Fireflies and Lies (A Summerbrook Novel Book 4)

by Vicki Wilkerson

  Jenna was about to have an innocent fling with a man who was completely wrong for her. And she kind of liked the idea.

  ⸙

  Hogan was on a roll. Jenna seemed to really like the flowers he’d sent. So he sent more. More yellow ones and then pink and purple. Every day. And every day seemed to magnify itself, and their time together felt like weeks to him. He and Jenna spent most of their days working on the details of the charity fashion show, visiting Ben, and she even started helping him with his little pet project for the Ben Evans Motorcycle Rally that Bull and April were coordinating. He and Jenna were putting together a bike for the build-off on Saturday, the day of the competition. They were inseparable. He liked feeling inseparable from her.

  After spending the afternoon with Ben, they went back to the shop to work on the motorcycle. He needed to keep his eyes on his work, but he couldn’t keep them off Jenna.

  He uncovered the Harley and turned to the beautiful woman. “So…I think it’s about time we took this thing for a test drive, don’t you?” He imagined what it would be like to have her wrapped around him on the back of his bike.

  Jenna let a laugh escape her mouth. “You’ve got to be kidding, right?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all.” He took a step closer and placed his hand on her elbow.

  “I’ve never even sat on one. I can’t ride that thing. And, boy, if April ever found out—after all I’ve done to protect her and keep her away from bikers and motorcycles.” She took a step back.

  “Well, April’s not here.” He moved toward her again and put his hands on her waist. “And you’re the one handing me all the wrenches and tools to work on this.” He glanced at the bike. “You can’t not ride it after all the work.” He brushed a stray strand of her blond hair from her cheek.

  She looked up into his face. “But it’s not ready.”

  “It’s ready enough for a test drive.” He bent down and whispered into her ear. “You know I’ll keep you safe, don’t you.”

  She leaned into him. “I don’t know.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I know. I wouldn’t let you even do this if it weren’t safe.” He held her at arm’s length. “I’m going to take you around some neighborhood roads behind the shop. Slowly.” He fixed his eyes onto hers. His heart was all riveted to her heart and bound to it with leather straps. “Trust me.”

  ⸙

  Other than her father and Jasper, Jenna had never trusted a man before. In fact, she’d had lots of reasons not to trust men. When they found out about her family. Or rather her inheritance. Or more precisely, the inheritance they thought she was entitled to…they fell in love with that…not her. She could tell. Every time.

  They would keep things from her. Tell her lies. Date who they really wanted to behind her back. Whatever it took to gain a potential fortune.

  No. She didn’t trust any man.

  And yet she was teetering on the edge of going on a ride with a biker named Hog. What was up with that?

  Hogan pulled her into him again, bent, and lightly kissed her neck.

  Well, if any man could be that gentle with her neck… She guessed he’d be gentle with her on the back of his Harley Cruiser. He’d just talked her into it. Well, he’d really…kissed her into it.

  She closed her eyes and whispered, almost drunk from the kisses, “All right. But you can’t let April know about me riding a motorcycle. Not yet. Not until I’m sure she’ll be okay with all this—you and me…and the motorcycle. You can’t tell. Okay?”

  He kissed a section of her lower neck that led to her shoulder. “Mmmmm. Okay.”

  He pulled back and examined her head. Or hair. “So…we’ve got to pick out a helmet for you. Let’s walk back into the showroom, and you can choose anything you like.”

  “Anything?” He didn’t know how Jenna had expensive taste. Without even trying, she had a knack for picking out the most expensive anything. She imagined that would probably be the same with motorcycle helmets, too.

  They walked into the showroom, and all the mullet men were staring at them. She caught a few talking low while looking their way. It didn’t matter. These people didn’t run in the same circles with anyone she knew. Not her family. Not April. Not Dudley or Mr. Slithers—except that one night.

  “So…here are the ladies’ helmets.” Hogan stopped on an aisle and held out his hand.

  She grabbed his hand with her left and immediately grabbed a silver helmet with her right. “Let’s go.”

