A Lie for a Lie

by Hunting, Helena

I raise both hands defensively, because I am not known for my excellent reaction time, and am rather surprised when my fist closes around the object he’s tossed my way. “I am not good at catching things, so I don’t suggest you do that again.”

  “You can be good at anything if you practice enough,” RJ replies.

  I glance down at my palm and find I’m holding his truck keys. “I don’t have my license, remember?”

  “I know. I’m going to teach you how to drive.”

  I glance at his monster rental truck with all the bells and whistles. “No. Nope. No way.” I toss the keys back to him. My aim is terrible, but he still manages to snag them out of the air before they hit the ground.

  “Why not?”

  “What happens if I ruin that truck?” My father has the base model, and it’s expensive as heck. I can’t afford to ruin a truck.

  “You’re not going to ruin it, Lainey. I’ll be right beside you, teaching you what to do. We’ll take it slow.”

  “But I might scratch the paint. Or hit something.” I’ve seen a lot of roadkill on our trips to town. I would prefer not to add to that body count.

  RJ arches a brow. “You grew up on a farm. You have to have driven a tractor.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. Of course I’ve driven a tractor. “Not the same, and you know it.” I can back up into the fence or accidentally hit the side of the barn and no one will get mad at me for scratching it, since farm machinery is meant to get beaten up.

  A half grin tips up the corner of RJ’s mouth. “You’re right, not the same at all. A tractor is way more difficult to drive than a truck. You’ll be a pro in no time.”

  “Tractors are meant to be ridden hard—trucks like this one, not so much.” I make a flaily gesture toward his sporty, unscratched, undented rental. It’s rather intimidating and fancy.

  His half smile turns into a full-on grin, and his eyes move over me in a slow, hot sweep. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “I’ll let you ride me however you want if you give it a try.”

  “How would that be different than any other day?”

  He taps his lip thoughtfully. “Hmm, you have a point. You’re pretty demanding when you’re naked.”

  “I’m trying to be helpful!” I defend myself. “I don’t see the point in being a passive recipient. Unless you’d prefer I keep you guessing as to what I like and what I don’t.”

  RJ drags his tongue along his bottom lip. “I fucking love how expressive you are.” Palm flattening against my lower back, he pulls me into him, his erection pressed against my stomach. “Please, Lainey. Let me teach you something new.”

  I glance at the truck and back at RJ. He looks so excited and turned on by the prospect. When I said I didn’t have a license, I didn’t mean that I can’t drive. I can. But I’m not comfortable on highways, and I’ve only ever driven on country roads—and always in a beat-up pickup truck, not something nice like his rental. Still, RJ thinks I don’t know how, and if he wants to persuade me to learn, who am I to take the opportunity away from him?

  I’m sure I can handle driving on the road into town. Plus, I won’t have my mother beside me, freaking out when I get even close to the speed limit. She drives like an eighty-year-old on Sunday.

  “Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

  RJ helps me into the driver’s seat—which is mostly just an excuse to touch my butt—and adjusts the seat so I’m closer to the gas and brake pedals. He rolls down the window, closes the door, and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Smile, baby.”

  I give him a cheesy grin, excitement and nerves battling as he snaps a picture and rounds the hood. He gives me a brief rundown of all the dials and knobs before I slip the key in and turn the ignition over. The engine rumbles to life. I wipe my hands on my thighs, since I put lotion on before we left the cabin.

  “Hey.” RJ places his hand over mine and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t doubt yourself, Lainey. You got this.”

  I realize he must think I’m anxious, so I follow his instructions, shifting the truck into gear and tapping lightly on the gas pedal, sort of like I would when I’m driving a tractor. He lets me get the feel for the gas and the brakes by circling the wide-open driveway a few times. Every time I hit the brake, the truck lurches to a stop, gravel spitting from the tires. At first it’s not purposeful—the brakes on his truck are particularly touchy—but I’m having fun watching RJ be so attentive and concerned, so I keep doing it.

  “Sorry.” I bite back a smile when he not-so-subtly braces a hand on the dash.

