Sweet & Wild

by Viv Daniels

“Dylan doesn’t know about it, if that’s what you’re wondering. No one does.” Well, Boone did, but that didn’t matter anymore. Why in the world had I just told Tess? I’d never told Dylan. I was sure he’d laugh at me.

  “How long have you had the blog?”

  “A few years.”

  She cocked her head, examining me like I was one of her algae test tubes. “That’s…cool. Do you make any money off it?”

  Always practical, my sister. Making money off the blog had been the last thing on my mind. “No. I did get invited to a screening once.”

  “Like, in Hollywood?”

  I laughed. “No, in DC. But it was before anyone else got to see the film, so it was still cool.”

  “That is cool. Was the movie any good?”

  “It was.” I started telling her about Render, but from the skeptical look on her face, I could tell horror movies were not Tess’s thing, either. I could already see her dissecting all the bad science in the flick. I wondered if that’s the expression I wore whenever she started talking about green goo.

  This woman across the table shared half my DNA, and she was a total stranger. Then again, who wasn’t? My father—our father—was a liar; my mother wanted me to be a trophy wife; my friends didn’t know anything about what was happening in my life; and the last guy I’d slept with hadn’t even told me his real name.

  “I’m glad we had this chance to see each other, Hannah,” Tess said. She’d clasped her hands in front of her like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. Like she was pleading with me for something.

  I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure what I should say. I wasn’t glad, exactly. Talking to Tess was tough. She had everything together. Her studies, her career path, her man.

  “I hope you’ll see me again sometime.”

  “My friends would probably keel over if they saw us together right now,” I said, almost to myself.

  “What?”

  “They call you the slutbitchskank who stole my boyfriend.”

  She considered this. “That’s understandable.”

  It was, wasn’t it? And maybe it was because she was being honest, but my mouth started moving of its own accord. “And whenever they do, I want to slap them and say no one talks about my sister that way.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Crazy, huh?”

  This time, her hand made it all the way across the table to mine. “No. Not crazy.”

  I looked down at our joined hands as if they were made of live snakes.

  “When you were sick,” she began, slowly, “last fall… I was really worried.”

  “I’m fine. I just have to take a pill now and everything is fine.” If only all my problems were so easily solved.

  “I’m glad.” She hesitated. “I would grill Dylan for information about your tests and stuff. He had no idea why I cared so much.”

  A lump materialized in my throat that had nothing to do with my glitchy thyroid. “Well, it’s good you took time off from stealing my boyfriend to ask after my health.”

  I heard her sharp intake of breath.

  “That was a joke, Tess.” Or at least half of a joke. Oh, God, this was a terrible idea. We were about twenty years too late on ever hoping to be sisters, and at least a year too late on trying to be friends.

  “I’m so, so sorry that I hurt you,” she said now. “I’m so sorry. I know you don’t know me. I know you have a lot of really good reasons to hate me. I know you weren’t even aware of my existence until a few months ago, but…”

  I took my hand back. It felt so warm where she’d touched me.

  “I’ve wanted to know you since I was six years old,” she finished.

  “Please don’t say that,” I whispered. Yesterday, Boone had insisted he wanted to get to know me better at any cost, but it was a lie.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Ugh. Please don’t say that again, either.”

  “I’m coming on too strong.” It sounded like she was scolding herself. “I’ve tried to be really good since December, giving you space, and now I do this whole stupid thing with the frappe and the hand holding…next I’ll be trying to braid your hair like you’re really my little sister.”

  “Are you good at braiding hair?” I asked her.

  “I mean…I’ve done it,” she replied. “I never had a little sister to practice on.”

  “What about Barbies?”

  Tess laughed. “I was more of a My First Chemistry Set kind of girl.”

  Figured. Was there a single, solitary way in which my bastard sister didn’t outclass me that didn’t involve naming clothing designers?

  “I just don’t…” She paused. “I don’t want our relationship to be irredeemably damaged by how it all came out.”

  “I think I’m irredeemably damaged,” I mumbled. “What do you do when everything you believed your whole life turns out to be a lie? I can’t get away from lies.”

  “We’re away from it now,” she insisted. “I’m done lying for Dad.”

  “I’m not,” I said softly. “I lie every day for my mother’s sake.”

  Tess frowned. “And for my sake?”

  I looked at her. “Huh?”

  “You said you threatened Dad that you’d tell your mother if he didn’t pay for my school.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you’re lying for me.”

  I shook my head.

  “Yes, you are. And you shouldn’t, Hannah.” Tess’s voice was emphatic. “Living in a lie like that…it curdles you inside.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” I said coldly. “I’m already spoiled.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “It’s what I mean.” My tone was flat.

  Tess’s mouth clamped shut.

  “And don’t you dare think I’m doing any of this for you,” I said to her. “I don’t care about you that much. I’m doing it for my family. For my mom. Just because Dad’s a jerk doesn’t mean that my whole family should be ruined.”

  Tess said nothing for a long moment. “I understand.”

  “Stop understanding.” I crossed my arms. “Stop being sorry. Stop being…”

  “I’m—”

  I held up a finger. “Just stop.”

