Love & Lies

by Julie Johnson

  I swallowed hard as I drew to a stop several feet from him.

  “Hey, stranger,” I called softly.

  He turned to look at me, that crooked smile already on his lips. “You’re late.”

  “Excuse me?” I took a few steps closer. “Your note said sunset. The sun, if you’ll notice, is still setting.”

  “But it’s been setting for almost an hour.”

  “Well, next time you decide to write me a note demanding my presence, be more specific about the time, will ya?” I teased.

  He stepped forward and grabbed my hand. “No promises. Now, let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  He glanced at me dismissively. “You do understand the concept of a surprise, right?”

  “Sorry, I’m sort of killing the whole mystery-man vibe you’ve got going, aren’t I?”

  “Completely,” he agreed, grinning. “So shut up and follow me or we’re going to miss it.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from asking miss what? and followed Wes across to the Buda side. He pulled me along after him with one hand firmly gripping mine, hurrying us through the crowded avenues and around the many street vendors who’d set up their carts on the promenade. After about five minutes of walking, Wes came to a stop and I felt my eyes go wide.

  “No way,” I said instantly.

  “Red, don’t be unreasonable.”

  “I’m unreasonable?” I blew out a puff of righteous outrage. “You’re the unreasonable one, if you think you’re going to get me on that thing.”

  “Red…”

  “Don’t Red me in that soft voice, Wes!” I glared at him. “No way. Nope. Not happening.”

  “Red…” He was grinning again, the bastard.

  “What did I just say?!”

  He laughed outright. “I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”

  I eyed the Sikló like it was a venomous snake, rather than an old-fashioned brown and yellow train car on a vertical track. The Castle Hill Funicular was famous in Budapest, whisking tourists up the steep hill from the riverbank to Buda Castle every few minutes and boasting some of the best views the city had to offer. But I sure as shit wasn’t about to get onboard, even with Wes holding my hand. Bridges were one thing — riding a centuries-old cliff car at a 75-degree angle up a sheer rock-face was another altogether.

  “I can’t,” I whispered.

  Wes pulled me close, so he could stare into my eyes. His hands came up to cradle my face, and my heart began to have palpitations.

  “You can,” he whispered. “Faith Morrissey, you can do anything. Anything. Don’t let the world convince you otherwise.” He leaned down so his forehead was resting directly against mine and I felt my windpipe convulse spastically. “Five seconds of fear, or a lifetime of regret that you missed out on something amazing. Your choice, Red.”

  Well, when he put it that way…

  “I really, really don’t like you,” I grumbled, clearing my throat.

  Wes laughed again and bumped his nose against mine. I thought I might faint when our mouths almost brushed, but managed to pass off my near-swoon as latent fear rather than sheer lust.

  As he led me to the boarding station, his hand laced warmly in mine, I wondered if he’d ever stop pushing my buttons or testing my boundaries.

  Almost instantly, I realized I didn’t want him to stop.

  Wes challenged me in the best way possible. He made me press my own limits, forced me to try things I hadn’t had the courage to do in the past. He never questioned my abilities. He stared at me without a flicker of doubt in that steady brown gaze… looked at me like I could do anything, be anyone.

  He believed in me.

  With him, for the first time ever, I felt like I was starting to figure out who I was — and who I wanted to be.

  More than any star I’d ever wished on or any blown-out birthday candle plea I’d ever dreamed might come true, I hoped that one day, I’d live up to the version of Faith that he saw when he looked at me like that. More than anything…

  I wanted to be the woman Wes Adams thought I was.

  Chapter 22

  Weston

  I’M WITH YOU

  * * *

  “Oh, wow. Wow, wow, wow,” Faith breathed, her eyes wider than I’d ever seen them.

  We were about halfway up the embankment, slowly ascending toward the castle with all of Budapest laid out before us like a rug. The Chain Bridge and river promenade, now far below, were children’s toys left lying on the vast carpet, growing ever smaller as we rose up the hill. The setting sun painted all the world gold, like a sepia camera lens had been slipped over my eyes.

