Author: J. Saman
Category: Contemporary
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/j-saman/page,68,558335-start_again_series_a_billionaire_romance_box_set.html
Shit. Yes. There is.
“We’re going to take you to the hospital to get you checked out,” he says before I can say anything.
I want to argue with him. I want to tell him that I’m fine. I want to tell him that everything that just happened is my fault. But I remain silent as he helps me up and onto a gurney. I remain silent as they load me into the ambulance, and I remain silent for the entire ride to the hospital, despite the never-ending onslaught of questions being thrown at me by the paramedics and the cop who decided to come along for the ride.
The paramedic pulls away a large piece of gauze saturated in my blood, and the only thing that’s going through my mind right now is, how did I get here?
10
Claire
* * *
“I have some good news to share,” Ryan says as he leans back in his huge leather office chair, his feet kicked up on his dark wood desk.
“What’s up?” Luke says absentmindedly as he types something into his phone. His eyes have been on his phone for the last twenty minutes since we got to Ryan’s house, and every time I try to peer over to see what has his attention so captivated, he pulls it away or pushes me back by the forehead. Bastard.
“Kyle has finally agreed to move to Seattle and join our company.”
“What?” both Luke and I say in unison. Luke’s eyes finally leave his phone in favor of Ryan.
“Why?” I add in complete bewilderment. Kyle has basically been telling Ryan to pound sand for the last however long it’s been since he graduated law school. So, this makes zero sense.
Ryan shrugs, looking down and picking at a nonexistent piece of lint on his jeans. He’s hiding something. “He’s just ready for a change.”
“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit on that one, el capitan.” I turn to Luke for confirmation, who nods in agreement.
“Definite bullshit.”
Ryan sighs, running a hand through his black hair, before pushing up the bridge of his equally dark glasses. It’s his tell. “He has his reasons, and his reasons are his own.”
“Wow,” I deadpan. “That was probably the least informative thing anyone has ever said to me. Seriously, boss, I think you’ve actually just perfected the art of evasive poetry.”
Ryan rolls his eyes at me. “If you’re so goddamn curious, you can ask him for yourself when he starts next week.”
“Next week?” Luke and I shriek in synchrony once again. “How is that even possible and why are we just learning of this now?” Luke finishes.
“He’s starting on Monday, but he has to take the bar exam here in Washington. He’s only been practicing a few years, and Washington doesn’t offer bar exam reciprocity for the exam he originally took—whatever the hell that was. He’s going to be sitting in his brand-new office, studying for the bar exam until he can take it. I think he’s scheduled to do that in a few weeks.”
“You’re freaking serious?” I ask, incredulous because Kyle hasn’t said anything to me about this. Nothing. “You’re telling me that Kyle, your brother who lives in New York City, is moving to Seattle and is voluntarily retaking the bar exam here?”
“That’s what I’m telling you, Claire.”
I lean back on the couch, sinking into the plush cushion, folding my legs under me Indian-style. “Holy french fries and bacon. I cannot believe this.”
And I can’t.
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark and all that crap, because this makes no sense.
I haven’t spoken to Kyle in a few days, and the last time I did, he was . . . weird. Our conversation was super short, and I got the impression he didn’t want to talk to me. But I couldn’t exactly blame him on that because I’ve sort of been avoiding him for the last couple of months. I mean, we still talk on the phone occasionally, but our friendship has morphed into a mostly sporadic texting friendship. Which is entirely my doing. I’ve pushed him off.
But you’d think he would have mentioned something to me about the fact that he’s not only moving to my city but working at the same goddamn company. Even a simple text that says something along the lines of ‘Hey, how are you? I’m awesome. Oh, BTW, I’m moving to Seattle and will be working with you’. Is that so hard? No. It’s not.
It’s really freaking simple, actually.
In truth, I’m not exactly sure how I feel about him moving here.
And working with him? I just don’t know.
I enjoyed the idea of Kyle being three thousand miles away. That was how I was safe. Distance. When we’re together, it’s a different thing. It’s flawless chemistry.
