The Honeymoon Trap

by Christina Hovland

  Parker visibly tensed. “It’s not like that.”

  “Yeah? What is it like then? You’re supposed to be my friend, but you kicked me out because he promised you a promotion. A promotion he’s no longer in a position to give.”

  William clenched his teeth against the years of friendship Parker had tossed away over job advancement. “Now—”

  “It’s my sister.” Parker signed the bottom of the form.

  William paused. “What about her?”

  “There’s a rehab program in the Springs that can help with her rehabilitation. I need to get her there. I need to get us there.” Parker hooked the clipboard back on the wall.

  William grabbed his suitcase from the floor. “This whole thing is about Allie?”

  “You should know by now my life is about taking care of Allie. I’m not being a prick. I’m getting her where she needs to be. It’s the least I can do for her.” Desperation leaked through the words.

  When would the guy give himself a break? Everyone knew the accident wasn’t his fault.

  Parker slipped past him into the newsroom.

  “I’ve got money,” William called behind him. “I’ll set you both up in Colorado Springs. However long you need.” What was the use of having money if you couldn’t use it to help?

  Parker stopped, his back to William. “I’m not taking charity. If you can’t make this acquisition happen to get me to Colorado Springs, I’ll figure something else out. I always do.” He shook his head and stalked out of the room.

  I’m getting her where she needs to be… Parker’s words were branded in the back of William’s brain.

  William blew out a breath. Looked like he had to learn everything about the merger in a night so he wouldn’t blow the transaction tomorrow.

  For Parker’s sake.

  Fantastic.

  …

  Lucy refused to call William. Six a.m., and she couldn’t get back to sleep.

  She wouldn’t do it. Nope. Except he was likely up and getting ready for another big meeting.

  Just as he’d promised, they were taking it slow. Finding a routine now that they were back. But even slow, the chemistry between them burned hot.

  He’d been gone late last night having dinner with executives and had more appointments this morning. In the midst of everything, he’d broken the Twin Lakes story and the ratings were gold. The newsroom was finally churning out features that mattered. Lucy loved the part she played in that.

  He was awake, and she should talk to him. That made the most sense. Although, why call with him next door? The logical thing would be to wish him a neighborly good luck.

  She tightened her robe and scooted to the patio. The cold metal of the porch froze the soles of her feet as she padded to William’s door. Mitzy followed and wound a path around her ankles. She knocked once and waited. He opened the door, and her cat bolted right between his legs into his living room.

  “Mitzy, get back here.” The cat ignored her, openly holding a grudge from Lucy’s absence. Forgiveness apparently didn’t come easy in the feline world.

  Lucy glanced to William.

  Hell on a ham sandwich, he’d shaved. Darn. She’d grown kind of fond of the facial hair. “You shaved,” she accused.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Big meetings today. Can’t show up scruffy.”

  Oh, the dimples. She’d gone what, a whole night without seeing them? The beard had slightly covered them up, so without it, they flashed more intensely.

  “What’s up, Princess?”

  Right. She had a mission.

  “I came by to tell you good luck.” Insert genuine smile here. A glint of dimple peeked out from his cheek in response to her grin. Perfect, everyone is smiling. Totally normal, not awkward at all.

  “Look at that. You found your happy place this morning,” he said. “Want to come in for a minute? I’ve got five before I head out.”

  She stepped through the doorway. Holy pink popsicles, his apartment looked like St. Valentine day had vomited all over the place. The pink on the outside didn’t even come close to the color palette on the inside—every shade of pink imaginable. Cotton-candy-pink paint must have been on sale the day they decorated this one. No wonder he always came to her place.

  William looped a tie around his neck and swiftly tied a Windsor knot.

  “How are the meetings with your dad?”

  “On the scale of root canal to amputation of my right leg, I’d say I’d rather be prepped for surgery than spend a few hours with the guy. No way around it, though.” When he tugged on a Bruce Wayne inspired suit jacket, her mouth went dry.

