by Brook Wilder
***
Honey watched her. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her no matter how hard he tried. No matter how hard he focused on the task in front of him, his gaze was drawn to her again and again. Elle had her back to him. Luck had them both working in the greenhouse that day. Luck. Yeah. Right. That wasn’t exactly the word he would have used. Torture. Now, that was much more accurate.
She bent over in those damned jeans and all the air rushed out of his lungs. Again. It had been happening all morning. Shit, to tell the truth it had been happening for the past three days. Three days that they had been working together on the farm, living together in her small, quaint little cottage house. Three days since she’d said that sleeping with him had been a mistake.
Honey shook his head as the memory slice through him. Elle was wrong. It hadn’t been a mistake. It had been one of the best things that had ever happened to him. But now there was a tension between them, a new tension underlying the ever present desire and need that pulsed like a living thing whenever they were in the same room.
He just didn’t understand. He knew that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He could see it in the way she stared at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, and the way her breath would hitch in her throat whenever their eyes actually met. Which hadn’t been often the past few days. Elle had done her best to avoid him but it was impossible since they were essentially spending twenty-four hours a day with each other.
That was another thing. She hadn’t made him leave yet. Every day he expected her to come up to him, point her finger and lecture to him in that prim way she had about all the reasons it was impossible for him to stay at her home. But she hadn’t.
What she had done was relegate him to the couch, and he hadn’t been lying, it really was damned uncomfortable. Honey swept a hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing at the sore muscles and the permanent knot that had formed. He was worried that he would never be able to loosen it.
He cast another sideways glance at her. She was still bending over some trough full of tiny seedlings just starting to sprout. The worn denim molded around her lush ass in a way that made him clear his throat roughly and force his gaze away as his body rose to attention at the delectable sight. Casting about for anything to distract himself he glanced at the big, grime covered clock that hung over the door.
“Oh, look at the time,” Honey said, his voice strained, “It’s already time to go. Time really flies when you’re working out here.” Lies. It had felt like an eternity out there in the greenhouse with Elle. Just feet away from her but it might as well have been miles. He craved her touch, her kiss. But she was unreachable. She’d built another wall around herself and this time, he didn’t know how to climb over it.
“Really?” Elle asked with a forced casualness that he didn’t buy for a second, “Yes, time flies.” She slowly peeled off the floral print garden gloves that she’d been wearing, her gaze glued to her feet. He was about to leave when she spoke again, this time shocking the hell out of him, “I can, um, you can drive back with me. If you want, I mean. I understand if you’d rather have Carla give you a ride.”
“What? No! I mean, yes! I mean,” Honey took a deep breath, fully aware that he was making a complete ass of himself, “I mean, I would love to. I would love you to. That would be great.”
It was a long, silent, and uncomfortable ride back to Elle’s house. A hundred times Honey opened his mouth to say something, to start a conversation that would ease some of the tension threatening to choke him but every time he would shut it again, the words trapped uselessly inside.
And then, they were there, pulling up the long driveway and he didn’t know if he should be relieved or curse in frustration. Honey got out, slamming the door behind him as he rushed around to the driver’s side to pull it open for Elle, but she was already getting out on her own and it left him standing there, wondering helplessly what to do.
What the fuck is going on with me? he shouted at himself. He’d never felt this out of sorts around a woman before, especially a woman he’d slept with. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was trying to brush him off, or just ignore him altogether, and he hated it. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He was actually…nervous. About a woman!
She quickly unlocked the front door and walked in, not even looking back at him to see if he was following and he found himself trailing after her, wondering desperately what he could say to get himself back on familiar ground. Because he sure as shit didn’t understand the trembling, unsteady emotion that was haunting him, that had been haunting him for the past three god awful, unending days.
Honey stood there, just inside the doorway, watching as she followed the exact same routine as every other day. She set her handmade bag on the shelf beside the door, hanging her coat on the left most hook underneath it. Then she when straight for the tea kettle, filling it up and putting it on the stove as she puttered around the kitchen.
From what he was able to deduce, Elle Watson survived solely on hot tea and whatever baked goods she’d made the weekend before. Maybe that was why she was so small, he wondered as he continued to watch her. The kettle started to whistle and she took down two cups, putting a tea bag in each one and an extra dollop of honey in his. She thought it was funny that he loved the stuff, because of his nickname. Of course, his nickname had nothing to do with the sweetener but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell her the real story behind it. Not quite yet.
Elle brought him one of the cups. He’d mostly gotten over the feeling of looking absolutely ridiculous holding the tiny porcelain teacup with flowers enameled on it as he took a sip. Another thing he’d gotten used to. He almost shook his head at himself, but instead took another calming sip. She put her own cup to her lips, blowing on the steaming hot liquid and had to bite back a groan as she pursed her lips, not even aware of the too tempting picture she made. Damn it. It really was fucking torture. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. A thought struck him then, as Elle picked at some week old scones she had on a decorative plate on the counter.