  He swung her around and looked about the showroom. “You have very good taste. That’s one of our best.”

  Yep. She knew it. She had pretty good taste in men, too. That was why she was having such a difficult time right now. He had so many characteristics that were good. He just didn’t have the stats or the knowledge she needed to help her save the plantation. This little…fling they were having had to end soon so that she could get back to the business of finding a suitable…solution. All in good time.

  They walked toward the twin doors in the back that eventually would lead through the offices and to the garage where the bike they were working on was. He held the helmet above the shelving they were passing between. “Hickey, lock up for me tonight, and make sure Sea Pig writes this off the inventory.”

  “But Boss. That’s a $500.00 helmet,” Hickey said.

  “And wake your brother up. He’s already cost me more than $500.00 this week in naps.” Jenna looked up at Hogan. She liked the way he handled business.

  Jenna’s insides felt like fireflies had taken flight. All fluttering and cool lights. Could she do this? She wasn’t sure, but she thought she could.

  As long as her family didn’t find out. Then she’d be dead.

  Hogan lifted the bay door. The evening was upon them. He turned to her and helped her with the helmet. “You’re really cute in this.” He hit the kickstand with his foot and pushed the Cruiser out the bay door. He threw his leg over the seat and held up the bike with the muscles bulging from the sleeves of his shirt and his long legs. Then he put on his own helmet.

  She meticulously eyed every move he made, and he made her a little weak in the knees. How could she be so attracted to a man who was obviously so wrong for her life? She looked over her shoulder, like someone could be watching who would matter. Not a chance. Everything about her relationship with Hogan was a secret. Every place they went. Everything they did. Their secret. And she loved that. He was her indulgence. Her fling du jour.

  “Okay, now just climb on behind me.” He pointed to something on the bike. “Put your foot on this and hop on.”

  She did as he said, and it was done. Her body seemed to fit nicely into his warm, hard frame.

  “That’s right. Get close. Stay close and hold on.”

  Not a problem.

  He turned the key, and the monster rumbled beneath her. Her head, her heart and her body rumbled. The fireflies within her jittered with the noise.

  He allowed the bike to roll forward. Slowly. Very slowly.

  It wasn’t so bad. No. It was actually kind of…enjoyable.

  He leaned back to get close to her ear. “Keep your arms wound tightly around my waist. Oh, and tap my leg if you want me to stop.” He increased the speed just a little. “Hold on.”

  The motorcycle made a slight lurch. It was fine. She was going to be fine. Everything about the situation was going to be fine.

  Except her heart. No amount of leg tapping would stop her heart.

  He gently rode them through a neighborhood onto a seldom-used dirt road that meandered around a swamp. Through the trees, she saw the sun, glowing, setting.

  She inhaled the comfort that seemed to emanate from Hogan’s back. He felt… safe and right. She closed her eyes and said a little prayer. Not from fear. Not from anxiety. But from hope.

  She didn’t know why, but she hoped her ride with Hogan would never end.

  ⸙

  Hogan was one happy little motorcycle shop owner when he’d pulled ba
ck into the garage bay. Jenna had done just fine on the back of his Harley. Better than fine. She eventually relaxed and started leaning into the curves like he told her to. She wasn’t afraid. At all.

  “So…you told April yet? About being involved in the build-off?”

  She inhaled deeply and shook her head. “Well, she knows about the build-off, of course, because she’s helping Bull with the rally, but she doesn’t have a clue about me helping you. I don’t know how she’s going to take it. I mean. Her feelings about the whole accident are still— I don’t know. Raw. Unresolved. Sometimes, I don’t even know how she’s managing working on this rally thing.”

  “Wow. She must really be brave. From all that you’ve told me.”

  “Yep. She’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. On the inside. I talked to her yesterday, and I could tell she’s really struggling with the whole thing, but she’s pushing through all her fears to help Ben.” She lowered her head and looked up. “And I think she really likes Bull, too. That’s got to give her strength.” She organized the toolbox he was working out of. “Wish I had her strength.”

  “What do you mean? For what?” Hogan thought she had enough strength for five women.

