Emma Hart - Casanova (ang)

Table of Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Notice CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO EPILOGUE Coming Soon About the Author Books by Emma Hart



Copyright © 2017 Emma Hart First Edition All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Cover Photography by Romance Novel Covers (romancenovelcovers.com) Cover Design and Formatting by Emma Hart Editing by Tee Tate

CHAPTER ONE LANI

“I’m not dying. I’m six months pregnant. Not that you care.” My sister cut her eyes to me, her expression dark. I rolled mine in response. “Connie, I didn’t even know you were pregnant until a few days ago. How could I care about something I didn’t know about?” She sniffed at me, lightly pulling at the material covering her slightly-rounded stomach. Honestly, she didn’t look pregnant. She looked like she’d eaten too much cake. “You should have known,” she retorted. “We speak every week. Maybe I would have if you’d told me.” “You should have asked.” I blinked at her. God, she was older than me, but she was one heck of a drama queen. “I’m sorry. When you pop this one out, I’ll make sure to start every phone call asking you about the condition of your uterus.” “Yes. Do that. Now get me some more of those sausage rolls.” She tucked her dark hair away from her face and sat up again. I repeated the eye roll, something I’d done far too much of since coming home for my grandmother’s funeral. My family tended to have that effect on me. And so did my hometown. “Didn’t you just say you weren’t dying?” I replied dryly. “Get your own sausage rolls.” “I hate you so much, Lani.” She huffed as she stood up. “Good. Then you won’t miss me when I leave.” I picked up my too-warm glass of white wine and sipped. It took everything I had to wince at the harshness of the warm wine. She paused, turned, and then held up one finger. “Hold that thought.” I frowned as she half-waddled her way over to the buffet table, but I quickly shook it off. No—I couldn’t think too much. The more I did that, the more I’d want to stay, especially now that Connie was having a baby. Hell, a part of me wanted to stay already. Unfortunately, I didn’t see freelance journalism working too well in Quietville, Florida. Okay, so we really lived in Whiskey Key, Florida, but it felt like Quietville almost all the time. Nothing ever happened in my hometown, and I wasn’t sure anything ever had or ever would. Point was, my career thrived on all things political, gossip, and exciting. It was how it worked. The moment something thrilling happened, I was there. There was a reason I lived in Los Angeles—things were always exciting there. Florida simply couldn’t compare to California. The Sunshine State and the Golden State. Both filled with sun and heat and happiness, they had so much yet so little in common. I sipped again from my horribly warm wine. I knew my mother was in control of the catering for Grandma’s funeral, simply because of the state of it. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good, either. The wake consisted of more alcohol than food, something I know had my sister in the world’s worst mood already. There was only alcohol, water, and orange juice. Since Preggers, as I’d affectionately dubbed my sister in the past week, hated orange juice, the great selection of water or water wasn’t tickling her pickle. Although I’d love if something did, because I wanted to know who the father was. Another thing my sister was in-ordinarily tight-lipped about. “You’re leaving again?” Connie dropped onto the sofa opposite me in Grandma’s family room. We’d long abandoned the main party for the solitude of the family room. “Where are you going to go?” “Uh, home?” I replied. It was a long shot. I’d been vague since the moment I drove into Whiskey Key.

“Where is home?” she pressed. “California,” I shot back without any hesitance. Connie’s soft-brown eyes searched mine before she said, “Florida.” “Kiss my ass, Con.” I ground my teeth together. “You know this place isn’t my home. I don’t care about Whiskey Key. I don’t care about the summer fair or the Christmas lights or—” “Your mom’s relationships or your dad’s business or your sister’s baby,” she said quietly. “Don’t.” I put my glass back down on the table in front of me. “Just because I made a choice to leave doesn’t mean I don’t care about you all. How do you think I feel that you didn’t tell me about your baby? I don’t know a thing about your pregnancy. Have you been sick? Are you having a boy or a girl? A single or twins? Who’s the father? Are you together? Do you have a name picked out? How organized are you? When is your next doctor appointment? I care about you, Con. You’re my sister.” Connie’s face paled. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “That wasn’t fair. I just...I miss you.” “I’m sorry, too. I wasn’t nice either. But please...tell me everything.” I moved from the chair and to the sofa where I took a seat next to her. I wrapped her hand in mine and squeezed. “I mean it. I want to know.” “I haven’t been sick,” she began, slowly. “Actually, it’s been good. She’s a girl, and she’s alone. I want to call her Emery Ada after Grandma. And yes, I know who the father is, but he doesn’t care, so no, we aren’t together. I’m doing this alone, and...and I need you, Lani. I’m scared.” I took a deep breath as I looked into my sister’s eyes. I believed her. She thrived on drama, but for all intents and purposes, she hated it. I know, I know. She was one of those strange beings. I didn’t understand them, personally. Oh, who was I kidding? I thrived on it too. Just not when it concerned the people I loved. “All right.” Mom perched on the arm of the sofa and fixed her brown gaze on me. “You’re leaving?” I picked up my wine glass before putting it back down. “I am.” I didn’t meet my mom’s eyes. “You can’t believe I was here forever, did you? I came for Grandma.” “Lani!” Mom gasped. “Your sister is having baby.” I looked her dead in the eye and said, “I don’t think I’ve met your new boyfriend. Why don’t you introduce us?” She stared at me. I knew she wouldn’t react. She never did. “There’s your answer.” I chugged the last of my gross, warm wine and turned away from my mom. Connie sighed heavily, setting her hand on top of her barely-there baby bump. “Mom, I’m real thirsty. Could you get me some ice water?” Mom rested her hand on Connie’s rounded stomach with a light tap. “Of course, honey. Is that all you need?” She nodded, and the moment our mom was out of our hearing range, leaned forward. “Please stay, Lani,” Connie begged me, her emotion reflecting in her eyes. “I really do need you. I’m scared.” “I don’t know...” I hesitated, but the pleading in her eyes tugged at my heart. “Okay, look.” I leaned forward and touched my fingers to her knee. “I’m here for another week for sure to help clear the house. Let’s talk about this then and not right now. We have to go back out there.” My sister nodded and took my hand. She squeezed and then nodded resolutely. “Let’s go.” “Is Mom’s new boyfriend here?” I asked, helping her up. I had no idea why I was helping her since she was no more than chubby. She was just lazy. She wrinkled her face, scrunching her nose until her lips were pursed in disgust and her eyes were unimpressed slits. “Yes, but trust me, you’re better off without him. He’s a creep.” “Eh, they always are.” I led her into the room and stopped in the door at what I saw. The wake was in full swing. Grandma had been the life and soul of every party, and apparently, her

elderly friends were paying tribute to her by literally putting their lives into this one. Alfred Jenkins, the head of the bingo club, was currently sitting on the breakfast bar, whooping, and clapping his hands together above his head. Patricia Norman was engaging in what could only be described as attempted sexy line dancing with a few other ladies, and a few of the men looked to be ready to line up opposite them. “Are they—” I stopped when Leonard Smith bowed so low he had to have help standing up straight again. “Yep.” Connie smacked her lips together. “Remember how Grandma said she’d started a fitness club?” “Is line dancing fitness?” My voice was wary. “How are they not putting their hips—oh god, look at them!” Connie shook with concealed laughter. She had to have seen this before to take it so easily, but I most definitely was not. Actually, I was feeling a little traumatized as I stood and watched them dance with more vigor than a class full of five-year-olds. They were pretty good. It was scary, but it was pretty good. “Lani Montana, as I live and breathe.” I turned at the sound of a vaguely familiar voice. I ran my gaze over his face. The light blue eyes and gentle smile, all now framed with deep lies, tugged at some deep part of me, stirring the familiarity up to the surface. “Henrick Walker.” I smiled and put my hand into his outstretched one. He offered me a slight bow and kissed the top of my hand. “How are you, my dear?” “I’m well, thank you. All things considered.” “Of course.” His eyes flicked over my shoulder to where Connie stood. He took one step toward her and touched her shoulders. “Connie. How are you doing?” “I’m okay.” She smiled, reaching up and squeezing his hands. “Really, I’m fine.” “You need anything, you come to me. Ada warned me to look out for her girls before she passed.” He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a long breath. A lump formed in my throat. The man wasn’t from my favorite family, but Grandma loved him and his wife, Ida. Ida and Ada. They found it hilarious when they were seven and seventy. It was cute. “I sure will. Thank you.” Connie kissed his wrinkled cheek. “Is it just you and Ida here?” I froze. That’s a question I probably should have considered asking... “Yes, just us.” Henrick looked at me with a knowing glint in his eye. “The family send their love, although they couldn’t be here.” Couldn’t be here my ass. I hadn’t spoken to any of the Walker family since the day I graduated and left town that night. I didn’t want to speak to any of them, either and I knew Henrick knew it. It wouldn’t surprise me if the most influential man in Whiskey Key had told his family not to attend. As if he could read my mind, he winked discreetly at me as his wife, Ida Walker, joined the conversation. “Here you go, darling.” She handed her husband a glass with two fingers of scotch and turned her attention to us. “My dears!” Ida pulled me into her as if I had seen her every day for the past eight years. After one gentle squeeze, she pulled back and held me at arm’s length. “Lani, darling. You look wonderful. California is treating you well.” I gave her a wide smile. “Me? Never mind me—look at you! Have you aged at all?” She laughed her little twinkly laugh and placed an aged hand over her heart. She could laugh all she liked. The woman didn’t look a day over fifty, and she was a damn good

seventy. Ida rubbed my upper arm. “You always were the sweet-talker in your family.” “It’s how I got to raid the greenhouse for Grandpa’s tomatoes every summer.” I grinned. “It’s true,” Connie agreed. “No matter how I tried, I could never convince him to let me go in there first. And she always took the biggest ones.” “Of course I did.” I nudged her elbow. “I wasn’t going to save them for you, was I?” Henrick chuckled. I blanked out when Ida swapped places with her husband and asked my sister about the baby. Henrick sipped from his scotch before cradling it against his body. “I’m assuming you haven’t seen him since you returned home.” “If by him you mean your grandson, then you’re assuming correctly.” I shuffled my feet and awkwardly folded my arms across my chest. “I don’t particularly want to see him, either.” “I’m not going to pretend to know what happened with your friendship—” “It’s old news. With all due respect, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about him anymore.” I was lying, and the glint in his eyes told me he knew it. “You should be aware that he’s determined to speak with you while you’re here in the Key,” he continued on in a low voice. “He wanted to come today, but I told him it was highly inappropriate given the occasion.” It was highly inappropriate for him to want to speak to me at all, but whatever. “Then he should be aware that I’m determined not to speak with him.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “I have nothing to say to him.” “Lani.” Henrick stepped toward me, his eyes kind. I exhaled. “He wasn’t who I thought he was. It’s really that simple.” The old man held my gaze for a long moment before releasing it and nodding. “I understand. I think you’ll find that not many people do know who my grandson is—least of all him.” I tilted my head to the side, but just as I opened my mouth to respond and ask what he meant, Ida interrupted. “Henrick, we really must be getting back. You know how agitated Starla gets when she’s left alone with the dang housekeeper for so long.” Ida touched both mine and Connie’s arms. “Anything you need, girls. Anything at all, you call me, and I’ll see to it.” “You really don’t have to—” Connie began. She squeezed our arms. “I miss your grandmother something fierce. It’s all I can do to look after you.” I swallowed hard, another emotional lump forming in my throat. “Thank you.” The Walkers bid us goodbye. Connie turned to me. “What was that about?” “I don’t know what you mean.” I spun away from her and went to the table with the alcohol. I needed a drink. Henrick’s words were spinning out of control in my mind. “Yes, you do.” She grabbed my hand before I could grab a wine bottle out of the ice bucket. “What did he say to you?” “Drop it.” “It was about Brett, wasn’t it?” . My sister’s meddling had me reaching for the wine, then downing it to relieve the dryness in my mouth at the mention of Brett’s name. The more I drank, the more temptation I felt to drink straight from the bottle. If I didn’t have to share it with anyone else... “It was Brett.” Connie sighed. Once again, she grabbed my hand. This time, she tugged, making me turn toward her, and met my gaze with her own. “You’re going to have to see him at some point or another. His family runs this town. Do you really think you’ll be able to avoid it?”

“Drop it, Connie.” She did.



I didn’t miss much about Whiskey Key. If I were being cynical, I’d say there wasn’t much to miss, but actually, there was. I just didn’t care for the majority of it. But I did miss the golden sand stretched out for several miles, and unlike the beaches I rarely frequented in Cali, it was almost always empty. Especially early in the morning when I liked to run. Actually, I missed running on the beach. The streets of Los Angeles were nowhere near as pretty or as fresh as the air that was currently filling my lungs. Grandma’s house, my temporary home, wasn’t too far from one end of the beaches. She always joked that if she wanted to, when her black lab was alive, she could simply stand at the edge of the yard and let the dog take herself for a walk along the shore. She was completely right—I’d jogged from the front door to the beach in less than five minutes. And I could still see the house. The tide was pretty far out, but that was good for me. It meant I could run on the harder, wet sand instead of the dry sand that resulted in me face-planting the beach more than once as a teenager. Running on dry sand is like swallowing ice and expecting it to go down easy. I tightened my ponytail and looked out across the beach. As far as I could see, I was alone. In the distance, at the far end of the beach, I spotted the sprawling Walker estate. Part of the beach was on their land, although as far as I can remember they never really cared if locals used that section. It was closed to tourists, but as teenagers in the summer, being away from all that was awesome. I shook off the thoughts of the Walker family and changed direction to divert around a large, dead crab on the beach. Seaweed and shells lightly littered the beach, leftover from the sea. Focusing on that was easier than the other option. Him. Brett Walker. Shit. I was thinking about him again. It was hard to be home and not think about him. In L.A., he was a million miles away from me and so was this world. I wasn’t a part of Whiskey Key, where at least half the town was owned by the same family and had been that way for years. I was a part of a world so far removed from anything else it should have been the stuff of fiction. Mind you, both worlds had their fair share of glitz and glamor. Without the Walkers, Whiskey Key would have probably been nothing more than a struggling tourist industry. It was only the early summer and already I could tell it was better than it’d ever been. I stopped for a moment and leaned against one of the large rocks that dotted the shoreline for a drink. The sun was barely up, but it was already hot. Thank god for the ice cubes I’d thought to throw into my bottle of water before I left. “Lani? Is that you?” I jerked my head to the right at the voice. The girl running up the beach didn’t break pace until she was only six feet in front of me, and it took me all of five seconds to recognize her. Dark hair. Light blue eyes. Beauty in spades. “Camille Walker? Is that you?” I asked, although I already knew the answer. She laughed, stopping and putting her hand on the rock. “God, have I changed that much?” “Not at all.” I smiled, pushing down the cap on my water bottle. “What are you doing out here?” “I run the beach every morning. Well, I try to. At least twice a week. I’m not great at remembering.” She

laughed again, a little wheezy, and put her hand on her waist. She bent forward and took a moment to control her breathing. “Water?” I offered her my bottle. With a desperate nod, she clasped it, wiped the top, and swigged. “Ahh. Thank you.” I barely had a chance to cap the water bottle before she swept me into a giant hug. I guessed he water worked… “Oh!” I squeaked, hugging her back awkwardly with one arm. “Hi.” “Sorry.” She stepped back, laughing breathlessly. “I didn’t know if I’d get to see you before you left to wherever you are now. I’m excited.” “California,” I answered with a smile to Brett’s twin sister. “I’m a freelance journalist.” “Oh, that’s so cool!” She clapped her hands together once, actually jumping with the action. “I wanted to do something like that, but you know...” She shrugged a shoulder. “Family business and all that.” I did know. The Walkers didn’t own what they did by not keeping it in the family. “Do you at least do something you enjoy?” “I think they think my main job the past few years is trying and failing to keep my brother in line,” she said with a dry tone. “Like he listens to me.” Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. “Keep him in line?” My curiosity got the better of me. Goddamn that curiosity. Camille cast her gaze toward me. “You haven’t heard about his...antics?” “I didn’t know my sister was pregnant until I rolled into town a few days ago. Obviously nobody tells me anything.” “Ouch. I’m sorry.” She leaned against the rock next to me and looked out at the ocean. “You know how people talk about that stereotypical guy? The heir to a business, trust-fund baby who’s a player and a party boy?” I nodded. “They modeled that on Brett.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone. “Either that or he took it upon himself to fulfill that profile.” “I’m not surprised,” I said in a small voice, hugging myself. “Not really.” Camille looked at me out of the corner of her eyes but didn’t say anything. A sick feeling rolled in my stomach. “I have to go. I’m meeting Connie for breakfast and I’ve already seen those hormones in action, so I’d rather not be late.” “Right. I get that. I’ve seen them too.” She laughed and pushed off the rock when I did. “Hey, let’s do lunch before you leave. Please?” “Sure.” I smiled and briefly touched her arm. “Does Connie have your number?” “She does. Make sure you get it.” She grinned as she walked backward and waggled her finger at me. I held up my hands, laughing. “I will, I promise.” “Speak to you soon.” She waved and ran off down the beach toward the Walker estate, her dark hair fluttering in the air behind her. I did the same, sighing as I went. Damn it.