  “This is amazing.” Her tone was hushed, full of wonderment as she took in the view. I’m sure it was spectacular, but I didn’t see any of it. I was distracted by a far more beautiful sight.

  My eyes were locked on her face.

  Tracing the curve of her lips. Memorizing their supple softness. Imagining how they’d feel against my own.

  As I watched her, I felt it rise within me like a tidal wave — unfamiliar, irrepressible, undeniable.

  Fear.

  I hadn’t been frightened when I was bleeding out in a med-evac helicopter in a Bosnian war zone. I hadn’t felt fear coursing through my veins when I’d been stranded in the deserts of Afghanistan without a satellite phone or water source for miles. I hadn’t experienced terror when I’d been captured by enemy insurgents during an entirely off-the-books surveillance mission.

  But I was scared as hell at just the thought of kissing Faith Morrissey.

  “Look, Wes! You can see the steeples of St. Stephen’s Basilica from here!” She let out an appreciative sigh. “God, isn’t it beautiful? Have you ever seen anything so gorgeous in your entire life?”

  My eyes moved over her face as hers swept the city. “No.” I cleared my throat roughly. “I haven’t.”

  She was totally enthralled by the panorama of old-world elegance that seemed to stretch on for miles in every direction — my detachment didn’t even register on her radar. My knee bounced up and down, keyed-up with adrenaline. She was supposed to be the one reeling out of control. And yet, somehow, the world had been flipped on its head because I was the only mess of nerves inside this goddamned floating glass box.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and pressed my eyes closed. For the first time in more than a decade, I found myself falling back on old habits. I started to count.

  One.

  She leaned slightly forward in her seat to stare through the glass, her fear of heights completely forgotten. “This is amazing. You can see all the way to City Park from here!”

  Two.

  Her hand tightened on mine, squeezing in excitement and anticipation. We were almost to the top. “Seriously, Wes. I’m sorry I gave you a hard time. I love this.”

  Three.

  I opened my eyes when I heard her gasp. The setting sun had just peeked out from behind a cloud, illuminating the river’s surface with shafts of buttery light. It gleamed like a gold-plated mirror.

  Faith’s voice was awed. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

  Four.

  She glanced in my direction. “Wes?” she asked, staring into my eyes with a question swimming in her own. “You still with me?”

  Five.

  I took a deep breath, leaned into her space, and lifted one hand to lace through the hair at her temple. She stilled, her eyes melted like superheated caramel, and her jaw quivered slightly as realization crept into her gaze. She was a little bit terrified of us, of this, too.

  Somehow, that made it easier to banish my own indecision.

  “I’m with you, Red,” I muttered, an instant before I brought my lips down on hers in a crushing kiss that made my mind empty of everything except the way her mouth felt as it moved slowly beneath mine.

  The instant our lips met, my fear vanished like it had never existed. I had no idea why I’d been afraid in the first place. This, right here, with my mouth pressed against
hers, was the safest I’d felt in years.

  The safest I’d ever felt.

  My tongue in her mouth, my hands on her face — I wasn’t chaste or slow. I could barely control myself now that I finally had her in my arms. And as I lost myself in her, I found the man I’d buried deep, so long ago I could barely remember him.

  I was drowning in her — this time I didn’t fight it.

  I let her waves drag me under, and found myself praying I’d never be forced to resurface.

  Chapter 23

  Faith

  INVINCIBLE

  * * *

  There’s something about first kisses.

  Something sacred. Special.

  Two sets of unfamiliar lips meet as strangers. They crash and cling, glide and gasp, and in the span of a few fumbling, familiarizing seconds, quickly become the most intimate point of contact two people can share.

  There’s magic in first kisses.

  In their fixity. Their everlasting endurance.

  There are no re-tries. No do overs or take twos.

