A Truthful Kiss (Honeyton Alexis) (Signed with a Kiss Series Book 3)

by Jessica Sorensen

  I retrieve my phone from my pocket and check to see if I have any messages from them. Nope.

  What’s going on? Why is this happening? What do they want from me?

  Pressure builds inside my chest, and I feel like screaming it out of me. But I know I can’t do that right now, so I press my lips together and swallow it all down. Then I make my way over to the soda selection and pretend like I’m in here to buy a drink, which I was planning on doing anyway. But now I’ve got to figure out what to do.

  If I tell someone what happened, will the blackmailer come after me? It’s hard to decide the answer since I’m not sure if they’re a part of it. If I don’t tell anyone, though, I’ll have to go back into that alleyway by myself and finish painting the wall.

  I briefly close my eyes as anxiety lashes through me.

  I don’t know what to do.

  I need help.

  Taking a deep inhale, I call West.

  “Hey,” he answers after three rings. “What’s up? No, let me guess. You couldn’t wait until seven to hear my sexy voice.”

  A hollow sort of laugh slides past my lips.

  West must sense something in the noise because he says, “What happened?”

  “I don’t …” I peer around at all the customers nearby. For all I know, any of them could be the hooded person who chased me. “I need a favor. I’m at the store right now, and I was painting over my graffiti when … this person showed up and sort of chased me. They didn’t really do anything other than kind of scare me, and I’m not sure why they did it, but it has me nervous and worried, and I still need to go out and put another coat of paint on the wall, but I don’t want to go out by myself. And I don’t know who else to call, because I’m not sure if this has to do with the blackmailer or not. And I …” I trail off, realizing that I’m rambling and that West hasn’t said much of anything, which I find kind of strange. “Anyway, can you …? Can you come here and hang out with me while I finish up? I mean, I get if you’re, like, busy or something, but …” I internally sigh. God, I sound pathetic. I hate asking for help. I’m desperate, though. And freaked out.

  It takes West a few seconds to respond, and the growl in his tone startles me a bit. “Where are you right now?”

  I chew on my thumbnail. “In the store.”

  “Okay, just stay there until I get there,” he says intensely. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

  “O-okay,” I stammer like a fucking idiot, but the fierceness in his tone was alarming. West is rarely intense, and almost always sarcastic, so this is definitely a side of him I haven’t seen.

  After we hang up, I spend the next five minutes pretending to be deeply engulfed in a dilemma of what soda I want when I’m really sneaking peeks at everyone and trying to figure out if they’re the person who was in the alleyway, all while waiting for West to show up. I didn’t think to ask him how long it’d take for him to get here. I probably should’ve because, eventually, I’m going to have to go outside before the owner notices that I’m not doing what I’m supposed to.

  About seven minutes into my waiting, a person snags my attention. A guy, actually, maybe a few years older than me, with dark hair, dark eyes, and this weird circular tattoo on the side of his neck. He isn’t wearing a hoodie or gloves, but he could’ve ditched those items easily. Not that any of this is suspicious, but the way he’s watching me is.

  He’s standing on the other side of the shelf that I’ve been loitering in front of and keeps sneaking glances in my direction, only to look away when I glance at him. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. Yeah, I may be scared and uneasy, but I’m not—and refuse to be—the kind of person who lets someone openly toy with me.

  I turn toward him, crossing my arms. “Can I help you?”

  A slow smile curves across his lips. “Yeah, actually.” He steps toward me, and my heart instantly spikes. “You got a boyfriend, pretty girl?”

  Oh my God, is he actually shitting me right now?

  “Seriously?” I question. “That’s your best pickup line?”

  His smile grows. “I guess I’m a little off my game today.”

  The way he annunciates game makes me pause.

  “I’ll try to do better, though,” he continues, his smile growing. “That is, if you don’t have a boyfriend.”

  I think about what the blackmailer is having me do—pretend to date West so I can break his heart. They mentioned that I was going to play their game several times.