CHAPTER TWO BRETT

“Guess who I saw on the beach this morning?” Camille flounced into library, bringing with her the girly scent of...whatever the fuck it was she was wearing. I clicked on the spreadsheet in my email. “No.” She rolled her eyes. “What are you doing?” “Working,” I answered without looking up. “What work?” “Dad wants me to check the finances before he sends it to the accountant. He thinks his new assistant fucked it. Why?” “Just wondering.” She perched on the edge of the table I was working from. Her gaze seared into me as I typed. “Why are you here?” I asked after a moment, giving her what she wanted by looking up at her. “If you want to annoy me, do it later. I have a headache.” “You’re so grumpy.” She leaned forward, reaching for my hair. I jerked out of her way. “Go and find something to do, brat.” “Not until you guess.” Groaning, I minimized the spreadsheet and decided to give her my full attention before she really pissed me off. “I really don’t give a shit who you saw.” She grinned slowly, leaning toward me. “Yes, you do.” “I swear to god, Camille, if you don’t spit it out, I’m going to throw you out of the window.” I’d done it before, after all. I didn’t want to do this check for Dad, but I wanted to have this conversation even less. I had one hell of a hangover and my bed was calling my name. “I have enough issues right now without your bullshit.” “I saw Lani.” Her name sent a jolt down my spine. “Are you serious?” My mouth was dry. Camille nodded, her wet, dark hair falling and sticking to her cheek. She pushed it behind her ear. “She was running when I was.” “I thought she’d have left by now.” “I don’t know. She said she only just found out about Connie and the baby, so I guess she could be staying a little longer to catch up.” “What did you say to her?” I pushed my laptop away and leaned forward on the table. My sister raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I thought you didn’t care.” I stared at her flatly. I hadn’t to begin with, but that didn’t mean I didn’t now. “Fine.” She sighed. “She asked what I did, and I said I was basically your keeper because—” “Please tell me you didn’t tell her.” My stomach sank like a ton of granite. “Jesus, Cam.” “I didn’t tell her!” She kicked her foot out at me and shuddered. “I got the same threat you did, remember? Breathe a word and you’re cut off.” I let go of a deep breath and buried my face into my hands. Fuck, now my head was pounding ten times worse than before she came in. I didn’t want to think about The Thing much less have someone I used to respect so much know about it. The Thing was like fucking He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as far as my family were concerned, and with good reason too. I fucked up. Big time.

And I was paying for it. “I just told her you’re pretty much every college student on spring break ever all wrapped up into one asshole of a person,” Camille continued with way too much enjoyment in her voice. “She said she wasn’t surprised.” I brought my face out of my hands and frowned. What the hell did that mean? She wasn’t surprised? Lani Montana knew nothing about me or who I was. I hadn’t seen her since she stood on the podium, gave her fucking Valedictorian speech, and disappeared. I knew nothing about her except what I remembered, so she sure as hell knew nothing about me. “What did she mean by that?” I asked after a moment. She shrugged. “I didn’t ask her. I was happy to see her. I don’t really care what she thinks about you. Hell, I don’t even care what I think about you.” “Don’t you have work to do?” “You should talk to her.” I ran my hand through my hair and look at her. “I spoke to Pops this morning. He said he saw her yesterday at Ada’s wake and she was adamant she didn’t want to talk to me.” “What did you do to her eight years ago?” Camille tilted her head to the side. “And since when has someone else’s wants ever stopped you?” “What’s that meant to mean?” “Oh, let me think.” She held up one hand and ticked things off her fingers. “I don’t want to pick you up, drunk, at two in the morning from Hakuna or Raven’s bar. Neither do I want to escort out the women—and I use that word lightly—you bring home and assure them you’ll call them when we all know you won’t.” “All right, all right.” I swatted at her hands, breaking up that dumb ticking off thing. “I get the picture. I’m a selfish bastard.” “It’s so nice when you agree with me.” I shook my head and pulled my laptop back toward me. It’d turned off, so I hit the power button and ran my finger over the mousepad to wake it up. “I’m not gonna search her out to talk to her, Cam. If she wanted to talk to me, she would have.” “Why? Because everything revolves around you?” She snorted and hopped off the table. “Brett Walker, you’re such an asshole. No wonder she doesn’t want to talk to you without knowing you. She can probably smell your arrogance a mile off.” “Fuck off.” I threw a pen over my shoulder in her general direction. It clattered to the floor, so I took that to mean I missed my target. Oh well. I didn’t care. I pulled up the spreadsheet to look over the accounting stuff and tugged the folder Dad gave me toward me. Comparing his hand-written log with the digital one his assistant kept, I found a mistake within the first few days of the month. That was gonna go down well. Like a bag full of shit on someone’s head. I tapped my fingers against the laptop as I looked. The next few lines blurred into one, so I looked away. I wanted to blame my hangover, but I knew it was more than that. Camille saw Lani. Actually saw her. It wasn’t just hearsay that she was back or the general knowledge that she was. She was back in Whiskey Key for real. My sister was a bitch sometimes, but she wouldn’t say that to screw with me. She knew how much it damn near killed me when Lani disappeared into nowhere. I didn’t even ask her anything. Did she know where Lani had been? Where was she living? What did she do?

Fuck—why did I care? She didn’t care about me. I had no reason to care about her except an old friendship that obviously meant nothing to her then. I didn’t care. That was my story and I was gonna stick with it if it killed me. Maybe I’d believe it if I did.



Family dinner. I fucking hated family dinner, especially when it involved my grandparents. Not that I didn’t love Pops and Nan, but it was six p.m. and I still had the same goddamn hangover as I did this morning. My bed was still calling my name too. I’d taken me the best part of the day to get through the finances and triple check it because my mind kept running into Lani. “I don’t know why you have the assistants log finances,” Pops said, setting his cutlery on the sides of his plate. He reached for his glass of Merlot. “This is the third one to mess it up.” “I know that,” Dad answered, not looking up from his plate. “I don’t have the time to log those things before they go to the accountant.” “You could get a better accountant who’ll do it for you,” Camille chirped up. Dad cut her a look, shutting her up. “She has a point,” Nan agreed. “You could do that.” “And spend money on something that could be done in-house? Pah.” Dad took a mouthful of wine. “The girl was supposed to have accounting experience. There were nine errors.” Mom heaved out a deep breath next to me, but she didn’t say anything. “Who found them?” Pops asked, picking his cutlery back up. “The least likely source,” Dad drawled, glancing my way. I chewed my mouthful of lamb without talking. He didn’t really want me to talk. I knew that. I was still in his shithouse for The Thing. Pops looked at me with his eyebrows raised. “You found them?” I shrugged a shoulder, swallowed, and then said, “Ask Dad. He’s the one who emailed me a spreadsheet, slapped his folder into my chest, and told me to check it. The mistakes were there to be found.” “I don’t know why you don’t give the job to Brett.” Mom delicately sliced into her lamb. “He cleans up the mess every time. Why not eliminate the mess?” Silence rang out through the room. Thanks, Mom. “Because,” Dad ground out. “He’s as reliable as a two-year-old driving a car.” “Yet every month, I’m the one who cleans up the accounts,” I said in a low voice. My jaw tightened, and I looked down at my plate. Nobody talked for a minute. In fact, nobody did a damn thing for a minute. “One chance,” Pops said, finally breaking through the silence. “Give the boy one chance to prove himself.” “He had that.” Dad picked up his wine glass and raised it in front of his mouth. “And look where it’s gotten us.” “We are not discussing The Thing,” Mom said sharply. “We are discussing the immediate issue and that is you can’t hire an assistant with mathematical skills to save your life, William. Just as well, because your son has more than enough of them, and they’re not being used.”

Camille scooted her chair back. “Excuse me. I need to—” “Sit down, Camille.” Mom didn’t even look at her. She did as she was told, slowly lowering herself back to the chair and sliding it forward. Nan reached over Pops and patted her hand with a smile. “He’s unreliable, Mae, and you know it,” Dad finally replied to Mom. “We’ll be having this conversation in a month.” “He might prove you wrong.” “He is sitting between you,” I snapped. Pops banged his knife handle against the table. Everybody turned toward him at the head of a table without a word. He surveyed us all with his cool gaze, its harshness not impacted by his older age in the slightest. His gaze was as chilling as I remembered it being as a child. “This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever heard,” Pops started. “William, son. We all know Brett isn’t perfect, but he is the heir to the business alongside Camille. You don’t know if he’ll be reliable because you’ve never trusted him enough—with good reason, of course, I know,” he added quickly. “Still sitting here,” I said. “Brett, you have one chance.” Pops turned the full force of his gaze onto me. “But we’re going to make a deal.” I hesitated. “A deal?” “A deal?” Dad echoed, much more warily than I had. “Oh god,” Camille muttered into her wine glass. “You have one chance to you clean up your act.” The way Pops said it left no room for argument. “You’ll stop the partying. No more parties, no more womanizing, and certainly no more stepping out of line. We’ll also work to publicly clean up your image, but you must be a fully willing participant in whatever means we decide to use to do this.” Fuck me...he didn’t want much, did he? “What happens if I break the deal?” I asked, putting my knife and fork together on the plate. Pops looked me dead in the eye and said quite simply, “You’ll find your inheritance drastically cut and your sister will stand to take ninety-eight percent of the entire business when it gets passed on.” What the fuck? Was that for real? Camille gasped. “Pops. You can’t do that!” “It’s still my business, Camille. I can do what I want with it.” “Henrick,” Nan said. “Think this through. That’s very drastic.” “He needs drastic, Mother.” Dad gripped his glass tightly. “He’s had it easy for far too long. Camille works for her money—Brett doesn’t. First the lifestyle and now The Thing. I side with Dad. He absolutely needs this to happen.” And this was why I hated family dinner. It always came back to me and how much I’d fucked up in my life. I don’t know why they didn’t record the damn conversation and put it on replay whenever we got together. It’d save us all some time and I wouldn’t even have to show up for it. “Brett?” Pops’ voice broke through my thoughts. I dragged my gaze toward him. “Your choice, boy,” he continued. “Clean up or be cut off. Which one is it?” I clenched my jaw as annoyance slammed into me. “Clean up,” I ground out through clenched teeth. Camille’s eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline. “You’re going to clean up? Really?” “I can do it.” I didn’t want to sound like a petulant child so I left it at that. I also didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot by telling her fuck off. I’d do that later when nobody else was around.

“We’ll see,” Dad simply said. “We’ll see.”

CHAPTER THREE LANI

I stared at the pink, fluffy bear sitting on the shelf. I didn’t have a clue what to buy a baby. All I wanted to do was buy something for Connie’s bump that would hopefully apologize for the fact I was a little bit of a bitch when I arrived back in Whiskey Key. Except I really, really didn’t know what to buy. Would it use a bear? The baby? Damn it, the baby. She already told me off three times yesterday for calling the baby ‘it.’ Something that is easier than you’d think. Would the baby use a bear? I didn’t know what babies did. Didn’t they just cry, poop, vomit, and drink milk? Why on earth would she need a light pink bear? She wouldn’t. Right. She wouldn’t. I shuffled down the aisle toward the other baby toys. Rattles. More soft toys. Good god, what is a Lamaze? Oh. Oh. It was a brand. Never mind. I liked those. I reached out toward the toys, hesitated, and then pulled my hand back. Which one did I pick? Dear god, why was it so freaking hard? It shouldn’t have been this hard to pick a gift for a baby. It—she, damn it, she—wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about it until she was older. “Having trouble?” I looked over my shoulder and smiled at Camille. “Trouble is probably a very nice word for how I feel right now.” She laughed lightly and stepped up next to me. “Trying to find something for Connie?” “Again, trying is a nice word. I have no idea what I’m doing.” I joined her in laughing and blew out a breath as I looked up and down the aisle. “Who knew there were so many toys for such tiny people?” “I know, right? When Melly had her baby—” “Melly had a baby?” I asked, referring to her cousin. “That’s awesome.” “Yeah, last year.” She smiled and looked over at the black, white, and red toys that had all sorts of noisy, wrinkly attachments. “I’m pretty sure that he really liked these when he was old enough to grab and stuff. Melly said it was something about the colors. I don’t know.” “Good enough for me.” I picked one that looked like a butterfly off the shelf and flipped it over. Yep. That would work. “Oh, hey, I meant to call you yesterday, sorry. We started clearing Grandma’s stuff after breakfast and I never got around to it.” “Oh, don’t worry.” Camille stepped past me, flashing me a smile. “I didn’t expect you to call immediately. In fact,” she said, stopping by a shelf of pink baby clothes, “I remember you being awful at ever calling anyone.” Yeah... I joined her at the shelf and honed in on a soft, pink onesie. Fingering the arm, I said, “I had to grow out of that lovely habit. Calling people is kind of part of my job, even if I do hate it.” “ Ah, the journalist thing? Oh, hey, this is cute.” She held up a onesie with a pig face on the front. “You’re right. Thanks.” I took it from her and checked the size. It was correct according to my Google search—hey, never done this before—so I laid the onesie over my arm and grabbed the soft one I’d just found myself. “Anyway, like I said, if I didn’t call people, I wouldn’t make much money, so...” I shrugged. “Oh.” She stopped, gripping the shelf, her eyes widening. “That sounds like so much fun. Have you traveled a lot?” I blushed and looked down. “Depends what you mean by travel. I have to go where there’s work, so while California is home right now, it hasn’t always been. I was in New York for a little after I graduated college. I’ve been to Denver and Seattle. I’ve covered Mardi Gras in New Orleans and all sorts of really

cool stuff, but the furthest I’ve ever been is Montreal.” “Whoa. Lucky you. Next time, can I come with you?” I laughed. Like she’d never been anywhere exotic. “Hey, how did you know I was here?” I asked as she followed me to the register. “Oh, um. Brett’s in the bank next door. I was outside and saw you so thought I’d join you.” Camille shuffled side to side. A sick feeling tugged deep inside my tummy, but I batted it down as I handed my card to the girl behind the counter. “Why are you fidgeting?” “Because...you know.” I smirked. “I’m an adult, Camille. I don’t care if he’s there.” There may as well have been an arrow pointing to my head screaming liar in neon lights. I was lying through the skin of my teeth and she knew it. “Right, okay. He’s going home. Want to get lunch today? Then you don’t have to call.” She grinned. “Sure.” I took my card back from the register girl, put it away, and took my bag full of baby things from the counter. “You wanna go now?” “Yep, let’s go. I just have to run into the bank and tell him not to wait for me.” She held the door open for me. I slipped through it with a smile. “Damn it, Cam. Would it kill you to answer your phone if you’re gonna disappear on me like that?” I sucked in a sharp breath and stopped dead in my tracks. Camille slammed right into my back with an “oomph,” but I didn’t really care. All the oxygen felt as though it’d been sucked away from the immediate area as my gaze found his feet of its own free will. I took in white, sneaker-clad feet and quickly found well-fitting, dark, jeans that hugged obviously strong thighs. A black belt sat through the loops, partially covered by a white tee. As my gaze traveled further upward, I found myself looking at a tattooed arm, mostly covered by the rolled-up sleeve of a light, denim shirt. Damn. Nobody should pull off double denim like this. I swallowed as I looked higher and noted a tattoo creeping up the side of his neck, almost literally pointing at a sharp, square jaw covered in thick stubble. I didn’t see anything else, because my eyes were drawn to his. That same, old, blue-gray gaze I knew so well. Brett. Shit. My heart hammered against my chest. God, eight years, and he looked even better than he had the last time I laid eyes on him...being an asshole. “Lani.” Brett swallowed. “How are you?” Oh god, I have to talk to him. “I’m fine, thank you. Yourself?” Oh god, could I have been any more formal? Yes, yes I could have. I could’ve said “One is fine” like I’m the fucking queen of England. “I’m good.” His lips slowly curved up to one side into a smile that was half-genuine, half-cocky smirk. At least that was how it looked to me. I waited for him to speak again, but he didn’t. And neither did I. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t. My heart had firmly lodged itself into my throat. “Soooo...” Camille said, half-stepping in front of me. “We’re headed for lunch. Did you need me for anything?” Brett shook his head. “No,” he said slowly, his eyes fixed on me. “You’re good, Cam. Call me if you need a ride home, all right?”

