by Shayla Black
“Clint.” She jumps to her feet. “Hi.”
This other guy is practically crawling across the table to put his hands on her, and that’s all she says to me?
Maybe Ash is right. Maybe there’s some explanation. I can’t act like a jealous, overprotective prick…even if I feel like one.
“Everything okay?”
She lets out a shuddering breath. “Yeah. This is Stephen Lund.” Then she turns to the tall, rangy guy with blond movie-star looks and a placating smile I want to punch from his face. “Stephen, this is Clint Dietrich. We…work together.”
I shake his hand and glare directly into blue eyes a few shades lighter than mine. “Nice to meet you. Just to be clear, we’re also dating.”
Lund busts out laughing. Not exactly the reaction I was expecting… He’s not surprised? Or pissed? Or wondering what the hell is going on? I sure am…
“I kind of guessed that. Bethany has always had a habit of keeping her personal life and thoughts private. I learned long ago to read between the lines.” His grin widens. “But let’s just say you made it a lot easier.”
She rolls her eyes and slaps at his arm in a gesture that almost looks brotherly. Now I’m confused. What is their relationship?
“Glad we cleared the air,” I say. “How long ago?”
“What?”
Since you fucked her? “Did you learn to read between the lines?”
“Oh…” He nods. “About two decades ago. I probably would have learned sooner, but we were just kids.”
They grew up together? But they’re not together?
“You two can stop talking about me as if I’m not here.” Bethany scowls. “I’m going to clock in. I haven’t done that yet. Stephen, be nice,” she admonishes. “Clint, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
With that, she disappears into the employees-only area.
I turn back to her supposed pal. “So you’ve known Beth a long time?”
He nods. “Her whole life. You haven’t, and my guess is you’d like some dirt?”
Obviously, he can read me. I hate that, but it’s not going to stop me from asking questions and hoping I get answers. “That would be helpful.”
“How long do we have?” He glances toward the hallway where Bethany disappeared.
“Maybe three minutes.”
“How serious are you about her?”
“It’s new, but I definitely have feelings I didn’t expect.”
He flashes me a wide smile. “Good. She deserves some happiness.”
“She told me there’s a lot going on with her father.” I fish for information.
“Yeah, it’s a shit show. Look, I’m just here to talk to her. I’ve been on the island for a couple of days, staying with Harlow and Noah—where she would have crashed if she hadn’t found out I was coming. It’s a long story; I’ll let her tell it. Bottom line is, she knows I’m not mad. Nothing is her fault.”
Was he somehow impacted by the Reed Financial scam? I can’t ask. If Stephen mentions the question to Bethany, it will give everything away. Instead, I bite my tongue.
“What’s she like?” I ask instead. “I’ve only known Beth for a few days, and she says she’s not herself right now. She’s had some reservations because of her situation and the fact I’m a few years younger. I’m falling fast,” I admit. “So I’d appreciate some help.”
His eyes narrow. He’s assessing me, gauging my authenticity. “I think she’s figuring out who she really is. She’s lived a very structured life until recently. She’s always had a lot of expectations heaped on her shoulders. She was constantly overloaded and had to shove aside her personal life. Now, she’s feeling her way through a new reality. But underneath all that, she’s caring. Sensitive.” He frowns. “She needs friends, and I’m trying to be here for her. So don’t fuck with her. She’s had enough of that to last her a lifetime.”
I open my mouth to ask him what the hell that means. How is he trying to be here for her?
But Bethany appears beside us, a little frown knitting her brow. “You’re not still talking about me, I hope.”
“Maybe a little.” He winks. “Like I was saying, I’ve got a car on the island and when I find a rental I like, you can crash with me if you want. In a spare bedroom,” he adds hastily. “And I’ll be happy to drive you home tonight to save Maxon the trip.”
“I got it,” I cut in.
Yeah, I don’t exactly have a car of my own, just like I know who she rides with is her choice. I also understand she and Lund are “friends.” But I don’t know anything about this guy except that he’s roughly her age, he cares about her, and that I see some sort of intimacy between them I don’t like.
“You sure you don’t mind?” she asks me. “It’s so far out of your way.”
“No problem.” I’ll figure out the details later.
“All right.” The other guy shrugs. “Call me if you change your mind.”
“Sure. My next day off is Sunday. If you still have time for dinner then, I’m up for that.”
“Let’s do it. I’ll call you.” He gives her a dazzling grin, then enfolds her in his arms and kisses her cheek like he has every right to touch her. “Good to see you again, shorty. Nice to meet you, man.” He waves at me. “Talk to you.”
Then he’s gone. I don’t dislike him. He seems okay. But he knows far more about Beth than I probably ever will, so in that moment I despise him.
Still, I can’t do anything except grind my jaw, count backward from a hundred, and try not to sounds like a possessive asshole. I’ve never felt this way. I don’t even know where this animosity is coming from.
“Hey, guys!” Andy shouts across the bar, and all the waitstaff comes running to the hallway.
Trying to shove down my annoyance, I follow, then listen as our mostly absent manager regales us with crap about a stopped-up toilet, a fraudulent string of credit cards, the wine shipment that’s late because of the holidays, and the fact that Terry is still out with the flu.