So, Kyle in New York was perfect.
Like your favorite dessert that you only have once a year, if that, because if it were around all the time, you’d eat it, making you grotesquely fat. And you’d get sick of it, right? Too much of a good thing?
I feel like Kyle has the potential to be just that. Too much of a good thing. He brings out things inside of me that I need to keep dormant. Things I have to avoid at all costs.
The way diabetics avoid sugar. The way virgins avoid penis. The way the Amish avoid technology. You get where I’m going with this.
And it’s not like I think he’s after me or wants a relationship. It’s just that I don’t want him to even entertain the idea.
Friends. That’s it.
The fact that I want to rip his clothes off his body and climb him like a tree is a problem.
Which is why I’m relieved that the next time I’ll see him will be in a professional setting. Work is like the champagne room, and we all know that there is no sex in the champagne room. And now I just compared my office to a strip club so I know I’m losing my mind.
“Wait.” I hold up my hand as something occurs to me. “Is he already here?”
“Yes, of course, he is.” Ryan looks at me like I’m daft for even questioning that. “Did you think he was to going move here the day of and fly to work on his Nimbus 2000 or apparate or something? I mean, he starts Monday.”
Right. Today’s Saturday.
“No,” I snort. “But how cool would it be if he could?” Ryan and I are just a touch obsessed with Harry Potter.
“You guys are freaking dorks,” Luke says with his ever-present scowl etched on his face.
Since he saw Ivy again last night and believes she’s now dating Craig Stanton, he’s been a moody bitch. No scratch that, he’s been a moody bitch since she left a year ago. Ivy can’t lie to save her life, and the poor lamb actually loves Luke back, so there really is only so long this charade can last. That, and he follows after her like a besotted puppy.
“Said the pot to the kettle.”
“Whatever,” he grumbles.
“Anyway, back to Kyle,” Ryan says, kicking his feet off his desk and spinning around to face us, dropping his elbows to his parted thighs. “He’s here. Moved the other day and is still getting himself settled. Katie and I helped him pick out an apartment in one of those dope-ass high-rises. He’s waiting to buy, I think.”
This hurts me in a way I feel like it shouldn’t. Aren’t I supposed to be his friend? Why the hells bells am I hearing all this shit from Ryan? Why didn’t Kyle ask for my help?
“So, what? He’s like lead council or something and just gave up on being a defense attorney?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Well, I guess that’s awesome. Kyle is a fucking great attorney, right?” Luke asks, his eyes fixed on his damn phone again as he props his ankle on the opposite knee. “We have three new contracts coming in, not to mention that software you and I have been working on, so we’ll need good representation and all that.”
“True. But do you have to sound so bored?” Ryan asks with a lopsided grin. “I mean, I know we sold out. Became the man and all that crap, but we got into this so it could be fun. Not all work.”
“Dude?” I laugh, pulling my hair out of my bun and scratching my aching scalp before putting it back up. “When was the last time we had fun? We should totally
open up a bar in the office. Or better yet, a pot bar.”
Ryan and Luke both look at me like I’m crazy, but I have no idea why. I hear those things are all the rage with the hipsters in Colorado.
“Because as unbelievable as this sounds, I don’t actually smoke weed. But that aside, we’re trying to be a regular company.” Ryan apparently isn’t impressed with me.
“I’m not bored,” Luke says through a yawn, going back two minutes in the conversation. He sinks into the leather sofa, leaning his head back against the top, looking tired as hell. “Besides, you and I have a date tonight with our computers and Tommy’s new app if the Duchess lets you out of the house. That’s always a good time.”
Tommy is a total douchebag who Ryan went to MIT with. He’s one of those guys who gives you the creeps within five seconds of meeting him. He’s also absurdly rich and completely dependent on Ryan and Luke when it comes to his technology.
“Katie’s working tonight,” Ryan says through a scowl. Now that she’s pregnant with the twins, he hates it when she works. Total caveman bullshit if you ask me, but since no one did, I don’t comment.
