“Max, Max, save me,” Honey cried out. Her heartbeat galloped at breakneck speed, and she kicked and punched the werewolf.
Somehow, the wagon was unlatched and the beast jumped off with Honey. He howled lustily and ran toward a giant fire.
What was he going to do? Throw her into the fire?
“Max!” Honey screamed, even though in the back of her mind, she was sure this was an act. The werewolf was obviously a man, and all of this was supposed to be in good fun.
The man ran around the bonfire with Honey screaming all the way. Finally, he set her down and she fell on her face.
When she came to, because she must have fainted, Max was holding a Mason jar in front of her face. The strong alcoholic content hit her nose, along with a spiced, pumpkin pie scent.
“Booze. Pumpkin flavored.” Max tipped the jar at her lips. “And now, it’s time for ghost stories.”
Honey drank the booze, whatever it was, and somehow, ghost stories didn’t sound bad at all.
Chapter Six
Borcher’s Booze was a Sapphire Falls original, a local moonshine consisting mostly of alcohol and seasonal fruit. The Halloween version tasted like pumpkin spice tea, but oh boy, the alcohol packed a punch and snuck up on the unsuspecting visitor—notably one Honey Myers.
Max pulled the Mason jar away from her after countless guzzles. Yes, he wanted to loosen her up. But no, he did not want to take advantage of her—even if she was his ex-wife.
“I lur-ve eet …” she slurred. “Puh-punkin’ suh-spice. Give-ah baahk.”
“Oh no, little lady. You’ve had enough.” He tipped the jar back for his own swallow and let it burn down his throat. With the amount Honey had imbibed, he doubted she still had any stomach lining left. And boy would she be angry if she found out how many pieces of chocolate turtles and Adrianne’s famous toffee squares she’d consumed. Each time the candy tray went around, Honey took a piece, then washed it down with Booze.
The scarier the story, the more sugar and booze fortification she needed, but now, the bonfire was burning out and one by one, people were picking up their blankets and getting in line for the hayride to take them back to the parking area.
“Uh-I am nuh-not skuh-scared uuff ghoostz.” Honey rested her head on Max’s shoulder. “Letz go to zee haunted hawwse.”
“It’s not open right now.” Max pulled his well-past- inebriated ex-wife to her feet. Her wolf costume was matted with spilled Booze and she’d long ago lost the mask. The ears flopped down like a hound dog’s, and the hoodie with the fur was partially torn.
“Wooohhhh!” Honey howled like a wolf. “Whhy izz eet so dark? I need a ffuhlll moooon. Wooohhh!”
“We’d better get to that last hay wagon or we’re going to have to walk all the way back.” Max tried to hold onto her, but she lurched from side to side, stumbling and almost falling on her face.
“Uhh’m okay!” Honey exclaimed. “Tuh-ell me where theee ghosstz piggees are and Eye’ll bloow thar hawse down.”
“Come on, let’s get on the wagon.” Max picked her up and deposited her on a bale of hay.
By the time he got her back to the Rise & Shine, she’d thrown up twice. She leaned heavily on him as he got her into the larger of the two rooms.
“I want my hot bath,” she demanded, her voice not as slurred as before, but still not sober enough to sit in a bathtub, at least alone.
“You’re too drunk.” He laid her on the bed and peeled off the destroyed wolf costume. At least the fur and the part that covered their heads had kept them warm and toasty.
“But you promised me a bath,” she whined, rolling her eyes. “Meanie, meanie, stinky beanie.”
“Let’s brush your teeth and put you in the bed.”
“No bed. Bath.” She jutted her chin, then unzipped her pants and shimmied them to the floor.
While Max gasped and stared, she removed her sweater, then stumbled toward the bathroom. Her bra and panties fell by the wayside as she knelt at the side of the clawfoot tub and filled it with water.
Max had heard horror stories of drunks drowning in the tub or hitting their heads. Since she hadn’t bothered locking the door, he removed his own wolf costume and followed her into the bathroom. She’d need help stirring the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot, as well as getting into the tub without bumping her head.