  She nodded. “I can’t tell if you like me or not.”

  “That’s fair,” I said. “I can’t either.”

  “Should we go back to talking about horror movies?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Better than algae, I guess.”

  “And better than Dad.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “He’s barely speaking to me.”

  “I’m—” This time she stopped herself. “He hasn’t spoken to me or my mother in months.”

  “Is it bad to tell you that kind of makes me happy?” I’d made my Dad finally break up with his mistress. My life’s most worthwhile accomplishment. Go, me.

  Tess shrugged. “I think it’s making my mother happy, actually. I mean, the first few months were hard, but she’s getting better. She’s in school. I can’t believe she’s actually taking it seriously for once.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Sounded like a warning. Take school seriously or end up some dude’s secret mistress. No wonder Tess was so driven.

  “At the risk of making this really awkward again, there’s someone else who wants to see you.” Tess had gone back to wringing her hands. “If you want.”

  Dylan. So I was to have coffee with my ex and the slutbitchskank sister who stole him from me. “I—”

  Tess raised her hands in surrender. “He knows it’s a long shot. It was unlikely enough that you’d want to see me, and…well, we thought that was probably more important.”

  “We?” I echoed. “Like you sat around and strategized this?” Of course they had. The perfect, scientific power couple. Naturally they’d weighed all the pros and cons before approaching me.

  Tess realized she’d been caught. “Crap.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “C
rap.” Managed by my parents, managed by my ex and my stranger-sister…what was next? Did everyone think I was some kind of pathetic, fragile creature who needed to be managed and coddled and planned around and planned for? I wasn’t as smart as Dylan or Tess or my father and that meant I needed to be handled?

  “Hannah—”

  I mustered every bit of charm I could. “I’d love to see Dylan!” I had every grain of gravel on the high road here. “How’s next weekend?”

  I’d make him eat dirt.

  Twenty-Two

  Boone answered on the first ring, like he’d been hovering over his phone, and he didn’t even give me a chance to say hello.

  “Hannah, thank—”

  “Okay,” I said firmly. “I’ve thought it over, and I’m willing to give this another shot.”

  “Good.” His relief poured through the speakers.

  “You have one chance to redeem yourself, here.”

  “I’m listening,” he said immediately.

  “Saturday night.” I stood at my kitchen counter, overlooking the rest of my apartment. The apartment I’d unpacked all by myself, thank you very much. The bed I’d slept in alone. “I’m going out with my sister and her boyfriend.”

  “You have a sister?”

  I grimaced. In any other situation, such a statement would only highlight how little we knew each other, but in this case, not even my own mother knew.

  “Yes. Well, a half sister. I don’t know her really well, but I’m trying to get to know her. Thus, the dinner. And you’re coming as my date.”

  “You want me to go on a double date with you?” Boone sounded confused. I didn’t really blame him.

  “Not just go,” I said. “I want you to slay it. Your absolute best Saturday night going-out clothes. Channel your inner old-money aristocrat. Pull out all the stops.”

  “I don’t actually have any money, Hannah. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

  “Then I’ll buy you something. But you have to be Prince Charming. Can you handle that?”

  “You mean do I know which fork to use?” he asked dryly.

  “I mean can you make every man in the room want to be you and every woman in the room want to be with you?”

  He laughed. “Well, that first one I’ll have covered just by coming in with you on my arm.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’d be surprised.”

  * * *

  I had to hand it to Boone, or Ronnie, or whatever his name was. When he showed up at my door on Saturday night, he had all the ingredients required to turn heads. His outfit was simple but effective—a pair of gray slacks and a soft, clingy shirt that simultaneously outlined every muscle in his chest and arms and set off his deep tan and the pale marine color in his eyes. As soon as he saw me, his mouth dropped open.

  “You can’t wear that,” he said. “We’re going to dinner with your sister.”

  I smoothed the black material down over my hip and flicked my hair behind my back, where I felt it tangle with the golden chains running from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. “If I recall, you like this dress.”

  “It’s the featured star of every one of my fantasies,” he replied. “And there’s no way I can sit next to you all night while you’re wearing it. I’ll want to tear it off you every second.”

  “Perfect,” I said, and grabbed my purse. “Let’s take my car.”

  His hand shot out to stop me. “No. We have to talk, first.”

  I ducked beneath him and into the hall. “You do your job tonight, and you get talking as a reward.” I headed toward the elevator and pressed the button, then turned to see him standing by my door. “Are you coming?”

  He gave me a curious look. “I’m not sure. I feel like we need to have a conversation first.”

  I forced myself to shrug and turn back toward the elevator as the doors opened. “Your choice.”

  He jogged to meet me and slipped inside just as the doors closed. “Hey! Wait. Hannah, I don’t want to play any more games.”

  “Then don’t.” I stared at the lighted floor indicator, because standing so close to him was problematic for me.

  “You making me go out with your sister and pretending to be someone I’m not is a game.”

  I turned to him. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me who you are and who you are not, then?”

