Two is a Lie

by Pam Godwin

  We’re in a quiet area on the edge of downtown. Lots of old brick buildings and cobble sidewalks. I love this part of St. Louis, with its thriving population of family-owned businesses and diverse cultures.

  He parks the bike and shuts off the engine, twisting at the waist to meet my eyes. “Sandwiches sound good?”

  “Perfect. I haven’t eaten here since…”

  “Since I brought you that day?”

  I nod, smiling. “It was pouring down rain.”

  “You were trembling and soaked and so fucking beautiful.”

  I slide off the seat, ducking my head as a flush heats my cheeks.

  He stores our helmets and laces his fingers through mine, leading me toward the entrance. Until something catches my attention at the far end of the parking lot.

  “Wait.” I dig my boots in.

  A young couple huddles around a small child, holding a cardboard sign. I can’t read the scrawled words from here, but I know the look—the defeated postures, dirty hair and clothes, overall desperation radiating from them.

  I let go of Cole’s hand and jog toward them, with the sound of his footfalls trailing behind me.

  When I reach the family, my heart sinks. The child—a girl around Angel’s age of four—holds a scroungy little dog against her chest. The sign in the man’s hand is the usual Will work for food, and the woman’s blank stare and deep frown suggests she’s given up on life.

  “Hi there.” I hold out a hand to the woman. “I’m Danni, and this is Cole.”

  Cole offers them a smile and a chin lift.

  “Oh, um… I’m Holly.” She shakes my hand and tries to smile back, but it strains her face. “This is my husband, Frank, and our daughter, Aubrey.”

  “That’s an adorable dog, Aubrey.” I crouch before her. “Do you like sandwiches?”

  She nods, her gaze wary, skittish.

  “We’re headed into the bakery.” Cole hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “You want to join us? My treat.”

  They accept with enthusiastic nods, and I give Cole my biggest, most grateful grin.

  Later, after our bellies are full, the little girl steps outside the bakery to untie the dog and walk along a grassy area.

  I lean across the table and eye her parents. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

  Frank explains their circumstances, a story I’ve heard countless times. He and his wife lost their jobs in California. Then they lost their house and everything they own. They came to the Midwest for the lower cost-of-living and had to sell their car along the way to feed themselves and put a roof over their heads. They’ve been staying in a motel and were forced to check out this morning. They’re out of money with no hope in sight.

  “There’s a homeless shelter about ten minutes from here.” I soften my tone. “I can—”

  “We appreciate your help. We really do.” Holly’s chin trembles as she gazes out the window at her daughter and the tiny mutt. “But that dog is all she has left. Homeless shelters don’t take pets—”

  “This one does.” I grip her hand on the table between us. “It has private rooms for families, healthy food, and fantastic programs to help you find jobs and get on your feet again. I’m actually on my way there now.”

  Cole arches a brow at me, his eyes asking, This is what you’ve been up to?

  “It’s called Gateway Shelter,” I say to her and nod my head at Cole. “Cole’s never seen it, and I’m taking him there to show it off, because it’s such a great place.”

  “Are you sure about the dog?” Her voice scratches with disbelief. “I’ve never heard of shelters allowing pets.”

  It’s true. Most don’t because of the hassle and cost. As a result, many people—women specifically—tolerate abuse just so their cats or dogs will have a home. I come across homeless families all the time, just like this one, who refuse to seek shelter because their companion animals aren’t welcome.

  A while back, I put a bug in Father Rick’s ear—the manager at Gateway—about modifying the no pet rule. Unsurprisingly, during the latest round of renovations, he made changes that would accommodate dogs and cats.

  “I promise.” I squeeze her hand. “Your dog is welcome.”

  Holly and Frank share a look, and their eyes take on a bright shiny glimmer.

  “We’d love to check it out,” Frank says. “It’s ten minutes away?”

  “A ten-minute drive.” I glance out the window, squinting at the motorcycle. I’ll have to call a cab.

  “Give me a minute.” Cole steps outside and puts his phone to his ear.