“Up you go.” He propped her arm and helped her slide into the tub, swallowing hard as the globes of her perfect breasts hovered right above the soap bubbles.
He found a tub pillow and laid it on the edge, then shut off the water before it overflowed.
Honey lay her head on the pillow and sighed. “I love baths. Whenever I want to write a love scene, I take a nice hot bath first and get into the mood.”
Her eyes were unfocused and dreamy, and he wondered if she even knew he was there, or that she cared.
“I light some scented candles, then break out the bath oil, and I close my eyes and picture my hero.”
“Who’s your hero?” he couldn’t help whispering.
“Why do you want to know?” She narrowed her eyes and Max realized she wasn’t as out of it as she seemed, although she was still drunk enough not to care that he was sitting at the side of the tub.
“I’m interested.” He swirled his hand in the water.
“He always looks a little like you.” She smiled, closing her eyes. “Blue eyes, brown hair, a strong nose, and square jaw. And he’s oftentimes an asshole. Most alpha males are. But no matter how much of a jerk he is to others, he has a soft spot for the heroine—always.”
“Soft spot? What’s that?”
“He really cares for her.”
“Does he spend a lot of time with her?” Max tried to keep his voice casual.
“Not necessarily, but he puts her feelings first. He wants to make her happy.”
“What happens if he doesn’t? Or he forgets, or he’s too busy?”
“She won’t put up with it. My heroines are not doormats. They’re strong and have important things to do. They don’t need a man to make them feel important.” She took a deep breath and sank further into the bubbles so that her ears were submerged, and only her face remained above the waterline.
Max watched her, and when her breathing steadied and she fell asleep, he drained the water and lifted her from the tub. He feasted his eyes on her nakedness, but he couldn’t touch or take advantage of her.
Carefully, he dried her off and slipped her into a nightgown he found in the dresser. After tucking her in and fluffing her pillow, he retired to his room. As much as he wanted to hold her all night, he couldn’t do it—not without her being fully aware and consenting to his presence.
She was sure to have a raging hangover in the morning, and the last thing he wanted was for her to suspect him in any way, shape or form.
She’d given him much food for thought, and it was some time before he could fall asleep. He’d cared about her, loved her always, but he failed at showing her. He thought working hard and showering her with money would be enough. He’d thought the children would keep her busy and happy. He’d thought she’d wanted the divorce to punish him for working too hard.
He’d thought wrong.
She only wanted to prove that she wasn’t a doormat—which meant she felt she was—with him.
How could everything he’d done be misinterpreted so wrongly?
Chapter Seven
Holy hell in a handbasket!
Honey’s head throbbed like it was crushed by a giant nutcracker. She groaned and turned over on the bed, barely able to crack open her eyes.
Sunlight, too bright, streamed through the lace curtains fluttering in the cool breeze.
Who’d been in her room to open the windows?
Honey moaned again as she tried to raise her head, her eyes tearing from the light.
Wait? How did she get into bed in the first place?
She was wearing a plaid flannel nightgown which definitely wasn’t hers and sleepi
ng under a quilt that looked homemade. And horrors! She wasn’t wearing any panties.
She checked off what she knew.
She was in Sapphire Falls. Her kids were at Grandpa and Grandma Wolff’s. Max had taken her to a bonfire.
Nausea roiled her belly, her mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, and her head was blowing up, which meant she was having a mother of a hangover.
Had Max brought her back and put her to bed?
Had he melted the panties right off of her? Again?
She stumbled off the high, four-poster bed and spied her clothes all crumpled on a chair. A matted furry wolf costume pooled at the foot of the bed, and her brand new Italian leather boots were crusted with mud and dried straw.
She had no memory of removing her clothes, and even if she had, she would have folded them or put them in the laundry bag.
Max had undressed her. Who else?
“Max! Where are you?” She opened the connecting bathroom door and found it empty. “Max?”
What time was it?
