Unexpected Lovers Box Set by J.B. Heller

Kinsley visibly wiltsbefore me at my question, and I wish I could take it back. But what is she doing that has her looking so defeated?

Placing my cutlery down, I take her hand in mine. “Hey, what is it?”

The smile that graced her face moments ago is long gone. She lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I have brunch at Zenith with my mother and sister tomorrow.”

I frown. “And that’s a bad thing?”

She presses her lips together in a slight grimace. “Yes and no. I don’t particularly get along with my sister, and my mother is … very critical. I’d rather not go, but they’re my family, you know?”

“Critical of what?” I ask, because for the life of me, I can’t think of what her mother could have a problem with when it comes to Kinsley.

“Of me,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not as beautiful as my sister; I don’t dress right; I eat too much; I—”

“Your mother is a bitch.” Her jaw gapes at my statement, and I push on. “A parent’s job is to build their children up, not tear them down.”

She slams her mouth closed and stares at me, her eyes glassing over as she does. Then she sniffles as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

My chair scrapes against the floor as I shove it back and move toward her. Wrapping my arms around her from behind, I press my lips behind her ear. “You’re incredible, and if your mother—or anyone else, for that matter—can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”

A heart-clenching sob rips from her chest as she clutches my forearms. Listening to her cry kills me, and knowing it’s her own family that makes her feel that way burns in my gut. My brows draw together as I try to comfort her with my touch, knowing whatever I do won’t be enough to heal the hurt her mother has inflicted.

“Come on. Let’s go sit on the couch,” I say, tugging her up and leading her into the living room.

I position her across my lap and hold her until her tears subside.

“I’m sor—” she starts.

“Don’t,” I growl. “Don’t you dare apologize right now. I couldn’t take it.”

Her throat convulses, and she nods. “Thank you,” she whispers.

My head bobs in acknowledgment, and I stroke her long hair out of her eyes. “Don’t go tomorrow,” I say.

She balks at my suggestion. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t. You’re a grown woman; you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” I press.

Sighing, she shakes her head then snuggles closer to my chest. “I’ll be fine. It’s only once a month that I have to see them. They’re my family.”

I grit my teeth to stop myself from telling her that her family can go to hell if this is how they make her feel. She doesn’t need to hear that right now. I’ve said my piece, and now I need to leave it alone. It doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.

And as that thought filters through my mind, I recall where she said they’re having brunch. Zenith. Tom and Sam own that building, and I think we’re due for another catch-up.

* * *

“Why are we brunching again?”Arlo asks as we ride the elevator down to the basement where the car I rarely get to drive is safely parked.

I run my hand through my hair and look at him from the corner of my eye. “Because we should make more of an effort to spend time with our family.”

He snorts. “Ah, really? Since when? We don’t like your family, remember?”

“Tom and Sam aren’t like the rest—you know that. You used to love hanging out with Tom when you were little,” I tell him.

“Yeah, okay, that might be true, but brunch? What’s wrong with the other three meals a day that are legitimate things?” he asks while slipping into the passenger seat.

I shrug because I agree with my son’s observation. In my opinion, brunch isn’t even a real thing. “It was Tom’s idea. You know he’s a little left of center.”

We pull up to the valet parking outside Zenith a little before ten then stroll into the restaurant to meet my cousins who are already seated.

The guys stand, and we do a round of handshakes and man-hugs.

“Dude, you’ve grown like a foot since I last saw you,” Tom says, slapping Arlo on the back.

My son shrugs it off, even though he did just have a massive growth spurt, and I know he was ridiculously happy about it just a few months ago.

After we place our orders, Tom and Arlo chat animatedly about the newest Marvel movie as Sam nudges my shoulder and asks, “So, where’s your girl?”

From this table, we have a clear view of the rest of the patrons seated in the dining area, and I scan each table until I spot her dark-purple hair pulled up on top of her head in a messy bun. My shoulders instantly tense at her posture. Her spine is curled and her head is down as the woman across from her gesticulates toward her.

“There,” I say in a terse whisper, nodding in her direction.

Sam follows my direction then he sneers. “That woman is a world-class elitist bitch.”

Don’t I know it, and I haven’t even met her yet. I keep my eyes on them even as the waiter places our food and beverages on the table then excuses himself.

Kinsley has really come into herself since we started spending time together. Day by day, she grows more sure of herself, and my chest swells with pride when she does something I know she wouldn’t have done prior to us getting together—like initiating touch between us.

But watching her now, it’s clear to me why she had such little confidence before. Those two women sitting on either side of her are the cause.

“You don’t even try to make yourself attractive. Honestly, Kinsley, would it hurt to wear something that reveals a little more flesh? You look like a dumpster woman in those sweaters you insist on wearing,” I overhear her mother say, and anger flashes through me. I’ll be damned if I sit here and let them continue tearing her down.

Pushing to my feet, I stride over to their table and stand behind Kinsley, placing my hands on her slumped shoulders. “Baby, it’s time to go,” I tell her.

