Jaded

by Tess Thompson

  “We have other plans,” she said into the phone.

  “I see.” Kara’s voice betrayed her amusement. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Well, that’s no fun,” Honor said.

  After she hung up, she looked over at Zane. “Cat’s out of the bag. Now everyone will know we’re out together.

  “Too late. I already told Maggie, Kyle, Sophie, and Lance.”

  “There’s not many secrets in this group,” she said. “At least not ones we keep from one another.”

  “Most importantly is the one we keep for Kara.”

  “True.” Kara was the one with the biggest secret. One that could cost her the ultimate payment if it was ever exposed. No one knew the details of her past, only that she was part of the Witness Protection Program. They’d all agreed to never ask questions about who she really was. They accepted her at face value, which was a super competent nurse practitioner and wife to their friend Brody Mullen. She had also become Honor’s best friend. Nothing like traumatic pasts to bond people.

  “True.” They were near the freeway entrance. “Where to, Super Contract Girl?”

  “Let’s go home. To my place. We can have a nightcap.” She looked over at him as his fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

  “Nightcap sounds good,” he said. “But does that count as a real date?”

  “Definitely. We had dinner, right?”

  “Right.”

  Curled on one end of the couch, Honor watched as Zane poured glasses of red wine. His tie had been abandoned, along with the jacket, and his sleeves were rolled up. He looked especially delicious in his stocking feet. A man who offered to take his shoes off to protect her eggshell-hued rugs was high on the sexy scale. It was all she could do not to leap on him and smother him with kisses.

  But first things first. She must convince him to ask Kyle and Brody to go in on the brewery with him. Then, she must tell him the truth before this went any further.

  She accepted the glass of wine he offered and took a grateful sip. The taste of ripe blackberries exploded in her mouth. It was a deep burgundy color—a rich cabernet from Napa. “Really good,” she said.

  “Agreed.”

  “I’m not going to mince words,” she said. “I think you should ask Kyle and Brody to go in with you. Why let this chance go by when you know they’d love to help you?”

  The light drained from his eyes and his mouth set in that stubborn line she knew too well. “I cannot ask my friends for help.”

  “It’s stupid not to,” she said.

  “No way. I’m not asking my rich friends for money.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell me this. If it were reversed and one of them had a dream and needed your help, what would you do?”

  “Help them.”

  “I rest my case. Anyway, it’s a drop in the bucket to Brody. If it was the difference between you getting the brewery or not, he wouldn’t hesitate.”

  “I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to take his charity,” he said.

  “I’m quite aware of all Brody’s investments, both the ones Lance handles for him and the endorsement and ad campaigns I help broker. He’s conservative with his spending because he wants to make sure he invests for his future. Even without the fact that you’re his best friend, he would want to do this for our community and because it’s a good investment. He knows how dedicated you are. And clever.” She’d thought of another angle on the way home. Another way to convince him. “I’m afraid he’s going to be majorly chapped if you don’t let him in on it. Insulted. Kyle too.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Maybe what?”

  “Maybe I could talk to them about it,” Zane said. “I know they’ll say yes, though, so I have to think it through.”

  “I wish I had the cash to invest. I’d do it in a second,” Honor said. “But Lance has it all invested.”

  “I’m definitely not taking your money. The Dogs are one thing. You’re quite another.”

  “Because I’m a woman?”

  “Yes, Honor, because you’re a woman. Of course not. Why would you even say that?”

  She shrugged. “Because I live in the real world. A world run by men.”

  “As far as I can tell, you run more than your fair share of things,” he said.

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Hell no. I love it.”

  “Good. Because it’s who I am,” she said.

  “Why do you do that?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Put your guard up. Go into defense mode,” he said.

  “And you don’t?” she asked.

  “Are you trying to get me riled up enough to fight?” he asked. “Because I’m not going to. Not tonight.”

  “I wasn’t. You were the one who pointed out how I get defensive, and I was merely suggesting that you do the same. Are you denying it?” She puffed up her chest before exhaling.

  He put a hand up, laughing. “I’m not. Calm down, Spartan. Maggie told me a few months ago that anger’s my default mode. I had to think about it for a few days, but I guess she’s right. She’s known me a long time.”

  Honor placed her glass gingerly on the table. More than once she’d set a wine glass down too hard and broken the stupid things. They were a gift from Brody and way too fragile. One hit and they shattered.

  Without asking, he leaned over and topped off her glass with more wine.

  “Speaking of Maggie,” Honor said. “You in love with her?”

  “What? She’s marrying one of my best friends. Jackson’s like my brother.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question,” Honor said.

  “I had a big crush on her when we were kids. Not now, though. But I love her. Like family.” He peered at her, his eyes mocking. “Why do you ask? You jealous?”

  “I don’t get jealous.”

  “That right?” Zane moved closer and traced his finger up the back of her calf. She swallowed and willed herself not to shiver with desire. So much for that effort. She needed to get this conversation back on topic.