  Is this the person who’s been harassing me? If it is, then I’m even more confused since I have no clue who they are. Still, even the possibility that they could be sends a jolt of panic through me, and I start to back away from him.

  “I have to go,” I mutter then spin around to leave.

  “What’d I say?” he asks innocently.

  Then laughter hits my back as I duck down the closest aisle. I powerwalk about halfway down it then spin around to see if he’s following me. No one’s around, but I’m beyond nervous—

  Arms suddenly encircle my waist. Then a slamming heartbeat of a second later, my back is touching someone’s chest. I’m about one step away from going all self-defense and kicking some ass when a familiar voice whispers in my ear.

  “Relax, baby,” West says softly while stroking his fingers along my waist. “It’s just me.”

  I exhale shakily then lean into him, seeking comfort in him for a moment. As the scent of his cologne and his warmth wraps around me, I find myself wanting to turn around, bury my head into his chest, and pretend the last half hour didn’t happen.

  “You okay?” he asks, kissing the back of my head.

  I start to nod, but then I end up shaking my head, too freaked out to lie. “There was this guy, and he was talking to me, and he kept using words that the blackmailer uses. But I don’t know if I was being paranoid, and I …” Heaving out a sigh, I spin around and face him. Then I instantly frown. “What the hell happened to your face?” I reach up to touch the cut running along his hairline, but then I pull back, worried touching it will hurt him.

  He captures my fingers and draws my hand back up to him, placing my palm against his cheek. “Yeah, you might not be the only one who ran into a little bit of trouble.”

  I gape at him. “You were attacked?”

  He tilts his head to the side, nuzzling against my palm. “No. Not necessarily attacked, but something sketchy happened. Unfortunately, the cut, I kind of did to myself by being a clumsy dumbass.”

  “What happened exactly?” I ask, picking up on him being vague.

  He goes rigid, his gaze scanning the aisle behind me. “I’ll tell you later when we’re at your house. Right now, let’s go get your beautiful, rebellious artwork cleaned up so we can go.” He smiles at me, but tension is rippling off him.

  Something is wrong. I can tell. So, I just nod.

  He offers me a relieved look then threads his fingers through mine and lets me steer him toward where we need to go.

  As I’m weaving down aisles and heading toward the back door, I keep throwing nervous glances around at every person we pass.

  “You’re nervous,” West whisper softly. “Are you afraid the person who chased you came inside the store?”

  Biting down on my bottom lip, I give a slight nod. “I’m not sure if they did, but that guy … he was acting really weird and seemed to be getting off on how twitchy he was making me. I took off down the aisle where you found me and haven’t seen him since.”

  West skims his thumb along the back of my hand. “Dark hair? Dark eyes?”

  I shrug. “He looked like every other dude out there, really. Well, except he had this circular mark on the side of his neck.”

  West wets his lips with his tongue, his thinking face on, as we reach the door that will take us outside into the alleyway.

  I open it and step outside underneath the now dark sky, starlight and moonlight trickling into the alleyway and mixing with the light beside the door.

  “Do you rememb
er exactly what the mark looked like?” West asks, shutting the door behind us.

  I nod. “Yeah. It was kind of weird looking … Honestly, it’d be better if I just drew it.” I let go of his hand and avoid his gaze, busying myself with picking up the paintbrush. But I can feel his eyes on me, studying me, and I’m pretty sure I know what he’s thinking.

  You’ll draw again?

  Like Blaine and Masie, West also has noticed that I haven’t drawn anything since my parents died.

  “This paintbrush is kind of crusty,” I say in an attempt to distract West from trying to dissect me with his beautiful, blue-eyed gaze. “I think I left it on top of the bucket for too long.”

  “Here. Let me see it.” He takes the brush from me, makes his way over to a hose, rinses it off, and then shakes out the water. Then he returns back to me and with his gaze fixed on me, handing me back the brush.