He grinned at her, already starting to move purposefully around the kitchen as he threw over his shoulder, “Why don’t I make dinner tonight?”
Chapter 16
Elle peeked at him from the corner of her eye but then jerked her gaze back to the television set propped up on the small table in the living room. She was…confused. Conflicted. Something had changed that night, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. And that made her nervous. Because it was never good to be in the dark about anything when it came to the man currently sitting next to her.
The plates had been cleared and washed from the surprisingly good meal that Honey had made her. A simple pasta dish made from things that she had in her pantry, but it had still surprised her. Just another layer of mystery to the already confounding man.
Now they were both sitting on the couch in the living room, watching one of her favorite movies. It was old, a black and white film called The Westward Wind. A classic tale of love, and loss. She’d loved it ever since she was a kid, watching it over and over again with her parents. And oddly enough, Honey seemed to be watching raptly from his seat next to her. It was infuriating. Because all she could focus on, was him.
His scent, sexy and spicy and all him, wrapped around her, distracting her and even though he wasn’t quite touching her he was sitting so close that she could feel his body heat, reaching out, sending waves of sweet warmth through her entire right side.
The night was growing dark around them, and as the movie played un unheeded, the tension between them grew and grew to unbearable heights. It was almost to the part where the heroine discovers that the man she’s fallen in love with is actually the scoundrel that had stolen her pearl necklace, and Elle couldn’t take another minute of it.
“I’m sorry!” the words burst out of her, falling out of her mouth before she could stop them. Not that she wanted to. She knew as soon as she’d spoken them that it was true. She
really was sorry. Honey looked at her questioningly, waiting for her to continue, not saying a word or interrupting. For some reason, the absence of judgement in his warm, dark gaze made it that much harder to open her mouth again.
“I’m sorry for what I said,” Elle went on in a more moderate tone, picking each word carefully as she went, “I’m sorry that I said that us…being together was a mistake. It wasn’t.”
He looked at her for a long moment, just looking, before turning back to the movie as if it was the most important thing in the world. “I know.”
“You…know?”
“I know it wasn’t a mistake. I just wondered why you had to say it was.” He didn’t look over at her again as he spoke, just kept watching the black and white dance sequence flow across the T.V. screen.
He was completely silent as she gathered her thoughts, searching for what to say, for how to explain without tearing a piece of her past wide open. It was impossible, she finally decided. But guilt had her trying anyways.
“My parents were wonderful people. They were loving and supportive. When I told them that I wanted to learn how to play the piano they took me to lessons, signed me up for concerts and recitals. They were there for every single one. They bought me my first piano.” Elle’s gaze automatically went towards the back of the house, where the music room was. Where her most prized possession had pride of place, right in the middle.
“They died when I was ten. Just a little girl, a child with no clue at all–” she cut off, shaking her head as memories flooded her. Painful memories. Memories that broke her heart over and over again.
“It was a car crash. A drunk driver who walked away with little more than bruises but, not my parents. They didn’t walk away at all. When the social worker came for me I ran away and hid in the crawl space of our old house. I didn’t have any other family, there was nowhere else for me to go,” Elle paused, staring straight ahead of her, and Honey’s gaze was fixed on her now, “I got trapped. The door stuck and I couldn’t get out. I screamed and screamed for someone to help me but…no one heard.”
If she let herself dwell on it she could still remember the awful grief, the terrible pressure of those hours she had been locked in the dark, the feeling of not being able to breath, like she was drowning even though there was no water.
“It took them almost a whole day to find me. They thought I was just upset and had been hiding. They were out of patience with the kid who was backing everything up. Since then I can’t…I haven’t been…Well, I’ll just say that I don’t love being confined in small spaces,” Elle forced out a weak laugh but it had a hollow ring to it. Then, she did one of the hardest things she’d ever had to. She forced herself to look over at Honey and she was instantly trapped by the intensity in his dark gaze. There was sadness, anger, and sympathy in them, all wrapped up with something else. Something soft and tender that she didn’t want to look too closely at.
“I just wanted you to know why…It’s no excuse though, for what I said. I didn’t mean it, not really. I just panicked. And I hope you can accept my apology.”
***
Honey stared at her, deep into her mysterious eyes, trying to read the emotions that he saw there but it was so tangled up that he couldn’t begin to puzzle it out. Except for the sincerity. That he could see written all over her face, he could hear it in the soft tremble of her voice. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was for her to tell him that, and he especially couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for her to have to live through it.
Some of the puzzle pieces of her clicked into place. Why she liked everything so neat and in its place. It was the hallmark of anyone who had been in the system. Prison, military school, juvenile facility. Foster care.
