The (Half) Truth

by Harper, Leddy

  “What’s wrong?” I couldn’t ignore the way she was tugging at her left hand, her face beet red. Nor did I miss the protruding vein on her temple. “Tatum?”

  Finally, she released the air that she’d trapped in her lungs in a wave of defeat. Without shifting her stance, she cut her eyes to the side and peered in my direction. “It’s nothing. I got this.”

  It was obvious that Tatum, in no uncertain terms, did not have whatever “this” was.

  “Oh yeah? So you’re good? I’m thinking we should shop around some more before we have to leave. So many things to see, so little time. What do you say?”

  She glanced at the figurine in my hand. “Aren’t you going to buy that?”

  “Nah. If I still want it when we’re done checking everything else out, I’ll come back.” I just stood there and imagined the wheels turning in her head in a desperate attempt at an excuse. This woman could provide hours of entertainment.

  “Someone might buy it before then. You should totally get it.” Then she snapped her attention to my face, her head now turned my way with her eyes wide and expressive. “Actually, you might want to think about it some more—you know, really make sure it’s what you want. But you shouldn’t walk away from it, because by the time you make up your mind, it’ll likely be gone.”

  She hadn’t dropped her hands, and her right still clutched the left. Whatever she was trying to keep from me had something to do with that, and considering she stood in front of a tray of silver rings, I assumed she’d gotten one stuck on her finger.

  So, I did the only thing I could think of to get her to drop the act. I held out the trinket and asked, “What do you think of this for my mom?”

  Tatum regarded the kneeling angel with detailed wings for a moment and then nodded, not once taking it from me. “I think it’s nice. But something as sentimental and precious as that should require a lot of thought on your part. Seriously, Jay . . . take all the time you need. I’m in no rush.”

  I twisted my wrist to check the time on my watch. “Technically, you should be. You have to leave for work in a few minutes.”

  Her chin dropped, practically hitting her chest, at the same time her arms fell to her sides. Defeat clung to her posture like dew on grass, and if the whole thing hadn’t been so comical, I might’ve felt bad for her. Finally, she held up her left hand, not once raising her head, and mumbled, “I can’t get it off.”

  Just below the knuckle on her fourth finger sat a braided silver band adorned with a clear heart-shaped stone that I knew without a doubt was not a diamond. Surprisingly, it looked good on her dainty hand, as long as you didn’t pay attention to the swelling and redness caused by her frantic tugging.

  I grabbed her wrist to get a better view. “How’d you get it on in the first place?”

  “It went over the knuckle just fine, but when I tried to take it off, it wouldn’t budge.”

  “That might have something to do with the massive amount of salt in those burritos,” I muttered under my breath as I attempted to twist the ring. It barely moved, so I didn’t dare do anything else, knowing it would only make it worse. “Do you happen to have any lotion?”

  At that, the woman behind the table perked up. She lifted a small bottle of what I assumed to be lotion and squirted a pump just above the band. And while Tatum just stood there, shoulders sagging and a pout lining her lips, I proceeded to rub the creamy lubricant into her skin. It didn’t do any good, though. I tried to twist it again, and while it moved a little more than before, it still wasn’t enough to get it off.

  “Looks like you just became the new owner of a fake diamond ring.”

  “It’s recycled glass,” the woman corrected, more than likely offended by my remark. “I made it myself. And the metal is sterling silver.”

  Or recycled aluminum . . .

  “I can’t buy it, Jay,” Tatum whispered with her head cocked toward me.

  “What?”

  “I said . . .” She clamped her teeth shut, jaw clenched tight. “I can’t buy it.”

  Leaning forward to prevent the now nosy lady from overhearing, I brought my lips close to Tatum’s ear. I had to force myself to ignore the scent of her hair and the memories it brought to mind. “I got that part . . . but why?”

  “I only had ten dollars in cash on me, and I spent that on lunch.”