  And that anticipation, that pressure to make a first kiss perfect — it typically does one of two things:

  It either makes them unforgettable… or it undermines them completely.

  Nerves get in the way.

  People falter and flounder.

  The magic is lost.

  You close your eyes and wait for the awkwardness to pass. You look forward to the second kiss because, honestly, you’re hoping practice might make the next go-around a bit better than the first. You grudgingly accept that reality can’t quite match your expectations.

  There’s disappointment in first kisses.

  But not with Wes.

  Because when he kissed me, my world exploded.

  I felt myself light up like a roman candle. Stars burst behind my eyes, as though I’d been staring at the sun for too long, blinding me to everything. It all disappeared — the view, the other passengers behind us in the cable car, the nervous energy that had been simmering in my veins since we’d boarded.

  Everything but him.

  And as his mouth explored mine — as he and me conjoined and slowly became we — I realized that I’d never been kissed before.

  Not really. Not in any way that counted.

  Every other middle-school spin-the-bottle peck, every sloppy seven-minutes-in-heaven, every backseat make-out session in Conor’s truck… they all faded away as I realized they’d never measure up to Wes’ kiss. They weren’t even in the same league.

  This wasn’t just our first kiss.

  It was my first real kiss. Ever.

  And it didn’t live up to expectation — it far surpassed it.

  His lips consumed me, unhinged me, crushed me, undid me. His hands wove into my hair, as mine traced the subtle scruff along his chiseled jawline. I felt my heart expand in my chest like a balloon, so full of delirious helium it might just lift me off the ground and send me floating into the sky. His kiss carried me away — up, up, up to the highest heights. It should’ve scared me.

  But when his lips were on mine, I didn’t fear the air or the altitude. Even the prospect of falling back to earth didn’t terrify me. He kissed me, and for the first time ever, I felt brave. Empowered. Adventurous.

  I could climb any peak, conquer any challenge. Soar beyond any point of panic or self-preservation.

  He kissed me, and I was invincible.

  * * *

  “Excuse me?” The bashful voice and gentle clearing of a throat broke us apart. Working to clear the Wes-induced haze from my brain, I swung my startled gaze toward the funicular exit, where a uniformed attendant was standing. He shifted anxiously from one foot to another, his eyes darting from the floor to the seat, where Wes and I were still semi-entwined.

  “I’m sorry sir… miss…” The man trailed off, his cheeks flaming. I’m not sure who was more embarrassed — him or me. “We need you to make your exit. The new passengers are waiting to board.”

  I wanted to curl into a ball of mortification beneath my seat as I glanced around for the first time and realized that the cable car was entirely vacant. Evidently, we’d been so consumed, we’d neglected to notice that the car had come to a stop and fully emptied of every other passenger.

  A muffled laugh came from Wes’ direction. I swiftly elbowed him in the side, hoping to silence him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled. “We were… um…” I tried desperately to think of an explanation, but I was pretty sure the attendant had already seen us necking like preteens. The play-it-cool card wasn’t going to work — that ship had sailed as soon as Wes’ tongue had entered my mouth. Seconds ticked on in silence. My cheeks were literally on fire; I was afraid the whole car might combust into flames spurred by sheer humiliation.

  “We were just… uh…” I trailed off again.

  “Enjoying the view,” Wes finished for me, grabbing my hand and hauling me to my feet.

  The attendant smiled slyly. “Of course, sir.”

  “So… we’ll just be going, then…” I swallowed harshly, hoping to dislodge some of my discomfort. “You know, it’s really a beautiful funicular.”

  The attendant stared at me blankly.

  “Not that I’ve been on a lot of them, or anything,” I explained, swallowing again. “Well, actually, this was my first one ever. But it was beautiful.”

  Shit. I was rambling — my worst nervous habit.

  “I mean, really, gorgeous. That view! Best in the city,” I blathered on. I knew I was only making an awkward situation even more uncomfortable, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

  Wes squeezed my hand and tried his best to suppress a laugh as he pulled me toward the exit.