I can’t even grab a word with Bethany before an unexpected rain shower becomes a downpour. Drenched tourists rush in and the crowd suddenly goes from easily manageable to utterly insane.
By the time I look up again, it’s nearly ten p.m. Hours have passed in a blur. I’ve seen Bethany, but I haven’t been able to focus on where she is and if she’s all right.
A quick glance tells me she’s bustling from one table to another, dropping off the drinks I just mixed, before she wipes her hands on a dishtowel hanging from her waistband, grabs her tray like it’s a shield, and heads to the back corner.
Mr. Loud Hawaiian Shirt is waiting, and she looks nervous as she approaches.
I can’t hear them, but I can see he’s agitated, and she’s defensive. My gut says this is going to get out of line fast.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Ash as I storm out from behind the bar.
Stephen’s drop-in agitated me, but this guy’s bullying is sending my temper over the edge.
As busy as we’ve been, Ash doesn’t argue. Or maybe I don’t hear. Whatever. Former client or not, this guy isn’t manhandling or bruising Beth anymore.
“—the fuck happened,” he spits. “I’m entitled to—”
“Beth…” I put a protective arm around her. “Go. I got this.”
She turns to me, startled. “That’s okay. I can do this.”
“You can, but you don’t have to.”
There’s that indecisive little nibble on her lip again. She’s weighing the situation, probably her sense of responsibility, which is great, versus her fear and loathing, which seem pretty mighty, too.
“You sure?” she says finally.
“Oh, that’s it,” snarls the asshole. “Run away. Get your knight in shining armor to protect you. He must think you’re a helpless little damsel in distress. Ha! He doesn’t know the teeth and claws you have. He doesn’t know that pretty facade he probably likes to fuck holds an ugly bitch inside.”
“That’s eno
ugh,” I growl at him, urging Beth away from the confrontation. “Tell me what you’d like to drink or leave. Beth is a waitress, not a punching bag.”
The guy slams his beefy fist on the table. “You don’t get it. You look at her and you see a pretty piece of ass. I see a hustler. I see a criminal. Watch your money, pal. If you have any, she’ll fuck it out of you, too.”
He scrapes the chair across the floor and lurches to his feet, almost knocking the table over.
My heart freezes in my chest. What is he saying? That Bethany has had sex with him? When? Why?
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m chasing him to the exit—and barely keeping my hands off his throat. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. That sweet little thing you keep defending? I got ten minutes of pleasure out of her. And nothing but endless shit in the last six months.”
He’s talking about my Beth like she’s one step above a whore. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“If you have to ask, you might try paying attention to the news, kid.”
I resent this guy on so many levels right now. But he’s a former client. He has a story if he’s here night after night, trying to get some sort of restitution or pound of flesh out of Bethany.
“I’m not a fucking kid. And I’m a lot more familiar with the news than you think. What the hell do you think she can give you at this point?”
Surprise bounces across his face, then he stares back in speculation. “She can return the money that belongs to me.”
I swallow. I have to be careful here. I can’t let on too much in case he says something to Bethany, and he’s hardly an ally. But there are two sides to every story. I can’t ask my dad his side anymore. This fortyish windbag is the only other client of Reed Financial I’ve ever met face to face.
“What if she doesn’t know where it is?”
“She damn well should. I trusted her with my money for five years. Hell, I handed her a check for seven million dollars two days before Barclay Reed was arrested. She promised to personally see to it. You keep thinking she’s innocent if it makes you feel better about fucking her. But I’m telling you, she’s not the sweet thing you think.”
Then he’s gone. And I’m so angry I’m shaking.
Yes, this guy was a victim of the financial scheme, just like my dad. Instead of succumbing to the shock, he chose to fight back. He’s entitled to be angry. Seven million is a lot of money. And I get that he’s looking for someone to blame. I was once, too.
But what he’s doing isn’t cool.
This asshole will be back, I have no doubt. He wants his money, of course. But he’s full of righteous, pent-up rage and seemingly desperate for revenge. I need to protect Bethany because I have a feeling he’s capable of far more destructive things than hurling insults.
Why did she ever let this man touch her? He might not be terrible to look at, but he’s an angry, vile misogynist. The way he talks about her, as if he sees no value in her… She is smart and kind. He thinks I don’t know her? Ha! He’s the one who doesn’t.
That knowledge is my only consolation, because I don’t understand anything else that’s happened in the last ten minutes.
The only other thing I know is that I need to talk to Bethany ASAP.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You’re quiet,” Bethany remarks on our drive back to Maxon and Keeley’s inn.
As I steer through the inky night, away from civilization, I tap my thumb against the steering wheel. The silence during our ride feels sharp. It’s ratcheted up my tension. I don’t want to hurl accusations at her, and I don’t want to argue while I’m driving. But waiting hours to get this off my chest has pushed my mood someplace ugly.
“A lot on my mind,” I say finally.
“You’re wondering about my relationship with Stephen.”
“Among other things, yes.”