  A growl reverberated within my chest. “Had you just let me pay like I’d tried to do, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

  “Actually, it would. The ring costs more than ten dollars. So either way, I wouldn’t have enough regardless of who bought lunch.” The satisfied smirk on her face from being “right” made me laugh, although she didn’t appear to appreciate that very much.

  I relented and straightened my spine, turning my attention to the saleswoman. “I’d like to buy the ring and this ornament.” I set the angel down in front of her and tugged my wallet from my back pocket.

  After handing the lady cash and retrieving the small gift bag containing the figurine, I grabbed Tatum’s left hand and led her out to the parking lot. She fought me for a moment—either insecure over someone seeing us or distracted by the discomfort of having something cutting off blood flow to her finger, I wasn’t sure which—but she eventually gave in and pulled herself closer to my side.

  “Just leave it alone, and it’ll come off. If you keep messing with it, the swelling won’t go down, and you’ll just make it worse. And when you do try again, put oil on both sides of the band before twisting it side to side. That’ll get the oil beneath it, which will help it slide off easier.”

  “I’ll pay you back. I swear.” Her voice was weak and sad.

  “Don’t worry about it, Tatum. It’s not a big deal. Trust me . . . it didn’t set me back. After all, I’d planned on covering lunch, but you wouldn’t let me. So I’m fine. Let’s call it even and be done with it.”

  She scoffed and slid her hand from mine just as we reached her car. “I’d hardly say this is equal to a burrito. I feel awful that you had to buy me a freaking ring just because I was stupid enough to put it on and get it stuck. I’m sure that makes me look like a . . . like a . . .”

  I pinched her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilted her head back until her eyes met mine. “It doesn’t make you look like anything, so stop thinking that. Okay?”

  “Jay, don’t be delusional. We agreed to keep this casual, have fun, nothing serious. Yet so far, I’ve stayed at your house for an entire weekend, and you just bought me a ring.” She held up her hand and pointed to the jewelry that sat just below a very painful-looking knuckle. “And not just any ring . . . one with a stone that most people might assume is a diamond.”

  “It’s recycled glass, Tatum,” I corrected with the same terse tone the woman had used earlier. “Get it right. You wouldn’t want to offend anyone.” I smiled, even though she didn’t. “Come on, babe. It’s fine. I swear. Don’t worry about what other people will think.”

  “Easier said than done. I work with a very nosy group of gossipers.”

  “Okay? And? You’ve made it impossible for anyone to know about me, so what does it matter? Aren’t they all aware that you’re single?”

  “Yeah . . . except there’s the fact that you brought flowers, which no one will shut up about.”

  I shrugged, not caring what anyone said about that. Tatum and I knew what it meant, and that was all that mattered. “Stop worrying about shit you can’t control. Just go to work, feed the hungry, and when you’re done, I’ll take your mind off everything else. Got it?”

  A wave of pale pink took over her neck before licking its way to her cheeks.

  “Now hurry so we can get to the good stuff.” I swatted her hip, unable to reach her backside with the way she leaned against her car door. “If I have to jack off to the memory of you one more time, I think my dick might protest until he gets the real thing.”

  Tatum’s head jerked to the side, her eyes wide as if concerned someone had overheard me. But I
didn’t care. There was no point in hiding how much I loved being inside her; I wasn’t ashamed. Yet it seemed she had a different opinion. She slapped my arm and silenced me with a glare. “Discretion goes a long way, Jason.”

  Dismissing her lecture, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and pressed my lips to her forehead. “See you tonight.” Then I released her and stepped away to head toward my own car not far from hers.

  It only took one backward glance, catching her watch me as I walked away, to halt my exit. The desire burning in her eyes lit an identical inferno low in my stomach. While I knew I couldn’t have my way with her here in the parking lot, I could at least leave her with a taste of what to expect later—as well as a way to ensure she didn’t change her mind about coming to my place after work.

  I eliminated the space between us with a few long strides, coming to a stop in front of her with her face trapped between my palms. My hips met hers, pinning her to the SUV, and the second she held her breath, I covered her mouth with mine.

