“Good morning,” the young man said with a smile, moving from behind the massive tree. It was real, and the fresh pine scent filled her nose. “Do you have an appointment?”
The kid looked barely eighteen. She eyed him closely.
“What’s your name?” she asked pleasantly, moving forward until she was so close, she could count the pimples on his chin. Maybe he was only sixteen.
“Kyle Robertson.”
“Kyle,” she replied with a lazy smile, falling back to old habits. “I don’t have an appointment, but it’s really important I see him.” She winked and tossed her hair. “I only need a few minutes. I promise.”
A blush stained his skin, and the poor kid nearly tripped over his shoes as he made his way back to the front desk. An elevator to the left opened, spilling out a few men deep in conversation. They wore suits and ties and didn’t glance her way as they exited the building, leaving just Kyle.
“Um, Mr. Blackwell isn’t here right now.”
Shit. Honey kept the disappointment off her face. “When will he be back?”
“Soon,” Kyle said, his composure somewhat regained with the reception desk between himself and Honey.
“I’ll wait in his office, then.” She moved toward the elevator. Four floors. Hudson would definitely be on the top floor.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. He already has a—”
But the elevator door slid shut, and Honey tapped her toe, nervous adrenaline making it hard for her to stay still. Her stomach turned over when the doors slid open, and before she lost her nerve, she stepped into a bright alcove. Soft greens and creams greeted her eyes, along with several paintings along the wall before her. They looked to be originals, mostly scenes from a Crystal Lake that existed many years before.
To her left, she spied large double oak doors and a brass plaque on the wall beside it. Boardroom. The only other door was to her right, and she headed for that, not bothering to knock. She stopped just inside the office, a large space with dark oak floors and a massive cherrywood desk. Behind it was a wall of windows that overlooked the river that ran through town. She could see the old mill in the distance. Snow had begun to fall, soft wisps of white fluff falling from the sky. Between two of the windows, a large portrait hung, and she found herself moving toward it, eyes glued to the family there. A handsome man, casually dressed, with his arms around a beautiful woman in a vibrant green dress. And three boys in white T-shirts and jeans and smiles that told the world everything was perfect.
“That was a few years before my Angel passed.”
Honey froze. Mouth dry, she turned and spied an older man sitting in a wingback chair tucked into a dark corner. She hadn’t seen him when she came in.
John Blackwell slowly got to his feet, wincing a bit as he took a few steps, but his color was good today—better than the week before. He came toward her and didn’t stop until he stood beside Honey. He was so close.
She swallowed and willed her fast-beating heart to slow the hell down.
“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?”
The woman’s tragic end was a story Honey knew well. And it was tragic. A life cut short because a drunk driver crossed the road and hit her head-on. Even more tragic, her son, Wyatt, was in the car with her. The boy survived, but the heart of their family had been taken away. At least, that was the story Honey heard.
She cleared her throat and nodded. Angel Blackwell had been a beauty.
“I didn’t deserve her, of course.” John Blackwell spoke quietly. “I didn’t deserve any of them. I still don’t.” He turned to her then. “But I’m an old man, and I’d rather forget the dark things because I can. Age does allow for that. In spite of the past.”
Honey fought to keep her emotions at bay. But it was hard. She felt like she was standing on the other side of the room watching herself have a conversation with him. A man she’d felt nothing but ill will for since she’d first learned about him.
“I know who you are.”
His words jerked her head around so fast, it would be a miracle not to end up with whiplash. Her gaze collided with the old man’s as she blew out a long breath. “You do?” She felt faint and tugged at the edge of her coat. It was so damn hot.
He smiled, the transformation unnerving. “You’re Nash’s girlfriend. I met you at Hudson’s.”
Like a balloon that had been deflated, the heat left her, along with pretty much everything else. She hadn’t prepared for this. She needed to leave. Needed more time.
“No,” she replied. “We’re not…we’re just… He’s…” She made a gesture with her hands, and John laughed. The sound echoed in her head. Sawdust filled her throat.