  She paused and gazed off into the distance. “To deal with my family and that whole…situation.”

  “Yeah. So, you never explained about your cousin at the Oaks Country Club. What was up with that?”

  “Oh, just a matter of an old family will, property and inheritance.”

  He held out his hand. “Give me that socket wrench. I heard a little tapping in here on our test ride.” She placed it in his hand like a nurse a surgeon. “What kind of inheritance?”

  “Oh…nothing special. Land. Money. A trust. The plantation upon which my parents live.”

  He put down the wrench and gave her his full attention. “What do you mean?”

  She explained that to inherit, one either had to have “intent” which meant that they had a plan to make the land profitable, or one had to have the “means” which meant an infusion of outside money, and for her that would have meant marriage to a man who had enough money to float the plantation. Even then, her family’s trust was in the hands of an uber-conservative board who would need to approve and vet the plan or the man. The board was about to kick her and her parents onto the streets if she didn’t come up with a way to make her family’s plantation profitable and live up to the terms of some antique ancestor’s will that had been governing the family since the 1700s.

  “I research things all the time. I looked into some of the things the plantation did to survive years ago—indigo, rice, even phosphate mining, but there were problems with each. I just can’t seem to figure out how to keep it.”

  “Let’s back up for a moment.” His wheels began to turn. “You mean, you’re rich…and that’s why you’ve been hanging around, helping me so much of the time? And Ben? It’s why you can tutor him for free?” He couldn’t wrap his head around it. He thought she was just taking some built up vacation time at the shop or something. “You are independently wealthy. With a few strings.”

  “Well, I guess for now, I am—in a way. But not for long. I mean. I’m not in a position to assume the family’s mantle. I’m going to lose our ancestral home. And what’s left of the trust. It’ll go to Dudley and Scarlet very shortly. I haven’t even written my ‘Letter of Intention’ to Mr. Smithers.” She used her fingers to make little air quotes. “I don’t have an official proposal to make the plantation sustainable. But Dudley does. He’s planning to turn it into one of those…tourist attractions.” She shook her head. “I’d rather lose it first.”

  “And you thought none of this was important? I mean. To tell me.”

  “None of it will matter soon anyway. It’s all only temporary. Then I’ll have to start putting in hours at the shop for real. Or take a real teaching position. Or maybe find a job on someone else’s land who actually knows what to do with it.” She brushed her hands on her jeans and looked down at her feet.

  “So…now what you do is just for play?” His mind reeled back to his marriage to Bentley. Charleston debutante extraordinaire. She was all fine with him when she thought he had old money, but after she had her big, fat Lowcountry wedding in St. Phillips Cathedral and the regal reception at Hibernian Hall, and she realized that his “land” was really a working farm, and his “money” had been garnered through hard labor, she lost interest. And then when Savannah was born. With issues. It was enough to send her running back home to Mommy and Daddy and their mansion on the battery. And her fancy party world.

  She had no use for a broken baby and a husband who worked really hard for what he had. He had always thought that working hard was way more respectable than inheriting. But Bentley didn’t.

  It all made more sense now. The fancy designer shoes. The car. All the free time she had to work on charitable projects. And here he was staring that exact same shallow situation smack dab in the face. Once more.

  His poor baby. He’d almost exposed her to a risk he’d never allow in her life again.

  He needed some air. Fast.

  ⸙

  What did Jenna just say? Maybe he didn’t like that she wasn’t really a model, and wasn’t going to have all this free time to help him and was going to have to seriously work for a living. What else could it be?

  Hogan stood and walked to the bay door in the warehouse and stared out into the night. He shook his head.

  Should she go to him? Give him space? Leave?

  Un, deux, trois, quatre. She’d leave. Maybe he thought she was rich, and now that she told him she probably wasn’t going to inherit, he was done. Men had dated her for her money before. But she hadn’t told Hogan about her money. Because she wasn’t going to have any soon. Really, he was seeing who she was going to be.

  She stood and brushed the dust from the floor off her jeans. She covered the bike they were working on like she had every evening. He’d obviously finished for the day. Even though he hadn’t said a word.