Where was he?
How were Mattie and Sara doing?
She found her cell phone and groaned. Ten forty in the morning? Why hadn’t he woken her? They’d agreed to pick up the kids early in the morning—that much she remembered—to take them to the pumpkin patch.
“Max?” She knocked on the door to his room, but when he didn’t answer, she tried the knob.
His room was empty. What was going on here? What had happened last night?
She stared at the bathtub and blinked at the image of herself naked under the bubbles. Had Max been watching her? Talking to her?
A memory surfaced, and she held her aching head. He’d carried her naked from the bathtub and wrapped her in a towel.
Oh, crap. Nausea flooded her belly and she wretched in the toilet, but nothing came up through her sore throat.
Had she seduced Max last night?
She’d been drunk. Check.
Max had undressed her. Check.
He’d taken her naked from the tub and laid her on the bed. Check.
She wasn’t on birth control because she hadn’t had sex since the last time he got her pregnant.
Honey closed her eyes and moaned. Where the hell was Max?
She found a note on the counter next to his toothbrush.
Dear Honey,
I hope you enjoyed sleeping in. The kids and I are at the pumpkin patch. I’ve arranged for you to have breakfast in bed. When you wake up, call down to the lobby.
Yours, Max
Honey slumped down onto the toilet seat, holding her aching head. She didn’t want breakfast in bed. She wanted to be with Mattie and Sara when they picked out their pumpkins.
Since she’d already had a bath the night before, she hurriedly brushed her teeth, put on makeup and dressed herself. Maybe she could still catch them at the pumpkin patch.
She brought up her phone and texted him. Is it too late to join you at the pumpkin patch? I miss Mattie and Sara.
Minutes later, he texted back. They miss you too, but they’re good. Are you up? Had breakfast yet?
Up and no breakfast. Thanks for the offer of breakfast in bed, but I’m hungover.
Stay put. I’ll be right back. My parents can watch the kids and help them pick out their pumpkins.
A surge of warmth swelled over Honey’s chest. Max was dropping everything and coming back for her. He’d been like this when they were dating, before he decided his job owned him twenty-four seven.
A smile tickled her face as she wet a paper napkin and cleaned her boots. Maybe this vacation was just what she needed to see if Max was still the man for her.
Maybe they had been romantic the night before. A candlelight bath, back rubs, and tender kisses. Maybe he’d whispered sweet nothings on her pillow and caressed her needy body. Maybe he’d even made sweet love to her and held her while she slept.
Bummer she couldn’t remember a thing, and the tense boiling feeling in her stomach didn’t feel like a morning afterglow.
Someone knocked at the door.
Honey dropped her boots and tossed the damp paper towel into the wastebasket.
“Max? That was fast. Guess Sapphire Falls doesn’t have much traffic.” She opened the door.
“Hi, I’m Sara. Here with your breakfast.” A chirpy blue-eyed brunette stood at the door with a tray. She moved in before Honey could protest. “Your husband called and we already had everything ready, just waiting for you to rise and shine!”
“Oh, well, thanks.”
“You should have stayed in bed.” The woman’s eyes twinkled. “He specified breakfast in bed. Very sweet of him. Hey, he told me your daughter’s name is Sara, too.”
“Yes, she is. It’s short for Sarabeth.”
“Oh, Sarabeth, that’s a sweet name.” Sara uncovered the tray. “Your husband was specific about you not having any sugar, so there’s toast, butter, eggs, ham, but no jellies and jams. If you’d like a smidgen of honey with your tea, I can bring you up a jar.”
“I’m good. This looks scrumptious.” It felt good that he remembered her sugar vow and supported it. Most people who she’d shared her ban on sugar with took it as a challenge to get her to crack.
Sara pointed to an envelope tied together with a bright blue ribbon. “You have a good day. Your husband arranged for a few activities for you.”
“Thanks!” Honey grabbed her purse to offer the woman a tip.
“Oh, no. We’re all friends here,” Sara said, waving it off. “None of your big city ways with us.”