“Sure.” She grabbed my arm. “See you later.” “Yeah. See ya, Lani.” My name rolled off his tongue too easily for my liking. “Bye, Brett.” Camille’s grip on my arm tightened, and she’d barely rattled off a, “Yeah, see ya, asshole,” before she steered me down the sidewalk and around the corner, out of his sight. Then she released me. I fell back against the wall and covered my face with my hands. I blew out a long breath that bounced back off my palms and back against my cheeks. My heart was still going crazy and my stomach was in knots. I wasn’t prepared to look him in the eye—the guy who was once my best friend and the person I...the person I was damn sure I loved more than anybody else. I slid my fingers into my hair and ran them through to the ends, sighing out another breath. “Where did you want to go for lunch?” “Lani,” Camille said softly. “Where?” I asked again, this time harder. “Hakuna’s,” she answered. “You look like you need a Pineapple Bite.” “I don’t know what that is, but it sounds good. Let’s go.”



I knew Hakuna’s like the back of my hand. Well, I knew the old Hakuna’s like it. This new, updated version was unnerving and a little freaky. Mostly because it was really, really cool. Whatever they’d done with the old Hakuna’s, I liked it. The new restaurant and bar was bouncing with life even though it was barely midday. The owners were Hawaiian and new to town since I’d left. Apparently, they’d come to the Key for a vacation to visit family, saw the restaurant was up for sale, and snapped it up. The name was too good to be true, and according to Camille, the new owners had declared it theirs. Evidently, they’d done nothing but awesome with it. I had no idea what was in front of me in this Pineapple Bite Camille ordered for us, but it tasted damn good. It was almost like a frozen pineapple margarita, but there was apparently a secret ingredient that made it...not. It’d been twenty minutes—not that I was counting—since I’d seen Brett. My heart was still beating quickly. Mostly because I was finding that it was impossible to get his face out of my mind. It was like it was freaking imprinted there. All dark stubble, piercing eyes, square jaw, plump lips... I couldn’t keep thinking about him. Fuck a duck. This wasn’t okay. I didn’t care about Brett Walker. Not one bit. Except I did. Too much. And seeing him just now had brought back all the hurt from the day we graduated high school and he broke my heart without knowing it. We were different people back in high school. Even though we were best friends, we were at opposite ends of the oh-so-important social totem pole. He was at the top, the reigning king. Untouchable. Perfection in the eyes of so many. The guy everyone wanted to be. I may as well have been shit trodden into the grass at the bottom of the pole. I was that girl—the one who was subjected to attempted bribes to do other people’s homework. I know —what a freaking cliché, right? The only thing that ever protected me was the unlikely friendship I had with the Walkers. Camille’s devotion to me stopped the bitchy ridicule of the geeky girl with her nose in a book. Brett’s influence

stopped the bullying of the quiet, studious chick who might have forgotten to brush her hair because she, well, had her nose stuck in a book. I was lucky. Many others like me...weren’t so much. They stopped me being the girl who was under constant attack...until Brett spearheaded the attack without thinking I’d ever hear him. The frozen, yellow drink gave me brain-freeze when I sucked hard on it, but I didn’t wince or shudder. I wanted it. I wanted to stop thinking. I didn’t want to walk further down that particular memory lane. “Are you okay?” Camille asked me softly. Her eyes swam with concern. “Sorry. If I knew he was there —” “It’s okay. I’m okay.” I pulled my drink closer to me. “I just...I don’t know, but I’m okay.” “You’re as bad at lying as you always were.” I shoved the glass to the side and dropped forward onto the tablet with a groan. “Why can’t he look like he’s been scraped out of the inside of a cat’s asshole?” “Um,” Camille sputtered. “Because then I would too and that wouldn’t be fair?” Despite myself, I laughed. Looking up, I ran my fingers through my hair. “Seriously, right now, I’d be okay with that.” She pulled the lemon slice off the rim of her glass and threw it at me. I sat up in time to dodge it. “Not like, in an asshole way. In a totally honest way.” “Ah, there’s the journalist in you. You’re confusing honest with not being an asshole now.” I grabbed her lemon and threw it back at her. “I can freelance everywhere, you know. Including here.” She mimed zipping her lips. “Got it. Have you thought about how long you’re going to stay?” “Er...” I paused and brought my drink back in front of me. Sipping it allowed me to delay my answer for a few seconds. It did not, however, save me from Camille Walker’s wrath. “No. You are not drinking to avoid the question.” She leaned forward and reached for my glass. I moved it out of her way. “I don’t know, okay? I haven’t thought about it. Connie is begging me to stay, but my livelihood depends on me getting stories and posting them to make money. I can’t see that happening here in Whiskey Key.” Camille tapped her finger against her lips. “Actually...no. I’m not even going to say it.” “Say what?” “No. You’ll kick me for it.” “Spit it out, lady.” “Last night at dinner,” she started, sitting back as far away from me as she could. “My folks, like usual, got onto the top of Brett and his assholery.” “I don’t like where this is going.” “I knew you wouldn’t.” “Carry on.” What? I was curious by nature. “Pops said he needed to clean up his act or be cut off.” Camille bit her lower lip, sucking it right into her mouth. My eyes widened. “No!” I couldn’t imagine Henrick Walker saying that. Just—no. It didn’t seem to work. “Yes.” She swirled her straw in her drink. “Apparently part of the act is a public pushing of his new persona. Which means somebody needs to make him out to be a good guy when he’s...” “Not?” I asked bluntly. She scratched beneath her ear. “He’s not a bad guy. You know that.” Ha. No, I didn’t. “He’s just...struggled. He went through college with issue after issue, and the last couple years have

been hell. Actually, it started not long after you left.” She frowned. “Maybe he took it hard. I don’t know.” “Oh no.” I put my finger in her face and waved it side to side. “You are not blaming me for the fact your brother is a royal fucktard. He was that before I left, believe me. I know that for a fact.” “I’m not saying you’re to blame. But I know there’s more to that story.” “And that story will stay unwritten.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Look—what if I speak to Dad and we can have you write the articles on Brett without seeing him?” “Sure,” I said flatly. “While you do that, I’m going ask Edward Scissorhands to scoop the eggs out of my ovaries.” “Come on, Lani.” She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “We could do that and my family is desperate enough that they’d pay you a ton of money. Enough that you could stay here with Connie until after the baby’s born.” “That’s unfair.” “That’s real,” she corrected me. “Please? Let me ask.” I was going to regret this, but she’d swayed me a little with her line about Connie. I did want to be here for my sister. If I could do this, make money, and avoid Brett...well, it was a naive thought. We’d cross paths sooner or later. But I liked the thought enough to risk it. Maybe... “Ask,” I said firmly. “But I’m not agreeing to anything until I’ve spoken to your dad.” Camille’s mouth broke out into a wide smile. “You got it.”



I think it’s pretty obvious how I ended up outside the Walker household the next day. I’d somehow managed a full night of sleep, but there I was at ten a.m., outside of the Walker House, waiting for someone to open the door. I’d lost my mind. It was the only explanation for why I was where I was. William Walker was happy for me to do the articles on his son, and he was willing to pay me a bucket load of money. I was here for the money. That, and my sister had told me that if I didn’t agree to the assignment, she’d put me at the vagina end during her labor. I knocked once more. “Rose, please answer the door! I’m on the phone!” A woman—Mae Walker—shouted from somewhere inside. Seconds later, the door opened, and I came face-to-face with who I assumed was a very harriedlooking Rose. Whoever she was. “Miss Montana?” “Yes, ma’am.” I smiled. “That’s me.” “Come in. Mr. Walker is speaking with his father and then he’ll be ready to see you.” She hurried me inside, shut the door, and then led me down a long hall to where a door was closed at the end. She knocked lightly twice and turned to me. “He knows you’re here. Sorry I don’t have a seat for you.” “Oh, no. I’m fine standing. Thank you.” I smiled again and clasped my hands in front of me. She nodded, bowing her head slightly at the end, and scurried off back toward...wherever she came from. I leaned back against the wall and looked down at the flawlessly shined, redwood floor. I could see my reflection in it. Granted, it was warped, but it was still visible. I’d forgotten how gorgeous this place was. I’d only walked a few paces really, but it was just as

understated as it always was. Sure, it was huge, but the walls were covered with pictures of the family through the ages. Some were even in black in white from eras gone by. It only added character to an already alive building. “Lani!” Mae Walker walked down the hall toward me, arms spread out. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders and onto her well-fitting, deep, red dress. Her soft brown eyes, the only ones in the family, regarded me with nothing but warmth and kindness, something her smile portrayed too. “Look at you, honey.” I was wrapped into a warm hug before I could reply. “My goodness.” She stepped back and looked at me, her gentle gaze taking me in. “You look wonderful. How are you?” I couldn’t help but smile back at her. She was one of those people who brightened the darkest room with her mere presence. “I’m well, thank you. How are you?” “I’m alive.” She winked at me. “Are you waiting for William?” “Yes. Rose told me he was on the phone.” “Oh, for the love of...” She trailed off. “She was told to take you right in. The woman is useless.” She stalked past me to the door and knocked loudly before opening it. “William, Lani is here for you. No, don’t put your finger up at me, darling. You can call your father back. Can’t he, Henrick?” she added in a louder voice. After a second, I heard a, “Talk to you soon, Dad,” from one William Walker. “There,” he said a moment later. “Are you happy?” “Tremendously.” Mae opened the door wide and motioned for me to step forward. I did. “William, darling, Lani. I’ll leave you to your meeting.” With that, she turned and swept past me. I only just caught the heavy door before it hit me. “Well, well, well. Little Lani Montana. How are you, sweetheart?” William stepped toward me and hugged me tight as his wife just did. Using my foot to hold the door open, I returned the gesture and answered the same way I did to Mae. “Oh, I’m as well as I can be.” He chuckled, finally grabbing the door with an apologetic smile. “Take a seat, Lani. Let’s talk.” “Sure.” I walked into his large office. It was hard not to be intimidated by the size of the room. There was a huge corner desk, and the entire back wall was lined with mahogany bookcases. Each shelf was stacked solid with books. They spilled out onto the floor in the corner and the sofa beneath the window. I nestled myself into one of the comfortable, black, leather chairs opposite his desk. “Camille told me about your plans for Brett.” I didn’t choke on his name. Go me. “Yes...” William slowly sat into his large chair, black too, and leaned back. He reached for a packet of cigarettes. Then he paused with his hand hovering over it. “Do you mind?” I smiled. “It’s your house. Go ahead. It can’t be smokier in here than Los Angeles.” He inclined his head and tapped one of the cigarettes out of the packet. “I’ll sit on the sofa by the window. Compromise.” He did just that, and when he’d lit his cigarette, he blew out a long plume of gray-blue smoke in the direction of the open window. “Yes. Brett. Hmm.” That didn’t sound good. “Camille said you didn’t want to see him.” It sounded more like an accusation than a blanket statement. “Yes, sir. I’d rather not, if that’s possible.” I steeled myself for his response. “Perhaps not entirely,” he said slowly, tapping ash into an ashtray. “But certainly we can attempt it. It might not be easy...” He trailed off for a moment before speaking again.

“I’ve actually followed some of your work.” “You have?” I blinked, swallowing. “Oh.” He half-smiled. “Of course. Lani Montana disappeared without a word, then, four years later, is randomly covering some of the biggest issues in our country. And nobody has hired her for their network.” “Would you believe me if I said I preferred to not be tied to someone else’s rules?” I asked sheepishly. “Yes. I remember you thriving on rules.” “Apparently writing doesn’t follow the same rules as the rest of somebody else’s life. I tried it and I hated being told what I had to do. I realized pretty quickly that you can’t stifle creativity, even if you’re only writing the truth.” William tilted his head to one side and pulled on his cigarette. “Wise words. I’m only concerned because you may have to...elaborate on Brett.” That was what I was afraid of. “Why don’t you tell me what I shouldn’t be writing?”