  I trap a shuddering breath inside my chest as his fingers brush against mine.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I acting so nervous suddenly?

  I tell myself to knock it off, that if I should be nervous about anything, it should be over being chased earlier. But, as I start putting the last coat of paint on the wall, all I can concentrate on is him watching me.

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore.

  “Why do you keep looking at me?” I demand.

  He lifts a shoulder, propping his other shoulder against the wall as he continues to watch me. “I was just wondering when you started drawing again?”

  I press my lips together as I move the paintbrush up and down. “It was actually yesterday.”

  “Really?” he asks, and I nod. He gives a short pause. “You okay with that?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I just remember you saying how you’ve been struggling for quite a while with doing any sort of artwork. Well, besides graffiti.” He says the last part jokingly and with a smile.

  I roll my eyes, being playful for a bit. Then I sigh. “So I started drawing again. It’s not that big of a deal.” What I don’t bother to mention, and never plan on mentioning, is that the first time I drew anything in almost a year, I ended up doing a sketch of him.

  “Okay. Good.” He decides to let me off the hook. “So, when we get back to your place tonight, you’ll be okay with drawing the tattoo you saw on that guy’s neck?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I’ll do my best. Although, I’m not really sure what having a drawing of it will help with.”

  “We can do an image search for it on the internet. That is, if you do a fantastic job at drawing it, which I know you will.” Smiling, he tugs on a strand of my hair, causing my heart to flutter.

  “I’ll try to do a fantastic job,” I inform him. “But I’m out of practice, so I might suck a bit.”

  “Lex, I’ve seen your art,” he tells me in all seriousness. “Even on your worst day, your ability to create something beautiful with just a pencil and paper is amazing.”

  I’m getting really uncomfortable with his compliments, and I think he might sense it, since he changes the subject.

  “I’m going to go look around here while you finish that up,” he tells me as he backs away.

  “Wait—you’re not leaving the alleyway, right?” I ask in a panic.

  He promptly shakes his head. “No, baby, I’m not leaving you,” he promises. “I’m just going to look around and see if maybe this person who chased you left a clue behind.”

  It’s like the tenth time he’s called me baby, but I’m too exhausted to scold him about it right now.

  “You sound very detective-y right now,” I tell him. “It’s weird.”

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment.” He winks. “You know, since I know you have a thing for detectives.”

  I roll my eyes as he reminds me of this crush I had on one of the guys in a mystery book series I became obsessed with freshman year. “That was almost four years ago.”

  He just smirks, spins around, and begins searching around the area.

  Sighing, I return back to painting, trying not to think about how someone could be hiding out in the shadows. I try to tell myself I’m just being paranoid, but in all actuality, I’m not sure I am, especially when West finds something over by the wall that I launched myself over to get away.

  “What the hell is this?” he mutters as he crouches down, staring at something shiny and metallic laying on the ground.

  As I make my way over to him with the paintbrush clutched in my hand, my heart is a wreck inside my chest. Because, for an instant, the metal object looks like …

  “Is that a knife?” I whisper as I walk up beside West.

  Shaking his head, he picks the object up. “No, it’s a key.” He holds it up in the moonlight to show me.

  “It looks old,” I remark, reaching out and tracing my finger along the faded, thick metal. “What the heck do you think it goes to?”

  He shakes his head as he examines the key. “I have no idea, and maybe it doesn’t have to do with any of this.”

  “Maybe,” I agree. “But maybe it does.”

  He rubs his lips together then straightens. “We’ll keep it, just in case.” He stuffs it in his pocket and turns toward me. “Are you almost done?” While his question is simple enough, he has this strange, almost horrified look on his face.

  Something is wrong.

  He’s not telling me something.

  Does he know what the key is to?

  I’m about to ask when he cuts me off.

  “Lex.” He gives me a pressing. “Aren’t you about done painting?”

  Yeah, something is definitely up.