  “You’re doing great—you just need to get a feel for how sensitive the gas and brake pedals are. Kinda like when I go down on you. If I want to make you come fast and hard, I need to hit your buttons like I mean it, but if I want to drag it out, then I’m gentle. Same principle.”

  I cock a brow. “Is this whole driving lesson going to be explained in sexual analogies?”

  He grins and shrugs. “Seemed like a good comparison.”

  I roll my eyes but take his advice, barely tapping the gas when I want to speed up and gently moving to the brake when I want to stop. It’s actually a pretty accurate analogy. Eventually I make my way down the long driveway. When I reach the main road, my nerves become real. While it’s not a busy road, logging and transport trucks use it frequently, and the speed limit is higher than I’m usually comfortable with.

  RJ stretches his arm across the backrest and gives my neck a reassuring squeeze. “You got this. Just take it slow, and you’ll be fine.”

  The road is clear of traffic, no one coming in either direction. As far as “learning” to drive goes, this is probably ideal. I signal left, toward town, and ease out of the driveway. I’m currently only doing about twenty-five miles an hour, much lower than the posted speed limit. I check the rearview mirror. “What happens if someone comes up behind me?”

  “You can always pull over and let them pass. Give it a bit more gas, gorgeous.” The pet name warms me from the inside.

  I do as he instructs until I reach about forty-five miles an hour. “How do people drive on the freeway when everyone is going this fast and they’re all so close to each other?”

  “You get used to it. You’re doing great.”

  I like the praise, so I keep easing the speedometer up until I’m going the posted speed limit. “This is a rush!” I tell RJ.

  He laughs. “It’s fun, right?”

  “It is!” I glance over at him, taking my eyes off the road for a split second. Or maybe it’s a little longer than a split second, because when I shift my focus back to the road, a little red squirrel is bounding across the pavement. “Oh shoot!” I put on the brakes, tires squealing as the tiny rodent freezes. No one is coming in the other direction, so I swerve around it, managing to avoid turning him into a pancake. A few minutes later I pull into the parking lot of the pharmacy without additional animals playing chicken with the truck.

  RJ reaches for the door handle. “I’ll be right back, unless you want to come in with me?”

  “Um, I’m okay to wait in the truck.”

  He leans over, drops a kiss on my cheek, and jumps out. As soon as he’s inside the store, I unbuckle my seat belt and switch to the passenger seat. Five minutes later RJ leaves the store as a blonde woman dressed in skintight jeans and a fitted sweater is about to go inside. She looks like she belongs in a commercial for perfect hair. Perfect everything, actually. I immediately hate her when she smiles at RJ in a way that tells me she appreciates what she sees.

  His eyes flare, and for a moment his gaze shifts to the truck. He accepts a hug from her, and a tight feeling settles in my stomach as she runs her hands down his arms. It’s familiar. I don’t like it. She glances down at the bag, a coy smile on her lips as she tries to peek inside.

  When he moves it behind his back, she flips her blonde hair over her shoulder and grabs the lapels of his down vest. RJ’s expression hardens, and he shakes his head,
prying her fingers from his vest. Her expression shifts from friendly to irritated.

  RJ motions to the truck. Her gaze follows his, and her eyes widen. I look down at my lap, suddenly uncomfortable. RJ said he’s been coming here for years. I’m not the only woman to notice how attractive he is, and based on how good he is in bed, I’m definitely not the only woman to experience his skill set there.

  The rest of their conversation is short and stilted. He holds the door open for her and returns to the truck, his expression tense, which tells me more than I’d like—not just about who they are to each other but also about my feelings for this man. I shouldn’t be jealous. This is a summer fling. But somewhere along the way my heart forgot to consider what my brain knows: that this has to end.

  RJ opens the driver’s side door and climbs in, tossing the plastic bag on the center console. “Sorry about that.”

  “Sorry about what?” I keep my hands clasped in my lap so I don’t give in to the urge to bite my nails or fidget.

  He makes a general hand motion toward the store.

