Twist (Beekman Hills) Read online

  Twist

  Beekman Hills

  KC Enders

  Contents

  1. Adelaide

  2. Finn

  3. Adelaide

  4. Finn

  5. Adelaide

  6. Finn

  7. Adelaide

  8. Finn

  9. Adelaide

  10. Finn

  11. Adelaide

  12. Finn

  13. Adelaide

  14. Finn

  15. Adelaide

  16. Finn

  17. Adelaide

  18. Finn

  19. Adelaide

  20. Adelaide

  21. Finn

  22. Adelaide

  23. Finn

  24. Adelaide

  25. Finn

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Serenading the Shadows Sneak Peek

  Troubles Sneak Peek

  Copyright © 2018 by KC Enders

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at www.kcenderswrites.com

  Cover Designer: Alora Kate, CoverKraze

  Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  Proofreader: Judy Zweifel, Judy’s Proofreading

  Formatting: AB Formatting

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1987680447

  ISBN-10: 1987680448

  To my fiends.

  I wouldn’t be doing this without you.

  Thank you.

  1

  Adelaide

  “Are you an angel from heaven?”

  “No. Satan let me out in costume today.”

  People suck. I mean, not all people, but having to meet with them and listen to their “creative ideas” on what they want on their websites is the least favorite part of my job.

  God, and having to meet with them out in public? Where there are people? I am not Ariel. I do not want to be where the people are. It takes everything I have in me not to roll my eyes. I need to be professional and land this job.

  I creep down Main Street, cursing the plows for not doing any kind of a decent job of clearing the snow from the roads. Maybe my anger is misplaced because Mother Nature should have checked with me before dumping a foot of snow overnight. The four and a half years I’ve spent here in New York for college have done nothing to put me at ease while driving in the snow. It snowed in Kansas City, but nothing like it does here.

  The snow grabs at my tires, pushing my car toward the one other car on the road, coming from the opposite direction.

  Shit, shit, shit, shit.

  The car swerves across the road, cutting in front of me just as my tires catch, and I barely get things under control. I seethe every curse I can think of at the snow, the plows, the universe, and the asshole who almost hit me and made me miss my turn. And, now, I’m going to be late.

  Twenty minutes later, after turning around, getting stuck in stupid one-way streets, and finally getting back to Main, I gingerly pull into the parking lot of McBride’s. This is my first time actually going to the Irish pub in the almost four and a half years I’ve been in New York. With the millions of stories I’d heard throughout college about the pub and the whorish Irish guys working here, I’d have been fine with not coming at all.

  With my messenger bag slung across my body, I shove my hands into my pockets and hurry to the door. I should know better; I really should. Just as I start to stomp the snow off my boots, my bag shifts and pulls me off-balance. Arms wheeling through the air, hands reaching for anything to stop the madness, I lose it. Bust ass and end up flat on my back in the snow bank to the left of the door.

  Late.

  Cold.

  Ass covered in snow.

  I’m so not getting this job. The wind whips my magenta-and-pale-pink hair up into a twirl of gourmet cotton-candy mess. I haul myself up and dust the snow off my black leggings, cringing when a chunk of snow finds its way into my boot. I don’t have time for this. I should be home, cozy in my apartment, with some coffee and a blankie.

  Small favors, but my glasses stayed on, and my computer is okay. Carefully, I get myself together, inhaling deeply and slapping what I hope is more smile than grimace on my face, and step into the pub.

  The door slams shut behind me on a gust of wind, and all heads turn to face me. I clear my throat and approach the tall, dark-haired guy, pretty sure he’s the photographer whose website I’m supposed to be building. “Mr. Kearney?”

  “I am. Please, call me Aidan. Are you Miss Huntington?”

  He reaches out to shake my hand, so I grit my teeth and firmly clasp his. Yeah, I don’t like touching strangers either. They can have all kinds of germs. Like, how do you know if a person just picked their nose right before shaking your hand? His hand feels smooth and clean, so I hope for the best. Maybe I can discreetly grab my hand sanitizer as I unpack my computer.

  “Adelaide,” I tell him, following suit. “Great, so what are you looking for with your website?”

  I really want to just get this started and done, so I can go home and hang out with Eric. He’s the best roommate I could have ever asked for after living in the dorms for the first couple of years of school.

  Aidan pauses and rests his hand on the back of the chair across from me. “Erm, I don’t know really. I thought, with you being the expert, I’d let you guide me.”

  More small favors. Maybe this won’t suck.

  “Can I get you something to drink? A pint maybe?”

  I stare at him for a second, not quite sure what to say. Is it professional to drink while working? Not that it matters. I don’t really drink.

  “I’ll just have some coffee, I think. Thanks.”

  “You’re sure?” His voice is deep, the accent a little more pronounced than when we spoke on the phone.

