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KATMAN COUPLE GOALS

FLYNN

I checked my reflection one more time in the rearview mirror, straightening my tie. The designer Jules had connected me with, Rose Vond, had made me a matching suit to go with the dress she made for Tempest. I felt like frickin’ James Bond in it.

The KAT house loomed ahead, lit up like Christmas with white fairy lights outlining the Victorian architecture.

I grabbed the small box containing the corsage I’d ordered, a cluster of tiny white star-shaped flowers with silver accents that would complement the dress I’d given her, and headed up the walkway.

Music and laughter spilled from the open windows.

The excitement of KATman was in full swing.

The door opened before I could knock. Mrs. Henderson stood there, her thin lips pressed into a disapproving line. After finding out about her role in Rosalind’s espionage, I had to fight the urge to tell the old witch exactly what I thought of her.

Instead, I channeled my most respectful, media- trained smile. “Good evening, Mrs. Henderson. I’m here for Tempest.”

“Mr. Kingman.” Her gaze traveled from my face down to my shoes and back up again, clearly searching for something to criticize. “You may wait in the foyer. The young ladies are still getting ready.”

She stepped aside reluctantly, allowing me to enter the house that had become so familiar over the past few months. The foyer was buzzing with activity, KAT sisters in formal dresses, their dates in suits and tuxes, everyone laughing and taking photos.

I spotted Gryff by the staircase, looking sharp in his own classic black tux, chatting with Bettie. When he saw me, he broke into a grin.

“Look at you,” he called out. Then in a really bad Sean Connery impression he said, “Shaken, not stirred.”

“Says the guy who color-coordinated his pocket square with Bettie’s dress,” I shot back, noting the gold accent that matched Bettie’s floor-length gown perfectly.

Bettie laughed, looking elegant and confident. “I told him it was required. KAT tradition.”

“The things we do for beautiful women,” Gryff said with an exaggerated sigh, though the way he looked at Bettie made it clear he didn’t mind a bit.

“Speaking of beautiful women,” I said, “where’s my date?”

“Still upstairs with the finishing touches committee,” Bettie explained. “You know how Parker gets with a makeup brush. Perfection takes time.”

Parker herself appeared then, stunning in a violet dress that matched her hair, Artemis at her side in a sleek silver suit that complemented her athletic frame perfectly.

“Kingmans,” Artemis nodded at me, then bumped fists with Gryff. “You clean up nice. Both of you.”

“Not so bad yourself, Art,” I replied. “Rugby season end well?”

I should know, because she and Gryff had eternal debates over which sport, football or rugby, was tougher. But I’d been a bit distracted this semester. Falling in love.

“National champions,” she said with the casual confidence that had always drawn Gryff to her. I’d never been sure if there was something romantic between them or if they were truly just best friends.

The conversation flowed easily, but I kept glancing at the staircase, anticipation building. Mrs. Henderson hovered at the edges of our group, her hawkish gaze following our every move. I caught her whispering something to one of the chaperones, her eyes narrowed in my direction.

Then the room went quiet.

I turned toward the staircase and time simply... stopped.

Time, my heart, the world around us... all stopped.

Tempest stood at the top of the stairs, a vision in shimmering black and silver.

The Rose Vond dress flowed over her curves like liquid starlight, the fabric catching the light with every breath she took.

Her dark hair was swept up in an elegant style that left a few curls framing her face.

The necklace I’d given her glittered at her throat.

She was breathtaking.

But it wasn’t just the dress or the hair or the makeup. It was the way she held herself, shoulders back, chin high, a small smile playing at her lips. Confident. Radiant. Taking up exactly the space she deserved.

“Wow,” I breathed, not even realizing I’d spoken aloud until Gryff elbowed me in the ribs.

“Close your mouth, bro. You’re drooling.”

I ignored him, moving to the bottom of the stairs as Tempest began her descent. Our eyes locked, and the rest of the room faded away. There was just her—my brilliant, beautiful Tempest, the woman who had completely upended my life in the best conceivable way.

When she reached the final step, I held out my hand. She took it, her fingers warm against mine.

“You are... I don’t even have words,” I managed, my voice rougher than I’d intended.

Her smile widened, a hint of shyness beneath the confidence. “You look pretty incredible yourself, Kingman.”

I fumbled with the corsage box, suddenly clumsy despite years of athletic training. “I got you this. I know it’s kind of dorky and old fashioned, but I hope it’s okay.”