  “He’s really handsome.” Holly blushes, tucking a strand of short auburn hair behind her ear.

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “He really is.”

  Frank, who isn’t hard on the eyes either, shakes his head.

  When Cole strides back into the bakery, he pockets his phone and meets my eyes. “Trace is sending his driver. The car will be here in a few minutes.”

  He called Trace? That’s so…expected. My chest feels like it’s filled with sunshine and dimples, and I have the sudden urge to dance. Like jump up on the table and shake everything I have. But I refrain myself, settling on a smile.

  “Thank you.” I reach out and grip his hand.

  Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the shelter. Father Rick welcomes the family with open arms and gives them a tour. Cole and I tag along, so he can see the scope of the renovations that have been ongoing for the last six months.

  “Danni and her fiancé funded all of the expansion.” Rick beams as he guides us through one of the new shower rooms.

  He shifts his eyes to Cole, and his smile slips. Cole stands behind me, his jealousy blatant in the glower lining his face. I elbow him in the ribs, and he grunts. Then he wipes a hand over his mouth and grins down at me.

  Rick regards us suspiciously. What must he be thinking? He attended my engagement party with Trace, and now I’m here without a ring, flirting with another man. I need to clear things up before we leave.

  Continuing the walk-through, Rick shows off the remodeled kitchen, massive pantry, private rooms for families, and finally the dining area, where everyone congregates.

  No one hangs out during the day, since they’re expected to be out and about looking for jobs.

  “The doors will open in…” Rick glances at his watch. “About thirty minutes, and it’ll be a mad rush to feed everyone and get them settled in for the night.” He turns to me. “Are you sticking around for a while?”

  “Yep.” I walk toward the little girl and her dog and bend down. “Do you like to dance?”

  A smile struggles on her lips and flickers in her green eyes. “Yes.”

  “Wonderful.” Rick claps his hands together and motions at her parents. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Susie. She’s our job consultant. Then we’ll get you set up in one of the private rooms.”

  They exit the dining hall, leaving Cole and I alone, grinning at each other.

  “Did Trace give you hell when you asked for his car?”

  “Nope. He was absolutely relieved to hear the sound of my voice.”

  My eyes bulge. “Really?”

  “No.” He grimaces.

  “I hate that you two had a falling out because of me.”

  “You’re worth it. He and I at least agree on that.” He looks around the large room. “When did you start volunteering here?”

  “When you died.” My tone sounds more acidic than I intended.

  I play it off and move to the table at the far wall where I had a stereo system set up.

  “Danni.” He touches my lower back, his expression broken.

  “It’s okay, Cole.” I power on the speakers and brace my hands on the table. “I was depressed and didn’t know what to do with all that negative energy. This place gave me purpose. I started volunteering in the kitchen. Then I got a wild hair up my ass to shake things up.”

  “You dance here.” He takes in the small dance floor and music equipment.


  “Line dancing.” I lift a shoulder. “I like giving sad people a reason to smile.”

  “You’re pretty fucking amazing, you know that?” He brings my hand to his lips, kissing my fingers. “Whenever I’m with you, I feel like I’m flying. But you also scare the crap out of me.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You’re the best of everything. Your soul is so pure I don’t want to darken it.”

  “Cole—”

  “Beauty and love and freedom… That’s you, all wrapped up in a tiny seductive package. Christ, I want to indulge in every inch, inside and out.” He turns my hand over and presses his mouth against the inside of my wrist. “You taste like life.”

  I step into him, hugging his waist and resting my cheek on his chest. “I missed you, Cole. So much.”

  “I feel you, baby.” He embraces me tightly, pressing his lips to the top of my head.

  A throat clears near the entrance of the dining hall.

  Rick crosses his arms and cocks his bald head, probably wondering why I’m all up against a man who isn’t Trace.

  “I never told him about you,” I whisper. “It was just too…hard. But I should—”

  “I’ll talk to him.” Cole untangles from me and strides toward Rick.

