The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,48

in the locker room and…”

“Wow,” I laugh. “You really do have a dark side.”

“Doesn’t everyone? Even Mr. Swoon himself, your BF—sorry— husband.”

I can’t keep the smile away. “Yes, he is. Taken.”

Carrie throws her hands up. “Where art thou long lost King brother? Come to Carrie. Feel thy breast.”

I put my hand over her mouth. “You’re making a scene.”

“Save my vagina! Deliver me thine multiple orgasms!” she wails when I let my hand go.

I quickly force it back over her mouth doing my best to contain my laughter. “Who needs enemies when I’ve got a friend like you?”

*

Practice is a whole new grade of brutal. I don’t know if Coach is looking to kill us off before we graduate, but she’s sure as hell trying her hardest.

The locker room’s like a leper’s den—cries of woe and agony reverberating off the walls.

I’m dreaming about Nolan’s hands working me over, maybe something else a bit more thick and solid coming into play for those hard-to-reach areas fingers can’t access.

I’m beat myself, leaning against my locker door for support when my cell starts to vibrate.

I pick it up and swipe the text open.

Surprise, surprise, it’s from my father.

I honestly thought putting Harry in his place would be the end of it, that the news would trickle down to my father and he’d finally admit defeat.

Clearly, I should have known better.

He doesn’t mince words.

He rages about revealing my ‘indiscretion’, about how foolish I am, immature, a string of profanity following that would make a sailor blush.

I delete the text without reading the rest of it. Why should I spend energy on this? He’ll get over it. He has to. It’s done.

Still, there’s a niggle, an itch I can’t seem to scratch.

I know this isn’t the end of it.

But I can pretend.

I can forget.

For now.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

NOLAN

Family brunch is becoming a regular thing at the King Senior household. Dad’s made his way over with Alissa, even Grace making the trek this time. I asked Linnea if she was certain, noting my brothers’ propensity for inappropriateness, but she was adamant it was a good idea.

The spread before us is expansive, even by my father’s standards. Clearly, he’s out to impress, to welcome Grace to the family…or kill her with food. I’m not sure which.

It’s not long before the subject turns to Rex. I watch carefully for Grace’s discomfort, but she doesn’t seem perturbed.

It’s my father who’s pressing for information.

“Have you heard anything from him?” he goes on, addressing Linnea and me.

“No, we haven’t,” I answer.

“We think, after the marriage, there’s nothing to worry about,” continues Linnea. “I’d say it’s the end of any concern.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain.”

All eyes turn to Grace, who’s placed down her knife and fork, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She looks to Linnea. “You don’t know him like I do, hon. It might seem like he’s let this drop, but he’s stubborn and ruthless, which is about as dangerous a combination as you can get.”

“And you married this man?” my father interjects.

I give him a ‘shut the hell up’ look, but once he’s on a tangent…

Mercifully, Grace takes it in stride. “Young, and foolish.”

“Isn’t it young, dumb, and full of—”

Heather manages to get her hand over Phoenix’s mouth before he gets out the rest.

Eager to steer the conversation back to calmer waters, I speak up. “I don’t really think there’s anything Rex can do now,” I say, turning my attention to Grace. “But I’ll keep an eye open.” I look around to my brothers. “We all will.”

“Damn straight,” adds Peyton, his arm around Erin’s shoulder. He eyes Linnea. “You’re a King now. You’re family.”

Grace smiles but I see the unease behind it. I don’t let it show, but I share her concern. Rex is dangerous—far more dangerous than he appears.

*

The others head off not long after lunch, including my mother. She seems to have won over the Kings—a hard task according to Nolan.

Given the weather’s heated up, we decide to go for a quick swim.

The pool at the back of Stone’s mansion is massive. I picture the old man doing laps out here himself like Crestfall’s own Bruce Wayne, halfway to asking Nolan where the batcave is when Alissa arrives with a swimsuit for me.

I take it from her. “Thank you.”

“I’d join you,” she tells us, “but we’re headed out.”

She smiles and moves away. I swear she’s some sort of housewife ninja, barely makes a sound as she moves.

I hold out the swimsuit she gave me. It’s a sheer white two-piece, bandeau