  “I don’t even like heights. In fact, I’m pretty scared of them,” I said, wishing I was flexible enough to literally shove my foot into my mouth — that was likely the only thing that would shut me up, at this point. “But this was totally worth it.”

  “Thank you, miss.” The attendant also appeared to be burying a chuckle.

  We sidestepped him and passed through the door.

  “No, thank you!” I called over my shoulder as we walked away.

  We left the cliff railway behind and walked toward the castle. Wes was silent, his shoulders shaking slightly.

  “So… I ramble when I’m anxious.” As if he hadn’t just witnessed four full minutes of this humiliating habit in action.

  He took a deep breath and turned to look at me, forcing a serious expression.

  “What?” I asked, my voice defensive.

  Wes’ solemn expression cracked as he lost his battle against amusement. He laughed deeply — the kind of laugh that made his whole body shudder and left him gasping for breath. I waited, arms crossed over my chest, until he’d regained some command over himself. I was glaring at him, but the severe look was undercut somewhat by the twitching of my lips as I fought my own giggles.

  “I can’t help it!” I shoved him in the shoulder. “I’m a nervous talker.”

  A fresh laugh escaped Wes’ mouth. “Yeah, Red. I remember our first meeting quite well.”

  I grinned involuntarily at the memory. “That was nothing. You should’ve seen me as a kid — I never got away with a freaking thing.”

  That soft look appeared in his eyes. It made me want to kiss him again. “I can only imagine,” he murmured, staring at me warmly.

  “Let’s just say, if someone puts screws to me…” I shook my head and grimaced.

  He arched a dark eyebrow, his crooked grin firmly in place. “You’ll sing like a canary?”

  “Pray I never get captured by terrorists and tortured for information,” I joked.

  Wes’ grin fell off his face so abruptly, I worried he’d suffered some kind of mental breakdown. Something dark flashed in his eyes as he stared at my face. Before I could ask what had happened, the strange look cleared into a flat expression, concealing whatever was going on inside his head.

  “You okay?” I asked, conce
rn lacing my tone.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” He shrugged. “Let’s go check out the castle.”

  “After you, Prince Charming,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood as he began striding toward Habsburg Gate, the tall stone archway that opened onto the castle grounds.

  “I’m not your prince, Red.” Wes’ voice was low, nearly ominous. “The dark knight, maybe. But don’t confuse me for the valiant hero.”

  I rolled my eyes at his back as I followed after him. “Well, good, Mr. Dramatic, because I’m no Disney princess.”

  Wes glanced over his shoulder at me, somewhat startled by my vehement admission.

  I dragged a deep breath in through my nose and prepared to unload several decades of disenchantment on his ass. “First there’s Ariel: the girl genetically modifies herself for a man she’s never even spoken to because being a unique, beautiful mermaid is apparently so much worse than being an average human — albeit one with great hair. Then, there’s Snow White: she communes with wild animals, consumes food from creepy strangers, and, essentially, is entirely useless when it comes to doing anything but sing, cook, and clean.” I let out an exasperated snort. “And don’t even get me started on Belle. I’m not sure what’s worse — the blatant Stockholm Syndrome or the rampant bestiality.”

  There was a beat of silence as he waited to see if I was done with my tiara-induced tirade.

  “Don’t hold back, Red.” Wes’ voice was wry and his eyes were amused when he finally spoke. He’d come back to me. “Tell me how you really feel.”

  Happy he’d regained his sense of humor, I grinned and shook my head, in the process catching sight of a statue in my peripherals. “Oh, look! See that statue? The one of the weird, ugly bird clutching a sword? Like a griffon, only way cooler?”

  His eyes followed my finger as I pointed at the massive stone hawk, its wings spread wide.

  “That’s the Turul! It’s a hugely important symbol in ancient Hungarian history. They say it signifies power, strength, and nobility.” I turned excited eyes to Wes and caught him staring at me with a strange look on his face.