  I nod and watch as he makes his way to the bar.

  He grabs a tall glass of dark beer for himself and a steaming mug of coffee for me. “Do you take anything with it? Some sugar? Creamer?”

  “Fuck’s sake, I’m sure she doesn’t need any sugar. She looks sweet and lovely to me.” The bartender comes out of the back room with a basket of French fries, a cheesy smile stretched across his face. “She radiates sunshine and sweetness.”

  Dear God and sweet baby Jesus, help me have the strength not to roll my eyes. Please, please—

  Obviously, those little prayers just did nothing for me. Aidan and the older guy sitting at the bar each bark out a loud laugh. And there goes my attempt to be professional.

  “Just creamer, thanks,” I tell Aidan.

  Scowling, I turn back to my computer and pull my hair up into a messy bun, securing it with a couple of pens. The feet screech against the floor as I shift my chair in. I pull my feet up and wiggle around until I’m sitting crisscrossed on the hard wooden seat. I tuck a third pen between my lips and start typing, pulling up the site template. It would be great if he just gave me creative license, but we’ll see. People say that shit all the time and then change every last detail on their sites.

  “And look at how she folds herself up so neatly on that chair. She’s sweet and bendy, like Twizzlers.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see this guy leaning forward over the bar, dousing his fries in vineg
ar, a wide grin practically splitting his face.

  Is he serious?

  Aidan’s jaw twitches as he stares past me. There are only the four of us in here, but the silence is deafening.

  “Finn,” he grits out before mumbling, “Christ,” under his breath. “Adelaide, I’m sorry. He thinks he’s pretty slick, but—”

  “Please don’t hold this against me,” I manage to say quietly before turning in my seat to look at this guy, Finn. “Twizzlers can leave some nasty whip marks, given the right velocity. Maybe you should watch yourself.” Facing forward again, I push my glasses back up my nose and ask Aidan, “Are we ready to do this?”

  Eyes wide, Aidan is working really hard to contain himself, but the older gentleman sitting at the bar barks out a deep belly laugh. Cheeks red above his full beard, he says something to the bartender in not English—maybe Irish? And the dude frowns and goes back to washing glasses or something.

  “Sorry, Francie—he’s the owner—just told Finn he’s not going to be able to charm his way into your good graces. He thinks…well, I told you already.” Aidan waves his hand and drinks down about a third of his beer. “What have we got then?” He scoots over and peers at my screen.

  We work for a bit, and I think I’m getting a pretty good idea of what he wants for his site. It’s all good until the air shifts, and I square my shoulders, the skin prickling along the back of my neck.

  “Thought you might like a little warming up.” Leaning heavily on the back of my chair, Finn refills my coffee cup. But he lingers, crowding me.

  Don’t react. He’s just looking for a reaction.

  And, when I think it’s safe, I release the breath I’m holding.

  He lets loose with another comment. “Personally, I think you’re smoking hot. You’ve got me burning up.”

  He seriously thinks he’s good at this.

  I pull a strained breath in through my nose, hard enough to wiggle my septum ring I neatly tucked up—again, trying for that professional vibe. “You’re burning up?”

  “I am,” he purrs. “Think you can help me?”

  I twist my lips, assessing him. He’s tall and lean. Just starting to put on some muscle. He looks like he’s close to my age with an artfully tousled mop of dark-red curls. He’s cute, but for the love of God…

  “I’m not a doctor, but generally, antibiotics are a good idea to nip that shit in the bud. Some of those”—I dismissively flap my hand toward his pants—“diseases can be cleared up pretty quickly, from what I’ve heard.”

  2

  Finn

  “What’s your sign?”

  “Stop.”

  Francie might be right. This girl is quick on the comebacks. And seriously witty. I like that.

  “Should I sit and keep you company? Be your inspiration?” It looks like she’s working on something for Aidan. I pull out the chair next to her, thinking I’ll slide in close and keep working on her.

  She looks at me over the top of her glasses and deadpans, “Or you could not.”

  “What’s your name, love?”

  “Don’t you have work to tend to, Finn?” Aidan pipes up, giving me his annoyed big-brother look.

  “Sure, yeah. They’re knocking down the doors today. Clamoring for drinks with the storm going. Pretty shite move of you, making this lovely lady risk her safety out in this weather.” I throw a wink her way. Girls cannot resist the Finn wink. Not in the least.

  “Right, well, Francie just took the rubbish out to the bin, so you’d best look busy when he gets back, or he’ll be on your arse.”

  I shoot Aidan a fuck-off look and take in the shades of deep, dark pink fading out to a delicate, light cotton-candy hue in her hair, which is all wound together on the top of her head. She looks like she’s trying to hide behind her big sweater and wild hair, but there’s no denying how cute she is. Fucking adorable really.