  The most surprising part of it all was that she didn’t once attempt to push me away. Instead, she fisted the sides of my shirt, holding me to her, and parted her lips to deepen the kiss. The second her tongue met mine, my dick twitched, and I immediately pulled away. What had started as a way to guarantee she’d end the night in my bed had quickly turned into impatience to have her writhing beneath me.

  “I’m going to go home and sleep until your shift is over. There’s no way I’ll survive watching the clock until then. Plus, spending the day napping will give me plenty of energy to make you come all night.”

  “You always say the sweetest things, Jay. Maybe you should look into writing greeting cards. I’m sure there’s a market out there for ‘Thinking of you . . . naked’ and ‘Sorry for your loss . . . of clothing.’ Oh!” Excitement danced in her eyes when she added, “What about ‘Congrats . . . on getting me off’? I’m sure that would be a big seller.”

  “Yeah, I’ll get on that while you’re at work.” I leaned in to kiss her again, but at the last second, I decided to nip her bottom lip, tugging on it before letting it go. “Now hurry. I can’t wait to congratulate you . . . on getting me off.”

  Her soft laughter danced in the breeze behind me as I walked away, refusing to look back. I knew if I did, she’d never make it to work . . . and we’d never make it out of the back seat of her car.

  16

  Tatum

  What had started out as a full stomach quickly became uncomfortable bloating. And by the time I got to work, it’d turned into nausea.

  As I got busy setting up my station for what I knew would be a chaotic shift, I continued to rub my belly through my opened chef’s coat, hoping for some sort of relief before things got going in the kitchen. A few people had stopped to chitchat, but after getting short, dismissive responses, they all left me alone.

  Except Rebecca.

  “You doing okay, Tatum?” Her focus bounced between my face and where I held my hand to my stomach.

  I glanced down, unable to miss just how bloated I was. It was disgusting, really. I’d never had the kind of flat stomach every girl aims for, but this unsightly protrusion was definitely not part of my normal figure. I could just picture the burrito growing and expanding in my abdomen until it literally exploded, which made me shudder. “Lunch didn’t agree with me.”

  Rather than respond, she grabbed my hand away from my stomach. I knew the moment she noticed the ring on my left finger. Her wide eyes brightened so much it looked like someone had plugged her into a wall, light shining through the brilliant blue. “When did you get this?”

  Pulling my hand away, I mumbled, “Today.”

  She clapped her hands, which made me want to do the same with a couple frying pans . . . on either side of her head. Her enthusiasm was too much to take on a normal day, let alone one where I felt like vomiting all over the place. “It’s so pretty. I bet there’s a story behind it.”

  Vic’s harsh tone made Rebecca scurry away when he barked, “Stations. Now.”

  I couldn’t have been more thankful for his militant demand.

  As much as I didn’t want to, I had to button my coat. At least it hid the disgusting bubble gut I had going on, but it made me so hot I wasn’t sure I’d last without running to the toilet, especially once the burners got going.

  Lynn, my station assistant, got started on the garlic while I frantically tried to catch up. I’d spent too much time talking and not enough filling the ramekins with spices or getting my utensils the way I liked them. Unfortunately, I still hadn’t finished the task before I had to excuse myself to the bathroom.

  After the second time leaving the burners to empty my stomach in the toilet, Brooke, the sous chef, slid to my side in front of the stove. “You all right, Tatum?”

  “Yeah, I just ate something bad for lunch, and it upset my stomach.”

  “Do you need to go home?”

  “No.” Yes, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Not less than a week after returning from suspension. “I’ll be okay. I just need to sip ginger ale, and I’ll be fine.”

  Brooke smiled and rubbed a few circles on my upper back before returning to her post at the back end of the pass. Which was where she was when I took off for the bathroom for the third time in less than thirty-five minutes. Except this time, it wasn’t Brooke who towered over me after I’d freshened up and slipped back into my spot in front of the burners.

  It was Victor.

  “You need to go home.” Not a question or even a suggestion. Just his typical command with zero room to argue.