  Yummy.

  “Come by the station later. Maybe I can buy you lunch?” he asked.

  He straightened his tie and shook down the sleeves of the jacket. Double yummy.

  She struggled to respond and made an odd smacking noise.

  He raised his eyebrows at her. “Got a feeling I’m going to need to vent after this morning.” He stuffed papers in a soft leather briefcase and slung the strap over his shoulder. Her heart throbbed at the sight of him. He probably would hate it if she called him beautiful, but handsome didn’t cut it.

  She lifted Mitzy from the bubblegum-colored couch. “Lunch then. Great.”

  That earned her a throaty laugh. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “See you in a few hours.”

  They walked to the porch together and Mitzy jumped from her arms to scamper through her door. Once inside, Lucy leaned against the wall and scrunched her face. “That went well, don’t you think?”

  The cat refused to answer.

  A dry mouth and a throbbing heart? Sheesh, what was going on with her? She was either falling for him or having a stroke. Her forehead still tingled from where he kissed her. Tingling…that was a stroke symptom, too. Ugh. Unfortunately, this situation couldn’t be solved with blood thinners.

  Chapter Twenty

  “This is temporary,” Lucy mumbled to herself. Fact of life: Anything that burned as hot as what she and Will experienced would fizzle as quickly as it began. She needed to prepare for her time after Confluence and make plans to move on. Prevent heartache before it had a chance to take hold.

  She snatched her canvas sack filled with groceries from the passenger side of her car and shuffled toward her door. Her lunch with Will had been sidelined to a dinner courtesy of his father and the Colorado Springs executives.

  That gave Lucy all afternoon to stew about their relationship. Her job. Sleeping with the boss. She’d practically gnawed through her lower lip worrying about how this thing between them would play out…and how much heartache she’d have in the end.

  So she’d done what anyone would do—she worked to take her mind off all things William. So far, her mission involved an extra layer of eye makeup, lip gloss, and a trip to the Confluence Grocer.

  A yellow school bus pulled up to the edge of the beat-up Camelot sign. Lucy set her hand over her forehead as a group of boys stumbled down the steps of the bus.

  Simon clambered out last. Perfect. She had cash ready to pay him for taking care of Mitzy.

  The bus pulled away and one of the boys shouted something at Simon. Fingers looped around the straps of his backpack, Simon ignored whatever the boy said.

  Lucy’s smile faded. The boys ran after Simon and shoved at his backpack until he fell face-first in the road. No. Oh no. She knew these kinds of kids.

  They’d tormented her childhood. Her palms went damp and she dropped her grocery sack, running toward the group. She kicked aside a tub of yogurt rolling in her path. No time to stop. The gravel crunched under the soles of her shoes. Her vision tunneled and no matter how she willed her legs to move faster she seemed planted in the same hamster wheel of life.

  “Hey.” Her voice cracked.

  The boys didn’t pay any attention to her. They formed a half-circle around Simon. He suddenly looked much smaller than everyone else.

  “Hey,” she yelled again.

  The air w
eighed heavy in her lungs, dust and fear propelling her forward.

  “What’s going on here?” She put on her best you-don’t-scare-me face. But in truth? In truth, these boys scraped at a primal fear she’d never forget.

  They saw right through her mask. Bullies always did.

  “Simon, looks like your mom came to save you. Oh, wait. You don’t have one.”

  One of the taller boys, a big guy who looked more like he belonged in college than on kid’s school bus, thought his buddy’s declaration was hysterical and led the group in laughter.

  Lucy froze. She should say something. Do something.

  The kid who started the laugh-off kicked a clod of dirt toward Simon and took off running down the road. The other boys followed.

  Her fingernails dug into the pads of her hands. Her feet refused to move. She wanted them to move, but they wouldn’t go. Then as quickly as everything had gone to hell, the world re-focused. She dropped to her knees beside Simon, the pebbles on the ground tearing at the skin around her kneecap. Pencils, colored pens, and notebooks had fallen from his backpack. His small hands worked to push it all back into the bag.