  I don’t mean to stare, but that predatory swagger, those low-rise jeans, the hard flex of his backside… Sweet sassy molassy, I can’t peel my eyes away. My legs twitch to chase him. My fingers itch to do things to him. Naughty things that shouldn’t be done in public, with a priest watching, or anywhere at all. Because we’re just dating. Without sex.

  A groan sticks in my throat, but my gaze remains stuck to Cole’s ass. It doesn’t hurt to imagine him naked, to fantasize about the hard swollen length of him springing free as I unzip those jeans. I ache to feel him between my legs again, pounding, stretching, throbbing—

  My eyes collide with Father Rick’s narrowed stare, and I turn away.

  God help me, my mind is a slut. A fuckhappy, back-door Betty on the horizontal. Easy like Sunday morning.

  But I want to be easy with Cole.

  And Trace.

  It’s the worst idea ever. I’ve banged more than one guy within the span of a few days, but they were just flings. Sleeping with two men who hold my heart is a whole other level of free love. I’m not sure I have the emotional dexterity for it, so I need to just get it out of my sluttenous head.

  I distract myself with the stereo system, setting up the line dance song I’ll play on repeat for the next couple hours. Then I wait.

  Cole returns just as the doors open, and the hall clamors with the shuffle of disheveled, hungry bodies. The shelter sleeps two-hundred homeless now, and it still fills to max occupancy every night.

  It takes an hour to get everyone checked in and guided through the food line. Cole and I assist where needed, but the volunteers have a well-oiled system in place.

  “How did your conversation go with Rick?” I lean against the wall beside Cole in a vacant corner of the dining hall.

  “I told him the truth about us. How we met. Our engagement. My deployment and disappearance.”

  “Then you gave him the cover story?”

  He nods. “It has to be this way, Danni.”

  “I know.” I release a breath. “It’s fine.”

  “For a priest, he sure is smitten with you.” He forehead wrinkles. “And Trace.”

  “Rick is not smitten with Trace.” I laugh.

  “He admitted it took a while, but he eventually warmed up to Trace. He said your other fiancé spends a lot of time and money here.” His mood sours. “The Trace I knew wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.”

  I think back to Trace’s conniption fit when I gave Rick that first ten-thousand-dollar check. “People change.”

  His lips flatten.

  “Don’t read anything into that, Cole.” I rest a hand against the zipper on his leather jacket. “I love you just the way you are.”

  His mouth bends into something beautiful and gentle, and I know my words bring him relief because I feel his happiness deep in my bones.

  “Are you ready?” I walk backward toward the speakers, swaying my hips to a soundless tune. “’Cause it’s about to go down.”

  “Last time you said that, you straddled my lap on the bike and molested me.”

  “Poor baby.” Grinning mischievously, I press play on the stereo and flick my wrist above my head to the mellow, catchy beat of Uptown Funk.

  I choreographed an easy-to-learn line dance to this song, using a variation of the electric slide, with fun booty shakes and sexy hip twists. The dance sequence is the tits, if I do say so myself, and Cole’s going to be my first victim.

  I move into the taped-out section on the floor in the dining hall and raise my voice to the crowd of two hundred. “Hi, I’m Danni. When you’re finished eating, come on over. I’ll teach you the steps.”

  Then I turn to Cole and crook my finger.

  He shakes his head, less in defiance and more because he thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am. But he’s already on his way over here to be crazy with me.

  Shrugging off his jacket, he tosses it next to mine and rolls his neck. Someone catcalls from the crowd, and I laugh because that was definitely a man’s whistle.

  “I think you have an admirer.” I wink at Cole.

  “We already exchanged numbers.” He prowls around me, wearing a straight expression. “He promised me a special evening tonight.”

  “Good for you, but first, you’re gonna groove with me.”

  “Nuh uh.” He taps my lips. “First, you’re gonna say the magic word.”

  I put my hands on my hips and inject some attitude into my voice. “Please?”

  He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “I’m imagining you doing something completely and wildly inappropriate while panting that word.”

