Say You Still Love Me(75)

Who is smiling down at her.

Not just a polite “have a nice day, ma’am” smile but that eye-crinkling, lip-curling one that used to make my stomach flip.

That flirtatious one.

Mark’s words echo in my mind then, about whether it was a mistake to introduce Renée to David.

Maybe the mistake doesn’t involve David at all.

A burn radiates in my chest and grows, as I start playing out a scenario before me—where Renée comes to work every morning, flashing that beautiful smile and saying hello in that sultry Southern accent, lingering at the security desk longer each day, until one Friday she mentions grabbing a drink after work and the next thing I know they’re moving in together.

And I’ve missed my chance.

“Holy shit,” I whisper under my breath, standing in the middle of the corridor, an obstacle for the people filing out of the elevator, jealousy gnawing at my insides.

I may not know how—and if—Kyle can fit into my life today, but I sure as hell know I’m not willing to lose my chance to find out.

The elevator doors open and out comes Tripp, a satchel over his shoulder, looking ready to leave the building.

“Piper. That’s a lovely dress,” he offers in a patronizing voice, flashing me a smarmy smile.

“Off to sabotage the Marquee project some more?” I throw back before I can bite my tongue.

His bushy gray eyebrows arch. It takes him a moment to process my words. “Excuse me?”

“Jameson.”

His lips twist as if working out a bitter taste in his mouth. “He called you? What did he say?”

“Does my father know you’ve basically set dynamite under our bridge with them?”

“Jameson can’t beat the bid KDZ is going to come in at. Kieran will agree with me.”

You mean the one that lines your pockets with half a million dollars?

I grit my teeth to hold back from accusing him right then and there. He’ll just deny it and without more evidence, I will look like an incompetent asshole.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.” He sails past me, his head high as he strolls toward the security gate.

Where Kyle is now stealing glances my way, in between Renée’s chatter, his sharp eyes narrowing at Tripp as he passes.

As much as I’d like to interrupt whatever is going on over there, I have a project and a long-term business relationship to save.

With that, I take the next elevator up.

Hoping Kyle doesn’t fall for Renée’s charms too quickly.





Chapter 16



THEN


2006, Camp Wawa, End of Week Two

“Finally, some sun . . . I was so sick of being cooped up inside.” Kyle kicks off his shoes and then wanders over to stand on the edge of the cliff and gaze out over the dark blue waters below. The early afternoon sun glimmers off the surface.

I’m not sure which has made the second week of camp harder—the three days of steady rain that forced indoor activities and caused cabin fever for everyone or our ten P.M. lockdown, thanks to our probation. On the plus side, I’m well rested.

“Hate to break it to you, but it’s supposed to storm later. At least, that’s what Christa said.” Though there is nothing more than a few wispy white clouds streaking the sky at the moment.

“And Christa’s never wrong about anything,” he murmurs sarcastically.

A speedboat races past, towing a female wakeboarder behind. Upon closer scrutiny, I realize it’s Claire, the waterskiing and wakeboarding instructor.

“She’s really good.”

Kyle watches her cut through the waves with ease, her muscular legs flexing. “She’s got some serious goals, that one. Wouldn’t be surprised to see her standing on a podium with a medal around her neck one day.”

I hesitate. “What about you?”

“I’m not much into waterskiing.” He reaches over his head to pull off his Wawa T-shirt, revealing two weeks’ worth of T-shirt tan lines and a smooth, sculpted back.

“No, I meant what are you going to do after high school? Like, do you have any colleges picked out?” Where will Kyle end up next year, and how far away will it be from me?

“Yeah . . . I don’t think college is for me.” He empties his pockets, casting their contents onto his favorite boulder.

“Really?” I frown. “So, then what will you do?” He must have a goal, something to work toward?

“Dunno? Get a job, I guess.”

“Doing what?” What interests you, Kyle? Besides jumping off cliffs and racing golf carts at night. In the two weeks that we’ve been here, aside from the topic of his family, our conversations have been light, shallow.

Fun.

But do we even have anything in common?

He shrugs. “Working here, maybe? I can take over Darian’s job.”

“Seriously?”

“Nah . . . Construction, maybe.”

“What, like running your own company?”

He chuckles. “More like hammering nails into boards. I don’t really care. I just want to get away from my shitty family. Except for Jeremy. He’s cool.” He nods, more to himself. “You’d like him.”

I quietly absorb his indifference to his future. Is it because he’s never been pushed to consider it? Or are things really that bad at home that he can’t think beyond the goal of getting away?