CHAPTER FOUR BRETT

I stared flatly at my mom. “You’re kidding.” Her brown eyes found mine and she dragged hard on her cigarette. “Am I laughing, son?” “She is not in there with Dad!” I snapped. “Fuck, how?” Mom said nothing as she blew out the smoke. “Camille!” I hissed. I turned on my heel toward the door. “Is out,” Mom said simply. “Lani is with your father in his office. They don’t wish to be disturbed, but don’t let me stop you.” Her eyes sparkled as she said it. No, I didn’t want to interrupt them. But they were fucking kidding if they thought Lani Montana was the right person to publicly clean up my act. She knew nothing about me and, since I’d run into her yesterday, it was for the best. Not because she’d hate the person I was, but because she wouldn’t understand. Slowly, I turned back to my mom. “You’re still here,” Mom noted. She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and met my eyes. “I thought you’d be down there by now.” “Why would I be?” “Because he’s probably telling her every single way you’ve fucked up in the past few years.” That was all it took. Her tone was so matter-of-fact. She wasn’t chastising me. She was simply saying it as it was. She was telling the straight up truth. It took only a few seconds to get from Mom’s office to Dad’s. I didn’t bother knocking before I shoved the door open.Dad was sitting on the sofa, cigarette between his fingers. He turned to me instantly, his features hardening. I barely noticed them as they compared to the soft shock that flitted across Lani’s face. Her dark, brown eyes widened the littlest amount, the very same way her thick, plump lips parted. “This is your solution?” I asked bitterly. “You’re going to get her to make me seem like a respectful human being?” Dad calmly stubbed out his cigarette. “Ask your sister.” “I will.” I ground the words out. “But for everything, she’s the best you can come up with?” “Hey!” Lani snapped. She waved her hand in front of her face. “Am I invisible to you? Because if I am and you can’t see me, I can assure you I can still hear everything.” Shit...was that attitude? I ignored it despite the thump of my heart and looked at my father. “You have to have a better solution than this.” Dad stood, walked toward his desk, and opened the drawer. He pulled out his checkbook and scribbled across one of the pages. Then he slid it toward Lani. “Before we were interrupted,” he said with a hard look at me, “this is my offer.” Lani visibly took a deep breath if the raise of her tits was anything to go by. Fuck. What was wrong with me? “No,” she whispered. “Yes,” Dad replied. “No!” I snapped, stepping forward. I grabbed the check off the table and my eyes bulged at the five figure number he’d so casually written down. “This has to be a fucking joke.” “If it is,” Dad started, “it’ll match your behavior for the past few years, won’t it?” I snapped my jaw shut. “I can’t take this,” Lani said quietly. “It won’t be damn easy, but I doubt it’ll be this hard either.” “This is my fee,” Dad replied to her. “The deposit, actually. You’ll receive a check for the other half

upon public appreciation of my son.” “What?” I exploded. “Okay. This was pretty amusing five minutes ago when it was all about the articles and all the good I have to do in the world, but this is another step up. You’re trying to pay her to make me look good?” “Well, apparently you can’t conquer such a feat alone.” Lani spun in her seat and met my gaze dead-on. “So, yes. That’s exactly what’s being proposed here.” Annoyance bubbled up inside me. “Dad...” “The deal.” Dad said it so simply it’s as if he knew I’d counter that. He probably did. “You made a deal, Brett.” “Not for this,” I replied tightly. “Not with her.” Lani slammed her hand against the desk, releasing the check that was just in her grasp. It fluttered onto Dad’s board, as she turned to me. Her almost-black hair swung behind her. Her chocolate-brown eyes were coal black as she found my gaze. Her lips, plain and slicked with nothing more than gloss, thinning into a flat line as she stepped toward me and closed the distance between us. Motherfuck, she was beautiful. “I don’t give a fuck what you agreed to,” she said firmly. Fire burned through every word, and all I could do was look at her and clench my fists so I didn’t give into the instinct to grab her and, goddamn it, kiss her. “This is the new agreement,” Lani said, her dark eyes on mine. “Start behaving yourself, Brett Walker, or I’ll make you wish you had.” “Well, damn,” I said in a low voice. “Did Lani Montana get a backbone?” She jabbed her finger into my chest. “I won’t turn your bullshit into flowery crap just because you want me to. I’m not going to be the girl you can talk into shit.” I ignored the blood pumping down to my cock. “She got a backbone.” Her eyes hardened. “Lani Montana doesn’t need a backbone. She’s got a vagina. Google Betty White if you don’t know the quote, asshole.” She turned and grabbed my father’s check off the desk. She folded it three times and then, she set it between her fingers and put it between the two of us. “It takes a pounding, right?” I smirked, taking hold of her hand. I squeezed her fingers together so she had a tighter grip on the folded bit of paper. “Get your notebook, Lani. I’m gonna keep you busy.” She yanked her hand out of my grip and injected such hatred into her gaze it pierced me right down to my gut. “My job is to make you look like a respectful person in this society, Brett. But remember one thing, I’m a journalist, not a fucking fiction writer.” She stepped back, those dark eyes hard on mine. “And if you back me into a corner, I’ll crucify your ass.” Then, she turned, smiled at my father, and said simply, “Let me know when you’re ready to start.” And then she walked right the fuck out the room, closing the door behind her. I stared after her. Mother. Fucker. That wasn’t the Lani Montana I remembered. No, this was a new breed of Lani. This was a reincarnation, an adaptation, a reinvigoration of the girl I loved so long ago. And fuck me if she wasn’t cock-hardeningly hot. I wanted to bend her over in front of me and fuck her until she screamed that attitude out of her. But that was ridiculous, and I damn well knew it. Dad sighed, leaning forward on the desk. “You can’t help yourself, can you, Brett?” I looked back over my shoulder. “What?” “Everybody.” He dropped his hand from his eyes and met mine. “Everybody you meet you have to piss

off.” “Not everybody,” I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets and heading for the door. “Just the ones who deserve it.”



I wanted to know if she kissed with as much fire as she spoke. I didn’t know what I’d find when I walked into my father’s office yesterday. More to the point, I didn’t know who I’d find. The short run-in I’d had with Lani outside the baby store didn’t exactly involve a whole lot of conversation. Maybe I was a fool for thinking the same thing would have happened when I saw her at my house. Maybe I’d assumed she would still be the same quiet, introverted Lani Montana who smiled at me over the top of a ratty old paperback book. The same demure, soft girl who peered at me through her hair when I tried to convince her to help me with essays. Maybe I’d assumed nothing at all. Maybe I’d waded in there, guns blazing, and not considered anything. Scratch that. That was exactly what had happened. I’d gone in, firing on all cylinders, not giving a fuck about anything or anyone. Because I knew one thing: For Lani to make me look like a fucking decent person, she’d have to find out just how far I’d sunk in the past few years. She’d have to delve into every bad damn decision I’ve ever made. She’d soon find out that the high school hero was now the family failure. I didn’t want to think about how much I hated the thought of that. It was fucking selfish, but I knew that back then, I was important to her. Just as she was to me. I was fucking somebody to her—she saw beneath the shit my so-called friends never tried to. In the bullshit haze of judgment and lies that came with being at the top of the social ladder in high school, she was my breath of fresh air. Would she have ever left without a word if she knew that? I didn’t know. I didn’t want to think about it either, but it was just too damn hard not to. Eight years of silence. Now here she was, exploding into my life like a supernova. Son of a bitch. I hit the switch on the treadmill to turn it off. When the belt stopped moving, I stepped off, grabbed a towel, and wiped my face. Camille tried to convince me to run with her on the beach this morning, but I knew the risk of running into Lani was too great. Granted, my presence would stop Camille spilling all my secrets that weren’t off-limits, but I knew I’d open my mouth and piss Lani off more. Per my parents, pissing off the person hired to make you look good isn’t the way to convince her that you aren’t a total jackass. Then again, by the time Camille was done gossiping out her asshole, Lani would be two hundred percent sure I was a jackass anyway, so I considered it a moot point. She might have insisted to me that she wasn’t a fiction writer, but hell. By the time she was through with my father’s ridiculous idea, she’d be a fully-fledged novelist. Sure, there were good things about me. I wasn’t a horrible person, really. I did good things for people. It was a surprise because I chose not to scream and shout about it from the rooftops. Nobody needed to know about my good deeds. I’d likely fucked up enough that I had a direct flight to Hell anyway. The door to the gym opened. Camille strolled in, a towel around her neck, and met my eyes. “Guess

who I saw on the beach?” “Lani?” I asked sarcastically. “Well, yeah. When you didn’t want to run with me, I called her and we ran together.” She poked her tongue out at me. “But, no. I saw Dana.” I blinked at her, uncapping my water bottle. “I have no idea who that is.” Camille stared at me. “Uh, Dana? Redhead? Weapons of mass destruction?” She pointed at her chest as she said that last thing. “You dated her for, oh, a personal record of an entire week last summer?” “Dana...Dana...” I looked around the gym, racking my brains. Dana? Who the hell was Dana? “Nope.” “Of course you can’t remember.” She sighed and turned around. I followed her. “What the hell does that mean?” She barely glanced over her shoulder as she went up the stairs into the kitchen and said, “Not what I’d usually mean by saying it—and that happens to be that you’re a fucking pig—but this time, it’s because I’m looking into your pretty little eyes and seeing Lani stare back at me.” I snorted and drained the last of the water from my bottle. “Yeah, right. And don’t ever tell me my eyes are pretty again. I’m not a four-year-old girl.” “You tantrum like one.” “You might be a girl but I can still kick your ass.” She punched me. “No, I mean...you’re obsessed with the fact she’s back. Come on, Brett. You burst into Dad’s office when he’s having a meeting with her and pretty much fight with her on the spot. What’s wrong with you?” “Nothing. I’m not obsessed with her.” I grabbed the ingredients out the fridge for a smoothie and went to the blender. “I’m pissed that out of all the people he could hire, he picks her. And I know you were behind it, so don’t deny it.” “I wasn’t going to. But it might surprise you to know I didn’t do it to piss you off.” She joined me by the blender, grabbed the kale, and took it over to the chopping board. Pulling a knife from the block, she said, “I did it because Whiskey Key is hardly a hotspot for freelance journalism. She wants to leave, but she also wants to stay for Connie. Don’t think she actually wants to spend time with you and make you look like something other than the ass she knows you are.” “The ass she knows I am? What the hell does that mean?” “You’re bright this morning.” She dropped the chopped kale into the blender with the stuff I just threw in and picked up the lid. “I might have told her one or two things.” “Like what? “Dana.” “I don’t know who Dana is.” Camille peered sideways at me with pursed lips and muttered, “Exactly.” Then she turned on the blender, effectively pausing our conversation. I shook my head and turned away from her. I knew she’d do something like that. She was ridiculous. But who the hell was Dana? Camille shut off the blender and opened a cupboard. A few seconds later, she tapped me on the shoulder. “Here,” she said softly. I turned and took the drink from her. “Thanks.” “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time about Lani.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “I just don’t want you to be, well, too much you around her. You’re not exactly the guy who stopped the others talking about her like she was nothing more than tits and ass anymore, are you?” “Why? Because I am that guy?” “Well...” “Dana!” I snapped my fingers and took a step back. “Redhead. Big tits. Shit at blow jobs. She had the

suction and technique of a vacuum cleaner.” Camille stared at me for a few seconds before slowly looking away, jerking her head side to side in tiny movements. Then, without another word, she walked out of the kitchen. I’m pretty sure she muttered “asshole” as she left. Ah well. “Oh! Mr. Walker!” My dad’s assistant, Cora, a pretty brunette a few years older than me, stopped in the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you.” “Oh yeah?” I grinned. She chastised me with one pointed look. Ah, yeah. Don’t flirt with the assistant. I cleared my throat. “What’s up, Cora?” She looked down at her iPad and tapped the screen. “Your father wants you to know that you have a meeting with Lani Montana at six p.m. tonight.” “Six p.m.?” “Is that a problem?” She looked up at me through her bags. “Ms. Montana has an appointment this morning and is accompanying her sister to the doctor this afternoon. It’s the only time she was free.” “And nobody considered tomorrow?” “Is tonight a problem?” She repeated a variation of her question. “Mr. Walker, your grandfather, wants to get started right away.” I sighed heavily and waved my hand through the air in front of me. “No, tonight’s fine. Where are we meeting?” “In the annex. Your father will be ensuring dinner is provided.” Her lips dragged up to one side. “Fancy.” “I know what you’re thinking.” I pointed my glass at her. “This isn’t a date, Cora.” “Of course not.” She pressed the button to lock her iPad and looked up at me, still half-smiling. “Everybody knows you don’t do dinner on your dates. Have a nice day, Brett.” I flipped her the bird behind her back and successfully managed to avoid staring at her ass as she walked away. Today was going fucking awesome, wasn’t it?

CHAPTER FIVE LANI

“How long is the job for?” I asked Mr. Reeves, the owner of Whiskey Key Daily. A new addition to the Key. What he put in it was anybody’s business. Although, by his own admission, the Daily was more the...Twice Weekly. “At least six months.” He pushed his glasses up his crooked nose and looked at me through the thickrimmed specs. “Forgive me for saying so, Ms. Montana, but I was shocked when you called me. Why exactly do you need this job? Didn’t William Walker just hire you?” “Yes, sir,” I answered slowly. “But I’m not sure how long that will last or if it’ll even be successful. Connie has successfully guilt-tripped me into staying until a few months after the baby is born.” That and nobody was ready to give up Grandma’s house. So, it was my home for the foreseeable future. And, despite the fact there was no rent or mortgage to pay, the cost of living in general was not, unfortunately, free. It put a bit of a spanner in the works, to say the least. This morning at the grocery store might have been the only time I’d ever been grateful for the fasttraveling gossip around our tourist town. There I was, happy as anything, picking up milk and a few other essentials—you know, wine, bacon, chocolate—and I overheard that Mr. Reeves was out a staff member after she left on maternity leave. Apparently the “poor man” was struggling to find a replacement as nobody else on the island is qualified, so, me being me—and my sister being my bossy sister—called. Long story short, or not really, here I was. Interviewing. “Won’t doing both things be too much for you?” Mr. Reeves questioned. “The website needs regular updates. Unfortunately, I’m not so great with the technology.” “Not at all. I have a laptop so I can work from anywhere if there’s a WiFi connection.” I paused. “And being around the Walkers will mean being around Camille, and Camille knows everything that goes on here.” He pointed his pen at me with an approving raise of his eyebrows. “That is very true.” I smiled. “The change of pace would be nice.” And the check William handed me yesterday would allow me to sell my car and buy a new one here. My rental was eating into my savings. “Let’s run you on a trial.” Mr. Reeves opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a plastic folder. He handed it to me. “These are the last few articles Quinn typed up before she left. See what you can do with them, and I’ll read over the ones you gave me. Be here at eight a.m. tomorrow with at least one of those articles done and ready to run. If I’m impressed, I have something I’d like you to do for me. That sound okay to you, Ms. Montana?” “Lani.” I smiled, picking my purse up from the floor. “Perfect.” We stood and shook hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lani.” He opened the door to his office and held it for me to walk through. He did the same with the outer door to the small building, and I bid him goodbye before stepping out onto the sidewalk. The hot, humid air was only worsened by the thick yet gentle sea breeze coming of the ocean at the end of the block. The breeze was warm, damn it. I might have grown up in that thick, sticky air, but I was so used to it not being humid that this was quite uncomfortable. Ugh. I tugged the strap of my purse up onto my shoulder properly and ran my fingers through my hair. I had no idea what time it was, so I pulled out my phone and glanced at the clock. It was a little too early for lunch, but my eyes were drawn to the tiny message icon in the top, right corner. I stepped back against the wall to avoid the runner making his way toward me. He half-heartedly threw up a hand in thanks as he passed me, so I called a, “You’re welcome!” and typed in the passcode for my

phone.

Unknown: I hope you know I don’t plan on dressing up.

I frowned and hit reply.

Me: Sorry, who is this? I think you have the wrong number.

The reply flashed on my screen before I reached the end of the block.

Unknown: Remember the time I made you write up my book review of Romeo and Juliet and you did that book by Jane someone to teach me a lesson?

My heart thumped as it sunk to the pit of my stomach. Brett. Damn it. How did he get my number? I diverted into the coffee shop on the seafront and took my place in line.

Me: Remember the time you didn’t have my phone number? I do. I liked it. Brett: You got sassy. Me: No, I learned how to stop taking shit from people like you. Me: And it was Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. God.

I hated myself for rising to that bait. But, hey. He totally deserved that. He never asked me to do it again. Sure, he asked me for help, but he never made me do it. “Can I just get a regular latte, please?” I asked the person behind the counter. “Sure. To go?” “Please.” The girl grabbed a cup. “What’s your name?” “Lani.” I smiled and looked at my phone as it buzzed. “Lana?” “Lani.” I tried not to roll my eyes. Was it that hard, really? The girl put the cup down. “Lani—Lani Montana?” I tapped the code into my phone and peered up. I didn’t recognize the blond-haired girl now looking at me with wide eyes. “Um, yes?” She broke out into a wide smile. “It’s Yvonne. Yvonne Fisher.” I blinked at her stupidly for a moment before the image of a seventeen-year-old with braces and an awkward persona flashed in my mind. “Oh my god! We had AP Lit together, right?” She smiled either. “We did!” Do I have to make small talk now? “Wow. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you there.” I swiped my card down the machine as my phone vibrated in my hand. Crap—I must have switched the setting. I hated touchscreens at the best of times. I glanced down at the screen and saw Brett’s number with another message. “Sorry. This is important.” I smiled and walked to the other end of the counter, my nose in my phone.

Brett: That was it. The one where he had too much pride and she had too much prejudice. Brett: I didn’t Google it, by the way. Me: Asking your mom doesn’t count. Brett: Shit.