She looked genuinely touched as I slipped the delicate arrangement onto her wrist. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Picture time,” Hannah called out, herding everyone toward the grand staircase. “Let’s get the whole Donkey Sitters Club together.”

We assembled for photos—couples, friend groups, the entire senior class. Through it all, I couldn’t take my eyes off Tempest. The way she laughed with her friends, the way she fit so naturally against my side, the way she glowed with a happiness I’d never seen from her before .

As we prepared to head out to the cars, Mrs. Henderson stepped forward, clipboard in hand.

“Young ladies, remember your curfew is two a.m. sharp,” she announced, her gaze lingering disapprovingly on Tempest. “And I expect all of you to return to the house tonight. No... exceptions.”

The implication was clear, and I felt Tempest stiffen beside me.

“Actually, Mrs. Henderson,” Bettie stepped forward, her expression pleasant but her eyes ice cold. “We are grown-ass adults, and if we’d like to stay out all night long, or spend the night with our dates having wild passionate sex, we have every right to do so.”

“Well, I never—” Mrs. H quite literally clutched the pearls at her neck.

“And we know what you did,” Bettie added with all the venom of a pissed-off sorority president. “Helping Rosalind spy on Tempest, letting her into our rooms, going through our things. That was a betrayal of every KAT woman, past and present.”

Mrs. Henderson’s face flushed. “I was protecting the reputation of this house. The morals and standards that?—”

“Were never yours to define,” Alice cut in, joining Bettie. Hannah and several other sisters moved to stand with them, a unified front. “KAT stands for sisterhood and support, not judgment and betrayal.”

“Which is why we’re so pleased you’ve decided to retire at the end of this semester,” Bettie continued smoothly. “The national board, especially Dr. Sterling, the president, was very understanding when we brought this to their attention.”

Mrs. Henderson’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “You can’t?—”

“We already did,” Parker said, stepping forward. She put two fingers to her eyes, then pointed them at the house mother. “I’m watching you. Every digital footprint, every keystroke, every surveillance attempt. Don’t even think about ever applying to be a house mother at any other sorority. Ever.”

“Ladies,” Hannah called out, as if laying their conniving house mother out flat was a regular Saturday evening event. “Our carriages await.”

As we filed out the door, I squeezed Tempest’s hand. “Your sisters are like the freaking mafia. Remind me not to get on their bad side.”

She looked up at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears, but she was smiling.

But Parker poked her head between us. “Yeah, no matter where we all are in the world after graduation as we spread our wings and fly out on our own into adulthood, just know, that, if you ever break our Tempest’s heart, we will hurt you. ”

Bettie, Hannah, and Alice all stared me down. “Yes,” Bettie said. “Like mailing you cow’s tongues in Tiffany boxes just like the patron saint of badass women, Carrie Fischer did once.”

I never, ever planned to break my girl’s heart. “No horse heads in my bed?”

“No horses were harmed in the planning of your downfall, Mr. Kingman.” Bettie looked at me like I was on crack. “Gross.”

But Parker gave me an evil grin. “Oh, I’ll do much worse. Credit history schmedit history, Kingman. Remember that.”

Okay, Parker was actually fucking scary. And it made me glad that Tempest had such loyal friends.

Outside, a line of limos waited to take us to the Peachy Creek Country Club. I helped Tempest into one of the cars, then followed her in, ogling her ass that was right in front of my face as she maneuvered her way into a seat.

“Did you know they were going to confront Mrs. Henderson?” I asked as we pulled away from the house.

Tempest shook her head. “No. But I should have. The Donkey Sitters Club doesn’t mess around when one of their own is threatened.” She turned to look at me, the passing streetlights casting a soft glow across her face. “Kind of like the Kingmans.”

I laughed, reaching over to take her hand. “We do have that in common.”

Peachy Creek Country Club was a sprawling estate right in the heart of Denver, its grounds meticulously manicured, the place looking like it was straight out of one of Jay Gatsby’s infamous parties.

The main ballroom had been transformed for KATman, soft lighting, floral arrangements in the KAT colors of black and gold, a live band on a stage at one end of the room.

We handed our invitation to the doorman and stepped inside, the sounds of music and laughter washing over us. Heads turned as we entered, whispers following in our wake. First-round League draft pick and recently revealed best-selling author. We made quite the entrance.