by Misti Murphy
Maybe it’s the shock of finding out someone I believed in is a complete fraud, but my shoulders don’t stop shaking with laughter even as I’m pulling on my shoes and snatching my bag from its hook. Henley Travis is a lying bastard with a tiny pecker and I will not let him see me sob.
The media is going to have a field day over this. He’s the spokesperson for the Christian and Family Network, for goodness sake. His whole spiel revolves around purity and marriage. It’s why we’ve never done the deed. Not that I’m ungrateful at the moment. I could be wrong, but I’m not even sure being screwed by a two inch prick counts as sex. Thank goodness I’ll never find out. I yank open the door and storm out onto the street, ignoring him calling out after me.
The media is going to have a field day over this. Even if we manage to keep the fact we were engaged a secret, the show’s producers are going to be pissed. We’ve already signed the contracts between CFN and House for Haven to secure significant donations over the next few years. I slide into my car, sit behind the wheel and try to catch my breath. All it will take for this whole thing to destroy everything I’ve built is one journalist with a nose for a story.
It’s going to get messy.
***
Speeding down the highway toward Reverence, the tears finally start. I brush them away with the back of my hand and order myself to get a grip. I grew up surrounded by the male species. Spent my entire childhood getting into scrape after scrape because of my brothers, and learned the art of not showing any weakness. Now is not the time to cry over a man like Henley.
It’s the time to regroup. My cell buzzes beside me, lighting up with his picture while it vibrates across the passenger seat of my VW. My eyes sting, the road becoming blurry through the windshield. Taking a deep breath, I pull over to the side of the road and tug at my engagement ring. It almost refuses to budge, but I wrench the princess cut solitaire on a platinum band from my finger and toss it out the window.
There’s some palpable relief in that. Almost like the ring had been wrapped around my throat instead of my finger, and I find myself breathing freely for the first time in weeks. I should be devastated. I should be wrecked by his betrayal. I should be a lot of things, but all I can think is I’ve been saved from making the biggest mistake of my life.
When had I gotten so off kilter? The last few months we’d been equally focused on our careers. Even our courtship had been a frenzy of social engagements designed to further our respective reach in the media. When the heck did I turn into this person? House to Haven was supposed to be about helping homeless kids find somewhere to live, a full belly, and clothes on their back. That’s what I care about. Not being in the spotlight. Now I’m going to end up in the spotlight for all the wrong reasons.
Getting back on the road, I ignore the insistent buzz of my cell until the battery dies. I’ll need to talk to him again at some point. I also need to call Olivia about the arrangements for the charity ball, but I can worry about that tomorrow. After I get to my brother Tom’s. Once I’ve had a chance to wrap my mind around what happened, and what will happen when people find out.
My hands start to shake. I was going to marry him. We were supposed to be together until death do us part. On paper, we were perfect for each other. So what if we didn’t hold hands in public, or dance together in the kitchen like I used to catch my parents doing when I’d sneak out of bed. I’d believed we could build that connection with time.
Stands of pines throw shadows over the road in waves, slowly merging into darkness punctuated by the occasional headlights. I wonder when it started. Had this been Henley’s first indiscretion, or just one of many? How many times had he screwed around while we were dating, while he was busy preaching his purity message to me, to the masses? How many times had he betrayed me, not to mention the millions of people who believed in his words about morals, and family, and religion?
Bang, thump, thump, thump. The car shudders, and I have to use all my strength to keep it from careening across both lanes and instead guide it onto the shoulder. Growing up with brothers, I learned how to cuss up a blue streak, with the firing of a singular synapse. Not that I do anymore. It’s not the image the CFN and I agreed on when they became the main sponsors for House to Haven. But right now I’m beyond tempted. Getting out of the car, I slam the door and manage to catch my thumb.