  As she touched one of the double doors through which she’d exit, she heard a loud clank. She jumped. She spun around. He’d thrown the wrench on the cement floor and was standing in the bay looking at her. “So…you couldn’t have told me?”

  “Told you what?”

  “That you are a trust fund baby.”

  “I told you that I’m not going to be a trust fund baby very shortly. That’s what I told you.”

  “But you are right now.”

  “Not for long. It’s not going to matter soon. I’m losing my family’s legacy for them, and it’s not something I’m very proud of and go around bragging about anyway.” She turned and walked a few steps back into the warehouse, feeling the heat creep up the back of her neck and her face getting red. “And what business is it of yours anyway? I’ve only known you a couple of weeks, and you think I owe you my family’s entire history?” Humph. “Well, if that’s what you think, you’d better think again.”

  She could eat that wrench she was so mad. “I was merely helping you to assist with Ben’s fundraisers. And it would have meant a lot to April that we raised money for him.” She paced. “But go ahead and put on your own fashion show. I’ve already given you all the connections and information you need. Everything’s planned. You don’t need me any longer.” She turned to leave.

  “Just a minute. Wait a minute.” He took long strides until he got to her and grabbed her arm.

  “So…what you’re telling me is…” He inhaled. “You don’t care about your family’s money and plantation?”

  She pulled her arm away and took a step back. “I didn’t say I didn’t care. I would save my parents’ home—if I could. I’ve run all the numbers and have looked at every angle, but I can’t save it. There are other people there I care about, too. They’ll get kicked out of their family home if Dudley has his way. At this point the only way to save the plantation is by an infusion of wealth, but I won’t be roped into some marriage-for-heri
tage arrangement with someone I don’t love, just to keep the land and stuff. Marriage is more important. People are more important.” She took another step back. “I am more important. This is my dilemma.”

  He shifted his weight from leg to long leg. His brow was furrowed. Finally, he stood with his hands on his hips. “So…the money doesn’t matter to you,” he said in a matter of fact manner. “You mean, even if you failed to save the plantation yourself, all you’d have to do to save your family’s home is to marry someone with money?”

  “And have them approved by the board. And change my name to DeBordieu. Oh, and be in a position to produce another heir, of course.” Though it wasn’t a requirement in the will, she’d have to love the man she would marry, too. But she didn’t say that.

  “So…what are you worried about?”

  She’d had enough. He obviously didn’t understand a thing. She walked toward the door he’d been guarding. “Let me out of here.”

  “Wait. Wait just one minute.”

  “No. You’re scaring me. And confusing me. I can’t figure out if you’re mad at me because I have money. Or because I didn’t tell you that I was about to lose it…and my inheritance of the plantation…or what.”

  He lowered his head and shook it. “Well, I’m not really mad. I was just…surprised. I thought you were a model at a dress shop and a girl who loved to work with charities. A teacher who liked to work with special needs children. For free.”

  “A model at a dress shop. Well, I guess that’s what I am…technically. And a tutor who donates her time to worthy causes. The other stuff is just paperwork.”

  He nodded and paced in silence and in deep thought. What did all this matter to him anyway? He was simply supposed to be a fling. Now Jenna felt like a bank account and land to Hogan, too. No man was going to want her for who she really was. She should just give up on men. Heck. She couldn’t even have a proper…affair.

  Finally, he stopped and looked straight into her eyes. “What if I told you I could help you?”

  “Help me what?” Order dresses for Enjoliver? Write spelling lessons for Ben? Keep April out of trouble so her heart won’t get broken? “You can’t help me. No one can.” She fought the tears that were forming like storm clouds behind her eyes. “In fact, I’m going to write that Letter of Intention tomorrow. Telling Mr. Smithers that I have no means or intention of inheriting DeBordieu Plantation and Estate. I’m sending my cousin a copy so Mr. Smithers won’t have the satisfaction. And I’m going home right now to tell my parents I can’t help them. I’m just done.” She closed her eyes, tired of trying so hard at every turn.