  “Yeah, pretty much,” I tell him as I start back toward the paint bucket. “Just let me clean up.”

  Relief washes across his features as he nods. “I’ll help.”

  We spend the next ten minutes cleaning up. Then he follows me inside so I can return the painting equipment to the owner and tell him I’m done. West waits for me near the office door while I do.

  I expect the store owner to want to go check and make sure I did a good job, but he’s busy with a phone call and dismisses me quickly.

  When I return to West, we hardly say anything, but we hold hands as we leave the store. Since we drove separate cars, I try to let go of his hand so I can go to mine, but he clutches on to me.

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” he explains with another one of those pressing glances that practically begs me not to argue.

  Internally sighing that I have to go against my nature and be cooperative, I nod and let him walk me to my car. When I reach it, I dig out my keys then unlock the door while West glances in the back seat.

  “What are you looking for?” I ask as I open the door.

  “I’m just making sure everything is safe,” he says softly under his breath, his gaze gliding toward me. “I’m going to follow you home, and then we’ll talk, okay?”

  I bite my bottom lip as I nod. “Okay. But you’re really starting to worry me.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry. I just don’t want to talk about this so out in the open.”

  Anxiousness builds inside me, but I attempt to stifle it. “All right.” I turn to climb in the car, but he cups my jawline and angles my head back toward him.

  “See you in a bit,” he murmurs then presses his lips against mine. The kiss is brief, and then he’s walking away toward his car.

  I hurriedly hop into the driver’s seat with the imprint of West’s lips searing mine.

  8

  Alexis

  I’m a bundle of nerves during the drive home, constantly glancing in the back seat, at the sidewalks lining the streets, in my rearview mirror. The sight of West’s headlights is the only thing that brings me any sense of comfort in this … whatever this is.

  When I pull into the driveaway, Loki’s car isn’t there. Weird, since he told me via text that he wanted to talk to me.

  I check my messages and, sure enough, he sent me one.
>
  Loki: I completely spaced off that Nik had a team BBQ tonight that parents are supposed to go to. I won’t be home until around ten, but that doesn’t mean we’re not going to talk. Either we can do it late tonight or early in the morning. It’s your choice.

  Great. That means we’ll have to wait to ask him about the papers that West has. I’ll make sure it gets done, though. I owe West that much.

  I’m actually starting to owe West a lot at this point, something I’m not a huge fan of.

  I hate being in debt to people.

  Sighing, I climb out of the car right as West parks beside the curb in front of our house. We meet in the middle of the lawn as West pockets his keys.

  “Hey, so Loki isn’t home,” I tell him. “And he won’t be home until later—about ten.”

  West’s expression briefly plummets. “I actually have to be somewhere later.”

  My brows furrow. “Where?”

  He scuffs the tip of his boot against the grass while staring down at the road. “Just somewhere.”

  “Okay …” I drag out the word. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s cool.” I don’t bother pointing out that I’ve told him a ton of stuff.

  I turn to head inside when he folds his fingers around my arm.

  “It’s not really a big deal,” he says. “It’s just a house meeting Holden is making us have, and I don’t feel like talking about it, because then it reminds me that that’s my new home for now.”

  I twist around to face him. “You wanna …? You wanna sleep on the sofa or something? I’m sure Loki wouldn’t mind if you crashed here for a couple of nights.”

  His gaze carries mine, the corners of his lips quirking. “While I appreciate the offer, Loki’s probably got a lot on his plate already, so I think I should probably just stay with Holden and Ellis until I can get my own place.” He sketches his fingertip along my cheekbone. “It’s cute you’re worried about me.”

  Despite my erratic heartbeat, I narrow my eyes at him, a protest tickling at the tip of my tongue. But I stifle it as someone appears on the sidewalk. It’s my neighbor, out walking their dog. Their appearance, though, reminds me of how I had thought I was alone tonight, but I wasn’t.