“That doesn’t make sense.” I shake my head, trying to wrap my mind around this strange conversation. “Why was it different?”
“I didn’t know who you were.” A hint of wistfulness enters his voice. “You were a pretty girl I wanted to spend time with. And now…” his eyes clear as he presses his lips together.
“And now?” My heartbeat picks up speed.
“And now you’re not,” he says flatly.
I creep closer on the bench. “That’s the thing. I am the same girl. Nothing about me has changed. You’re the one who’s different. All I want to know is who the real Kingsley Rothchild is.”
His lips twist with bitterness. “Sometimes I don’t even know the answer to that.”
My tongue darts out to moisten my lips as my brain continues to spin, trying to figure out a way to chip through the wall he’s thrown up between us. Is that even possible? “You’re dragging all this history into our relationship that doesn’t need to be there.”
“What happened with our families will always stand between us. The difference is that I’ve lived with it my entire life and you’ve only become aware of it.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this between us.” Why doesn’t he see that?
“But it is.” A strange concoction of stubbornness and acceptance settle over his features. “You can’t change history.”
“You’re right, we can’t change it. But the present and future don’t have to be dictated by it.” The need to touch him, to form the same tentative connection we shared at the beach, thrums through me. Before I can think better of it, I reach out, my hand feathering over his. “We can shape it into something different, something better.”
His brows slide together as he contemplates my words. It’s almost as if I can see the possibilities spinning in his head. I blink and the arrogant mask he usually wears crumbles. For the first time, he looks more like the guy I met in Door County. The one who was so easy to fall for.
I’m tempted to tunnel my fingers through his short hair. Instead, I tighten my hand and resist the urge. These past weeks have taught me to be cautious and watchful around Kingsley. In many ways, he’s like an unpredictable animal. Affable one minute and lethal the next.
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “How?”
Surprised by his willingness to consider my idea, I shake my head and squeeze his hand. “I don’t know, but there has to be a way. We just need time to figure it out.”
When his gaze slides away, I release the pent-up breath from my lungs.
“I’m not sure if there’s enough time for that,” he mutters, darkness overtaking his expression as every bit of light is swallowed up.
“Why wouldn’t there be?” I force out a laugh and rise from the bench before extending my hand for him to take.
He considers me for a long moment before wrapping his larger one around mine and straightening to his full height. As gravel crunches beneath my shoe, he tugs me toward him. A puff of air falls from my lips as I stumble into his hard body. My palms go to his chest to regain my balance as his hands cup the sides of my head. When his fingers splay wide around my scalp, I stare up at him and realize how easily he could crush my skull with his strength. Storm clouds churn in his gaze before his lips crash onto mine. Unlike earlier, there is no tenderness and I find that I don’t want it.
Even though we’re at the edge of the parking lot and out in the open, it’s all too easy to lose myself in the kiss. It’s only when Kingsley pulls away, resting his forehead against mine, that I become aware of the world surrounding us.
“You make me wish that everything could be different.” His harsh breath drifts across my lips. “That you weren’t a Hawthorne, and I wasn’t a Rothchild.”
Something indescribable explodes in my chest. “Isn’t it possible for us to be Summer and Kingsley?”
“I don’t know.” When he steps away, the urge to pull him back pulses through me. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
I nod.
The moment is shattered by the sharp screech of tires sliding over pavement. We twist our heads as an SUV skids to a halt in the Dairy Barn parking lot, spitting up gravel in its wake.
Once the dust settles, my stomach drops to the bottom of my toes as Austin slams out of the G-wagon and stalks toward us. Even from this distance, his green eyes flash with rage.
“Oh shit,” I whisper as fear pools inside me.
There’s no way this will end well.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“What the fuck, Summer!” Austin barks, his hands clench as he stalks closer. My brother has never scared me, but in this moment, his towering fury does.