  “Let me know if I can get you anything. I’m at your service…” I draw the last word out, hoping that she’ll fill in her name for me.

  Instead, she gives me a side-eye and goes back to her laptop. Fingers flying across the keys, her tongue resting against her top teeth. Not biting it, but kind of.

  I need to up my game. Pour on the charm—the lucky charms—and see if I can get a taste of her. “Can I get you—”

  The slamming of the back door cuts me off, mid pickup.

  “Christ, Finn. Go move your car, and park it straight. Have you lost all your spatial awareness?” Francie bellows as he bursts through the door from the kitchen. “You’ll be lucky to make it through the winter without your car getting hit again.”

  I roll my eyes and slide behind the bar to grab my keys. Aidan barks his obnoxious laugh and looks from the pink-haired pixie to me and back again, not even trying to hold his laughter back at all now.

  “What?” I pause, pulling my jacket on. “What’re you laughing at?” I scowl at Aidan sitting smugly with the girl I want to be chatting up.

  “I just said it was kind of disappointing that someone so suave couldn’t seem to get it in the right place on the first try,” she replies. This girl keeps an absolutely solid dead stare while Aidan is laughing so hard, I think he might fall out of his chair. Actually, I hope the arse does.

  “You don’t need to worry about me sliding into tight spots. I can maneuver just fine.”

  Francie scoffs and shakes his head at me, pointing to the back door.

  “I avoided a collision just today as I turned into the car park.” Having made my point that I am in fact a stellar driver, I hustle out to straighten my car at the back of the building.

  It takes me three tries to park my little Kia perfectly straight and even within the lines. I should probably get my eyes checked and see if I need a new prescription for my glasses. Maybe I’ll get contact lenses this time. Though I’ve always heard that girls like a nerdy-looking guy, and I try hard to be everything the ladies could possibly want.

  I wonder how long she’s going to be here, working with Aidan. Maybe I should clean the snow off her car. Maybe she’ll tell me her name if I do. It’s not like there’s anyone inside, waiting on me to serve them. It’s just been the four of us since we opened, and I don’t see the evening filling up too much.

  When her car is cleaned off, I knock the snow from my boots at the back door and shake the flakes from my jacket before returning to the bar. My glasses are completely fogged up from the sudden change in temperature. I slide them off to clean them and I’m caught off guard by the finger in my chest.

  “You’re the asshole who swerved out front? You almost hit me!” She really is quite little, her head just clearing my shoulder.

  “What are you on about?” I slide my glasses back on, so I can focus on her adorably annoyed expression.

  “That car you almost hit this morning? That was me, asshole.”

  Her royal-blue fingernail jabs repeatedly into the center of my chest. And it hurts.

  I grab her hand and bring her knuckles up to my lips, kissing them. “See then, we were destined to meet today,” I croon at her. I totally have this thing in the bag. There’s no way she can resist me.

  My attention is drawn to the front door where Aidan is coming back in from outside. I don’t see it coming, not at all. But, when she yanks her hand from mine and shoves her shoulder into my sternum, it knocks the wind from me.

  She’s a hell of a lot stronger than I gave her credit for.

  “Your car’s all cleared off. Is there anything I can carry for you, Adelaide?”

  The arse just took credit for my work. I cleared the snow off her car, me.

  “Thanks, but no.” She shrugs on her coat and wraps a blue-and-teal scarf around her neck. And then she pulls bright-green mittens out of her pockets.

  She is a riot of color that I can’t seem to take my eyes off of. She’s captivating.

  And she’s walking out of the pub.

  I have to do something. I need more time with her. I need for her to realize she wan
ts me, needs me, can’t live without me. I don’t like losing.

  “Maybe I’ll run into you again sometime,” I toss out to her. I lean back against the bar, feet spread and thumbs hooked in the pockets of my jeans. That leaves my fingers dangling, framing my goods. This move always works, gets the focus where I want it. The ladies can’t resist me when I point out what I’ve got to offer.

  When she turns in the doorway, framed by the snow falling outside, I give her the smile and wink. Hope lights up her features. I wiggle my fingers a little to draw her attention to what I’m sure she’s thinking of.

  And, with her eyes never leaving my face, her lip twitches as she says, “All flirt and no follow-through.”

  My smile fades as she turns and walks out of the pub. I almost don’t hear Aidan laughing at me through the sting of her words, my mind locking in on her brush-off.

  The pub never does fill up. Probably has more to do with the fact that it’s a Tuesday night in January than the bit of snow we’ve gotten. Unfortunately, that means I’m bored. Nothing to do but wipe down bottles, bullshit with the handful of regulars who never miss stopping in, and think about what comes next.

  I should probably go back to university and try again for a degree. I pull up the college website on my phone and look at the offerings. Teaching, nursing, business, computers. I have a fair bit of money in the bank. That happens when you share rent and work all the time.