  I smack his rock-solid abs, making his eyes blink open and his mouth bow in an adorable dimpled grin.

  “I’m going to show you the steps.” I move into position. “Focus on my feet. Then I’ll help you move your hips.”

  At his nod, I travel through the routine, sliding right then left, easing into an oscillating descent toward the floor while shaking my backside. Another hop, a twist, with a hip tilt and lift. Add in some arm movements, and bam! This is my jam.

  As I repeat the steps, I glance over my shoulder and narrow my eyes.

  The pervert isn’t watching my feet. His hooded gaze is fixated on my rear.

  “Cole.” I snap my fingers until he lifts his head. “Do you have it?

  “No.” He rubs the back of this neck. “But I want it. The way those pants stretch across your ass…”

  Oh for the love. I slip in front of him, pressing in with my butt brushing his groin. “Do what I do, okay?”

  His hands instantly fall to my hips. Perfect. I wait for the song to restart, give it a few counts, then we’re moving.

  It’s clumsy at first. His boots are too bulky. His legs are too long, and he seems nervous and uncomfortable. But after a few iterations, he starts to get the hang of it. He might not be a dancer, but he has rhythm, and he’s never afraid to let loose with me, no matter who’s watching or where we are.

  Once he has the steps memorized, I swing around and move in behind him. With my hands on his hips, it’s my turn to study his backside.

  I nuzzled and licked every inch of him during those ten months we spent together. But I’m an ass girl, and that round firm part of Cole’s body is mac-a-licious, like a honey bun. I want to nibble, munch, and sink in my teeth, passively or carnally. Any manner of biting would do. Because I’m hungry.

  Focus, you hussy.

  I shimmy up against his back, guiding his hips with the grind of mine. I try to keep it PG-rated, but Cole has other ideas. Ideas that involve his hands roaming along my faux-leather leggings and reaching back to cup my butt.

  Spinning away, I dance around him, sharing his smile and savoring the ripple of his muscle
s as he adds extra gyrations to the routine.

  If I ever decide to become a full-time line dancer, I’m totally going to hire him. His charisma and energy is contagious. People are already congregating along the edge of the dance floor, nodding their heads to the beat.

  I wave them closer and spot Aubrey, the little girl from the bakery, hovering in the crowd.

  Holding my arms over my head, I boogie toward her.

  “You want to try it?” I hold out a hand. “I’ll teach you.”

  She glances back at her dad, who sits at a nearby table, holding the little dog. Returning to me, she bobs her head and smiles.

  That smile… Despite everything this little girl has been through and the hard road she faces ahead, she manages a smile that’s pure and genuine, and that is why I come here.

  She curls her tiny fingers around mine, and for the next hour, she stays at my side, laughing with me, dancing with me. It’s a moment of mindless joy, one I hope she hangs onto when life feels impossible.

  When she starts to yawn, I lead her back to her parents and bend down to whisper in her ear. “Whenever you feel sad, do a little dance. Shake it out.”

  She purses her lips, looking skeptical.

  “That’s what I do.” I shrug. “It always makes me feel better.”

  “Okay.” She climbs onto her mom’s lap and snuggles in.

  “Thank you.” Holly runs a hand over Aubrey’s head. “For all of this. I can’t express how much—”

  “You’re welcome.” I give her a watery grin and turn away to find Rick watching me from the other side of the room. So I head that way.

  Cole seems to have everything under control on the dance floor, guiding thirty-some women effortlessly through the dance. Their ages range from late teens to grannies, and they all follow him with googly, heart-shaped eyes.

  I share their fascination. Over six-feet of rough-and-ready brawn clad in a white t-shirt and frayed jeans, he exudes coarse intimidation. But that warm light in his eyes softens his gruff bearing, makes him approachable, magnetic, and oh-so handsome. So insanely handsome, in fact, it’s impossible to look away.

  “I like him,” Rick says as I approach.

  “He has that effect on people.” I smile as Cole reaches out to steady the middle-aged woman shuffling beside him.