Just My Luck (King Family, #2)

by Lena Hendrix

Getting under my boss’s skin is the second-greatest highlight of my day.

I had known better than to chase dreams I didn’t have any right to hold.

It was these connections, these shared experiences, that made this town feel like more than just a collection of people—it was a place of shared stories and laughter.

His words hung in the air, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the threads holding our world together were beginning to fray.

recognizing that taking charge of our destiny meant confronting the shadows of my past.

I had already done hard things and, damn it, I’d do them again.

I turned to the little girl, whose face was splotchy and red. She looked at me, not with fear, but with awe.

When I was out of sight, I finally slowed and pulled the notepad from my pocket. I scribbled down exactly the way Sloane smelled so I wouldn’t forget. Honey. Biscuits. Home.

A flash of Abel’s strong arms lifting my son and effortlessly carrying him through the grocery store was no match for how sweetly he’d gripped Tillie’s hand.

“Some of us can see beauty in what others would call trash. Even something broken can be loved.”

My stomach whooshed as I recalled the hard mass that had lengthened between us as he’d held me. Oh yeah, Abel was big all right.

All I had to do was convince my surly boss to marry me.

“So . . . Abel King, will you marry me?”

I simply hadn’t wanted to believe a place like Outtatowner wouldn’t be safe for us.

Apparently all King men are also walking contradictions. It was the only conclusion for how Abel could be dark and brooding while at the same time have a soft and gentle air about him.

“I could have had up to fifteen years, but the mother testified on my behalf.” Abel scoffed. “Can you believe that? A dead child and a broken back, and she’d asked for leniency when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you for doing this for him,” she whispered in my ear.

Was I ruining her life? Are we making the right choice? How am I ever going to let her go?

in the few minutes they were there, I found the noise and chaos a welcome break from the unrelenting voice in my head.

“Sometimes I bake when I feel out of sorts.”

I held out my hands. “I got nervous,” I explained. “I opted for Sloane 2.0. You said to be myself, so you get the full Sloane experience.”

“Already happened! We just couldn’t wait, so I cartwheeled to the courthouse and put a ring on this handsome fella before he could get away. Trouble is, I forgot the ring part.”

While Abel’s shoulders carried the weight of the world, JP’s seemed to have a sharp edge to them.

I thought for a moment, unsure if anyone had ever asked me what I needed.

“You better be careful, Abel. You keep looking at me like that, and I might forget this whole marriage is supposed to be fake.” The air around us was hot and sticky. My heart hammered beneath my ribs. “It might not all be fake.”

“The part when I kissed you in the courthouse. I meant every second of that fucking kiss.”

How was I supposed to resist a sweaty, well-built man gardening in a backward hat?

But oh my god it would be fun to roll around in the dirt with him.

I let my smile spread, slow and easy. “I’m just looking at my wife and wondering how the hell I got here.”

I moved forward. “You like that, don’t you?” I stepped into her space, keeping my voice low. “When I call you my wife?”

“You’re my wife, Sloane.” I drew circles as I indulged in the smoothness of her skin. “You’re mine for as long as I can keep you.”

Tillie bit into a piece of bacon and frowned. “Mom said you two are friends, and friends share things, right? Maybe you and her could share the bed.”

“I figured you didn’t want to confuse the kids.” She hummed and plucked a piece of bacon off the plate. “Confuse the kids or confuse yourself?”

The Bluebird Book Club was an unofficial organization of Outtatowner’s meddling women.

“The marriage of Russell and Elizabeth is dated before the acknowledged marriage of him and Maryann. What I am saying is that it seems likely that your mother was the mistress.”

If what John was saying was true, my father was not only unfaithful to my mother, but he had a whole different family our entire lives.

He may not look it, but Abel is much more fragile.

“I don’t think I will have any issues kissing my wife.”

With a sense of ease and without an ounce of hesitation, I pulled her into me and openly kissed my wife in front of the whole damn town.

She looked so much like her mom. Without thinking, I bent down and dropped a kiss on the top of her hair.

She never once asked me to change or open up or be better for her. Only, she didn’t realize that for her, I would do it.

I was still too chickenshit to admit that I was falling in love with my husband.

“Give the kids a hug for me, will you?”

I smiled down at the new beer. After seven iterations, the recipe I’d developed to perfectly capture the subtle notes of biscuit and honey, which reminded me of my wife, was a slam dunk.

“If you want to keep that arm, I suggest you get your hands off my fucking wife.”

“You stay away from my wife and kids. If I so much as hear a whisper of your name in this town, you’re a fucking dead man.”

Amy patted Abel’s shoulder. “Keep your cool, cuz. We’ll take out the trash.”

My son’s shoulders straightened. “I’m okay. I’m not afraid when Abel can keep us safe.”

I kissed her nose and she smiled up at me. “He loves you, too, you know.”

“What makes you think that?” Tillie didn’t even hesitate. “He watches you. He watches you and he smiles.”