A Lie for a Lie

by Hunting, Helena

  RJ looks into his glass. “My dad passed a couple years ago.”

  I set my drink on the coffee table and put a hand on his knee. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve been hard.” I’ve never lost anyone close to me, not even a grandparent, so I can only imagine how painful that would be.

  “Thanks—and yeah, it wasn’t easy. Holidays and birthdays can be tough. I’ve always been pretty close with my family, so we still feel the loss.”

  “He must’ve been so young.” I start to shift away, worried I’m making things awkward with the prolonged physical contact, but RJ puts his hand over mine.

  “He was only in his mid-fifties. He was type 1 diabetic—took really good care of himself—but some bodies are just defective, you know? Anyway, there were a lot of complications. He lost his vision, and then his body just stopped working properly. It was hardest on my mom, watching him deteriorate like that. The last summer he was around we had to cancel the trip because he just couldn’t do it, but the next year Kyle and I came back here. Unfortunately, this year I’m on my own.” His smile is sad. He moves his hand from mine and tips his glass back, taking a healthy swig. “What about you—are you close to your family?”

  I pick my drink up to keep my hands occupied. “Oh yes, we’re all very close.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” He seems happy to change the subject, which is understandable, all things considered.

  “I have seven siblings.”

  He nearly chokes on his beer. “Seven?”

  I nod. “Yup. I’m the youngest, and I have four older brothers. Dinner was pretty much a full-contact sport at my house.”

  RJ laughs. “I can imagine. What’s the age span between you and the oldest?”

  “Thirteen years. There are two sets of twins in there too.”

  “Wow, how was that, growing up?” He rests his cheek on his fist as if he finds me riveting.

  It’s almost unnerving to have someone as attractive as he is with his attention fully fixed on me. Also, the shirtlessness, while appreciated, makes it kind of hard to think. Not that I’ll complain—I like a good challenge. “It was like having a lot of extra parents who played pranks on each other. Mostly it was nice to always have people around, but sometimes I just wanted some space, you know? They all were always in my business.”

  He arches a brow. “Dating must’ve been fun.”

  “Not really.”

  He laughs again, rich and throaty. “Did they make it impossible for you in high school?”

  “Sort of. We were all homeschooled, so it was a little different for me.”

  RJ’s eyebrows shoot up. “Homeschooled? What was that like?”

  “It’s probably less isolating than it sounds. There are whole communities built around homeschooling. Like, we even had dances and events and stuff.” Not that I did much dancing. I was more the wallflower, standing off to the side, watching everyone else while I tried not to have a panic attack with all those people in one place at the same time.

  “With your brothers and sisters?”

  It’s my turn to laugh at his slightly disturbed expression. “Not just my brothers and sisters, silly. Plus, most of them were a lot older, already done with college by the time I was high school age. We’d get together with all the homeschooled families in the area. They had sports teams and everything. I usually only had about three hours of instruction a day, and I learn fast. Anyway, by the time I was fifteen I’d finished all of the curriculum for my senior year of high school, so I took the college admission tests. I did well, but my parents thought I was too young to go to college, so I took courses online for a couple of years.”

  “So you’re a genius?” RJ asks.

  I shrug, embarrassed, and focus on my drink. “I’m just a fast learner. I pick things up quickly, and I have a good memory.”

  “Smart is sexy, Lainey.”

  I glance up to find RJ smiling warmly, but it’s the way he’s looking at me that makes my palms damp and my stomach flutter. Like I’m a fascination.

  “What about you? You must have a pretty active job to look like this.” I motion to all the cut lines of his torso.

  Two dimples pop in his cheeks. “Is that a compliment?”

  “It could be, if it doesn’t offend you.” I hope he doesn’t think I’m objectifying him.

  “It definitely doesn’t offend me, so thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” I take another sip of my drink and realize I’ve reached the bottom of my glass.