“Fuck. Mother friggin’ asshole.” Well, I guess my good girl image was going to be as short-lived as Henley’s pecker. My pulse pounds through my injured thumb as I hop from foot to foot, clutching it in my other hand until I can find some semblance of grace. Funny how slamming my finger in the door stings more than catching Henley in the act of revealing who he truly is. I should feel devastated. Instead, I feel relieved.
There isn’t a ton of light from the headlights to see by, but when I walk around the car, I discover that isn’t going to be a problem. The left side tire has blown out, the rubber shredded and hanging loosely around the radial.
“Great.” I stare up at the sky. “Could this day get any worse?”
Huffing, I stalk around to the boot and pop it. I should learn to keep my mouth shut. I should probably get it stapled shut with the way things are turning out. Tears prick my eyes, and I glare at the stupid boxes full of stupid centerpieces for the ball. With a groan I press my palms to my eyes and rub vigorously to shake off my frustration. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Some people say talking to oneself is the first sign of madness, and if that’s the case, I should be locked up by now. At least then I wouldn’t be staring at boxes marked fragile, rims of hurricane vases peeking above the edge of the cardboard, and yards of fake ivy, where my spare tire should be. I’d taken out the tire in order to make them fit, with the intention of dropping them at the office after I stopped at Henley’s. Of course, I’d forgotten about it in my haste to escape the city after I walked in on him and that theatrical skank.
Dragging my trembling fingers through my hair, I glance down both ends of the road. I can’t remember seeing any houses while I was driving so my best bet is probably moving forward and heading toward the next town. I grab my phone and toss it in my handbag before fishing out of the backseat the overnight bag I hastily went home and packed after I raced out of Henley’s. Unfortunately I hadn’t remembered shoes, so I’m going to have to cover the miles in a pair of cute red stilettos that are anything but practical. What a complete nightmare. I should have at least called my brother to tell him I was coming, but I hadn’t been thinking. I’d pretty much driven out here on instinct. A move I’m now regretting. At least if Tom had known I was coming he would have come looking for me when I didn’t show up, and I wouldn’t be faced with a long hike into town.
Stumbling along in the dark, I shift the weight of my bag from shoulder to shoulder for what feels like forever. A couple of owls close by keep hooting, and while I know the chances of running into an axe murderer are pretty slim, each time they hoot, I shiver. A slow roar starts, getting louder the closer it gets until it’s blocking out the sound of those damn owls. Even the chirping racket of the cicadas are drowned out underneath the heavy echo of the engine. I glance around and squint, shading my eyes with my hand to cut the glare of the singular headlight.
The man on the bike puts a boot on the ground as he slides up next to me and flips the visor on his helmet. Slate gray eyes are the only part of his face I can see. He’s almost familiar in a way. Or at least he seems friendly. But what would I know? I thought Henley was a nice guy and look how that turned out.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
“I’m fine. It’s a nice night for a walk.” Not that I’m adverse to help. It’s just now that my eyes have adjusted to the shift in light I’m getting an overall impression of the man and he’s massive. Wide, thick shoulders outline a brick wall of a chest and burly arms. I glance around him to see if he’s carrying an axe or a shovel across his back because it wouldn’t take much for him to murder me and get rid of the body out here. For
the second time tonight I wish I had called my brother to let him know I was coming.
“I’m not going to hurt you, ma’am. Do you need help with your car? I’m assuming that’s yours back there on the side of the road.” He glances back in the direction we’ve come from. “I can take a look and see if I can get you back on the road.”
I wish. “I blew a tire, unfortunately.”
His gaze dances for a minute. “Well that’s an easy fix. I can talk you through it while I change it over, so if you ever get stuck again…”
“Really? Just because I’m a woman stuck on the side of the road because my car blew a tire, you assume I can’t change it myself?” I roll my eyes, which probably isn’t the right reaction since he’s only trying to help me, but I grew up with three brothers, pretty much four if you counted Mace’s best friend who never went home. I know a fair bit more than most women do about ‘man’s work.’
