Just My Luck (The Kings)
Chapter 8

Meatball and I were working in the brewhouse when an intruder’s slinky movements caught my eye. I stood and my throat went dry.

Not an intruder.

Sloane was wearing a thin, floaty dress that hugged her curves and nipped in at the waist, accentuating the soft lines of her body. I shoved my hands into my pockets.

“Hi.” Her lips were painted bright red. Again.

I couldn’t speak, so I only stared.

Meatball turned, and his jaw unhinged when he saw her. “Hey, Sloane. What’s up?” The grin on his face had me second-guessing that raise, and instead I wanted to fire his ass on the spot.

“Hi, Meatball. Think you can give me a minute with the boss?” She tossed her head in my direction, and my blood warmed.

Meatball wiped his hands across his jeans. “Sure thing. I think I’ll take my lunch.” He patted my back as he walked by, and I stared at him as he left me alone with Sloane in the back.

Her hazel eyes blinked up at me. I was at a complete loss for words. I finally landed on a grumbled “You’re not on the schedule today.”

Her white smile widened, and a soft laugh pushed through her lips. “I’m aware of that.”

“Is there something else you need?” My teeth ground together.

Please don’t let her quit.

“Actually, yes.” Her hips swayed as she moved forward and leaned against my desk. Her ass crumpled a few papers and my fists tightened. “I have a business proposition for you.”

My brow creased. “Business?”

“Yes, a mutually beneficial business arrangement, if you will.” Her lips rolled inward as she nodded. She held up a finger. “But first I need to come clean.”

An image of a hot, dirty Sloane flashed through my mind. I could imagine with perfect clarity what her ass would look like if I bent her over my desk and hiked her dress up. My fingertips could graze up the backs of her thighs before disappearing between her legs.

I adjusted my stance and ignored the magnetic pull toward her.

“A while ago I accidentally overheard you on the phone.” I straightened, ready to argue over the invasion of my privacy, but she stopped me. “Now, before you interrupt, it was definitely an accident. But I heard you say something about wanting to buy out your dad but being unable to. You may not know this, but I have money . . .” She shrugged. “Kind of.”

My eyes narrowed. I didn’t like where this conversation was going. My aspirations for the brewery were supposed to be secret. “Kind of?”

“My father did very well in California, and when he passed away, some of that money went into a trust fund for me.” She lightly scoffed. “A lot of money, actually.”

“Okay . . .”

“I would like to invest in Abel’s Brewery.” Her hands went wide in a ta-da! gesture that was altogether very Sloane-like. I tried not to smile.

My frown deepened as I let her words roll around in my head. “Invest?” There had to be a catch. None of it made any sense.

“Yes.” She smiled and brushed her hand against her collarbone. “I will provide the money you need to buy out your dad and remain a silent partner. The brewery would still be yours.”

The brewery would be mine.

The thought alone sent a bolt of energy coursing through me. Still, things weren’t adding up. “What’s in it for you?”

Sloane’s eyes flicked sideways. “Well . . . there’s a tiny issue with accessing the trust.”

I gritted my teeth and sighed. “What’s a tiny issue?”

“In order to access the money, I have to incur a significant life event.” Her eyes rolled and her fingers formed air quotes to emphasize how inconvenient she found that particular clause. “That could be marriage. Unless you want to have a baby . . .”

She scoffed at the last part, but I nearly choked. A feral part of me went wild at the idea of making a baby with Sloane. A man like me had no business being a father and quickly trampled the mere thought. My shoulders tensed.

Sloane’s hands went up. “I was kidding.” She laughed. “Oh my god, I was kidding.”

In a slow, slinky movement, Sloane stepped forward. Her eyes were locked on mine as she crowded my space. Awareness crackled under my skin, and my cock went hard in anticipation. She was so close I could feel her breath brush across my neck.

My fist stayed clenched at my side, and I watched as Sloane jerkily lowered herself to one knee.

I stared down at her in disbelief as she said, “So . . . Abel King, will you marry me?”

My brain paused, trying and failing to register the question she’d just asked. Her nervous smile wobbled.

Sloane was ridiculous and charming and altogether dangerous. When I regained my senses, I looped a hand under her arm and lifted. “Get the hell off the floor. What are you doing?”

She grinned and flicked a stray piece of hair away from her face and straightened her dress. “Proposing. It’s my idea, so I figured I should be the one to get down on one knee.”

My arms crossed to keep from touching her again. “I thought this was a business decision.”

“It was—it is! You just seem like there might be a romantic hiding in there somewhere.” Sloane tapped my chest, and the contact seared through my clothes and into my skin.

This is a very bad idea.

“There’s not,” I let out gruffly.

“Okay.” She nodded and looked around the brewhouse. “Noted.”

For a moment we stared at each other. The hum of equipment was the only sound as I contemplated exactly what she was proposing.

Sloane wanted to marry me. There wasn’t a world in which a woman like her would ever hitch herself to a man like me—it was impossible. Still, there she was, offering it up like it truly was nothing but a business move.

I huffed. “I don’t buy it. You don’t even know me.”

“You’re right, I don’t, and I do think there are some things we’d need to talk about beforehand, but . . . come on.” She gestured toward the large brew kettles and bounced her eyebrows. “Don’t you want this to be yours?”

I did. Desperately.

Mentally exhausted, I moved toward my chair and deposited my sorry ass into it with a sigh. “What do we need to talk about?”

With a stifled squeal, Sloane’s heels clacked against the concrete floor as she gripped Meatball’s chair and dragged it toward mine. She sat facing me and crossed her legs. My eyes stayed pinned to her face despite my peripheral getting a full view of her bare thigh.

“I have questions.” Sloane clasped her hands in her lap.

“You got down on one knee and now you have questions?” I crossed my arms.

Her shoulders slumped dramatically. “It was a gesture. But yes, I have questions.” Sloane slipped a small, folded piece of paper from the pocket of her dress. She eyed me as her fingers gently unfolded it.

I lifted an eyebrow. “You came prepared.”

“Thank you.” I hadn’t meant it as a compliment, but her sweet nature didn’t seem to register the gruffness in my tone. “First stipulation . . . if we move forward with this business deal, I need to know the details of your incarceration—not to pry, and I won’t tell a soul, but for my own safety.”

My molars ground together. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to look Sloane in the eye and admit what I had done. She certainly wouldn’t be sticking around if she knew.

Despite my silence, she continued. “Also, we would have a prenuptial agreement preventing you from accessing any additional money once we are divorced.”

My brows cinched down. “Divorced?”

She nodded. “Yeah . . . it’s not like we would stay married.” Her dismissive laugh landed like an anvil against my ribs. “Once we get the money and it’s settled, you’ll be rid of me. We just stay legally married until the sale is complete and construction on my grandfather’s farmhouse is underway.”

I pressed my thumb and forefinger into my eye sockets. Sloane was presenting the idea of marriage in the most simple, emotionless way possible.

It almost makes sense.

Still, something was off. She wasn’t saying it, but there were reasons other than money that she needed this to happen. I just didn’t know what yet.

The chair creaked beneath my weight. “Can I think about it or is this a one-time offer?”

She stood with a triumphant look on her face. “You can think about it, but you know I’m right. This is going to work.”

I stood, still reeling from the conversation.

Sloane took one step forward and planted her hand against my chest. My heart hammered, and I prayed she didn’t notice.

She smiled and my stomach swooped. “I’m going to be the best wife you’ve ever had.”

She left me slack jawed and staring as she sauntered around the brewing equipment and disappeared down the hallway.