  RJ plucks it from my hand and stands. “Here, let me get you another one. Unless you want something else? I have a few bottles of wine kicking around—and whiskey.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to monopolize your afternoon.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re the first person I’ve spoken to in the past two days. I gotta be honest, fishing alone isn’t nearly as fun as it is when my brother is here. Why don’t you stay for dinner? I was going to make steak and baked potatoes, and it’s way easier to cook for two than it is for one.”

  Anything that isn’t noodles or toast sounds amazing. And I don’t really want to go back to my cold, lonely cabin any sooner than I have to. “As long as I can help cook.”

  “That would be great, because I can barbecue a mean steak, and I can bake a potato, but my cooking skill set is pretty limited otherwise. I’m excellent at ordering pizza, though.”

  “I ruin steak every time I try to cook it, but I can manage pretty much anything else, so we’ll make a great team.”

  I can’t believe I’m having dinner with an insanely attractive man. Sure, I dropped in on him unannounced, and we’re both likely starving for conversation, but I can still be excited. And nervous, definitely very nervous.

  I have a new friend, and he looks great without a shirt on, and that makes my damp palms and my speedy heart rate totally worth it.

  CHAPTER 6

  SMOOTH MOVES

  Rook

  When Lainey excuses herself to the bathroom, I rush upstairs and throw on a T-shirt. I know she said whatever makes me comfortable, but sitting around shirtless is such a douche move.

  I make it back to the kitchen and pour her a fresh drink before she returns from the bathroom.

  “How can I help with dinner?” Lainey drapes her sweater over the back of a chair.

  And my mouth goes dry. Like I ate an entire sleeve of saltines and chased it with a tablespoon of salt. So far I’ve only seen Lainey in a giant parka or an oversize sweater. Under all that bulky fabric is one hell of a body. She’s wearing a simple white waffle shirt that conforms to her curves. A pair of dark-wash skinny jeans encase her toned legs.

  I’m used to bunnies throwing themselves at me, often in questionable states of undress. I stopped getting excited about miniskirts and revealing tops a long time ago. There’s something infinitely sexier about a woman who can show off her body without actually showing it off at all.

  Lainey tips her head to the side. Her teeth press into her full bottom lip. I want to do that. Suck that pouty, full lip between my teeth and bite it. I want to do a lot of other, far more explicit things than that, but a kiss seems like a good place to start.

  “RJ? Is everything okay?” Her eyes dip down to my chest. I’m wearing a shirt from one of my endorsement campaigns. It afforded me the extensive renovations on this cabin a few years ago.

  “Huh?” I give my head a shake. “Oh. Yeah. Everything’s good. Sorry, zoned out there for a second.”

  She smiles and pushes up on her toes, her eyes twinkling—like, they legit light up, and her excitement makes her entire body vibrate. It also makes her boobs jiggle. I try to keep my eyes glued to her face. It’s not easy, though.

  “I do that all the time! Sometimes my brain is busy with so many thoughts I miss entire conversations. Does that happen to you too?”

  I grin. I love that she seems to say whatever is on her mind. “All the time.”

  “It’s actually a helpful skill when you’re
being lectured, because I can sort through stuff in my head, but it’s not so great when your supervising professor is telling you what’s wrong with your thesis.” She pulls her hair over her shoulder and finger combs it.

  “I take it that’s happened to you.”

  “It did. Thankfully he also emailed all his criticisms, so missing out on it the first time wasn’t that big of a deal.” She divides her hair into three sections and deftly braids it without looking at what she’s doing even once. It’s pretty damn impressive. I almost want to pull it apart so I can watch her do it all over again. “Anyway, enough about that. Let’s get started on dinner!” She nudges me out of the way so she can wash her hands. She dries them on her jeans and moves over to the fridge, opening it to check out the contents.

  I kind of like that she makes herself at home. I’m used to women who expect to be catered to. It’s refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t want me to pander to her.

  I start pulling things out of the fridge as she starts naming items she’ll need and set them on the counter. I manage to locate most of what she asks for.