“If it had been that simple I would have done it. I took my spare tire out to make a quick trip today. I didn’t plan to end up all the way out here.” I gesture around us.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
I kind of slump when he says that. I’m exhausted and hungry, and I’ve had about as much as I can take. Getting fired up at him is nearly the only thing I can do to avoid sinking into a heap and giving in to a good poor me sob. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”
“Well, since I can’t help with your car, maybe you’ll let me give you a ride somewhere?”
I glance at the spot behind him on the bike. I used to ride with my brothers all the time when we were growing up, but the dirt bikes they rode were nothing like this beast. “I’m going to Reverence, but could you drop me off in Carlton? I’ll get my brother Tom to pick me up from there.”
His gray eyes widen, and he simply stares at me for a beat. It’s almost disconcerting the way he feels so familiar while he’s taking me all in with such a slow appraisal. “Actually, I’m heading to Reverence myself.” He lifts the helmet over his face and holds it out for me to take.
Now I’m the one staring. No wonder his eyes seemed so familiar. I’ve seen them a million times in my dreams, and a billion more while I was growing up. My life flashes before my eyes and for a moment I forget to breathe while memories swamp me, and not all of them are good.
Razer freaking Bennington. My middle brother Mace’s best friend. The guy I’d considered a brother in his own right for the first fourteen years of my life. Good Lord, it’s really him.
His lopsided grin grows with each second I stand there, frozen, speechless, my mouth hanging wide open while I stare at him. I thought I’d sunk as low as I could. I really did believe things couldn’t get worse. Clearly my ovaries don’t remember what happened last time I saw him. It must be chemical. That’s the only excuse for the way my insides light up like a Christmas tree under his gaze.
“Come on, Little Bit. Take the damn helmet and let’s get you home.” He turns it around in his large hands and shoves it down over my head before securing the chinstrap. “Tom know you’re coming?”
“No.” I mutter as he pulls me onto the bike behind him. I’m severely tempted to tackle him, to throw him to the ground and smack him upside the head– or jump his bones, I’m not sure which.
A spark shoots through me as he wraps my arms around his waist and squeezes my fingers. The one I managed to slam in the door still throbs painfully. “Ouch.”
He lifts my hand in front of his face, studies the slightly swollen and dented digit. “In the wars, Little Bit?”
“It’s been one of those days.”
“Need me to kiss your owie better?” He chuckles as he presses his lips to my finger for the briefest of seconds, and I cringe under his ministrations even while my lungs seem to squeeze tight. Then he laces my fingers together like a seatbelt, patting my hand. “Have you been on a motorcycle lately? You remember to hold on, right?”
It’s been what? Six? Almost seven years since I last set eyes on Razer Bennington. Close to seven years with absolutely no contact. Seven years since I made a complete and utter fool of myself over him. What the hell is he doing back in Reverence? “I’ve got it.”
His body is hard underneath my fingers, all ridged muscle and heat. He’s not as lean as I remember him. He’s grown into his skin, broader and wider and much more a man than he was when he left to join the marines with Mace. Henley works out every day, and he’s never been this muscular.
Oh crap! Henley’s idea of working out is probably lying on his back while some wannabe porn star does all the work. I squeeze my eyes shut, and rest my forehead against Razer’s back. How long until I have to deal with the fallout?
“It’s not that bad is it? It’s just a tire.” He pats my hand.
“Yeah. Just a tire.” And a scandal, and the one man in the world I never expected to see again, all on the same day. No big deal.
The bike roars again and then we’re eating up the blacktop while I hold on for dear life, wondering why he’s home and how long it will be until he takes off again. It shouldn’t matter, but we’d once been close. He’d been like another brother to me. He’d practically lived at our house, and he’d been the one who really got on my case. Until I’d turned fourteen. Then I’d stopped thinking of him as a brother.
He still smells so damn good. His scent is more decadent than chocolate, and that’s saying something since if I even smell chocolate, my mouth waters. From the moment that tiny glimmer of aroma hits my nostrils, my taste buds dance, and all I can think about is that first bite of yummy goodness and the way it melts against my tongue. And if I don’t get it, it becomes all I can think about. That was the effect Razer had on me back then. Back before he cut me out of his life because I took things too far.