And the claustrophobia, the anxiety that would bubble up inside her for seemingly no reason to him. But he knew she struggled with it. Struggled in social situations. It all made sense now, or most of it anyways. And his heart broke for the little ten year old Elle, the blonde haired dark eyed girl who had lost her entire world in the blink of an eye.
In that respect, he’d been lucky. He’d never known paradise, so it hadn’t hurt near as much when he’d lost it. He’d never know there was another way.
“Drugs,” he said softly, after an interminably long silence, both lost deep in their own thoughts, their own painful memories of the past.
“What?” Elle asked the question, just as soft.
“My parents. It was drugs,” he shrugged, falling back on the guise of uncaring casualness that he did whenever the rare moment arose that he talked about what little experience with family he’d had. And it wasn’t much.
“They were both addicts. My mom got pregnant with me. I was one of those, what are they called, methadone babies? Spent the first few months of my life getting clean,” Honey shook his head, “more than either of my parents did. I basically raised myself. Got through school okay. I was smart.” He grinned over at Elle, but it was a bitter grin, a grin full of cynicism and pain.
“I learned how to forge my mom’s signature for registration, for field trips, for anything, really. I learned how to steal food when my parents were too high to go to the grocery store. I made it through high school without failing any of my classes. I had dreams of going to college, even.” Honey barked out a rough laugh. The dreams he’d used to have were long gone, along with the boy he’d used to be. Hopeful, no matter how many times life had shit on him. He still kept believing that his break would come, that the answers would all fall into place.
“I had just graduated. It was one of the proudest days of my life. Because I’d done it on my own, despite everything. Despite the shithole family I’d had the misfortune of being born to.”
“What happened?” Elle asked after he went quiet, “did you go to college?”
“No,” Honey said on another rough laugh, “No. That summer me and a bunch of friends took off on a trip. A sort of last hurrah before going our separate ways.” He could remember that summer so clearly, the first part of it anyways. Staying out all night drinking and smoking, sneaking away with Sara Parker under the bridge.
“It had been magical, at first. Those first few weeks. No family to worry about, no school, no responsibility. Not a care in the world and the unshakable belief that we were invincible.”
“Then what?”
“One night, it was a Tuesday, we all went out to this house party. It was warm out, and everyone was either drunk or high. A buddy of mine dragged me upstairs to this bedroom where they were doing some drugs and asked if I wanted in. I shrugged and held out my arm. It was the first time I ever did heroine.” Honey couldn’t look over at Elle, couldn’t stand to see the look that he knew would be shining in her dark eyes.
“The first time, but not the last time. It sucked me in, killed me little by little until there was almost nothing left. That’s when Joel found me. He helped me get clean. He helped me become a member of the Dirty Cruisers. I’ll never forget that day,” Honey wasn’t aware of the sudden smile that tilted up his lips as he spoke, “I was born Cooper Delaney, but that was the day I became Honey, and that’s who I’ve been ever since.”
They were both silent then, as the movie played on unseen, both thinking about their past, and the paths that had led them to each other. Because Honey knew it had to be more than random happenstance that had dropped Elle Watson in the middle of his lap. He’d had plenty of women over the years, but there was something different about her. Something so pure and so clean that drew him like a moth to a flame.
Something so different from any other person that he’d ever known before. She was honest and brave, braver than he ever could have imagined now that he knew what she’d had to live through. That kind of pain shaped a person. He knew that from experience. It either made you hard and brittle, or it made you strong. Strong enough to face life head on, even knowing how terrible it can be. How painful. How merciless.
Honey looked over at her, tracing her profile. The delicat
e curve of her cheek, the way her nose tilted up at the end. She tucked a stray lock of blond hair behind one ear in an unconscious gesture and he watched her, entranced. Everything about her seemed so fragile, so small and delicate. Everything except for her spirit. That shone like a beacon, pulling him towards her, and he couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to stop himself as he reached out one hand and slid it gently under her jaw.
Slowly, he pulled her face towards his until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. The force of it hit him like a ton of bricks straight to the solar plexus. He couldn’t look away from the sheen of moisture that caught the flickering light from the television and threw it back at him in watery black and white. It was like he could feel all of the emotions that swept through her, like in that one, single moment they were perfectly connected. Two people who had suffered, and had come out the other end alive, and better for it.
Without thought Honey leaned forward, at the same time sliding his fingers up to cup the silky soft skin of her cheek, placed his lips against hers and kissed her.
Chapter 17
The touch rocked through her. It was so intense that it stole the breath clean from her lungs and she had to cling to him dizzily. Elle curled her fingers into his shirt, trying to pull him closer but he didn’t move. Nothing else touched except their lips, and the hand that Honey had curled around her cheek.