Her body whips around, and, tipping her head back, she stares up at me in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Arlo and I are having brunch with my cousins.” I wave my hand in the direction I came from without taking my eyes off her. “You don’t need to keep doing this,” I say so only she can hear me. “They don’t deserve you.”

She blinks rapidly as her eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Kinsley, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” her sister purrs, eyeing me up and down like I’m a damn piece of meat.

I don’t hold back any of the disdain I feel for her when I respond on Kinsley’s behalf. “Atticus Blaine. I’m your sister’s boyfriend, but as far as you’re concerned, I’m your worst nightmare.”

She doesn’t even balk at the clear threat in my tone. She flutters her fake lashes at me and grins. “Nightmare,” she croons, “is not the word I would use for you.”

“Let me stop you right there. I just told you I’m your sister’s boyfriend, and you’re seriously making a pass at me?” I snarl then turn to their mother. “And you. You’re just going to sit there and say nothing about it? What is wrong with you people?”

Kinsley stands, stepping into my side as she whispers, “Just leave it, Atticus.”

My chest rises and falls as anger burns in my veins. My nostrils flare, and I wrap my arm around Kinsley, glaring at the two vipers gaping at me. “You two clearly don’t appreciate what an incredible person Kinsley is. And I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you can’t hurt her anymore.”

Reaching down, I cup Kinsley’s downturned face in my palm and tip it up, then I bend my head and mark her with a long and passionate kiss.

Whatever it takes, I will show her how beautiful and worthy she is.

My heart beatstriple time as Atticus leads us down a hallway toward the bathrooms instead of the table he pointed out. He then backs me into an alcove and cups my cheeks in his warm hands.

His voice is pure gravel as he asks, “Are you all right?”

I beam at him, a riot of emotions coursing through me: gratitude, hope, adoration, amazement, disbelief. “Yes,” I breathe. “You didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did.”

“It’s become rather apparent to me that there’s not much I won’t do for you, my sweet girl,” he tells me, pressing his forehead to mine then closing his eyes. “I couldn’t … you don’t deserve …” He sighs then grinds his teeth together, and when he opens his eyes, they’re burning with passion. “Fuck them, Kinsley. I get that they’re your family, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t toxic. And take it from me—you don’t need that kind of negativity in your life.”

“Okay,” I agree. It’s what Lennon and Emory have been telling me for years, but I always felt, deep down, that I deserved their criticism. I’m not sure when I started feeling that way, but I know it was wrong. Atticus has helped me see that, feel that.

My hands rest against his chest as it rises and falls, his thunderous heartbeat pounding against my palm. I tip my head back and offer him my lips as I murmur, “Kiss me again.”

The corners of his mouth curve as he lowers it to mine, sweeping his tongue inside, devouring me heart and soul. I moan into him and let my hands roam over his hard body until I’m squeezing his delectable ass.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, not again.” Arlo’s frustrated voice penetrates my little lust-filled bubble, and I stifle a shriek. “This is not the do-over I had in mind!” he groans.

Me either, dude. Me either.

* * *

Later that night,in my room, Atticus kisses me tenderly then moves off the side of my unmade bed and offers me his hand. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

My brows furrow in confusion. “Yes,” I murmur, placing my palm in his outstretched hand.

“There’s something I want to show you. Will you humor me for a few minutes?”

“Umm, okay …” I say, following him as he leads me to the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my closet then positions himself behind me. I twist my neck to look at him, and he presses a quick kiss to the tip of my nose.

“Look ahead for me,” he instructs. When I do, he rests his chin on my shoulder and places his hands on my hips. “What do you see?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” I return, not getting the point of this exercise.

His lips kick up in a small smile in our reflection, then he says, “When you look in this mirror at yourself, what do you see?”

I blink, then blink again as I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Eventually, I murmur, “Just an average, plain girl. Nothing special,” I tell him honestly.

He shakes his head, coming to stand at his full height at my back. “I’m going to tell you what I see, and you’re going to listen and take it all in. You’re going to open yourself up to seeing yourself the way I see you.”

Emotion lodges in my throat, making it impossible for me to speak, so I simply bob my head in acknowledgment.

Atticus brings one hand up to stroke my cheek. “I see mesmerizing green eyes that stop my heart in its tracks when they land on me.” His fingers graze my temple as he continues. “I see a woman with brains, beauty, and an immense amount of talent.”

My breath seizes in my lungs at his words, and tears prickle in my eyes.

Moving his hand down to my mouth, he cups my jaw and caresses my bottom lip with his thumb. “I see lips I want to kiss every single day. A mouth I want to watch as you speak about your work and your girlfriends.”

He continues to blaze a path down the column of my throat, across my collarbone, then between my heaving breasts, stopping at my stomach where he flattens his palm. Drawing my body back into his, he trails a line of delicate kisses along my neck then speaks again. “I see a brilliant, beautiful, kind-hearted, and sexy-as-hell woman who consumes my every waking thought and draws me further under her spell with every day we spend together,” he says with conviction.

My knees go weak, and if Atticus wasn’t holding me tightly, they’d give out on me.

He really sees all of that in me?

We stand there, staring at our reflections in silence as I do as he asked and let his words truly sink in.