“The more one protests, the more one should be aware of the fact they’re trying to convince themselves of the opposite.” John winked. “I’ve known Nash Booker my entire life, and he’s a fine man.” He leaned forward. “It’s about time he settled down.”
Everything about this was bizarre. Surreal.
“You’re waiting for Hudson, I presume?” He coughed and reached into his pocket for an inhaler.
“I am,” Honey managed to say, noticing the lines around his mouth.
“Seems I’m always waiting to see my children. I shouldn’t complain. I’m an old man with a lot of time.” John Blackwell got a faraway look in his eyes, and Honey took the opportunity to put some distance between them. A few moments of silence passed, and Honey couldn’t help herself. Her eyes were drawn to the portrait once more.
They all looked so damn happy. She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes as an image of the one family portrait she’d ever sat through clouded her mind. She’d been four. Her mother had dragged her to Walmart for a sitting. Honey’s bright orange dress was two sizes too big, and her pigtails were lopsided. Her shoes were scuffed, her knee scabbed. But her mom had been happy. And so Honey had been happy.
“You from the South?” John asked, moving to the desk and leaning heavily against it. “I detect a slight roll in your words.”
She kept her eyes on the portrait and didn’t dare look at him. She was confused and off-balance and a bunch of things she couldn’t articulate. Didn’t he know?
Now. Do it now!
The words whispered through her brain, and she tore her gaze from the photo. Suddenly, her chest was tight, and her mouth filled with all the things she wanted to say to him. All that anger came bubbling to the surface, and she damn near choked on it.
Honey nodded slowly, trying to organize her thoughts. “Yes, I’m from Louisiana. Small town called Hillsville.” She offered a tight, fake smile. “Silly name, really, considering there are no hills or mountains to speak of. Nothing much but trailer parks, gators, bogs and—"
The door to the office flew open, and Hudson Blackwell walked in. He had his cell pressed to his ear and an iPad in his hand. He didn’t notice them until he tossed his jacket on the desk and paused. His eyes passed over his father to land on Honey. She saw the questions there. She also saw something else. It was the something else that made her uncomfortable.
Hudson Blackwell was a smart man and didn’t miss much. She’d need to be careful with him.
His gaze never left hers as he set his phone down and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his navy slacks. For a moment, he said nothing. He looked at his father again, and then back to Honey. His eyes narrowed, his thoughts shuttered. There was no welcome there. His radar was ramped to ten, and he was letting her know.
“You mind telling me why you’re here?”
Honey didn’t skip a beat. She kept that fake smile in place and told him exactly why she’d come.
10
Nash was in a mood. He’d reamed out the kitchen staff for putting too many garnishments on the burgers—how in hell were the customers supposed to eat the damn things when they couldn’t open their mouths wide enough? The grease needed changing in the fryer, and the damn dishwasher was running half-full. Whatever happened to conservation?
> He’d also had a word or two with Tiny, who he’d caught free-pouring whiskey like it was Kool-Aid. If his staff kept this up, he’d be out of business before Christmas. On top of that, Honey hadn’t shown for her shift. She’d given it to Susie, a girl who had no bartending experience and who had only just started serving.
To say he’d been displeased would be an understatement, and he’d made no effort to hide it. First off, there were some things he needed to say to his absent bartender, and damned if he was gonna wait. And secondly, he was pretty sure he’d scared Susie half to death and would have to deal with her later. For now, he was just happy to run the empty glasses through the washer and ignore everything but his bad mood.
“What’s up, Booker? You look like someone dumped a nasty load in your cornflakes this morning.”
Nash spied Wyatt Blackwell leaning against the bar. The former NASCAR driver nodded and pointed to the empty mug in Nash’s hand. “I’ll take one of those.” He glanced up at the flat screen and frowned. “Travis is playing tonight. Why the hell are we watching a bunch of guys doing yoga in the desert?”