  “What about garlic? Do you have any of that?” She leans over, peering into the fridge beside me. Her braid slips over her shoulder, skimming my arm.

  “Uh, maybe we could forgo the garlic?”

  “Are you allergic? My oldest brother gets bloated when he eats it. It took us forever to figure out what was causing it. Sometimes I’ll still put some in when he’s coming for dinner, because it’s funny to see him look like he’s expecting.” She tips her head to the side. “Or you just don’t like garlic?”

  “I like it sometimes, but it depends.”

  Her brows pinch together. “On what?”

  “Who I’m eating with. I mean, if I’m going out with buddies, you bet I’m gonna order the honey garlic wings, or the cheesy garlic bread, or the pasta Alfredo. But if I’m eating dinner with a pretty girl, I’m gonna pass on the garlic.”

  “Oh.” She twists the end of her braid around her finger.

  Shit. I hope I’m not reading things wrong and making her uncomfortable.

  “Does that mean you think I’m pretty?”

  That she sounds genuinely curious as to my answer is unexpected. “You see yourself in the mirror every day—what do you think?”

  She averts her gaze, still playing with the end of her braid. “My eyes are too big, so I always look like I’m surprised. My nose is small, and my lips are too full, so my mouth doesn’t really fit the rest of my face.”

  “Wow. I think you need a new mirror, because all I see is a whole lot of gorgeous.”

  She snorts a laugh and waves me off. “Once, I took a portrait class, and we learned all about proportion and symmetry of the face. Those are just my flaws based on what I was taught.”

  “Well, I’m a big fan of all your flaws, and I think they make you more beautiful, not less.”

  “Thanks. I think you’re beautiful too.” She cringes. “I mean handsome. You’re very nice to look at, with or without a shirt on. When I fell in your lap on the airplane, I remember thinking, At least I fell on someone nice looking.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She opens a drawer, maybe to avoid looking at me. “And as much as I was mortified when you sat beside me on the Cessna, I couldn’t complain about the view, inside or outside of the plane. That you turned out to be really nice, and just so helpful, was a great bonus.” She hands me a roll of foil. “Why don’t you wrap the potatoes? They take the longest, so we should get started on those first.”

  I put the potatoes on the barbecue and let Lainey order me around. She definitely knows her way around a kitchen. When I was growing up, my mom did most of the cooking, but my dad could make a mean Saturday-morning brunch. He also made great bread, which I miss a lot.

  An hour later we’re seated at the table, plates full of steak, twice-baked potatoes, and crispy brussels sprouts cooked in bacon fat. I open a bottle of red wine and offer Lainey a glass.

  “Just a little bit? I’m not sure I like red wine.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t had the right red wine.” I pour a little into her glass.

  She picks it up and gives it a swirl, then sniffs it. “I’ve seen people do this in the movies, but I don’t really know what the point is,” she admits, then tips the glass back and takes a tentative sip. Her expression turns thoughtful; then she takes another, slightly more robust sip. “This is actually really nice. I like it. Maybe the red wine I had before was bad.”

  “Maybe. Some of the cheap stuff tastes pretty awful.” I pour more into her glass before filling mine. I hold up my glass and wait for her to raise hers. “To chance meetings.”

  “To new adventures and great company to share them with.” We toast and take a sip, each smiling behind the rim.

  Dinner is fantastic. I can get by on my own, but back home I have someone come in to prep my meals for me, because I don’t have a lot of time during the season and my diet is pretty strict. Nothing beats a good meal cooked by someone who knows what they’re doing.

  “Tell me more about your family.”

  “Like what?” She pops a brussels sprout into her mouth and chews thoughtfully.

  “What do your parents do for a living?”

  “They’re dairy farmers. I have to admit, I haven’t missed getting up at the crack of dawn to milk cows the past couple of days, although there really hasn’t been a dawn to speak of either.” Lainey takes another sip of her wine. Her glass is almost empty.