  Lucy gripped his knuckles with her palms. “Simon.”

  He shook his head. Her heart split as a thick tear trailed through the coat of dust on his cheek.

  Silent, she helped him scoop everything into his backpack and supported him up. An intense need to hug the kid overwhelmed her. No, though, she wouldn’t embarrass him that way. Not after everything she’d witnessed.

  “Where’s your dad?” Jeff had to know what had happened. She had to tell him.

  “Work,” Simon mumbled.

  “And Dixie?” Lucy glanced to Dixie’s apartment.

  “Getting her hair fixed.”

  “Who are you staying with until she’s done?”

  “Mrs. Murdoch.” He kicked the toe of his sneaker into the gravel sending little rocks flying.

  Mrs. Murdoch pushed ninety, slept most of the afternoon, and barely left her house. Not exactly a fun afternoon for a kid.

  “I have some money for you. For watching Mitzy.” Lucy nodded toward her apartment. “Come on, I’ll grab it.”

  “I like Mitzy. She’s fun to play with.” Simon toyed with the straps of his backpack as they walked side by side.

  They stopped where Lucy had dropped her groceries. Together they got everything back in order. “You’re welcome to come hang out with her whenever you want. She’d like that.”

  Mitzy didn’t like much. She did seem to have an affinity for Simon, though.

  “Maybe.”

  Lucy dug through her purse for her key. “Simon? Can I ask you something?”

  “Okay.” He said it, but didn’t look convinced.

  Call it a hunch, but Lucy had a feeling. “That day we met at the gas station. Did you have the slingshot because you were worried about those boys?”

  He shrugged a one-shoulder lift. “Maybe.”

  Every nerve in her body sounded an alarm. “You know it’d be bad if you used it on someone, right?”

  He nodded. “Dad took it away. Just wanted to protect myself.”

  Like that, her insides melted. She’d talk to Jeff and maybe…well…she had some other ideas, too.

  “You want some ice cream? I don’t think it’s all melted.” She lifted her sack of groceries and tried her best to smile.

  “Okay.” Simon stuck around and played with Mitzy. The cat actually could play.

  Lucy wouldn’t have believed it until she saw for herself the two of them together. She’d texted Jeff that they needed to talk. Turned out he knew a little of what was going on—although not the extent. One of the jerk kids belonged to the mayor. Small-town politics came into play and all that. None of Jeff’s explanations helped Simon, though.

  After he left, Lucy went to work on her laptop. She blew out a breath and continued her online search. A story brewed here. A story that would help Simon and the kids like him. A story that needed to be told.

  By her.

  The glow of her screen kept her company for the next hours. She continued to search every lead she could find about the district’s policies on bullying. All the hairs on her arms raised when she followed yet another link. Kids being horrible in Confluence didn’t begin and end with Simon—not that she’d ever believed that. Cruelty seemed to escalate with each grade level so by the time high school rolled around the campus became a free-for-all of asshattery.

  She stuck her hand in the popcorn she’d made hours ago. Her fingernails scraped only the bottom of the metal bowl and a few errant kernels that’d fought the good fight and refused to give in to the heat. She glanced around the dark kitchen to where a breeze blew the polyester curtains over the stove.

  Crud. Dinner. William.

  She ran a hand through her hair and scraped her chair back against the linoleum. Not that she needed to impress him, but—oh, who was she kidding? She wanted him to want her. At least for now, until the official transition.

  Her feet barely hit the carpet in the living room when William raised his hand to knock on the sliding glass door of her patio. The collar of his white shirt lay unbuttoned, his tie dropped haphazard against it. He’d ditched the suit coat, but the slacks fit him oh so very nice.

  Meanwhile, she was in ratty cut-off sweatpants with popcorn breath.

  Her eye makeup was on point, however.