  Yet that didn’t stop me from trying. “I promise, Vic . . . I’ll be all right. There can’t possibly be anything left in my stomach. That should be all of it.”

  “It’s not up for debate, Tatum.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and nailed me in place with a single glare. “If this is more than your lunch, I can’t risk you spreading it to the rest of my staff—or, hell, the customers through the food you’re cooking. I don’t care to turn on the evening news and hear about some outbreak that’s hospitalized dozens of people; the only thing they all have in common is eating dinner here tonight. Go home.”

  “Vic . . .” I pleaded, my posture slumped due to defeat and just overall weakness after losing about thirty pounds of undigested food and bile in the toilet. “I wasn’t here last Saturday. I can’t afford to miss another weekend dinner shift.”

  “Tonight’s different. You’re not walking off the line. You aren’t abandoning your post. You’re sick, and you need to go home and rest. See how you feel Monday morning, and if you still aren’t any better, give Brooke a call and go see a doctor.” If he didn’t watch it, people could’ve easily gotten the impression that he had a soft spot. Although, we all knew better.

  Conceding, I walked away. The entire time my feet shuffled down the hallway, I prayed I could escape without catching Amanda’s attention. For once, it seemed luck was on my side, because when I peered around the corner to the hostess stand, she wasn’t there. I spotted her in the middle of the room, seating a table for two, so I quickly darted out the front doors before she noticed me.

  When I climbed behind the steering wheel and proceeded to strip out of the coat that felt more like a sauna than a piece of clothing, I remembered I’d agreed to spend the night at Jason’s. The small bag that I had packed for the morning taunted me from the front seat. As much as I tried to ignore it, I desperately wanted to sleep next to him tonight. The thought of curling up in my bed alone just made everything worse.

  I dialed his number and listened to it ring through the speakers with my head resting on the back of the seat. “Hey. Everything all right?” Somehow, his voice sounded even deeper through Bluetooth.

  “I’d be better if people would stop asking me that.”

  “What happened?” His concern was so palpable that it flooded the interior of my SUV and drowned me in the heaviness of the emotion.

  “I’ve been sick since I got
here, and they finally sent me home after I ran to the bathroom for the third time. It’s probably best if I stay at my apartment tonight. In the event this isn’t just a case of Mexican food gone bad, I wouldn’t want to give it to you.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Tatum. Come over. We’ll put on movies and relax.”

  That sounded like a dream. “What if you get sick?”

  A whispered chuckle floated across the line right before he admitted, “I can guarantee it’s the lunch and nothing else. Trust me—you don’t have to worry about me getting it, too. I already have it. I’ve been chugging the pink shit for hours, and I think it’s finally starting to work.”

  “Oh my God, you have Pepto?” I probably sounded like a druggie, excited by the mention of her favorite party pill. “Do you have any left for me?”

  “Only if you come and stay the night.”

  “You had me at ‘pink shit.’”

  I woke up with my forehead pressed against the warm, hard wall of Jason’s chest. It took me a moment to put all the pieces together, but once I recalled leaving work last night, coming here and curling up with Jay while we watched a couple of movies, and then falling asleep in his arms, I settled into him and breathed in his natural, clean scent.

  He stirred a little before tightening his arm around me. It was odd waking up like this, considering the other times I’d stayed over, we’d separated at some point during the night and settled into opposite sides of the bed with plenty of room for another body between us. As much as I hated to cuddle—personal space and all—I enjoyed being trapped in his embrace immensely. It didn’t suffocate me like I was used to. In fact, I felt safe in his arms, comforted . . . precious. It was enough to make me burrow into him and never want to leave the cocoon.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice hoarse and scratchy from sleep.

  “I think it’s finally over. You?”

  “So far so good.”

  When I lifted my leg to hook it over his hip, I was rewarded with his glorious erection. Considering I’d technically stayed the night to get laid, and that hadn’t happened, I decided to take advantage of the situation. I pressed my lips to the bare skin just below his clavicle and slipped my hand between us to tease him through his shorts.