Page 11 of Steinbeck (The Minnesota Kingstons #5)

FOUR

Emberly’s story bothered him more than Stein wanted to admit, even after they’d turned on the television and embarked on a short West Wing marathon.

She’d helped him clean out the junk-food supply in the galley, and when the copilot came over the speakers and told them to buckle in for landing, he found her snoozing.

Emberly was impossibly pretty, and he had to catch himself because she was most likely right— “This is going to end badly.”

Maybe. Probably. And he might be a fool for thinking anything else. Because he didn’t trust her.

But he wanted to.

Shoot. A smart man would put a tracker on her, because deep in Stein’s gut, he knew that at the first—or best—chance she got, Phoenix would ditch him. He should probably let her.

Emberly, however, the girl who’d tried to care for her sister, who longed for a family... That girl spoke to the guy inside who’d grown up with that exact family.

They were cut from the same double-sided cloth. And four days ago he’d been desperately trying not to think about their kiss—okay, all the kisses between them.

Then she’d launched herself into his arms in Sintra, and something had shifted inside him. “Don’t make that bet quite yet...”

Aw. Maybe he just needed to help her with this one thing, get her—and this mission—out of his system. Walk away, back to a life without thieves and Russians chasing him.

No more danger and trouble and waiting for her to betray him.

However, now as she sat in the rental beside him, driving from the airport the hour-plus to Duck Lake, their life felt almost pedestrian. Just a couple of... spies? Not thieves, but maybe... operatives? Heading to his parents’ home.

Okay, maybe not so pedestrian.

“You okay?”

She stared out the window, the early autumn sun casting upon the red silos and barns that sat amidst fields of corn and soybeans on this stretch of highway between Minneapolis and Duck Lake.

“Last time I was at your house, I snuck in like a thief.”

“Not like a thief. You were a thief.”

She glanced at him. “A dancing thief. You had nice moves there, Travolta, if I remember correctly.”

“I should have realized you were just using me for my jacket.” But yes, he remembered that dance with a stranger, the one that had lingered with him.

Maybe because, deep inside, he’d known .

Phoenix, the girl he’d tried to forget, somehow, impossibly, in his arms.

“Listen. No one knows why you were there. Not even Austen. Calm down—for all they know, you’re my secret girlfriend.”

Her eyes widened.

He glanced at her. “There’s that panic again. Listen. Just for the next twenty-four hours, until we track down Declan, maybe just... take a breath. Loosen up. Let your inner Emberly out.”

“You do remember that Emberly was a little unhinged.”

“I think Emberly just wanted to be safe.”

She stared at him. “Listen, Dr. Phil, I don’t need to be fixed, or even pandered to. We’re here for one reason—to find Stone. And get Axiom. I’m not here to be your ‘girlfriend.’” She finger quoted the word. “Or even some project.”

“Project?”

“Like, the broken girl who needs a family...”

“What?”

“Yeah. Ever since I told you my story on the plane, you’ve been acting all... weird. Nice. Sweet.” She made a face.

“Baby, I promise you, I’m not sweet.”

“You are—you put a freakin’ blanket over me when I fell asleep!”

“Wow. Okay. You’re right. Next time, you can freeze to death. You don’t even get a roll of newspaper.”

Her mouth opened. Then she shook her head and looked away.

He smiled. “I hope my mom made cinnamon rolls.”

“You can’t bribe me with food either.”

“You’ve never had my mom’s cinnamon rolls.”

“For the love, this is not The Family Stone .”

“The what?”

“You know, that Christmas movie about the family who gets together one last time before their mom dies, and they all bring their crazy spouses or girlfriends, and one of the girlfriends falls for the brother and?—”

“Please do not fall for any of my brothers.”

“I won’t—what—no. I mean, okay, just... I’m... Could you just book me a hotel?”

“Sure. At the King’s Inn. We have plenty of rooms.”

She huffed. “Fine. But you’d better deliver on that promise of cinnamon rolls.”

He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Silence. Then, “Oh no, you were a Boy Scout, weren’t you?”

“All the way to Eagle, just like my brother Jack.”

“Beautiful. The Boy Scout and the thief. This is like a bad rom-com.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s Silver Linings Playbook .”

“That was an award-winning movie.”

“About mental health issues . It wasn’t a rom-com; it was a drama. You can’t just call something a rom-com if it has no comedy. Therefore, bad rom-com.”

“It had funny moments.”

“See, another reason I can’t trust you—your taste in movies.”

“Me?” He looked at her. “You can’t trust me? This from the woman who spent two hours trying to convince me that The Last Jedi was a terrible movie.”