  She slid open the door along the thin metal rail. “Hey.”

  “Hey, you.” He ran a hand over her hair.

  She’d never been one to be touchy feely, but she wasn’t going to lie to herself—she liked his hands on her. A lot.

  She might as well enjoy them while she could.

  His eyebrows scrunched together.

  “What…” she began.

  He held up a kernel of popcorn.

  “Oh.” She plucked the kernel from between his fingers. Her face heated. “Right. I should change and handle…uh…this.”

  A sly grin quirked the side of his lips. “No need to change. Let’s order in.”

  Before she could ask, “pizza or barbeque?” his lips were on hers. Hungry. Delicious. William.

  She breathed in his scent, a comfort to her supremely crappy day. The kernel in her hand fell to the carpet. In the deepest recesses of her mind she had a vague recollection about a boundary discussion that should happen before they took this further. He moaned. The thought drifted away. They could discuss boundaries later. Later when she had any kind of resolve. Which was not the present moment.

  She opened her mouth to his demands and wrapped her arms around his neck. His tongue slid against hers, mimicking all the things she’d like him to do to her once they got to the bed.

  He broke the kiss and she nearly begged him to come back. Instead, he turned and pulled the curtains closed. Then, somehow, and she wasn’t quite sure how it happened, her back pressed into the shag carpet and he was on top of her.

  That worked too. She spread her knees and made sounds that she was pretty sure she’d regret later. His erection dug against his fly to the seam of her sweatpants. He thrust against her—the layers of cloth abrading her sensitive skin until she was on the edge, ready to fall. Her head dropped to the side, but he apparently wasn’t having that. His mouth caught hers, bringing her back to him. He reached behind to his back pocket and dropped the wallet beside her ear. Not once did his mouth move from hers. In a slick motion he had a condom in his palm and rose to his knees.

  No. No. No. She’d been right there.

  “Will,” she begged.

  “Panties off.” Somehow his words sounded like a command and a growl all wrapped up in one.

  She’d only gotten her pants and panties past her toes when he was back to her. He had barely pulled down his own slacks and with a feral grunt he was inside her. And it was heaven.

  He brought her to the edge again and stopped.

  “Keep going.” The words were barely recognizable.

  He lifted himsel
f on his forearms and kissed her with such tenderness she nearly unraveled right into the carpet. His thrusts slowed like he’d suddenly become aware of some secret only he knew.

  Slowly, he brought her back to the edge. Her breaths ragged, she gripped his shoulders and fell. He took his time following, finally letting go and burying his face in the side of her neck.

  “That was unexpected,” she said against the top of his head.

  “Luce.” He rose above her.

  Was that regret that passed over his expression? No, he couldn’t have regrets about this.

  “Did I hurt you?” He started to pull away.

  “No, I’m—”

  He kissed her. Hard. “I’d never want to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t.” She scooted backward, but he caught her around her waist.

  “I’m going to deal with this”—he glanced down to the condom—“then we can order dinner.” His gaze met hers and she felt the heat of it all the way to the bottom of her toes.

  He left to deal with…that…and she tugged on her clothes.

  How was it, she’d really like to know, could he take her on the carpet and still appear ready for the cover of GQ when he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later?

  She settled on the sofa, leaving a gap between them. Practice for the future.

  Clearly, he wasn’t interested in space. He erased the invisible line she’d crafted, his large hand covering hers.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, the seriousness of his tone nearly making her fall into a slurry of hysterics given what he’d just done to her on the living room floor.

  “Right. I’ve been thinking a lot about things. About us. If we’re going keep doing”—she waved her empty hand over the space on the floor—“this regularly, then we should make some rules. Especially now that we see each other at work.”

  “What do you propose?” The way he fiddled with a chunk of her hair was really very distracting.

  “Okay, well, work is work.” She licked at her lips. “Home is home. Let’s start there.”

  “Fair enough. You don’t want special treatment.”