He’s not the first problem on my mind. I’m also deeply disturbed by everything her former client spewed. But since she brought Lund up, maybe I’ve cooled down enough to talk about him. The asshole? How do I deal with the knowledge that she had sex with someone who feels nothing but contempt for her? How do I even ask why?
She sighs. “When you walked in and saw Stephen holding my hands, you probably thought we seemed cozy and romantic. But it’s not like that.”
“So you’ve never been to bed with Lund?”
I’m hoping like hell she says no. Instead, a flush steals across her face.
“He’s been a good friend my whole life. His father and mine were cronies and golfing buddies. Sometimes, all of us spent weekends together and had barbecues… He’s comfortable.”
I grip the wheel harder. There’s a whole lot she’s not telling me, including the fact they—at some point—fucked. No, I don’t own her. But I want to understand what’s going on between them now.
“Then why did he think you weren’t speaking to him? Why did you stay with Maxon and Keeley to avoid him at Noah and Harlow’s place?”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course he told you.”
“He said you would explain.”
“All right. Remember I said that my father had gotten a friend’s daughter pregnant? I was talking about Douglas Lund. Amanda is Stephen’s younger sister. That wasn’t the only terrible thing my father did to his supposed bestie, but it definitely started the bad blood between them.”
“Why would you assume Stephen would blame you for your father’s sins? Because everyone else is?”
She nods. “I knew the affair was going on. I knew what my father is like. If I had said something… But I didn’t because, despite the age gap, they’re both adults and seemed happy, and I never thought he’d treat her like a piece of ass. But maybe I could have stopped it if I’d made my father’s business my own.” She gives a bitterly ironic shake of her head. “Then again, that’s true of a lot of things.”
“What do you mean?” Is she talking about the financial scam, too?
“Long story.”
One she’s not ready to tell. Another dead end.
With a frustrated sigh, I pull up at the inn. It’s dark except for the light shining from the window in the nursery. So unless Bethany invites me in, the evening—and my chance to get answers—is over until tomorrow.
I stop the car and put it in park. “I know you and Stephen dated at some point.”
She unbuckles her seat belt. “It’s late, and I’m not up for this conversation, Clint.”
When she opens the door, I grab her arm to stay her. “Please.”
With a sigh, she settles back in her seat. “All right. We didn’t date. He understood my life and he comforted me when I asked him to. I needed to know what sex with someone I actually cared about would be like. I needed to know if I could feel anything for someone I wasn’t screwing for the wrong reasons. He was the only decent sexual experience I had until you. I’m not going to apologize for it. I’m thirty. I’ve made choices you’ll probably never understand. My past isn’t up for negotiation. If that’s a deal breaker for you, then it’s better for me to know now. I’ll find another ride home tomorrow.”
Her words ping in my head. I don’t like her answer, but…she’s right. I have no moral high ground. In the past, I’ve taken women to bed for way less righteous reasons than needing solace or affection. Hell, my intentions with Bethany are definitely less than pure. Or at least they started that way. Some people would argue that I’m fucking her for the truth. That I’m using her. While that might be a smarter choice for my heart, that’s not what’s happening at all.
“I’m sorry, Beth. Your past is yours, and you owe me nothing. I was…” Jealous as hell. “Out of line.”
Under the sedan’s overhead lights, she bounces a soft gaze my way. “Honestly, I didn’t think it would matter to you until I saw your face. I’m—”
“Annoyed with my behavior? I don’t blame you. I’m pretty fucking annoyed, too.”
“No. In an odd wa
y, I’m flattered. What I did has never mattered to any of my past lovers. I’m not looking for a caveman, but it’s nice that you care.”
Thank god she’s not totally pissed. “Is it asking too much to not let someone else touch you while we’re together?”
“Would that work both ways?”
Right now, I can’t imagine being interested in anyone else. And I definitely don’t need any more complications. “Yeah.”
“Don’t you want to think about whether you’d like to be exclusive?”
“No.”
She glances over at the dark ohana beside the house, then back to me. “Is Ash expecting you back at his place tonight?”
“I think he’s trying to see what’s between him and Samantha.”
“Do you want to stay with me tonight?”
The smart choice would be to walk away until I have my head screwed on straight. Until I’ve got some perspective. Until I’m not jealous that someone else gave her the comfort I want to shower on her. But I need every moment with Bethany. I need her trust. And I need her attention. The truth is, I wonder if I’m coming to need her.
Jesus, I put myself in the stupidest, shittiest position.
Still, there’s only one answer. “I would love to stay with you. I’d love to get those clothes off you, my hands on you, and hear you scream my name again.”
A blush steals across her cheeks again. “Now that Maxon and Keeley are back, we might have to be a tad quieter than last night.”
Fuck that. “They have a newborn, so I think they know all about sex.”
“They just don’t need to know my business. No one does.”
Not even me. Bethany isn’t going to make getting information from her easy.
Together, we cross the yard and traverse the stone steps to the little cottage. She opens the bright door and reaches for the light switch inside.
I grab her wrist. “Don’t bother. We’re not going to spend any time in the kitchen.”
Her breath catches. I can’t see her face in the dark but I hear her excitement. It probably shouldn’t and I wish it didn’t, but her gasp sets my blood on fire.