Nash’s scowl deepened. Great. The Red Wings and their goalie, Travis Blackwell, meant a busy night of locals out to watch one of Crystal Lake’s favorite sons. Nash was definitely off his game, because he should have known that. Being short-staffed wasn’t going to get him home to his hot tub, which right now was the only place he wanted to be.
Wyatt twisted his head nearly upside down, eyes still on the television above the bar, and Nash followed his gaze. Yeah. No man with any pride would wear that getup and position his body like that. He grabbed the remote and switched it to the Red Wings pregame.
“Where’s your pretty bartender?” Wyatt asked, accepting his mug of ale.
“Where’s your wife?” Nash snapped, grabbing up an empty and wiping the bartop.
Wyatt snorted. “My wife is at a board meeting. What the hell does that have to do with your bartender?” He accepted a draft from Nash and took a sip, swiping at the foam on his mouth. “Just saying, she’s a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than your mug.”
A crash sounded behind Wyatt, and Nash wanted to throw in the towel and get the hell out of Dodge. Susie stood, surrounded by broken glass, looking as if she was going to break into tears.
“For fuck’s sake,” he growled. He pinched his nose, feeling his temper rise and knowing there was no good reason for it. At least, no reason he wanted to think about. Nope. Not going anywhere near that one.
“I got this, boss,” Tiny said, moving past him. The big guy grabbed a broom from under the bar and headed to Susie’s side just as the doors to the Coach House flew open, letting in a swath of wind and snow and a large group of new customers.
The only person Nash zeroed in on was the dark-haired woman who’d stolen his sleep, his good mood, and, apparently, his brother. Cam bent low, listening attentively to something she said. He smiled and elbowed her like they were old pals.
Nash wanted to hop the bar and smash his brother’s perfect fucking nose.
She glanced up then, and the smile on her face slowly died as their eyes locked. For just that second, all the noise in the bar vanished, and there was just the two of them in a vacuum of unsaid things. Her hair was long and loose. It snaked over her shoulders like a dark cloak. Her cheeks were pink from the cold outside, and her eyes were luminous. She was dressed in faded jeans, his favorite pair, if he wasn’t mistaken, and a black leather jacket with fur at the collar.
A heartbeat passed. The physical thing—yeah, that was still there—he’d have to find a way to deal with it. It was the other that posed more of a problem. And he’d have to address that tonight.
She was propelled forward by the crowd behind her, a crowd that included Hudson and Regan Blackwell, Travis’s wife. The mayor, Blair Hubber, and Jake Edwards weren’t far behind.
What the hell were they all doing together?
Honey said something to Cam, and the two of them pushed their way through the crowd, heading toward the bar. She slid out of her jacket and handed it to Cam.
“Looks like you can use some help,” she said lightly, grabbing up a couple of empty jugs.
“We need to talk,” Nash said tersely.
“It can wait,” Honey replied, ignoring him as she nodded to a customer.
Cam had the nerve to snort before heading off to hang up their coats. Nash glared at him and moved past Honey, though he stopped and leaned close.
“I’ve got all night.” He let that settle and headed over to the table Hudson, Regan, Blair, and Jake had claimed. Wyatt joined them, along with a few more folks he knew casually. Andrea Lee smiled as she took off her pink woolen hat and sat down. She undid her scarf and rested her elbows on the table.
“Nash Booker. I haven’t been in since you’ve taken over from Sal, but Honey insisted we come back for a drink to celebrate.”
“Yeah?” Regan was practically sitting in her husband’s lap, while Hudson slid onto the seat beside them. “What are we celebrating?”
“Only the fact that Honey single-handedly saved not only the youth drop-in center by negotiating a generous donation, but she managed to convince the Blackwells to buy the entire building.” She shook her head and laughed. “He’s agreed to lessen our rent by half.” She high-fived the mayor. “Half! This is going to let us help so many more in our community.”