“Then we’re on. Good. You can bring the food,” Luke says, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “I’m in no mood to cook.”
“You’re never in the mood for anything other than hacking shit,” I say dryly. “It’s time to move on, dude. Find another lady love who can tolerate your moody ass.”
“Fuck off, Claire,” Luke says with absolutely no emotion in his voice.
He really does miss Ivy something fierce. I might feel a little bad about it if Ivy’s heart wasn’t broken. I don’t think seeing her last night with Craig did him any favors.
“Anyway, I gotta run. Ivy’s dad invited me over to watch some weird-ass Australian football game on satellite.”
Ryan and I exchange looks.
“Is Ivy going to be there?” Ryan asks.
A smirk pulls up the corner of Luke’s mouth, his chocolate brown eyes glowing with mischief. “I do believe that is the plan.”
“You really should back off that one,” I tell him, staring at his perfect profile. Luke is unbelievably hot. Like rock star, movie god hot. Luke looks like that dude from Guardians of the Galaxy, but with darker eyes. But man does he annoy the hell out of me in a big brother sort of way.
“Nah. She loves me.”
“Whatever. I won’t warn her.” I look up at him with a smile. “But only because I like you. Remember that.”
“I’ll do that,” Luke deadpans as he tucks his phone in his back pocket, slaps Ryan on the back and bends down to kiss my cheek. “See you assholes on the flip side. Say hi to Kyle for me.”
Now that I’m thinking on this, maybe I like Kyle so much because he looks like a younger Matthew McConaughey only with hazel eyes.
“Hey,” I say to Ryan. “Did you know that your brother looks a little like Matthew McConaughey?”
Ryan just stares at me, and while he’s doing that, I’m trying to figure out who he looks like but I’m coming up empty. Beard, black messy hair, and green eyes . . . Yeah, I’m at a loss here.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ryan asks, and I just shrug because I’m trying really hard not to obsess on the fact that Kyle is living in Seattle, and not only did he not tell me about this life-changing move, but I suddenly realize that he looks like the movie star I am most in love with.
That thought makes me scowl.
“Don’t look at me like that. I have nothing to say.”
“Why didn’t he tell me about it?”
Ryan leans back in his chair, intertwining his fingers and propping them behind his head. “Are you jealous, Claire?” The bastard gives me a knowing smile. “Feeling a little left out of Kyle’s life?”
“Fuck off. You know it’s not like that with me. But Kyle and I were supposed to be all buddy-buddy and shit. You tell your friends when you’re moving to their town. It’s freaking common courtesy.” And now I just sound petulant, so I sit back, folding my arms across my chest and shut my mouth for the first time in my life.
Ryan shrugs at me like it’s all out of his control.
I leave his house shortly after, half-tempted to text Kate for Kyle’s address. Half tempted to show up at his place and find out what the hell happened that made him give up everything he had in New York and move out here.
Half-tempted to . . . answer my phone that’s vibrating in my back pocket.
Ha. His ears must have been burning.
“Babycakes,” I answer with a smile. “I hear you’re becoming one of the grunge, hipster-encrusted populous of the greater Seattle area.”
“Are you pissed that I didn’t call you sooner?” he asks, and I pause in the middle of the sidewalk.
Am I pissed he didn’t call me sooner? Yeah, I definitely am. But that’s a weird reaction, right? Or is it? I seriously have no concept of what’s considered standard friendship practice with this guy anymore.
“You didn’t owe me a call,” I say instead.
“I know that, cupcake, but still. I should have called. It all happened so fast.”
“What happened? Ryan’s all cloak and dagger about it. Very hush, hush.”
“Where are you?”
“I just left Master Yoda’s.”
“Then come over, and I’ll explain everything.”
I don’t know if that is a wise decision. I feel like I should say no and wait to see him on Monday at work. But it’s Kyle. My friend. And I’ve missed him. It really is that simple.
“Address me, baby. I’ll be there soon.”