An old, unwelcome feeling tickled across my skin. I knew why. That exchange felt a little too much like

when we were best friends. I shivered. That sensation really was out of place. We weren’t best friends, and I sure as hell shouldn’t be texting him like we were.

Me: Is there a reason you’re texting me? Because I just told Yvonne Fisher this was important and I have yet to see how it is. Brett: You wound me. Me: Yeah, I can see the gunshot hole from here. Brett: Where is here? Me: Hopefully the other side of town to you.

“Lani?” Yvonne asked. “Here’s your coffee.” “Oh, thanks.” I took the cup from her and glanced back down at my phone. He hadn’t replied. Good. “Hey, Brett Walker is outside. Is he waiting for you?” “Son of a—” I stopped when she looked at me with wide eyes. “It’s hot,” I offered lamely. “That happens.” She smiled a little too wide. “So, Brett? For you?” God, I hoped not. I looked out toward the window, and yep, there he was. Brett Walker in all his unfairly sexy glory with a smirk as equally hot curving his lips. “Yep.” I faked a smile and stepped toward the door. Damn that bastard for cornering me. “It was good to see you again, Yvonne.” “You too, Lani. If you’re free one night, call me. I’d love to catch up.” “Sure!” I left before she could consider giving me her number. The coffee shop door slammed behind me. I barely gave Brett a dirty look before turning and heading in the opposite direction to where he was standing. “Whoa. Is that the first coffee of the day?” “What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped. “And yes, actually, it is. But don’t think I’m averse to throwing it over your smug little face.” He held his hands up, his expression not changing at all. “Coincidence, I swear. I was walking past and saw you.” “And you couldn’t keep walking, huh?” “Nope.” His gaze briefly lowered. “You look nice. Going anywhere important?” “Ah.” I smiled, but it wasn’t exactly the friendliest one I’d ever offered anyone. “You spoke to Cora.” His eyebrows shot up. “You know Cora.” “She called me.” “Of course she did.” “Who else do you think called me? Do you have a bombshell assistant stashed away somewhere who schedules your mindless fucks?” Brett froze. Only for a second, but long enough that it was un-missable. A smile, almost cold, slid across his slips and into his eyes. “I see your run with Camille was successful.” It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. I took one step toward him, doing the best to control the way my lips wanted to turn upward. “Oh, she didn’t even scratch the surface,” I said, staring into his blue-gray eyes. “But she doesn’t need to. Everybody else already did it for her.” I sipped my coffee and moved back. “See you at six, Brett. If that doesn’t interrupt any other...plans...you might have.” His stubble-coated, square jaw clenched and then ticked. Annoyance flashed at me from his gaze, but that didn’t stop him shutting the slight distance between us and taking the ends of my hair between his finger and thumb. “Oh,” he said, glancing at my hair between his thick fingers. “I have plans, Lani. And

every single one involves you.” I swallowed back the lump in my throat and smacked his hand away from me. “Take a shower, Brett Walker. I can smell the manslut on you from here.” “I’d rather smell like a manslut than a virgin.” I inhaled sharply. The urge to step away from his incorrect...statement? Insult? Accusation?...was all too much, but I didn’t give into it. No. I did the dumb thing. I moved into him further. Until my breasts almost brushed his chest and I had to tilt my head back to look at him. I laughed bitterly and smirked. “I don’t know if that was meant to be an insult, but just because you’re so far removed from normal human contact doesn’t mean I’m at the opposite side to you. I’m no whore, but I’m sure as hell no virgin. If this is the bullshit game you want to play, Brett, then fine. You should know one thing.” “Mhmm?” he hummed, leaning in, gaze shooting over my face, across my mouth and down to my chest before that slow, greedy glance returned to my face. “I can play too,” I said, my voice whispering out deep and low. I stepped closer, close enough that my breath moved the slight stubble on his cheek.And I could do things to you—dirty, whorish little things— that would make you forget I was paid to fuck you to death.” He grabbed my arm before I could turn and pulled me back to him. I took a deep breath in and steeled myself as his hot gaze collided with mine. “Careful, Lani.” His voice was deep, husky, filled with a scarily real, lusty promise. “Or I might mistake that bravado for a fucking offer and take you up on it.” I snatched my arm out of his, shoving the hot cup of coffee between us as my only means of defense. “Try it,” I warned it. “And you’ll never piss through your dick again, never mind fuck anyone with it.” When he didn’t move or speak, I walked backward slowly, even though my heart was thumping crazily and was beating to the thick tune of, “Run, run, run, run.” Brett simply smirked, scratched his finger down his jaw, and said, “See you at six. For dinner.” I could swear his smirk widened, but instead of thinking of it, I turned and walked away as fast as I could. What the hell did I just say to him?



Dear Diary, I hate the boys at school. They’re jackasses. Until Brett shows up. Then they just...stop. I don’t know why they do it. At least I didn’t until today. He told me he made them shut up because he’d punch them if he ever heard them say something bad at me. I don’t know why he protects me. We’re friends but only when it looks good for him. Sometimes. Maybe. I don’t know. Camille said it’s because he likes me, but of course he likes me. I’m his sister’s best friend. Sometimes I think that if Cami wasn’t almost as much of a geek as me he’d let them be horrible to me. Lx

“Ugh.” I tossed the old diary to the side and sat on the bed. It fell to the worn-out carpet with a light thud. I glared at the tatted old notebook before dropping back onto my bed. I don’t know why I picked it up. I must be a sucker for torture because I did and worst of all, I read it. It needed burning, that dumb thing. With fireworks. And dynamite. In a cartoon.

Or by Seamus Finnegan in Harry Potter. I rubbed my hands over my face and looked into the mirror that stared back at me. I’d barely changed Grandma’s spare room. To do so right now felt like a little strange, but I’d personalized it for sure. Holy shit, who was I kidding? I wasn’t thinking about the bedding. I was thinking about Brett. Rather, I was thinking about not thinking about Brett. It wasn’t going well. Fucking Brett Walker. What possessed me to say yes to his father? Oh, I know. Not the money—I didn’t even look at the check properly until I got home—but my own defiance. The absolute need to prove to Brett that I was somebody. That I wasn’t the person he thought he knew. Although...I did that pretty well earlier, when I thought about it. I also blushed when I thought about it. Did I really say that to him? Of course I did. If there was one thing Brett Walker could do, it was push my buttons. All the wrong ones. I shoved myself off the bed. I’d spent all afternoon in the hospital with my sister because her doctor was running late, only for Connie to proclaim me the world’s worst sister because I didn’t know I was looking at her baby’s face and not her butt. In my defense, those ultrasound things were about as clear as a drunk person giving directions to a New Zealand tourist in the middle of Mardi Gras. I didn’t know what to wear. What was someone supposed to wear for a dinner non-date with someone they used to know? This was so, so dumb. And if our last two meetings were anything to go by, it wasn’t going to end very well. Yep... It was going to end very badly.



As I pulled up in the large, circular driveway of Walker House, having successfully navigated the gated security system for the second time that week, my stomach flipped in a way so nauseating I actually felt bile creep up and burn the back of my throat. Dear god, what was I doing? No, seriously. What. Was. I. Doing? I knew I was about to walk into a pretty painful night, yet here I was, still doing it. Why did I agree to this evening? Why didn’t I insist upon tomorrow? I rubbed my hand down my nose, instinctively missing my mouth despite the long-stay lipstick I was wearing. Nothing could get that stuff off. It was the waterproof mascara of the lip world. Peering out of my window toward the house, I sighed heavily as the sight of the door cracking open caught my attention. Great. I all but dragged myself out of the car. The moment I looked up and saw Brett’s face in the doorway, regret over my shoe choice slammed into me. Lace-up, knee-high, suede boots were maybe not the best decision I could have made, but at least they weren’t really high, right? Right. Plus they looked great with the jeans. I grabbed my purse, my laptop tucked away inside it, and shut my car door. Brett’s gaze burned into me as I tucked my hair behind my ear and forced myself to walk up the wide steps leading to the front door. His intense scrutiny of me was almost uncomfortable, so I tried to ignore it when his attention dropped to my lower legs and his eyebrows rose. “Is this a business meeting or...?” He pulled his gaze back up to me with a smirk.

“This is a business meeting. It just happens to come with weapons in case someone oversteps his boundaries.” I accented my words by kicking my right foot out to the side so he could see the heel. “Don’t worry.” He stepped back, pulling the door wide open for me. “I don’t intend to overstep anything.” I looked him dead in the eye and said, “Rip up your plan. You might stand half a chance of sticking to it then.”

CHAPTER SIX BRETT

I smirked. God, she was hot when she sassed me like that. I’d put money on the fact she probably had no idea just how fucking hot she was. “Come in,” I said. “We’ll walk through to the annex. The food’s already there.” It was fucking pointless. Nobody was here except the chef dad had hired for this dumbass meeting. A giant damn house and we were relegated to the annex that was only used whenever somebody came to visit. I didn’t know what he was trying to, but it only served to annoy me. The annex was small. Cozy. Comfortable. What my sister would refer to as cute. Everything a meeting with Lani needed to not be. I’d rather we sat outside. At least there weren’t candles set up... I led her right through the house. Thank god I was in front of her, because if I had to look at those fuckme boots one more time, I was going to have a big problem to hide. Something that was never easy when it was eight inches long and pushing against your zipper. Not for me, at least. “Why are we out in the annex?” Lani asked. Her heels clicked against the patio as we walked across the path from the main house to the annex. I shrugged. “I guess for privacy. Until everybody left anyway.” “Wonderful,” she muttered, her chin dipped down. Her sentiment echoed my thoughts perfectly...With a couple less ‘fucks’ in there. I pushed open the door to the annex and held it open for her. I swore one of her eyebrows quirked up, but her side bangs covered it so I couldn’t be sure. The first thing she did when she stepped inside was reach for the light switch. She turned the knob so the brightness went right up, successfully killing any inch of friendliness there may have been in the room. So. That’s how she was playing it. The door clicked shut with a gentle shove from me, and I made it to her chair in time to pull it out for her. Again, I would swear she raised her eyebrows, but her hair hid it yet again. God, I wanted to tuck that behind her fucking ear so I could see her face properly. I took my seat in the chair opposite her. The brown file lying on the table next to my fancy as hell plates glares at me as the light bounces off it. “What’s that?” Lani asked without looking up from where she was laying her napkin across her lap. I scratched at my chin. “An agreement.” “For?” Her tone was flat. “This.” “Gee, Brett,” she continued in the same, dull tone. This time though, she lifted her chin and peered at me through her thick, dark brown eyelashes. “You’re not going Christian Grey on me, are you?” I stared at her. “No. This is per my father’s request.” I slid it down the table. It caught a few times on the tablecloth, so it was nowhere near as smooth as I wanted it to be, but it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t request this fucking situation. Lani stood and walked around the table. Without a word, she clasped her fingers around the edge of the folder. It swooshed as she slid it off the tablecloth, and she carried it over to her place with the same silence she stood. I sipped my wine. My father’s favorite, I could tell. Thankfully it was mine too—when I was forced to drink it, that was. Lani’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, what is this?”

I set my glass down. “A Non-Disclosure Agreement.” “‘Lani Montana agrees not to rephrase, quote, replay, or print any negative information about Brett Walker without written permission from William Walker. Even if the aforementioned should contribute to the rehabilitation of Brett Walker’s public character.’“ The sound of the file slamming against the table echoed off the walls in a way that made the hair on my arms stand on end. “What the hell is that?” “Exactly what it says on the paper.” I clasped the bottom of my wine glass. “I know what it says, Brett.” She slammed her hand on top of the open file. “It means I can write a fucking fairy tale but I can’t print shit unless it passes your dad’s approval.” “I—” “No, do you know what that means? I could speak to someone who could tell me you had an orgy at Playboy mansion but saw you feeding soup to homeless people the next morning, and I couldn’t print either.” She smacked her pen down on top of the file so hard it flipped and rolled back onto the table and ultimately tapped onto the floor. “No.” “No?” She was saved from a reply by the door to the kitchen area opening. Without a word, two plates were set in front of us by a girl I’d never seen before. Her gaze lingered on me for a moment when she put down my plate. Lani cleared her throat, and the other girl jerked as if she was being pulled out of a trance. My lips tugged up to one side, and I waited until she’d disappeared before I met Lani’s eyes and said, “Discreet.” “I’d like to get through this hellish waste of my time before you get distracted, thank you very much.” She pushed away her plate with two fingers. “Not hungry?” I stabbed a shrimp with my fork. “I already ate.” She smiled, but if there was any warmth in it—wait, no. There was no warmth in it. Lani Montana had turned into a damn ice queen. “So, let me get this straight.” She picked up the non-disclosure and turned her attention to it. “I have to make you look like you aren’t all these bad things I’m hearing, yet I can’t use my skills to justify your bad behavior with your attempt at good behavior.” “I think that’s pretty accurate, yeah.” She drew her brows together. “Does everybody in town even know why I have to do this? Are they even aware that you’re apparently a heartless asshole with a severe lack of respect for women outside your family?” I choked on my food. I banged my fist against my chest for a moment until it dislodged and went down. “That’s extreme.” “Is it? Because that’s a perfect summary of everything I’ve been told about you.” “Not everything you hear is true.” “Is it untrue?” I grabbed my water glass and sipped. Untrue might have been a stretch, but then again, so was it being true. “Not everything you hear is true,” I repeated, dragging each word out. “So, it’s true.” Her eyes never left mine. “You’re a heartless asshole with a severe lack of respect for women outside your family.” “Isn’t your job to make me look good, not insist how terrible I am?” “Ah.” She smiled, finally reaching for her wine glass. Her hot pink nail polish stood out against the champagne-colored liquid as she lifted it. “That’s the thing, Brett. You’re expecting me to provide one extreme without knowing the other.” “I think my sister has helped out with that.” “Not really.” She rolled the rim of her glass over her bottom lip, tilting her head to the side as she

narrowed her eyes at me. “Think of it like this. If someone you trusted walked up to you and asked you to forgive them but wouldn’t tell you why, would you do it?” “No. I’d want to know why they wanted—ah. I see.” Sneaky. I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth and said, “Just like I wouldn’t forgive you for leaving if you didn’t tell me the reason why.” Her lips parted just wide enough to draw in a big enough breath to make her chest and shoulders rise. The light flush that rose in her cheeks escaped down to her neck, and my eyes hovered there briefly before I forced myself to look back up and meet her gaze. “Exactly.” My wine glass clinked loudly against the table as I put it down. Lani blew out a long breath. “We’re not here to talk about me.” She set her glass down too. “That’s what you think.” “What’s that mean?” The words shot out from between her lips. “Actually, no, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care.” I shoved my plate to the side and leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table. She glanced down at my biceps for a moment before she snapped her gaze back up. My lips twitched. So. She isn’t blind. “It means that before you leave Whiskey Key again, if you do, that I’ll know why you disappeared without telling anyone anything,” I said slowly and clearly. “And, Lani? You will tell me why you left. I don’t care if I have you pin your hands beneath mine and fuck it out of you.” Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me? I think you’re mixing me up with someone you plan to pick up as soon as we’re done here.” “I doubt it. Do you think I’ll be able to go to bed and not think about you?” “You know what? You don’t even have a lack of respect for women, Brett Walker. To have a lack of something implies you have to have possessed it at some point in the past, and I don’t think you ever did.” She slammed her hand on top of the non-disclosure, her brown eyes on fire with her annoyance. “But let’s get something straight right now. You can hate me for leaving. I don’t want or expect your forgiveness for doing what I thought was right. But you’ll respect the fact it was my choice to make, and goddamn you to hell, you will respect me as a woman and a human being.” I raised my eyebrows. “Tell me how you really feel, Lani.” She shoved her chair back and stood. My eyes were immediately drawn to her fuck-me boots as she stalked around the table. She perched right on the edge of it, right in front of me, and smacked her fingers beneath my chin. The action made my head jerk up and our gazes collided. Her dark eyes held my attention the same way an incoming storm would. Somehow, I knew the impact would be the same when it hit. “Listen to me right now,” she said in a low voice that was way sexier than it should have been. “If you want to know what I’m capable of, go and Google me. I have as many gossip articles as I do genuine news stories, because that’s how I make my money. If you want to push me and force my hand, don’t think for a second I won’t let the entire damn country know what a self-absorbed little prick you are.” Well, shit. “So, you’re going to keep your mind out of the gutter, your hands and mouth to yourself, and you’re most certainly going to keep your dick where it belongs—preferably at the doctor getting tested for something, okay?” “Ouch.” I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand away from my chin. “I’m not agreeing to anything, kitten.” “Did you seriously just call me fucking kitten?” The pitch of her voice heightened a tiny bit and she yanked her hand out from my grip. “Jesus Christ!” “What did I do?” I smirked.

