her tongue. “Still stewing in that mess, huh?”
She’s one of the few people who knows the whole story because she sat me down—an unruly teenager—and made me talk. I will always be grateful she kept that night to herself because if the town knew, I would never live it down.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Good. Because you’re going to have to show her, not talk her into anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Actions, darling. Words are for cowards. You want her to believe you’ve changed, you better start proving it.”
I don’t get a chance to respond before Ruby claps her hands and shouts something about mismatched tablecloths. I drift toward the back, where Natalie is now reading a list Ruby handed her. She doesn’t look up when I stop next to her.
“Morning,” I say carefully.