  “I’ll say it once more and then I’ll drop it. Ask Brody and Kyle to go in with you.”

  “You don’t get it. I want this to be my thing, my contribution to this town without the help from them. As much as you guys love it here, it’s not the same as Jackson, Maggie, Violet, and me. We grew up here. Our investment is in every grain of sand, every inch of soil.”

  “It must be nice.” She couldn’t keep the wistful notes from her voice. “To have roots like that.”

  “I know that now. When I was a kid all I could think about was getting out of here.”

  “We change,” she said. “Life happens and all that. What we thought we wanted when we were kids isn’t always what we want later.”

  He smoothed a lock of hair from her forehead. “What did you want as a kid?”

  “I wanted to be safe and to belong to someone.”

  “What do you want now?” he asked.

  She looked away from his penetrating gaze to the window. The lights inside made it impossible to see anything but the outline of her orange tree.

  “Same, I guess.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. It was moments like this that inched two people closer to intimacy. Personas melted away. Truths were told. If one were brave. It was a choice to expose the inner workings of one’s heart. She wanted intimacy with this glorious man who sat on her couch. She must tell him the truth about herself. If they were to have a chance, she must confess.

  “What does that mean—to belong to someone?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Loved, I guess. Wanted. Someone willing to always be there when I come home.”

  “Most people want that,” he said.

  “Do you?”

  “I want it. But my whole wedding that wasn’t a wedding shook me.” He looked away for a moment before turning back to her. “It shook me to the core. And then my dad’s illness on top of
it. I don’t know. The past few years I’ve just been licking my wounds instead of fully living.”

  “You’re a Dog after all.”

  He nodded and smiled, but the intensity in his eyes didn’t change. “I’m scared to get involved again. But you—you’re worth fighting for. And by fighting—I mean against myself.”

  “Oh?” She stared at the top of his head, her heart beating strangely fast. “What does that mean exactly?”

  He swirled wine around his glass. “Women, in my experience, leave.”

  His mom and the fiancée.

  “Two left,” she said.

  “The only two that mattered,” he said.

  “I know a little about leaving. And being left. Especially that.”

  “Sometimes when I look at you, I see the little girl who…”

  It was up to her to finish that sentence. “Who nobody wanted.”

  “I don’t understand how that was possible. Because all I want is you.”

  “You do?” Why did she feel like she might cry? This was ridiculous.

  He took her empty hand in his. “I do. I’m not the greatest at figuring out how to show it. I worry about messing up anything good, like I did with Natalie.”

  “I’m good at messing things up too.”

  He ran his fingers up her forearm until he reached her neck and tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear. “You were spectacular tonight. Stunning.”

  “I was?” She might faint. Truly, just fall right off the couch in a limp heap.

  “God yes. I’ve never been so impressed by anyone in my life, and that’s saying something, given my friends.”

  “Brody never tires of telling me how bossy I am.”

  “You are bossy.” His teasing smile made the potentially hurtful words sound like a compliment.

  “I always think I know everything. I’m a know-it-all. Brody says that too. I don’t mean to act like I know everything, but often truths are more obvious to me than other people because of all the stuff that’s happened to me. I can see through a phony in a second.”

  “I won’t be able to look at anything but people’s shoes from now on, which is weird.”

  She laughed, then drank from her glass. The subtle flavors were opening now, revealing darker notes of chocolate and coffee. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong. I can’t stand it if I think someone could take advantage of someone I love.” Great, had she just said that out loud?

  “Don’t ever apologize for who you are,” he said. “You’re special. Brody knows it. So do I.”

  “I don’t feel special most of the time.”

  “That doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” he said.

  She couldn’t think of what to say. They drank from their wine glasses, the silence between them ripe with promise.

  He thinks I’m special.

  “Your dad was the first person who ever made me feel special. He was the first person who was ever kind to me for no reason. There was nothing in it for him to take me in like a wounded bird.” She’d been so scrawny after chemo and homely in her brown glasses. She rarely smiled back then, embarrassed by her crooked teeth. “Working for your dad allowed me to reinvent myself. Hugh loaned me the money to get braces and contacts. I paid him back by working extra shifts. I loved being around him, like a dog with the first person who fed them.” She smiled, remembering the day she’d gotten her braces off and had run into the restaurant to show Hugh. “I swore I’d never be invisible again.”

  “You’re anything but invisible.” His throaty voice sent a spark of electricity from head to foot. She touched his neck with her fingertips, feeling the strength of his muscles. Did this man have a weak spot on his entire body? “Since I’ve come back to town, the stories of my dad’s kindnesses seem limitless.” Zane looked into his wine glass.

  “What makes you sad about that?” she asked.

  “I wish I could’ve told him how much I admired him. I’ve done that all my life—not told the people I love how I really feel until it’s too late.”

  “Your dad knew,” she said.

  “I want to believe that,” he said.

  “He talked about you all the time.”

  “I miss him,” Zane said.