She stood, ran her hand through her hair, then turned back to me. “You have got to be kidding me.” I stood too and put my hands out to the sides, shrugging. “Let me spell it out for you, Casanova.” She snatched up the non-disclosure before closing the distance between us and slapping it against my chest. “Until you open your little bag of tricks and find the flash card with the word ‘respect’ written on it, your extra-curricular activities are fair game for me. And my articles.” “Fair game.” My smirk widened. I couldn’t help it. Fuck, at least fifty percent of the blood in my body had to be traveling down to my cock right now. She released the papers. They scattered across the floor between us as she stepped back. Then she bent over and grabbed her purse, sticking her full, round ass into the air. Motherfucker... Lani straightened and took one step forward, her heel spearing into one of the sheets of paper. “Start looking for that respect, Mr. Walker. Because if you don’t, I’m going to track down every woman you never called back and get enough material for international gossip columns. Are we clear?” I reached out and flicked a lock of her hair away from where it was caught on her eyelashes. “Crystal clear, kitten.” She grasped the doorknob and looked over her shoulder. “Seven a.m. tomorrow. We’re running, and you’re going to tell me everything I need to not print.” “Without you signing the agreement?” “ I guess you’d better Google ‘how to respect a woman,’ don’t you think?” She yanked the door open before pausing once more. “Oh, and, Brett? Leave that fucking nickname where it belongs. In the trash.” The door slammed closed behind her. I dropped back onto my chair. My elbow hit the table and I left it there, leaning and pressing the side of my face into my hand. Jesus Christ—who was that and what did they do with Lani Montana? There was no fucking way that...sassy vixen...was my sweet girl. No way in hell. It wasn’t possible. Eight years wasn’t that long. How could she have changed so much in so little time? Then again, I wasn’t the person I was back then either. But at least back then, I was some semblance of the asshole I was today. She couldn’t be more different if she’d had a personality transplant. So why the fuck did I like it?



I stretched my arms over my head and yawned. Seven a.m. was criminally early, and I’d put a good amount of money on it that Lani knew it. There was no other reason for her to say such a stupid time. She had to know I wouldn’t normally be up now. She’d be right, except today was different. I was up because I’d barely slept. It’d been a night of bullshit fits and starts, tossing and turning. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get her out of my damn head. Why was she so secretive about why she’d left? Why did she appear to hate me so much that the mere thought of being in the same room as me disgusted her? Why was she so different, yet so familiar at the same time? Because that was my biggest issue, more than the other two, oddly enough. In the small hours of the night with nothing but the darkness surrounding me, I’d replayed every conversation we’d had since she returned to Whiskey Key and I saw her outside the baby store. I’d rehashed every exchange and reminded myself of every word she’d said to me.

Sure, she was different. She had more attitude now, and she wasn’t afraid to use it. She was almost fearless in her delivery of every scathing comment she sent my way. But there was something...more. There was something oh-so-familiar that I couldn’t quite place. It lingered in what felt like a black hole of teasing memories, because I couldn’t put my finger on what it was I remembered. What it was hadn’t changed about her. And it bugged the ever-loving fuck outta me. One thing was the same—she wasn’t as different as I thought she was. That, or I was trying to hold onto something she’d let go of eight years ago. What that was I didn’t know. Friendship? Emotions? Her? I rubbed my hand down my face and looked out down the beach. A lone figure with dark hair and something clasped in her hand strolled easily toward me, and after a couple of minutes, I could clearly see that it was Lani clutching a water bottle. Her shorts were barely-there, and her tank top hugged her tits tightly before flowing out loosely over her body. She blew upward and swiped her bangs out of her eyes as she approached me. “Good morning, kitten,” I greeted her with a smirk. If it was possible, her expression hardened. “I thought I told you to ditch the nickname?” “I’m not so great at doing as I’m told.” “No,” she replied, looking me dead in the eye, her face void of all emotion. “You don’t say.” I grinned. Her mask cracked as her mouth twitched for the barest second before she looked away. “Are you ready?” “For what?” “I thought we could run and talk.” “Why? So you can escape me?” I raised an eyebrow. She swung her gaze back to me, the slightest hint of amusement glittering back at me. “It is a possibility.” “Fine,” I said. “But you have to take at least five minutes of me being a prick before you bolt. How else will I incriminate myself?” That drew a smile out of her, and fuck if it wasn’t the prettiest damn smile I’ve ever seen. “You win. Five minutes of solid assholery and I’m gone. Let’s go.” She took off just before I was ready, and damn, the girl could run. It took me a good thirty seconds to catch up with her and fall into pace beside her. I didn’t speak and neither did she, not immediately. We ran for a couple of minutes with only the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore and birds squawking out as they circled overhead. “So,” she said, slowing to a jog. “How did the perfect one fall from grace?” I chuckled. “I was never perfect, you know that.” “Of course I know that, but now I’m assuming everybody else does as well. I must admit, it’s pretty refreshing to not see everybody fawning over you just because of your last name.” She could say that again. “I got found out, I guess. I’m not sure what other explanation you want me to give. People stopped seeing me as the perfect heir and started seeing me for what I was—a young guy having fun.” “You and I have a different idea of fun.” “Of course we do.” I laughed lightly. “Your idea of fun was always browsing the library shelves for hours upon end until you found the right book.” “Was? I’m offended. It still is fun, thank you. You should try it sometime. It might keep you out of trouble.” She glanced toward me and the briefest smile flickered across her lips. “You might be right,” I agreed. “But the likelihood that I’ll find anything I want to read is pretty slim.”

“That’s right—there are those tricky things called words in those books.” “Ha, ha, ha.” The sand beneath my feet wasn’t as dry as my tone. “Funny.” “I thought so.” She flashed me a smile—a real one this time. One that lit up her eyes with a genuine spark of amusement. “You know, the library might not be a bad idea.” Groaning, I slowed my pace until I stopped. The heels of my hands dug into my knees when I bent forward and took a deep breath. “What’s the matter, Brett? Tired already?” I lifted my head in enough time to see Lani’s light pink lips curl around the open cap of a water bottle. I swallowed hard. “No. I am feeling a little distressed at the prospect of a library though.” The bottle cap left her mouth with a light ‘pop.’ Or that could have been the sound of her rolling her eyes. Either was possible. “Oh, for the love of god.” She snapped the cap down and put her hand on her hip. “I’m not going to make you trawl down aisle after aisle of kinky erotic books or good old bodice rippers.” “You read kinky, erotic books?” She clicked her fingers in front of my face. “Focus. With this brain.” Then she tapped the side of my head. I laughed and straightened up. “Then why else would you take me to the torture house?” “Okay, if you swear like that again, I’m going to beat you with an encyclopedia.” Her face was so deadly serious with her hard stare and pursed lips that it took all I had to control more laughter. “But no, I have a plan. Clearly we can’t be alone without fighting—” “Whose fault is that?” I asked with an extra bite of sarcasm. “Yours, obviously,” she threw back at me. “But in a library, we have to be quiet. We can’t fight there.” I blew out a long breath and rubbed my face with the bottom of my t-shirt. “I’m not going to library, kitten.” “You’ll be going to the hospital if you call me that one more time today.” I let my t-shirt fall out of my hands and gave her a lopsided grin. “So, I can call you it tomorrow?” She blinked. “No. That’s not what I meant.” “That’s what I heard.” “I tell people things I don’t mean all the time. Like, ‘Oh, yeah, this cake isn’t dry.’ Or ‘Gee, Connie, you make the best coffee.’ Or my personal favorite, ‘Oh, yeah, that was great sex. I totally came.’” She rolled her eyes. My lopsided grin quickly became a full-blown one that hurt my cheeks. Lani froze the moment she realized what she’d just said. “Fuck it,” she hissed. Laughter burst out of me. “That’s why you’re being such a bitch to me. You need an orgasm.” I stopped laughing when she held up two fingers and waved them at me with a smug smile. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of that, thank you very much. Now, back to the library.” Fuck...now I was definitely not thinking about the library. “The library at my house. Camille can make sure we don’t fight. Meet there in an hour.” Because after what she just said...well. I adjusted my pants and turned away from her. She sighed heavily. “Fine. One hour. Don’t be late. I have better things to do than wait for you.” Speak for yourself...

CHAPTER SEVEN LANI

I just couldn’t help but agree to things I didn’t want to do, could I? In my defense, I was naturally curious. I had a ridiculous urge to find out how Brett had fallen so hard and so fast. I didn’t understand how he’d gone from the person I remembered him as to the person he was today. The stories didn’t lie. Or maybe they did, but I’d learned one important thing about stories in my job. There’s no fiction without truth. No doubt, the stories I’d heard about Brett Walker had a whisper of a truth to them. Most probably had a little more. I wasn’t surprised about them. He’d never been a gentleman, not really. He’d always toed the line. He was the guy who’d let you walk through a door first then turn around and smack your ass. Sidenote: I’d seen him do that before. He got away with it, not only because his surname gave him a royal-like status in Whiskey Key, but because he was charming. He oozed charisma and charm. One smile was all it took for him to wrap you around his pinky finger and then you were done for. It’d taken me eight years away from him to break the spell I’d be under as a naive high school student. Now I was back, I had the antidote. I stopped by the newspaper office on my way to Walker’s to drop off the articles I’d rewritten last night. Mr. Reeves was more than impressed after a quick read-through and offered me the job on the spot. I accepted and made agreements to meet him the next day for the special assignment he’d mentioned the day before. Fifteen minutes later, I announced myself at the gate to Walker House and was let in. Nerves swirled in my stomach as sunlight bounced off my windows. Humming Bruno Mars did nothing to distract me from the almost nauseating sensation as I put the car into park. Even the gorgeous flowers lining the driveway with bright colors weren’t enough to hold my attention when I got out of the car and turned.Then I screamed. “Whoa.” Brett laughed, grabbing my upper arms so I didn’t fall backward. “Do I look that bad?” I let go of a harsh breath and sagged back against my car. “Jesus Christ. Do you get off on annoying me or something?” He paused for a moment and looked up. Oh my god. He was seriously thinking about that. “Brett? Please get off me,” I said, wriggling my shoulders when he continued to lean over me. “Sorry.” He stepped back and wiped his hand through his wet hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me through your amazing singing.” I pursed my lips and met his gaze. “This isn’t getting off to a very good start, is it?” “Sorry, sorry. Again.” He held his hands up. “Do you want me to carry anything for you?” “Okay, now you’re fucking with me.” “I’m trying to be nice.” “Too hard. You’re trying too hard.” “Shit,” Camille said from the doorway. “You can’t even get through the damn door before you start bitching. This was a bad idea.” I shot her a dark look that screamed, “Yeah, no kidding,” and stalked past Brett. Wisely, I’d put on ballet flats with my outfit today. Then again, as I felt Brett’s hot gaze on me, maybe the shorts weren’t so smart. “Stop staring at her ass before she kicks you,” Cam snapped, moving to the side so I could walk through

the front door. “Hey,” Brett replied behind me. “She wanted me to be nice, so I am. I’m appreciating her ass. That’s nice.” I took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. I was going to ignore that. I could already see that sarcasm was the only response I was going to get today. This was going to be harder work than I thought it would be. The house really hadn’t changed since the last time I was here, and freakily enough, I remembered it the way I remembered the lines of my favorite movies. I walked through to the library in seconds and then moment I walked through the door, took a deep breath as the musky scent of old books assaulted me. God, I loved that smell. Books. They smelled like adventure and love and escape. “Are you getting high on books?” Brett murmured from right behind me. “Am I reading one?” “No.” “Then, no, I’m not.” I stepped fully into the library and crossed it to where there was a large, fluffy corner sofa. Sunlight streamed in through the window, so I took the corner spot where the sun wasn’t brightening. My laptop screen might have been anti-glare, but that didn’t mean my eyes were. “I have a question,” Camille said when Brett sat on the opposite side of the sofa to me. “Hmm?” I said, pulling my laptop out of its bag. “Do you have any idea where you’re supposed to start?” “No. I’m still waiting to hear all the bad things so I can figure out how I’m supposed to turn them into something good.” I cut Brett a heavy look, but if he caught it, he ignored it. “Worse, I’m waiting for him to tell me something even remotely redeeming about himself that I can use to show your dad that I am actually trying here.” “Wouldn’t worry too much,” she answered. “I think Dad’s earmarked at least nine months for this in his schedule.” “It’s like he doesn’t trust me at all.” Brett smirked. “Nine months?” I squealed. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t want to be in this freaking town in nine months. I want to go home.” Camille tilted her head to the side. “Aren’t you selling your car and moving out of your apartment?” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Well, yes.” “Then you want to stay.” “I don’t want to stay. I just don’t want to pay rent on an apartment I’m not living in, even if I don’t have to pay rent at Grandma’s house.” “Sounds like you want to stay to me.” Brett peered at me. I offered him a withering look. “Of course it does. But trust me, I don’t.” “Then why not ship your car instead of buying a new one?” “Because it’s a waste of money?” “And buying a new one isn’t?” “I’m sorry,” I snapped, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I forgot what business it is of yours.” He turned and rested his arm on the back of the sofa. “It’s not. But I’m good at getting involved in things that don’t concern me.” I’m not sure why he was telling me that. It was painfully obvious. “I’m staying for my sister because she needs me. When she’s ready, I’ll leave again. Now can we please get to the point of this conversation?” He threw his arm out. “Fine.” He pinned me with his gray-blue gaze. “Where shall we start?” Good question. I tapped my fingernails against my laptop for a second and opened a word doc before I said, “Wait.