“Did she, now.” Nash looked over his shoulder to the bar. Tiny and Honey were fast at work serving drinks, while Cam was helping Susie. It wasn’t often that someone surprised the hell out of him. But Honey was making it a habit—he just wasn’t sure he liked it.
When he turned back to the table, his mood darkened even more when he found Hudson’s eyes on the woman who’d put him in the bad mood in the first place.
“I’ll buy the first round.” The mayor handed Nash his credit card, and that was the end of the conversation.
Two hours later, the Red Wings were winning and Travis Blackwell was on his way to his first shutout of the season. The bar was full, though Hudson and the rest of their table had gone home, and the music was set to his playlist. AC/DC and nothing else. “Highway to Hell” pumped in his ear, and it enabled him to pretty much gas any form of conversation between himself and Jade Daniels. The woman had shown up thirty minutes earlier, wearing the tightest pair of jeans on the planet, shiny red come-fuck-me boots, and a black top that barely contained her breasts. The woman was on a mission, and it was obvious he was the end game.
He’d considered it for all of five seconds. Thought that maybe a roll between the sheets would make him forget Honey. But the moment that thought crossed his mind, all he could picture was Honey on the bar, half-naked as he thrust inside her. He heard the noises she made. Remembered the way she felt.
All of it pissed him off and contributed to an even fouler mood.
“You planning on telling Jade you’re not interested, or are you going to let her sweat it out all night?” Cam tossed a dirty rag in the bar sink and rolled his shoulders.
Nash glanced at his brother and frowned. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to have him work here. His brother had always liked to poke his nose into Nash’s business, but he wasn’t ready to go back to the way things were. Maybe he never would.
“How’s that your business?”
“It’s not.” Cam shrugged. “Just seems like the right thing to do, though. It’s obvious to everyone you’re not interested.” He nodded to Honey. “At least, not anymore.”
Yeah. He wasn’t doing this with Cam. “You want to know what I think?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not really,” Cam replied.
“I think you should get your shit together before you start handing out advice.”
Cam shook his head. “You always do that.”
“What?”
“Deflect when you know I’m right.”
Nash finished making Susie’s cocktail order and passed her the fruity beverage along with two Hei
nekens. Honey was busy with Tiny at the other end of the bar, the stools in front of them claimed by regulars, a lot of them sitting there because of Honey.
He didn’t want to do this, but Nash found himself turning back to Cam. Some old habits died hard. “What do you think of her?”
“Jade?” His brother quipped.
Nash glared at his brother. He was going to start throwing punches if Cam didn’t cut it out.
“I think Honey is complicated. Hard to get a read on. She doesn’t give a lot away.”
No shit.
“She’s also hot as hell, with a mind of her own. I don’t think many guys can handle her. I think she handles them, and she does that for a lot of reasons. She likes to be in control, and she sure as hell doesn’t like to get too close.”
Nash watched his brother closely, a slow burn that had no right to be there lighting his gut on fire. Was he missing something? “You seem to know a lot about a woman you just met.”
Something flickered in Cam’s eyes, and he looked away. “That’s where you’re wrong, brother. I don’t know Honey any better than you do. I just used to know someone like her. That’s all.” Cam didn’t offer up anything else. He headed to the kitchen to pick up an order. Nash watched him go, hating the distance between them. Hating what his brother had done—but thinking that maybe there was more to the story.
He shoved all of it aside and continued on with his night, successfully avoiding a scene with Jade, which was a big win. The girl liked attention. When she asked if he was stopping by her place later, he told her he’d be closing, so probably not.
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
He held her gaze because he couldn’t be anything other than honest. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh,” she replied, looking away quickly. She tried to hide it, but he knew he’d hurt her, and that made Nash feel like shit.
“Jade,” he said gently.
“I get it. I wasn’t the woman you’ve been eyeballing all night.” She looked pointedly at Honey.
“I haven’t been eyeballing her. She’s my employee.” He tried, but his protest sounded weak, even to himself.
You Own My Heart Page 8