  “Me too.” She fanned her eyes, trying not to cry. “Even though he used to tease me without mercy over my crush on you.”

  “You had a crush on me?”

  “Only from the first time I ever saw you. I used to practically trip over my own feet every time you came in the room. You, on the other hand, were totally oblivious to me.”

  “I’m not oblivious to you now,” he said. “I can’t do anything but notice you these days.”

  “Really?” She looked down, pretending to examine her fingernails as warmth flushed her cheeks.

  “Really.” He scooted closer. “Can I kiss you now?”

  “I suppose.”

  He grinned as he took her wine and set it next to his on the table. “Now I feel awkward. Maybe I should’ve just gone in without permission.”

  “If you knew how much I wanted you to kiss me, you wouldn’t feel awkward.”

  “You’re so pretty it hurts,” he said.

  She couldn’t move as he drew closer, inhaling his scent. What should she do with her hands now that he no longer held them? They were lumps in her lap. Should she put her hands in his hair? The last time they’d kissed, she’d been tipsy and caught up in the moment. They’d attacked each other, ripping clothes off as they made their way to his bedroom. Tonight was different. They were too cautious, unwilling to startle the other with the wrong move. When he leaned down to kiss her, all thoughts of what to do about her hands vanished. He parted her mouth and kissed her gently, like an explorer with a rare and fragile find. She kissed him back and spread her fingers into the softness of his hair.

  When they parted, he twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. “Maggie says you look like a hair commercial.”

  “I pay a lot for it to look this way,” she said.

  “It’s worth every penny.” He cocked his head to the side. “Maggie says I should ask you to go steady.”

  She almost laughed, caught up in the joy of it all, but then she remembered. The point of asking him back to her home was to tell him the truth.

  “What happened?” he asked. “I lost you.”

  “I have something I need to tell you. I’ve not told anyone this. Most days I try not to think about it. I’m damaged goods. In more ways than one.”

  Chapter Seven

  Zane

  * * *

  “DAMAGED GOODS?”

  “I got a phone call yesterday that reminded me how much.”

  The reason she couldn’t sleep. He knew it wasn’t coffee.

  He waited for her to continue.

  “The phone call was from the D.A. in Tennessee who prosecuted one of my foster dads for…for sexually abusing me when I was ten.”

  A giant weight landed on his chest. Ten-year-old Honor at the mercy of a pedophile. No wonder she didn’t trust people.

  “I don’t even know what to say.” He was shocked by her vulnerability, her willingness to open up to him, and brought her hand into his lap. “Thanks for sharing it with me. But, honestly, Honor, that doesn’t make you damaged goods.”

  “It does. It’s part of the reason I’m such a mess,” she said. “Like running out on you in the middle of the night.”

  He scratched at the collar of his dress shirt. The pieces that made Honor were falling into place. “I get it. I think.”

  “They were my second foster parents. The first sent me back when they adopted a baby.”

  “What about the wife?”

  “She had a lot of meetings in the evenings. Charity types of things. Those were the nights he would come to my room. It went on for a few months until a counselor at school encouraged me to talk about it. She figured something was up when I started not paying attention at school and basically hiding out in the library during recess. Before that, schoo
l was always my thing. I was good at school work. I could control what I did there—could prove to everyone that even though no one wanted me, I was smart.”

  No one wanted me.

  He wanted to pound his fists into the wall and shout at God. How could this happen to an innocent child?

  She fidgeted and took in a deep breath. Her obvious physical struggle to remain composed wrecked him.

  “You don’t have to tell me anything else, if you don’t want to,” he said.

  “It’s fine. I’m fine. I turned him in and went on the witness stand to identify him. There were others. Older girls that had the same story. He was a respected plastic surgeon, and he and his wife were thought of as saints for taking in foster kids. Mostly girls.”

  “It’s sick.”

  “Anyway, he’s out of jail. I don’t know how or why, but the D.A. called to tell me. It sent me into a bit of a tailspin.”

  He took her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? Again, you didn’t do it.”

  “I’m sorry that it hurts,” he said. “I’m sorry that you were hurt.”

  His mind tumbled over all the information. Should he tell her about the car in her driveway? If he did, he’d have to confess to watching her house. She’d just started to trust him. If he told her that, she might not find it endearing. Then, there was the guy on the beach. The same guy?

  He had to tell her the truth. Her safety was more important than his pride.

  “Full disclosure,” he said. “I was watching your house last night.”

  “Watching my house?”

  “I can’t think of a way to say it without incriminating myself. But, yes, I was watching your house from my window. Just to make sure you got home from the bar okay.”

  She grinned. “So, you’re basically stalking me.”

  “Basically.” Relief flooded him. She wasn’t angry.

  “Why is it that if anyone but you did it, I’d find it creepy?” She played with the bracelet on her wrist and looked up at him. “I spend some time watching your house as well.”

  He stared at her. Was she serious?

  “I can’t see much other than your windows and the top of your roof. However, that doesn’t stop me from sending you silent signals,” she said.