Where did Camille go?” He looked around the library and shrugged. “No idea. Back to this. Again.” “Right. How about we start with what you’re doing for your dad now? It might build a little trust in your character if we start here.” “You mean his reluctant offer of a real job to do within the company.” “Gosh, I can’t imagine why he was reluctant. You sound so freaking thrilled it’s as if you might do a happy dance any second.” Brett fought a smile. “Oh, I am. I can’t wait to have him breathing down my neck every five seconds.” “If you do it correctly he won’t need to,” I pointed out. “Fuck me, you’re full of stunning ideas this morning, aren’t you?” “No,” I said flatly. “If I were, I wouldn’t be here.” I turned my attention to my laptop screen. “Now explain to me what you’re doing.” “Why doesn’t everybody need to know this?” “Are there or are there not people in this town who don’t trust you?” He paused and smacked his lips together. “Maybe,” he said slowly. “Mostly twenty-something women.” I pressed my hand against my face. See? What was why I reported on stuff like that. I’d never once attempted to restore someone’s character—unless it was in The Sims—and now I was seriously wishing I hadn’t been swayed by the damn money. “Brett.” I met his eyes. “That doesn’t help me at all. All it does is make my job harder.” “I’m my dad’s financial assistant,” he said. He scooted up the sofa until he was sitting next to me and could see my screen. “His personal assistants are all too useless for it and Cora doesn’t have the time, so the job kept falling to me. I could find the mistakes they kept making in the financial logs we send to the accountancy firm.” It was about time he made some use of his freaky number skills. “Tell me more,” I said, typing up in note form what he said. “Every morning he’ll send me an email detailing the location of all the transactions for the previous day, and it’s my job to input them all into the program ready to send to the accountant. I put everything into a spreadsheet first, because then I can print it off and check it another way for mistakes. When I’m completely sure it’s right, it goes into the program and then at the end of the month, it has to go to the accountant.” I finished typing that up and tilted my head to the side. “Amazing,” I murmured. “What is?” Brett turned his face toward me. I peered at him out of the corner of my eye. “Ten minutes ago you were an insufferable asshole, but now, you actually sound like you have half a grip on your life.” “That might just be the nicest thing you’ve said to me since you got back.” “Might be? It’s definitely the nicest thing I’ve said.” I turned toward him and paused. His face was so close to mine I could feel his breath on my skin. It was warm and smelled like peppermint, and I stilled. His light eyes, framed by thick, dark eyelashes, were fixed firmly on me. I dropped my gaze and looked away. His knee brushed my thigh as he slightly shifted next to me. My mouth was so dry that it physically hurt to suck my tongue to force the saliva back into it. “So,” I said in a scratchy voice. “Is that everything?” He didn’t reply. “Brett?” I turned back to him and had to draw in a deep breath. He was staring at me intently, his eyebrows drawn together just enough to make him look conflicted. Something sparked deep in his gaze, but it was the slight part of his lips that had me frozen in place. “What?” I asked quietly. “Stop looking at me like that.” He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but we were interrupted by Camille’s

reappearance in the doorway to the library. “Oh,” she said, making me jerk away from him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Her lips curved up, reminiscent of her brother’s cocky smirk. “What do you want, Cam?” Brett said, his jaw tight. She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “You have a visitor.” “Tell them to come back.” “I tried. She said she won’t unless I give her your number because apparently the one you gave her is wrong.” “Imagine that,” I muttered, hitting control and the ‘s’ button to save the document before I shut the laptop. Brett ran his fingers through his hair, sitting forward on the sofa. “Who is ‘she’?” Camille shrugged and rested against the doorframe. “She didn’t say. Can you deal with her? There’s a house up for auction next week that Mom’s interested in buying. She wants me to meet her there in fifteen minutes, so I really don’t have the time to handle your sluts.” I shoved my laptop back in its bag. “I have enough here. I’ll leave you to it. Camille, do you need a ride there?” “No.” Brett held his arm out in front of me. “Don’t worry. Give me five minutes?” I stood and looked down at him. “I’d really rather not, if I can help it.” Mostly because I didn’t want to bear witness to him inevitably lying to some poor chick he fucked and discarded like she was nothing. “Just wait.” He didn’t ask this time—no, he told me. Like he was the fucking boss of me. Unfortunately, he stormed out of the room before I could say a word back to him or, like I really wanted to do, before I could tell him to go and fuck himself. I swung my attention toward Camille. “Is that true?” She grimaced. “Welcome back to the Walker world, Lani. It’s way more frustrating than it ever was.” I sighed heavily and tussled my fingers through my hair. “Help me out here. What’s he going to be saying to her?” “He’ll likely tell her he has no idea who she is and that she has the wrong guy.” “Wow.” I put my laptop bag and purse down on the desk nearest to me. “What happened to him?” Camille simply shrugged her shoulders. “If I knew, I’d do something about it. The only reason he’s doing this is because he’s been threatened with being all but cut off financially. No income, no inheritance, no share of the business when our parents retire...this isn’t just a thing, Lani. This is serious for him.” “Yet he’s standing in the hallway right now dealing with something he deems not serious.” “Like I said, welcome back.” “Welcome back to what?” Brett appeared behind her and looked between us. Slowly, I dragged my gaze to his. “Done degrading yet another woman by lying to her about how you don’t remember her?” Camille’s eyes widened, and she pursed her lips before shuffling back. “Just gonna...yeah.” She disappeared. Brett jerked his head. “What?” “Don’t tell me you gave her your real number and set up a date.” “Why would I do that?” I laughed, but it was so hollow I couldn’t even believe it myself. I couldn’t even fake its reality. “What am I supposed to do, Brett? Your sister just told me why you need—yes, need—me to do this, yet there you are, being the same old person you have been.” “You’re right. I did tell her I couldn’t remember her, but it wasn’t a lie. I really do have no idea who

she was.” He paused. “And no, I wouldn’t ask her out on a date, because she’s only interested in one thing.” “Let me guess… your dick?” He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Then without taking his eyes off mine, he pulled out a black credit card and dropped it on the desk next to my purse. He followed it up by throwing a small wad of green bills on there too. “That. That’s all she wants. Don’t fucking think for a second that any of the girls you think I use aren’t using me right back. Anyone who’d fuck me on the first date will fuck me in an entirely different way in a few years.” “That doesn’t excuse your behavior. Nothing does. Just because somebody doesn’t respect you doesn’t mean you have to disrespect them right back.” I shook my head, smiling humorlessly. “God, Brett. Who are you?” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him. My body slammed into his, knocking the breath out of me. My skin burned where his fingers wrapped around my wrist, and my pulse throbbed harshly against his touch. He met my eyes with such a ferocity that it made me want to run but also needed me to stay. Needed me to know why he looked at me that way. “You don’t want me to answer that question.” “What if I do?” I raised my chin in a challenge. “What if I want to know why you changed so badly?” His lip curled so coldly a chill ran down my spine. “Then you’re a fucking idiot, Lani. Trust me when I tell you that you should drop it.” “Why? Do you think so much of yourself that you really think I’ll give in to your so-called charms and fall helplessly into your bed?” His silence answered my questions. “Oh my god,” I breathed. “You do. You think that’s what’ll happen.” Again, he said nothing. He simply speared me with his hard, hot gaze. “Fuck you.” I tore my wrist from his grip and took a step back, shaking my head. “You know something? You’re right. Nothing I do or write or publish will ever be able to change people’s opinions of who you are. You’re such a self-absorbed, egotistical, self-indulgent, disrespectful—” Brett grabbed my arms, pulled me back to him, and slammed his lips against mine. A spark of hot, angry lust cascaded across my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Frozen in place, I could do nothing as he sank his fingers into my hair and cupped the back of my head, pulling me deeper into the kiss. His tongue swept across the seam of my lips teasingly yet forcefully. My body reacted before my brain. I gripped his shirt and fell into the kiss. My heart thundered against my ribs as he swept his tongue through the gap in my lips. I inhaled as his tongue touched mine and he fisted my hair so tightly my scalp stung with the pressure. My entire body burned. It was the only word for the mix of feelings that were running riot through my body. As he kissed me. And, god, he kissed me. He kissed me long and hard and deep until the reality of it sunk in and— He smacked my ass. Hard. I gasped, shoving him away from me. I smacked my hand over my mouth and staggered back a few paces. “Oh my god!” I breathed. “What the hell?” Brett said nothing. It was a horrible habit with him, I could see. One I wanted to slap right out of him in that moment. “You asshole. You self-entitled bastard.”

“Oh good,” he drawled, a vein bulging in the side of his neck. “I’m so glad you got to finish your insulting tirade.” I stared him down. In the split-second it took for the lingering burn of his kiss to shiver down my spine, the fog in my mind cleared. Unfortunately, that meant I was feeling the kiss in other places. My nipples were hard and pressing against the padding of my bra, and my clit throbbed, leaving an uncomfortable ache between my legs. Mostly, I felt one thing—anger. It slowly crept its way back through my veins as I pressed my fingertips to my now-tender lips. One job, Lani. You have one freaking job. I was going to fuck it up. I knew I was. I don’t know why I ever thought it would be any different with him. The power he’d had over me, the one I’d always allowed him, hung thick in the air. And I’d put money on the fact he fucking knew it. Shit, it’d been eight years since I’d last laid eyes on the man who was once my best friend, but I wasn’t little Lani Montana anymore. I wasn’t a sixteen-year-old girl, hopelessly in love with her best friend and handing him her heart so he could stop on it with his man-slut boots. I had the one ability now that I hadn’t had back then. I knew how to take back the power from him. I knew how to take it and hold onto it, and I was going to do it if it killed me. “You listen to me, Brett Walker,” I snapped, holding my ground. “The next time you so much as even think about kissing me, I’m going to shove your dick so far up your insides you’ll be able to suck it yourself.” “Will I be able to deep-throat myself?” His gray-blue eyes flashed with amusement through the heady attraction that lingered. “‘Cause that’ll save me having to explain how I like it next time I need a blow job.” My jaw twitched in annoyance. God, he was such a smug son of a bitch. How had I ever had feelings for him? Oh, that’s right. Back then, he hadn’t been ridden so many times he could fill in for the bikes at the gym. He was an asshole-in-training as opposed to being the CEO of Asshole Central. “Don’t think I’m joking. You had no fucking right to kiss me.” “I didn’t see you pushing me away.” It stung because he was right. “If you didn’t already guess it, I don’t want to be here. I’m here because your father wants me to work my magic and clean up your act so you look like you’re a gentleman. I can’t pretend that if you’re acting like the same asshole to me as you do to every other woman in town.” “But I am a gentleman,” he said, lips curved into a dirty smirk. “I always make sure I ask before I spank.” “Not according to my right butt cheek!” It stung, and it was definitely more noticeable now I was thinking about it. Kneeing his dick up into his throat was definitely appealing. “Sometimes I forget. Can you blame me when faced with your ass?” “Yes. It’s not like you don’t wake up each day and look at one in the mirror, is it?” He paused for a moment, staring at me, before he burst into deep laughter. Each low chuckle danced across my skin and made the hairs on my arms stand on end. God. I hated him. I hated him so much. His laughter ended as abruptly as it began. Although his amusement still shone in the depths of his steely gaze, the expression on his face was anything but amused. Sure, he was wearing that smirk, but there was nothing nice about it. It was condescending, smug—totally cocky. Brett took a step forward, shutting the distance between us. My heart thumped, warning me to take a step back, but I wouldn’t.

I’d watched enough documentaries to know it was stupid to run from something that looked at you like you were its prey. “Lani, Lani, Lani...” he murmured, dropping his eyes to my lips. Deliberately, I ran my tongue along the lower one. If he wanted to play this game, he could bet his ass I’d rewrite the rules. His gaze snapped to mine, heat flaring in it. “I know my father hired you to get me back in line. What I don’t know is why you agreed to do it. Writing a series of articles on a rich guy whose family thinks he’s lost control isn’t in your skill set, kitten. You’re an investigative journalist—not a two-bit gossip column writer.” “Is that what this little act is about? You want me to give up because this isn’t what I usually do?” The nerve. “And if you call me kitten one more time...” He took another step closer to me. Now there was barely a breath between our bodies, and I could feel his as he exhaled. “You’re gonna do what? Pull out your claws and scratch me? Careful. I might like it.” “You son of a—” He grabbed my wrist again before I could step back and yanked me against him. He clamped one strong, toned arm around my waist, pinning me to his solid chest for the second time today. My body reacted immediately. My heart picked up a cha-cha beat, while my pussy totally missed the memo and ached in earnest. Even my nipples were hardening against the fabric of my bra again. Sweet Jesus. I was knocking on trouble’s door. “You wanna know who I am, Lani?” he asked me in a low voice, his lips tickling my ear. “Let me show you right now. But you shut your pretty little mouth until I’m done.” I parted my lips and inhaled. “If I liked you eight years ago, I downright fucking crave you now. And don’t stand here against me and tell me you aren’t squirming in your wet little panties.” He slid his hand down my back and cupped my ass. He held my hips against his, making his long, hard cock press against my lower stomach. Like he had a right to. Like he could own my body with one more tiny touch. I clenched my thighs together. I wasn’t just knocking on trouble’s door. I was inside its house and naked on its bed. “You want to write these bullshit articles? Do it. You won’t make me look like a saint, kitten. I booked my seat in the sinner club before Satan fell from Heaven,” he said, voice low in my ear. “But as long as you’re here, I’m gonna put your investigative skills to work.” I swallowed and pushed against his muscular chest. “Let me go, Brett.” “I’m gonna investigate you on your knees with my cock down your throat. Investigate you pinned against the wall and begging me. Investigate your pussy when you come on my tongue. Investigate what it looks like when your ass is in the air and I’m about to put my cock in you. But you know what I’m really gonna enjoy investigating? The look on your face when you scream my name and come all over my cock again and again.” His voice was breathy yet steady as he ran through each of them. “And bet your tight little ass, pretty girl, that you’re gonna be a fully willing participant of each and every scream.” He pressed his erection against me. Then he abruptly released me, taking a step back as I struggled to take a deep breath in long enough to calm the erratic beat of my heart. “That is who I am now,” he said, looking me dead in the eye. “I’m an asshole, but make no mistake— I’m the asshole who’ll give you the best damn fuck of your life. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said, adjusting his pants. “I’m going to take a shower and imagine your undoubtedly tight little pussy is around my dick instead of my own hand.” With that, he turned and stalked out of the room, turning down one of the many hallways of Walker House. And I gave into my instincts, and I ran.

CHAPTER EIGHT BRETT

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She tasted like hot coffee and fresh pastries. I knew because the taste of her lips still lingered on mine, and every time my tongue flicked out to wet them, I tasted her. I had no fucking clue why I kissed her. She was so fired up. Her eyes shone brightly as she shouted insults at me, and it was an impulse. I didn’t want to kiss her. I needed to kiss her. I needed to feel those soft lips against mine. I needed to fucking feel if she kissed me as hard as she tore me apart. I knew one thing: Lani Montana was the only woman who could bring me to my knees. That’s where I felt like I should have been then. In my bedroom on my knees, trying to wipe the memory of her kiss from my mind. The more I tried, the harder it was. The stronger the taste became on my lips. The stronger the memory of her hands wound in my t-shirt became. Just...fuck. I should have been on my knees, not standing in the shower with my hand wrapped around my cock. It wasn’t nice or easy. It was harsh, fast pumps of my fist around my hard dick as I braced myself with one hand flattened against the tiles. The hot water beat down on the back of my neck and dripped off my body as I got myself off to the thought of Lani Montana on her knees in front of me with her pussy clearly exposed and ready for me. To the thought of me pushing myself inside her wetness and cupping her round tits. To the thought of her ass pressing against my skin as I buried myself inside her. My finger on her clit and rubbing as I fucked her. Her pussy tightening around my cock. My name falling from her lips. To the thought of fucking owning her. Her and her smart mouth and her aching cunt. I gripped my cock at its base as my hot cum escaped and fell to the shower floor. Slowly, I pumped, riding out the pleasure, but I felt sick. I felt fucking sick because it was wrong and I shouldn’t have done it. Shit, she was Lani. I’d kissed her, and I’d just jacked myself off to the thought of me fucking her with her ass in the air and her face buried in a pillow. She was right. Everything she’d said earlier was right. I was all those things and more. Fuck, I was disgusted at myself. “Shit.” I smacked my hand against the wall and leaned forward until my forehead was pressed against it. The stream of water from the shower cascaded down my back and ass onto the floor. Why the fuck did I have to show her that side of me? Why did I have to really let her see it? I know why. She pushed me. She was so damn determined to see the person I was now, the person I’d become, that she almost made me. Maybe if I showed her who I really was, she’d give it up. She’d hand that check back to my father and stop wasting her time on me. The articles were dumb anyway. Who was going to believe them? Nobody. If we were all honest, nobody was going to do it. It was all an appeasement for my grandfather and my father. To remind them I maybe wasn’t the failure they had me down as. To convince them that there was an ounce of decent person left inside me. They had more belief in me than most, even if my father hated that he had it. The point remained that Lani Montana now knew who I was. She knew just how much of a fucking asshole I really was. That’s all there was to it.