We hang up and immediately my phone pings with an address that is perhaps three blocks from my apartment building. And clearly, this wasn’t a consideration for Kate and Ryan because they just don’t think like that. This probably means he’s going to frequent my coffee shop. And my grocery store.
My daily life.
I hop in my car and drive the ten minutes over, but I park in my spot at my building and walk over to Kyle’s, because it’s nice outside today, and I want to see just how far it actually is.
I love Saturdays in the summer. Seattle may be wet and miserable for most of the year, but the summer is gorgeous. Today is no exception. It’s warm—for Seattle—maybe seventy-five and sunny. No clouds, I notice now that I’m looking up.
Kyle’s place is a high-rise similar to mine, but his building is much nicer and newer. Not surprising since he makes bank. I’m not exactly slumming it, but I don’t make chief counsel money. I enter the swanky lobby and am greeted by a doorman in a uniform with an adorable hat like a train conductor, but instead of blue-and-white stripes, it’s all black to match his uniform.
“I’m here to see Kyle Grant, please,” I say with confidence.
Kyle didn’t give me his apartment number in the text. Just the building address.
“Is he expecting you?” the man in his early forties asks.
“Yes, he is. I’m his Girl Friday,” I tease with a wink, making him laugh.
He picks up the phone, dials whom I assume to be Kyle, and a moment later, he says, “I’ll take you up. He’s in the penthouse.”
Of course, he is, which is probably why the obnoxious asshole didn’t give me an apartment number.
“Super. Thanks.”
The guy gives me a once-over as we step into the elevator, but I ignore it as he presses a key fob to the touchpad, punches in a code, and away we go.
“What’s your name?” I ask, trying to arc my head to get a glimpse of his nametag.
“Jeremy, ma’am.”
“I’m Claire, Jeremy. And I’m way too young to be a ma’am.”
“Yes, I imagine you are.” He smiles, and then a moment later the elevator opens right into Kyle’s apartment. I say my goodbyes to Jeremy, and by the time I make it past the small foyer, Kyle is there to greet me.
His apartment is huge, beautiful, and modern with floor-to-ceiling windows and panoramic views of everything the city and beyond hav
e to offer. But I seriously cannot take my eyes off Kyle, and it’s not because he’s gorgeous, which he is. It’s because he looks like he hasn’t slept since the last time I saw him two months ago.
“You okay?” I ask concerned, walking straight for him and throwing my arms around his neck.
Kyle hugs me back just as tightly, both of us breathing the other in. There really is no way to explain the way I feel when I’m surrounded in Kyle. In his arms, his scent, his warmth.
“I look that bad, huh?” He grins sheepishly, pulling back from me and running a hand self-consciously through his dirty-blond hair. Kyle doesn’t do self-conscious or sheepish, so this sets me even more on edge.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” he says with an amused grin.
He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and worn jeans that hang low on his hips. And bare feet. Damn, he looks hot. And sexy. Rumpled Kyle might just be better than coiffed Kyle. But the deep purple shadows under his eyes are unmistakable.
“Sorry, pumpkin, I’m not going to sugarcoat it. What’s going on?”
Kyle takes my hand, leading me into his barely furnished apartment. All that’s here is a couch that is far too small for the room. No table. No chairs. Not even so much as a freaking window treatment, which means the bright sunshine is burning a hole in my retinas.
It’s a vast, open space with ultra-high ceilings, gleaming dark hardwoods and white walls. It needs a lot to make it into a home.
But there is not one single box to be seen. It’s like he moved here and left everything behind.
“How long have you been here?” I ask, my eyes scanning desperately for a wayward box.
“A few days.” He laughs when he sees my frown. We sink into a buttery leather sofa in front of a gas fireplace. “I’m renting furniture that should be here later this afternoon. I left everything in New York.”
“Why?”
He puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side and letting out a long, exhausted sigh. I don’t say anything about the intimacy of our position. He’s got a lot going on, and I don’t want my hang-ups to impede him telling me.