“Sure, sorry. Don’t be offended,” Honey said, watching as the woman straightened the pillows on the bed and tucked the quilt back the way it was.
“You’ll get used to us. I’m sort of a newcomer, too. Just took over the bed and breakfast this summer.” She went to the door. “Holler if you need anything.”
“I will,” Honey replied as Sara stepped out the door with a smile.
Now that she was alone, Honey fully took in the room and the way it was furnished. Unlike ritzy hotels, where they had that same sterile flavor with dead, staid artwork, flawless wooden bureaus and a TV stand with remote, a small refrigerator and generic bedding and sheets, this room felt like a person’s home.
The bureaus had nicks and dents, and the pictures on the wall were oil paintings of local scenery. One looked suspiciously like the bonfire she was at last night, and the other one was of a large Ferris wheel.
The quilt was one of a kind, and even the cane chairs she sat on were unique and aged.
Honey turned to her breakfast as her appetite returned. The tea was hot and strong, just the way she liked it, and well, Max, too, was hot and strong, when he was around.
Funny how her random thoughts always turned to him. It had to be her writer’s brain, not some lingering attraction—word association, that was all. Oh, and writers lied to themselves all the time.
She flipped through the notes in the envelope. Max had arranged for her to have a manicure and pedicure as well as a massage at the local beauty salon. After that, she was to meet a group of “literary ladies” for lunch to talk about books, and then at the end of the day, she would take a tour through an assortment of country homes.
When had this come about?
Honey grabbed the calendar of events for the Sapphire Falls Halloween Festival. How was she going to do these at the same time the festival was going on?
But wait. She shut her eyes and sighed. These were exactly the things she had wanted to do in her “bachelorette” weekend without the kids and Max.
Only now, the idea of doing everything together as a family was more than appealing, and she didn’t want to miss a minute of it.
“Hey, Honey.” Max came through the door. “Rise and shine. I see you got your breakfast. Ready for your mani-pedi and massage?”
* * *
“We can’t do this,” were the first words from Honey’s mouth, as Max greeted her with a chaste hug.
�
��Can’t do what, sweetness?” He curled a tendril of her hair behind her ear. “Did you enjoy sleeping in this morning?”
“Yes, I mean no. I was hungover. Head hurts and I feel dizzy and sick. What happened last night?”
“Wait, first tell me what we can’t do.” He massaged her shoulders. “I’m serious about listening to you and want there to be no misunderstandings.”
“Urrrgh. We can’t let me do all of these activities, of course.” She gestured to the sapphire blue envelope. “This is Halloween weekend, and it’s for Sara and Mattie. If I’m having a massage and going on a tour of homes, how can I be at the Monster Mash or the zombie paintball wars? You know Mattie wants to go to the haunted house, and this is the first year Sara can go trick or treating.”
“Relax, Honey.” He deepened the massage to loosen the knots. “This weekend is as much about you as the kids. My parents have it covered. They’re having a ball with Mattie and Sara.”
“Did they miss me? I can’t believe they’d just go with your parents so easily.”
“They love Grandma and Grandpa Wolff, and they’re not exactly strangers, since I had them over a few times.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when they were in San Francisco?” Honey gripped his forearms and blinked. “Why did you lie and tell them I was at a writer’s convention? They must think I’m selfish to leave the kids.”
“They don’t think any of that. They’re glad to have the time with them, and well, I didn’t want them to know we’re divorced.”
“Why’s that so important for you? Would they be ashamed of you if they found out?”
“No.” Max’s heart caved into his chest along with the familiar ache. “It’s my personal failing. I didn’t know how to fix our marriage. I couldn’t figure out how to make you happy.”
“You want to make me happy?” Her honey-colored eyes widened. “I didn’t know that.”
“I do want it. I’ve always wanted it, but I didn’t know how to go about it.” He feathered a kiss on her forehead. “I still don’t.”
Sapphire Falls: Going Haywire (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 4