  “I grew up on a farm too. Gotta say I don’t miss those early mornings either.” I uncork the wine and refill her glass and mine.

  Lainey sits up straighter, and her eyes go wide with that excitement I’ve seen a few times already tonight. “Oh! What kind of farmers?”

  “Alpaca.”

  “Really? That must have been so fun! They’re just so adorable.”

  “They can be—when you’re not trying to shear them, anyway.”

  She leans in closer, eager for more information. “Tell me all about that. I want to know everything. How often do they mate? What’s it like to raise them? Did you get attached? Did they all have names?” She’s just so sweet.

  I laugh and tell her all about my childhood growing up on an alpaca farm, happy to have something else in common that I can share with her.

  “And is that what you do now? Farm alpacas?”

  I hesitate, weighing my options. For the first time in years I feel . . . normal. Being here, in this place with so many good memories—of the time before hockey took over my life, when I was just RJ enjoying my summer and fishing and being a regular guy. I want to hold on to that for as long as can.

  There’s no pressure, no self-doubt that she’s only interested because of my career and my bank account. Besides, what’s the harm in telling her a little white lie? In a different life, if I hadn’t been such a good hockey player, I would be an alpaca farmer. “It’s what I grew up doing.” It’s not a straight answer—so not a complete lie, but not the truth either.

  “That’s so great. Do you have other siblings who work with you?”

  “Both my brother and sister decided on other professions. My brother works in animation, and my sister wants to work in sports therapy. She’s still in school.”

  “That’s so nice. All of my brothers went into dairy farming. One of my sisters does all the bookkeeping, and my other two sisters help with distribution.”

  I shift the conversation away from myself, feeling uncomfortable that I just blatantly lied to her. “So you’re the only one who didn’t go into dairy farming? Was that hard?”

  Lainey looks down at her glass and shrugs. “I still help out, but I didn’t go to school for anything agriculture related. At first it was tough. My family likes to stick together, and they’re pretty protective of me—being the youngest and all—but I really enjoy learning, so I keep finding new things I love to study.” She leans back in her chair and cups her glass of wine in her
palms, like she’s holding a bowl. “What about you? Did you go to college?”

  “For a couple of years, but school wasn’t my favorite. I like to be moving instead of sitting.”

  “Mmm. Yes. I can see that.” Her eyes drift over my T-shirt-covered chest, and she bites her lip. I don’t think she’s being coy, just honest. She clears her throat and touches the back of her hand to her flushed cheek. “I think this wine is going to my head. Is it really warm in here?”

  “You’ve got the wine blush. It looks good on you.”

  “I should probably hold off on finishing this glass.” She sets it down and pushes back her chair. “I’ll help clear the table.” She arranges her fork and knife on her plate, which she cleared impressively, and takes it to the sink to rinse it off.

  I put away the condiments while Lainey rearranges the dishwasher for me. She also refuses to put the pots and pans in there, assuring me they won’t come clean and it will just bake on and be ten times harder to get off.

  “I can wash.” Lainey bumps her hip against mine, nudging me out of the way.

  “You’re my guest—you don’t have to do that.”

  “I don’t mind.” She puts the plug in the drain, squirts some dish soap into the sink, and turns on the tap. “The hot water is actually really nice.”

  I lean against the counter. “What do you mean?”

  “Just a bit of trouble with the water heater at the cabin.” The fact that she doesn’t look at me tells me there’s probably more than a bit of a problem.

  “Do you have hot water?”

  “It’ll be worked out soon.” She waves a soapy hand, flinging suds in the air. They land on her chest and in her hair—and also on me. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”

  She wipes her sudsy hands on her jeans and starts brushing them off my chest and neck. I don’t stop her, because I’m more than happy to have her hands on me.

  She makes the most adorable face. “There’s some in your hair. I’m really sorry—I get flaily when I’m nervous, which is a lot of the time. And then I start talking and I can’t stop.”

  “Am I making you nervous?” I bite back a smile.