“It was. Luke Skywalker was supposed to be this superhero Jedi. Instead, he was a broken hobo on some forgotten planet. And no way would he try to kill Ben Solo—never buying it. And I really wanted him to be Rey’s dad.”

“But he looked into Ben’s mind and saw who he’d become.”

“And that was justification for trying to kill him?” Her voice had risen, and weirdly, for a second, they were back in the safe house in Krakow, her sitting on the sofa finishing off her ramen, him leaning against the doorjamb, wondering how he’d gotten there, too invested in a story in a galaxy far, far away.

And then, just like that, he got it.

“You wanted Luke to be a hero and believe in Ben... because if he did, maybe it would have changed him.”

She blinked at him. Looked away. “It’s just a movie.”

His throat thickened. Yeah.

After a bit, “You do seem rich in your movie lore.”

“My mom found a slew of movies in a dumpster, and we had this little television that had a DVD player attached to it. Nim and I wore them out. We have our own language of movie quotes.”

“Our family had movie nights, but usually we were outside on the lake or helping at the inn.”

“Sounds like you had the perfect childhood.”

He glanced at her, but she hadn’t sounded bitter, the tone not a barb. And besides, maybe he had.

Silence deepened as they drove into the outskirts of Duck Lake, past the Lumberjack’s Table, which used to be an old bowling joint, and Echoes Vinyl Café—which served a decent cup of coffee—and the Tipsy Canoe, a craft brewery. The town’s facelift after the tornado had upscaled the place.

He finally glanced at her. Again, his voice soft, “You’re not a project, Emberly.”

She glanced at him. Nodded. “If calling me your girlfriend stops questions, I can handle it. Just don’t... be sweet.”

“Nothing but full-on Grinch.”

He got a smile.

“For the record, it’s a cute town.”

He turned north, toward the King’s Inn, situated on the lake. “Thanks?”

“I mean, I would have loved to grow up in a town like Duck Lake.”

“It’s hard to escape your past in a small town.” He didn’t know why that sneaked out, but maybe... Well, she’d told him about her life.

Not that he had much to tell. “We were sort of big shots in town. My brother Jack was this all-around athlete. People called him Big Jack. And Conrad has always been the hockey star. Austen and I were the Wonder Twins.”

“Seriously? I didn’t realize you were twins.”

“Well, fraternal. I’m older and much wiser by two minutes.”

“Your poor mother.” She’d turned, leaning against the door to watch him. After the plane ride, she’d changed into leggings, white tennis shoes, and an oversized sweatshirt. With her tousled red hair, she looked like a coed, the weekend “girlfriend.”

Aw. He had to stop thinking that way. Really.

“Yeah, then she had Doyle and Bronte, so we had a wild, full house. My grandparents ran the inn until they retired. We grew up in the carriage house with my dad running maintenance and my mom helping Grandma.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Probably was. At the time, I couldn’t wait to leave.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I felt... in the middle, I guess. And maybe tried too hard to bust out of that.”

“Eagle Scout?”

“Oh, that was my grandpa—he pushed me into that with Jack. And my dad pushed me into hockey until he realized King Con was the superstar.”

“King Con?”

“That’s his nickname. But when we were kids, he wasn’t near as tough as he is now.” He turned onto King’s Inn Drive. “I saved his hide from being checked more than once.”

Words rose up, fingers in his chest tightening. “Except once.”

“Once?”

“Yeah, we were in a game. He was about eight, and we were playing on the same team, and the kids weren’t allowed to check, but that didn’t stop some of the kids—anyway, Conrad was playing center, and I was down at defenseman, and I still remember it like yesterday.

He had the puck, was taking it down the ice, and this one Goliath of a kid just rushed him from all the way across the ice.

I saw it before it happened and took off, but no way was I going to get there in time.

Con got slammed into the board, lost his helmet, broke his nose, blood everywhere. Total chaos.”

“You got the kid, didn’t you?”

He looked at her. “I got thrown out of the game. Sat out for three more games.” He raised a shoulder.

“Sometimes, when I’m really tired, I think—I dream that I’m nine years old again and racing across the ice, trying to get to him.

And I can’t. And bam, he’s hit and bleeding, and I wake up in a cold sweat. ”

Silence.

Wait. Aw. He hadn’t meant to?—

“Thank you.”

He glanced at her as they pulled into the driveway. There were only a few cars in the lot, but it was Tuesday, so a shoulder day for guests. “What?”

“Suddenly it all makes sense.”

He parked. “What makes sense?”

She unbuckled. “All of it.” Then she smiled. “Okay, Thor, I’m ready to meet the family Stone.”

“The... Kingston family.”

“Whatever.”

“Thor?”

She winked and got out.