My mouth waters as if I’m Pavlov’s dog and someone just rang the dinner bell. But I’m not interested in rehashing the past. I don’t really care why Razer’s back in Reverence, or whether any of my letters ever reached him, or if he regrets cutting me out of his life. Or if he ever thinks about that night the way I do. I’m only here long enough to get my head together. A few days at most.
Street lights cut through the darkness as we edge into Reverence. Up ahead the center of town sprawls out with its low-rise offices and restaurant sector. Not quite home but almost there. Razer doesn’t need directions. He seems to know where Tom lives, which makes me wonder how often the two of them keep in contact, since Tom only moved a few months ago.
I haven’t even been to his house yet. Tom always comes to visit me, instead, and Rush and Mace are too far spread to catch up more than once a year. I have so much going on with House to Haven that I barely have any free time anyway. Besides, there are things I prefer to forget. Boys with gray eyes and lopsided smiles, for example. I suck in my cheeks at that thought. Boys with gray eyes apparently grow up into hulking men.
For years I’d avoided coming home because of him. Not the real him, since he was off who knows where to defend our country, but the shadow of him, of that last trip he and Mace made on my sixteenth birthday.
Even after that I’d sent letters. Apologies. I just wanted it to go back to the way it had been before. Having four older brothers instead of the three my parents gave me. Having him yell at me for sneaking out of the house, or even to hear him call me Little Bit again, though I’d outgrown the nickname years ago. I’d sent so many letters, until I finally got the point. He had no interest in staying in touch with his friend’s little sister. I kept writing for a while, even after I stopped sending them. Those letters are tucked away in a shoebox at the back of my wardrobe. I keep meaning to throw them away.
He pulls into Tom’s driveway, and I’m still so caught up in my memories that it takes him clearing his throat for me to notice we’ve arrived. I slide off the bike and shiver. It won’t be long before I’ll have to admit my life is falling down around me. I can never keep secrets from Tom.
CHAPTER TWO
CLAIRE
“W
hat? Is it Christmas?” Tom breaks into a grin as he fills the doorway, his mastiff Lucky winding in front of his legs, her tail thumping. “My little sister and the prodigal brother all in one hit. Must be my lucky day.”
“Nice security system.” Raze nods at the small camera I hadn’t noticed tucked away under the edge of the porch.
“Yeah, well I don’t want bastards like you sneaking up on me.” Tom holds open the security door, but makes no effort to get out of the way. Instead Lucky bounds out and jumps up, landing her paws on my shoulders and sending me careening backward into Razer.
“It’s just not your day is it?” He chuckles, his chiselled arms bracketing me for a moment before he rights me on my feet.
No. It’s definitely not my day. Razer freaking Bennington has had his hands all over me, and any belief I’d had that I could decide not to be attracted to him has flown out the window. “Come on, Tommy. Let us in.” I try to brush past him, but he grabs me up and lifts me off my feet, squeezing me until I almost can’t breathe.
I push at his shoulders half-heartedly. “Put me down, you oaf.”
With a chuckle he drops me to my feet and clasps Razer’s hand. “Good to see you in the flesh for a change.”
“You too.”
I glance from one to the other. I should have figured they’d kept in touch. That it was just me Razer had a problem with. “Do you have any lemonade, Tommy?”
“Sure, Little Bit.” As he leads the way to the kitchen, Razer’s keenly observing our surroundings, his head swivelling as he checks out Tom’s pad. Must be an almost automatic thing for him after years as a marine.
The house is far more spacious than I expected, but set up in true bachelorhood fashion. Photographs of fighters line the walls, and the gloves Tom used to wear when he’d been boxing competitively hang from a nail in the wall. But the kitchen is state of the art, decked out in honey colored cabinets and white countertops with a double range taking up the center of the island. “Nice place.”