  “Oh, you mean your friend? She was flirty.” I hate that it comes out sounding bitter, catty, and insecure.

  “Charity flirts with everyone who has a dick. Doesn’t matter if they’re twenty or eighty.” RJ smooths his thumb down the back of my neck, and I jerk away.

  “You don’t need to placate me, RJ. It’s obvious there’s something between you. I know I’m not the first woman to share your bed.” And I’m well aware that I won’t be the last either.

  “Hey, can you look at me for a second, please?”

  I reluctantly shift my gaze to meet his.

  “Charity works at one of the bars here. She’s stuck and looking for a way out, or an escape, and I’ve made it clear I’m not going to be that guy. When I come here—it’s always been to spend time with my dad and my brother, not hook up with random women.”

  “She’s beautiful, though.”

  He shrugs. “She’s not my type.”

  “And I am?”

  “Yes. You’re exactly my type. You’re gorgeous, smart, funny, adventurous, and just so fucking sweet. You don’t have anything to be jealous of, Lainey.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten short with you.”

  “I’m going to say something, and I hope you don’t take it the wrong way, okay?”

  “Okay?” It’s more of a question than a statement.

  “I like that you’re jealous.”

  “You do? Why?” I’ve never considered jealousy a positive emotion. It indicates a level of insecurity and vulnerability.

  “It means we’re on the same page, because if the tables were turned and it was you coming out of that store and me sitting here watching some guy flirt with you, I probably would’ve made a huge ass out of myself.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “There’s no way I could’ve played it cool. I would’ve been out of the truck making sure he knew you were mine and that he should back the fuck off.” RJ cringes. “I probably should’ve stopped while I was ahead—now I sound like a possessive douche. What I mean is, I want to be the only one you get jealous over, that’s all. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes, it makes sense.”

  With that, we head back to the cabin and make good use of that residual jealousy—and the condoms.

  CHAPTER 11

  ALL GOOD THINGS

  Lainey

  “Lainey, baby, wake up.”

  I groan and snuggle into the pillow. “Just let me sleep for five more minutes, RJ, then you can sex me.”

  He presses his lips to my cheek, and when he speaks again, his tone makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Baby, please. I need you to wake up. I have to go.”

  I blink a couple of times and roll over. RJ is sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed. His expression is pained. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s my brother. Well, it’s actually Joy. She went into labor. She’s more than a month early, and there are complications. I know we’re supposed to fly out together, but he needs me right now.”

  I’m still half-asleep, so it takes me a few seconds to absorb what he’s said. “Is the baby going to be okay? Is Joy?”

  “I don’t know. It’s pretty touch and go. I need to get out there so he has some support. So they all do, just in case.”

  I scrub a hand over my face, trying to process it all. “Right. He definitely needs you. When will you leave?”

  “I have a flight in less than two hours. I have to go now.” He keeps skimming my cheek with the back of his hand.

  “Now?” I push up on my arms, the weight of his words finally settling.

  “I’m sorry, Lainey. I wanted to fly back to Seattle with you.” His expression is pained. “I really don’t want to go, but I have to.”

  “No, no, I get it. Your family needs you—you have to be with them.” If it were one of my brothers or sisters, I would do exactly the same thing.

  “I’ll call, okay? When I get there, I’ll call and let you know I landed and how everything is going—so you don’t worry.”

  “Okay. Yes. Please.”

  “I’m sorry I have to leave.” He cups my face in his hands and kisses me, evidently not caring about my sleep breath.

  My stomach hollows out when I realize this is goodbye. I thought we had another day—time to talk, to figure things out. I’m not going to see him again. Not anytime soon. Part of me wants to offer to come with him, but it’s just prolonging the inevitable.

  A desperate, forlorn sound bubbles up as he pulls back, eyes roaming over my face. “I need you one last time.”

  “Please. Yes.” I can already feel the ache in my chest, and he’s still here with me. I’m terrified of what it will be like when he’s really gone. I shove down the anxiety and focus on the moment.

