“A true rags to riches story.”
“Yeah. I think it kept him grounded.” Cole had a deep, smooth laugh. It fit perfectly with the rest of him. “Well, I guess grounded doesn’t really work for my dad. But most people think he’s one of those wild, party till you drop guys with a girl on each arm. Which he is, although not so much anymore because Finley is extremely persistent, and, I might add, a little annoying, when it comes to Dad, Jude and me taking care of our health. Dad’s semi-retired now, and my sister stands over him every morning until he takes his vitamins and eats his yogurt and granola.”
I laughed. “Oh my gosh, what a picture that must be, renowned rock legend Nicky King eating yogurt and granola. Good for your sister. I’m always pestering my dad about his steak and eggs breakfasts. Our parents grew up with completely different habits. My dad still holds a piece of wheat bread as if it’s a foreign object. He said he used to eat this stuff called Wonder bread that you could clump in your fist and turn it into a white ball of dough. Delicious with ketchup, according to him.”
Cole looked at me with a serious lift of his brow. “Uh, that’s because everything is delicious with ketchup.”
“True. Maybe our generation isn’t so different after all.”
“I don’t know about that. My dad still can’t figure out how to use the damn remote.”
I laughed again and without thinking, I placed my hand on his arm. “Oh my gosh, have you ever gotten the—” I dropped my voice a few octaves in a pathetic attempt to mimic my dad, “when I was a kid, you had to get your butt off the couch to change the channel.”
Cole leaned against the back of the chair and stretched out his long legs. “Yep, I’ve heard the tragic story many times along with the pitiful part about only having a few channels to choose from.”
“Right. Only a few channels and three of those were news at night.”
He glanced down at my hand on his arm. I’d left it there longer than necessary.
“What about you, Kensington?”
“You can call me Kensie. I know Kensington is a mouthful. It was my grandmother’s surname.”
“It’s a very cool name.” He looked pointedly at my bare legs. “And, may I add, with my colorful language, that you have a fucking awesome pair of legs.”
I felt my cheeks warm. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d blushed at something a guy said. I couldn’t remember the last time a guy had asked me about myself either. I seemed to have been dating a lot of egocentric men.
“It wasn’t exactly rags to riches for my dad. More like cheap, fifty percent off jeans to designer jeans. He worked hard to make the business a success, and, at the same time, he always made time for me. I’m an only child, which is apparently my fault because my mom loves to recount the”—I lifted air quotes—“hellish twenty-four hours that was my birth. It scared her off of having another baby. Supposedly. But she’s a good mom. She wouldn’t ever crawl under a fort and eat peanut butter crackers with me, but she never stopped me from pulling her expensive sheets off the bed to build one. I’d bring all my Barbies and their horses, of course. A happy girl never goes anywhere without her trusty pony. Kind of lonely not having siblings, but I can’t complain about any of it.”
I glanced toward the house. More of the party had moved out to the cool night air. A good Santa Ana wind had kicked up, making the tiny decorative lights vibrate as they cast their glow over the crowded patio. A dark, handsome and slightly menacing looking guy was walking toward us. He had on a black leather motorcycle jacket and black motorcycle boots, but something told me it wasn’t a costume.
“I think one of your guests is looking for you.”
Cole turned his attention toward the house and smiled. “That’s my brother, Jude. You’d never guess it from looking at him, but he’s an artist.”
A laugh shot from my mouth, and I covered it in embarrassment.
“That’s all right,” Cole said. “He looks like he should be riding with a motorcycle gang, and trust me, he’d fit right in because badass is his middle name. Or so he thinks. And he’s pretty much right. But he’s one hell of an artist.”
Cole stood up and I followed. “Bro, you decided to grace us with your presence.”
Jude was a much darker, brooding version of his brother. His smile immediately softened his appearance. He nodded my direction, and they gave each other a quick hug.
“Hey, Jude, this is my neighbor, Kensington.”
“Nice to meet you.” Jude glanced around and shook his head. “Like what you’ve done to the place. Where are the swings and slides?”
“If I’d known you were coming, I would have set some up. Along with one of those big bouncy things.” Cole pointed to Jude’s black t-shirt and coat. “You put a lot of thought into that costume.”
“Thanks for noticing. I’m wearing orange underwear.”
“I’ll take your word on that.”
“By the way, Dad says he’s pissed he didn’t get an invite. I suggested he cut you out of the will.”
Cole laughed and his crown slid sideways. He righted it. “Then this would become the world’s most expensive Halloween party.”
“You should have invited your dad,” I suggested. “I’ll bet he’s a lot of fun.”
Cole’s prince cape was flapping in the strong breeze. He pushed it out of his way. “Yeah, he’s fun. The problem is, when he’s around—to put it in his own words—the other sorry blokes don’t have a bloody chance in hell with the women.”
“That’s a great British accent. You know we California girls get a little giddy when we hear one. You should use it more often.”
“Yeah? I’m all for giddy. I’ll remember that little trick next time we aren’t standing here in front of my brother.” Cole looked at Jude. “Where’s Eden?”
“She’s inside with Fin.” Jude’s green eyes had a hint of gold in them as he looked at me. “Thought I saw a giant pumpkin coach out front. And I see you’ve already found the frog. He’ll probably transform into a man any time.”
“Actually, I haven’t worked up the courage for the kiss yet,” I said.
Jude shot a questioning look at Cole.
“She came here with a date,” Cole informed him.
Jude gave a halfhearted grin. “That’s never stopped you before.”
“Speaking of dates,” I said, “mine is waving to me from the porch. I suppose I should go talk to him. Nice meeting you, Jude.” I curtsied to both of them, whipped my train up over my arm and scuttled across the dirt on my clear plastic slippers.
Nate’s mouth was pulled into a tight line. “What the hell, Kensie? You just disappeared. They’re blending some margaritas in the kitchen.” He put his arm around my waist and went to kiss me. I turned my face so his mouth landed on my cheek.
Nate’s arm tensed around me. “You sure do hold a grudge. Let’s get you a drink. Then maybe you’ll soften up your attitude toward me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my attitude, Nate. But a drink sounds good.”
He led me to the kitchen. A guy with dark hair, blue eyes and broad shoulders that were straining the thin fabric on a Star Trek shirt was pouring drinks from the blender.