  He took a deep breath, then let it out. “I’m Boone. I work construction. I live on a boat. I’m exactly who I always told you I was.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Exactly?”

  “Okay,” he conceded. “Not exactly.”

  “Not remotely.” The door dinged open and I strode out, heels clacking on the cement floor of my parking garage.

  He followed. “That’s where you’re wrong. You think that just because we’re raised to be these…people, that’s our only choice. I gave up that life seven years ago.”

  “And then you gave up the life where you sell drugs and live under bridges what, four years ago? I honestly can’t keep track of all your lives anymore,” I tossed off, then instantly regretted it. I stopped walking and turned around, ducking my head. “Sorry, that was cruel. I know you have been through stuff that I… I can’t even imagine.”

  He stood a few feet away, but it might as well have been miles. And when he spoke, there was resignation in his tone. “I’m not expecting you to burn it all down, too, Hannah. But before I take another step, I need you to know where I stand.”

  I swallowed. “Fine. Talk.”

  He looked around the garage, then sighed. “If I could have done things differently the night of the party, I would have.”

  “What, you wouldn’t have jumped me the second we were alone?”

  “No. That I definitely was going to do,” he said, and his gaze raked over my dress. “But I wouldn’t have run away afterward. I would have told you everything.”

  “Why didn’t you?” I blurted.

  “I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed to be there, with my mother introducing me to everyone as Ronnie. I was embarrassed to be playing this part again. I thought I’d put all that behind me. And I was embarrassed to be caught by you, in that stupid tux my mother insisted on buying me, that costume she forced on me so she could pretend I was someone I’m not.”

  And he’d looked amazing in it. “Are you saying you refuse to wear a tux? Ever?”

  “I’m saying I refuse to be Ronnie Nesbit. It’s not about the tux, it’s not about the party, it’s about being my own man.” He closed his eyes for a second, shook his head. “This is not a conversation to have in a parking garage.”

  “Not in a parking garage, not in a ballroom, not in a bar where you’re trying to seduce me…” I threw up my hands. “Where is the ideal location, Boone? Where do you imagine telling me the truth?”

  “I’ve told you the truth.”

  “Great,” I said, though we both knew otherwise. “Then let’s go.”

  Once we were seated in my BMW, on the way to the restaurant, Boone started up again. “Listen, I have no problem being perfectly charming and everything, but I’m not going to lie about who I am.”

  “For a change.” I adjusted the air-conditioning. Had it gotten much hotter since this afternoon, or was this just the effect of Boone sitting right next to me when he looked and smelled this good? And how was it that he smelled this good? I thought my favorite Boone-scent was sweat and sunlight, but whatever he was wearing tonight wasn’t too shabby either. It was like Boone on several settings, and I liked them all.

  “That means my name is Boone, not Ronnie.”

  “Got it.” I turned left.

  “And I am not back from business school in Europe. Did you know that’s what my mother has been telling people?”

  “I vaguely remember my mother mentioning that, yes. But since I didn’t care who Ronnie Nesbit was, I didn’t really pay attention.”

  Boone spoke softly. “Why didn’t you care?”

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “Becaus
e I was too busy making plans to see this hot handyman I was banging.”

  He smiled and my stomach clenched. I wanted him so bad. Even now, after all the ways he’d lied to me, I wanted him. I hit a stoplight and let out a frustrated breath.

  “I messed up at the party,” he said now. “I’m not proud of the way I acted with you. I was trying to prove to myself that I wasn’t that guy my mom was pretending I was. But I made a huge mess of it. And that’s also why I got so angry when I heard about our moms setting us up. I was afraid that’s what you wanted. Him.”

  Him? I stared at Boone in bafflement. He really did think of his old identity—of Ronnie—as another person. One he hated.

  “If I had to do it over again, I would have told you at our date at the restaurant,” he went on. “When I explained why I left home. I would have told you that my mother was your neighbor, as awkward and horrible as it would have been to have to explain that in public.”

  I swallowed. “Boone—”

  “But I still wouldn’t have told you the name I was born with. I wouldn’t have told you who my father is. Because that doesn’t matter to me, Hannah. That guy…” He hesitated, as if the words were choking him. “Ronnie Nesbit? He doesn’t exist.”

  The light turned, and I started driving again, my mind reeling. I may be dissatisfied with the life of Hannah Swift, but I didn’t hate it. I didn’t hate her. But Boone…

  “Yes, once upon a time, I lived in this world with the money and the country clubs and the expectations. But don’t get the idea I’m sitting on some trust fund somewhere. There’s no inheritance waiting for me. Even if they tried to give me one, I’d donate the whole thing to a shelter or something. I don’t want their money. It’s poison, Hannah.”

  If money was poison, then what did he want with me?

  I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, found a space, parked and turned off the car. Then I looked at Boone. He was waiting for me. Waiting for a response, his pale eyes almost pleading for something I still wasn’t sure I understood.

  “I mean it,” he said now. “If that’s what you want, then I’m leaving right now.”

  “That’s not what I want,” I whispered. “I swear to you it’s not.”