  He pulls my sleep shirt over my head, so it’s just a matter of unclasping his belt and unbuttoning his fly. “I’m sorry I can’t take care of you the way I want to.” His mouth covers mine again, and his kiss is full of the same desperation I feel.

  I climb into his lap while he’s still fully dressed and free him from his boxer briefs.

  There’s no finessing our way through this—it’s sheer desperate need driving us as I sink down and cry out from the invasion. Everything is magnified, including the sensation of having him inside me, knowing it’s the last time.

  I keep our mouths fused, holding him tightly as he moves me over him, slow at first, gentle—but it doesn’t last; we grip and cling, teeth clashing, tongues warring, bodies battling as we crash into each other, taking what we both need because we’re out of time.

  RJ tears his mouth from mine. “I need you to come.”

  “I’m close,” I assure him.

  He lifts and lowers me, faster, harder, pushing my body to the limit. The orgasm steals my breath, and I cry out, wishing the sensation were something I could hold on to.

  “Lainey.” The single word is as much a demand as it is a plea. I open my eyes and focus on his face, on the torment in his eyes, on the regrets I can feel creating a hole in my heart in the form of a love I’ll never fully experience apart from these brief weeks.

  He comes, eyes on mine, body shaking with his release. He kisses me, hard at first and then softer. Eventually he wraps his arms around me and squeezes tightly, lips pressed against my throat. He murmurs something against my skin that I don’t catch.

  Fragile moments pass, and his imminent departure looms. His palms smooth up my back, tangling briefly in my hair before he finally pulls back and exhales an unsteady breath. His eyes are glassy and sad. “I have to go.”

  “I know.”

  “I wanted more time with you.”

  “Me too. I’ll walk you out?”

  “That would be good. Let me get you a shirt.”

  I move off his lap, feeling the absence of him everywhere as we lose our physical connection. He tucks himself back into his pants and crosses to the
closet, grabbing one of his shirts that he leaves at the cabin. He helps me into it, fastening a couple of buttons with shaking hands.

  “That’s good enough—I know you’re out of time.”

  He laces our fingers together, and I follow him down the hall. I slip my feet into a pair of flats and curl into him as we step outside into the near dawn. Dark clouds blanket the sky, a complement to my gloomy mood. Goose bumps rise on my legs and arms, prickling all the way to my scalp. The truck is already running, his duffel in the passenger seat.

  He brushes my hair away from my face. “Lainey, I . . .” He shakes his head and presses his lips to mine. “I’ll call as soon as I’m in LA.”

  “Okay.”

  He pulls me against him, hugging me tightly. He kisses me one last time, a slow, sad goodbye. I’m the one who breaks the kiss first, aware that the longer this takes, the closer I get to losing it in front of him.

  He cups my face in his hands. “I have so many things I needed to say to you. Things I wanted to tell you.”

  I fight back a sob. “It’s okay. You can tell me later.”

  “I miss you already.”

  I turn my head and kiss his palm. “Me too.”

  He presses his lips to mine one last time. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Drive careful.” I step back as he gets in and closes the door.

  I watch as he pulls away. The window rolls down, and he waves before he turns onto the main road. I wait until his taillights disappear before I let the tears fall. And with them comes the first drop of rain.

  I stand there, staring at the end of the driveway, feeling very much like I just lost my heart.

  By nine a summer storm has set in, complete with lightning and thunder. I’m too sad to be scared as I pack up my things. At noon I lose power and wait for the generator to kick on, but it doesn’t. I have candles and flashlights here, so I’m relieved that I don’t have to sit in the dark through the storm, but it feels like a bad omen.

  At one o’clock in the afternoon, a flash of lightning is followed by a huge crack of thunder. A second boom makes the entire cabin shake and the candles flicker for a moment, and everything goes stark and still. I try to manage the crushing panic, but the sensory calming exercise only makes me think of RJ, and the tears keep falling like the rain. By three o’clock in the afternoon I get antsy, having expected to hear from RJ already. I check the phone, thinking I’m being paranoid until I realize there’s no dial tone.