“Goddamn it, Brett!” Camille came slamming into the kitchen like a bull in a china shop, shoving the door open so hard it bounced off the wall. “You dented the wall,” I said simply, not looking up from my laptop. “I don’t care!” she yelled. “How dare you treat her like that?” I input more data into the spreadsheet. Camille slammed my laptop screen down. I wasn’t quick enough to get my hand out of the way, so it caught my finger. “Fuck!” I snapped, yanking my hand back. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you psycho?” “Me? I’m the psycho?” She widened her eyes, staring at me. “You’re the one who just treated Lani like she’s not even worth being one of the women you discard faster than I discard used tampons during shark week!” “Thanks for that visual.” “Do you think this is a joke? It isn’t. I know you have major issues with just about everything right now, but she is not the person you should be taking your shit out on.” I met her eyes. “She wanted to know who I was. I showed her.” “No, you couldn’t resist. Don’t blame this on her. All she’s trying to do is fucking help you when she wants to be nowhere near you, yet she’s doing it anyway.” “She’s doing it for the money. Not because she cares.” Even I couldn’t hide the bitter tone of my voice. It was true. It was all for the money. She didn’t give a fuck about me, and that was just fine by me. “You are so dense,” Camille laughed out. “You’ve been thinking with your dick for so long that you can’t see that a part of her does care about you.” “Because of an old friendship,” I said flatly. “She cares about the Brett she used to know. She couldn’t give a rat’s ass about who I am today or she’d be here right now, wouldn’t she?” “After the way you treated her? Are you fucking kidding me?” She shook her head and slammed her hands on the table in front of me. “You made it abundantly clear how you view the women who sleep with you, then five minutes later, you treated her the exact same way. And you’re pissed off she wasn’t here when you finished jacking off in the shower?” My jaw clenched. “Fuck off, Camille.” “Yeah. She told me what you said about her. When I chased after her and I followed her home and comforted her after you ripped her in two and showed her that you’re not even half the person you were eight years ago.” “Fuck off, Cam,” I repeated, shoving the stool back from the table. She stormed toward the door. Then she stopped walking, paused, and turned around to face me. “The Brett she knows once protected her from people like you.” My nostrils flared as her words punched me in the gut. Camille raised her gaze from the floor to meet mine. “Congratulations. You officially became the person you once took hits from for protecting the little dorky girl. At least now she knows you never cared.” “Don’t.” I kicked the stool to the side and pointed a finger at her. “Don’t you fucking dare tell me I never cared about her. I cared about her too damn much.” “Oh, I know.” She looked at me coldly. “You had feelings for her but you never told her, and you paid the price. Don’t you fucking blame her for leaving when you never gave her a reason not to. You dropped the ball on that, not her. It’s been eight years. Get over it or stay the hell away from her.”

“Don’t—” “She just lost her grandmother and her sister is having a baby in three months. She doesn’t need your egocentric existence in her life if all you’re going to do is demean her and treat her like shit on the bottom of your shoe. Get a goddamn grip, Brett.” She turned away and this time, did walk. “Oh,” she threw over her shoulder. “Next time one of your one night stands shows up, I’m giving them your fucking number. Asshole.” My heart thumped too loudly against my chest to even respond to her. Not that she’d have heard me. The front door slammed barely seconds later and echoed through the entire downstairs. I slumped back onto my stool and, propping my elbows on the kitchen table, buried my face in my hands. My damp hair made it easy for me to slick my fingers through it and clasp them behind my neck as I dipped my face right down. I could always count on my twin sister to give me a damn good ass kicking. Except this time she didn’t get it. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so harsh on Lani, but she asked. She wanted to know who I was. She asked for that and I gave it to her. I don’t even regret kissing her. I can’t regret kissing her. Fuck, it was so good. She damn well melted into me and kissed me as thoroughly as I kissed her. She gave as good as she got. I loved every second of having her fingers wrapped in my t-shirt and her heart thumping so hard against her chest that I could feel it against mine too. I’d fucking do it again. God, given half a chance, I’d pull her into me and kiss her again. Except if I got to do it again, I’d do it differently. I wouldn’t just kiss her. I’d drown in her. I brought my head back up, rubbing my fingertips down my face. I’m greeted by the sight of my pops and great aunt for my troubles. “Hey, Pops, Aunt Bel.” “Hmm.” Pops pulled out a seat for Great Aunt Bel and waited until she was sitting down before doing the same for himself. “That was a nice conversation with your sister.” Fuck it, Camille. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were here.” It was the lamest response ever, but it was all I had. I didn’t know they were here, so at least it was truthful. Great Aunt Bel waggled her gray eyebrows at me. “Lani’s back, huh?” She looked so comical, being almost eighty and giving the expression of a cheesy fifteen-year-old boy, that it took everything I had not to burst into laughter and keep going until it physically hurt me to laugh anymore. “Yes, Lani Montana is back,” Pops answered for me. Great Aunt Bel jolted backward. “Fuck me, Brett. When’dja start sounding like this old bastard?” Pops took a deep breath. “Aunt Bel,” I said, fighting my smile. “You know Pops prefers us to control our language.” “He’s younger than me. He can kiss my—” “I see your meetings with Lani are going well,” Pops interrupted. “If your conversation with your sister is anything to go by.” “Perfectly,” I answered. “Camille has her panties in a twist, that’s all.” “There’s enough to get in a twist,” Aunt Bel cackles. Pops ignored her. “I hope you’re not making Lani’s life hard for her. You remember what happens if this doesn’t work.” “Why her?” The question burst out of me before I could stop it. “Of all the damn people, Pops, why her?” He looked wholly unaffected by my mini outburst. “Because she’s a damn good journalist and an even

better writer. Have you bothered to look up her credentials?” “No.” Aunt Bel snorted. Pops ignored that too. He leaned forward and tapped my laptop. “Open it. She’s all over the Internet. She’s not a wannabe, Brett. She’s the real thing.” I kept my eyes on him as I opened the laptop and tapped the space bar to wake it up. The screen whirred to life, and I only dropped my gaze to log into Windows. The moment the desktop loaded, I double-clicked my browser icon and brought it up. Lani Montana, journalist I hit the ‘enter’ key and watched as thousands of hits came up. “Where do I start?” Great Aunt Bel rose and walked around the table before Pops had a chance. “On her bloody website, boy!” “And that’s enough Downtown Abbey for you,” I muttered, clicking the link to her website. “Downton.” “What?” “Downton,” she insisted. “It’s not Downtown Abbey. It’s not in central Miami, brat.” “Pops, why is she here?” I turned to my grandfather. He raised a shoulder in an ‘I don’t know’ motion and joined me behind the laptop. “Click here,” he instructed. “The bio. And read.” I clicked and I read.

Lani Montana is a freelance journalist from Whiskey Key, Florida. An Arizona State summa cum laude graduate, Montana studied journalism and English literature. After interning with the Phoenix Weekly, Montana garnered accolades for her work with San Diego Daily and the San Francisco Times covering topics as varied as local and national news and celebrity and industry gossip. Currently situated just outside of Los Angeles, California, Montana continues her coverage on celebrity and entertainment industry news as well as the crime beat for the LA Today to the popular online journal, the Southwest Times.

The page went on to list her contact details and some links to her most notable articles. I rubbed my hand over my mouth. Shit. She was as smart as I always knew she was. Freelance or not, she had steady work. Why was she leaving that behind just to come home? Pops reached over me. He swept his finger over the mousepad and clicked on one of the stories. “Read this one.” As soon as the page loaded, I did as he said. It was a coverage for the Southwest Times on a murder victim. The body was found on train tracks twenty miles outside of L.A., and she covered it for them. I was nothing but disgusted as I read the details of the victim’s decapitation, but Lani made it sound almost poetic. She had a way with words that was kinda magical. I’ve never been much of a reader, but as my eyes took in her words, I knew I could have read her articles forever. Cheesy? Perhaps. But, fuck. She could write. She could write her way out of a fucking execution. When I didn’t say anything, Pops took his chance. He rapped his knuckles against the table, said, “Exactly,” and then strolled right on out of the kitchen. I finished reading the article, and when I was done, looked up.

Great Aunt Bel slammed the lid on the cookie jar and shuffled backward, half a cookie in her mouth, muttering about how she’d kill me if I told. I threw her a wink and clicked on the next link on Lani’s webpage.



From: William Walker To: Brett Walker Subject: Fw: Re: Article One

Read this.

(Download attachment)

I hit the link on the email and downloaded the PDF attachment. The email itself was forwarded from Lani’s email address, but my father had deleted any trace of the email she’d sent him. The downloaded completed. I stared at the box at the bottom of my screen asking me if I wanted to open the file. A sick feeling churned in my stomach—after today, what would this say? Dad gave no indication with his two-word email. Was it good? Bad? I had to read it. I knew that. I didn’t have a choice. If I did, it never would have been sent to me in the first place. Dad would have handled it and I...Well, I’d probably fucking ignore it. I took a deep breath and clicked on ‘Open.’ The file loaded up within seconds, and I shifted to get comfortable in bed as the words appeared on my screen.

-Here is article one. Attach notes as necessary.

I assumed the note at the top wasn’t for me, but it was tempting all the same. I read on.

Former high school all-star quarterback, Brett Walker, has long been the name on the lips of the people who live in Whiskey Key. Protected by his name and his family’s status in the Key, he’s long gotten away with behaviors others would have been called out for.

Harsh.

It is, however, in recent months that his name has once again become a common topic of conversation. One can barely walk into the coffee shop or grocery store without hearing how he was rude to the girl behind the checkout desk or how he never called any number of girls back after one night of pleasure. His womanizing is, of course, the biggest blot on his family’s reputation. Like his father before him, William Walker was married by the age of twenty-six and a father by the age of thirty. As a teenager, he took an active interest in the family business, and his keen eye and quick mind helped take it to the next level, until Henrick Walker retired and handed majority ownership to his son. This was the expected path for Brett Walker, destined to be shared with his twin sister, Camille. While Camille seems to be taking an active interest in the business, the same cannot be said for her brother.

Wasn’t she supposed to be making me look good, not affirming to the town that I was a total fucking

asshole?

It’s widely recognized and accepted that Brett Walker has little to no respect for people of the opposite gender, yet that doesn’t stop women flocking to him. Presumably they hope to be the ones to change him, but thrown-out numbers littering the library trash can at Walker House scream that the male Walker heir simply cannot be tamed. He himself believes that women who fuck on the first night will only fuck him over in a few years’ time.

That was a point that could seriously damage my sex life. Not that I was allowed to have such a thing under the terms of my new behavior, but still.

Of course, it all depends who you ask. While rumors must have a shred of truth to start, rumors are easily twisted. Words can be misheard or misunderstood, and all that leads to is a web of untruths that can seriously hurt a person and those around them. Brett Walker is many things to many different people. And he, like everyone else, has a side not many people know about. You may know him for being a brilliant quarterback whose passion to play the game died the day he graduated Whiskey Key high, but his AP math professor knows him for being the kid who got almost one hundred percent on every test he ever gave him. Yes, his advanced placement math professor. One little known fact about Brett Walker is that he is, for all intents and purposes, somewhat of a mathematical genius. Unfortunately for him, his outward behavior—rumored or true—hides who he is inside. Someone who is bright and brilliant where numbers are concerned. Just recently his father appointed him as his in-house financial assistant after a string of accounting disasters courtesy of his team of personal assistants. After several instances where Brett fixed all the documents, his father gave him what, I suppose, you could call a promotion. Now, the financial logging of the entire Walker empire is in twenty-five-year-old Brett’s hands. The responsibility is huge, but he already has a steady system in place that works for him. In terms of checking his list and its accuracy, Santa Claus could stand to learn a thing or two from him. If Brett Walker truly were a flaky, disrespectful, irresponsible failure, would his father have given him such an important position—one he created just for him? That’s for you to decide, but for me, the answer is no. I believe it makes him strong, capable, and smarter than people give him credit for.

Well, fuck. She turned that right around, didn’t she? And pulling the AP math card—she was right. It was a fact a lot of people either didn’t know or forgot. I might have passed English classes by the skin of my teeth, but I flew through every math class. Genius was probably an exaggeration, but like words were clearly Lani’s thing, numbers were mine. I took a deep breath and closed down the PDF reader. The click of the mouse as I tapped ‘reply’ echoed through my silent bedroom, and when it loaded, I clicked on the text box.

From: Brett Walker To: William Walker Subject: Re: Fw: Re: Article One



Is that what you’re going to publish?

Dad’s response came in seconds, the tune from the browser pinging through the speakers.

From: William Walker To: Brett Walker Subject: Article One

Yes. That’s what’s going to be published. She was much nicer than she needed to be, given the NDA is still sitting on my desk. Unsigned.

I winced at that. He did have a point.

From: Brett Walker To: William Walker Subject: Re: Article One

Point taken. I’ll apologize tomorrow with some sort of grand gesture.

From: William Walker To: Brett Walker Subject: Re: Article One

Good luck... You’ll need it.

CHAPTER NINE LANI

Waking up from a wet dream for the first time in my life wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It wasn’t the post-orgasmic bliss I’d read about in sexy romance novels or the satiation commonly seen in my movies. No. It couldn’t be further from it. It was, in fact, the painfully uncomfortable ache of hovering on the brink of an orgasm you know will never come. That’s right. Last night, I’d emailed my article to Brett’s dad and went to bed ragingly pissed off at his audacity and behavior earlier in the day. Then, for some incredibly unfair reason, my subconscious happily turned that anger into arousal. Three times. Three times I’d woken up on the brink of an orgasm after dreaming about that sexy son of a bitch screwing me into next week. Bullshit. That’s what it all was. Bullshit. I couldn’t believe for a second that my mind had taken that one kiss and assumed I wanted more. So what if I was turned on after? That was a natural response. If a man kisses me until my head spins like he did, it’s completely reasonable to assume I would be turned on when he was done kissing me. Natural. Normal. Hormonal. Those were my reasons, and by god, I was sure as hell going to stick to them. There was no way that subconscious arousal could become anything more, because if I thought I hated Brett before, I was wrong. Now? Now I hated him. Not only for the way he spoke to me, but for that damn kiss. Because once upon a time, I’d dreamed of kissing him the way little girls dream of becoming a princess. The idea of it and all the ways I’d thought it would one day happen had consumed my silly little teenage brain. Yesterday, not only did he curse me forever with the memory of it, he shattered every illusion I’d ever entertained of how it would be. And I didn’t even want him to kiss me. But when he did, I didn’t want him to stop. Now, I didn’t know how to stop thinking about it. Every time I looked in the mirror as I got ready for my meeting with Mr. Reeves, all I could focus on was my lips. All I could think about was how tender they were after we broke apart yesterday, and every time I brushed my hair and the brush bristles caught on a tangle, the feeling of his fingers tugging on my hair and my scalp stinging swamped me. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this. Yes, I’d pushed him. I knew what I was doing when I all but goaded him into showing me who he really was, but I didn’t know he was...well. That. I didn’t know his mouth was that filthy. I didn’t know he was capable of putting such horribly enticing scenarios into words. I didn’t know he was capable of making me want him in all the ways he said he wanted me. Just for a moment though. I locked those feelings away the moment I left through the front door and went out to my car. I still needed to get rid of the rental and go and buy something, but only now I’d sent the first article— as short as it was—to William did I feel like I could cash the check. I still didn’t want to do this, but the money helped. Ten thousand dollars would go so far in helping Connie, and that was before the second check for another ten thousand. I didn’t know what was really happening in the Walker family, but I knew they were desperate. I shook all thoughts of Brett out of my head and pulled into the empty space outside the newspaper office. It was still too early for most people to be awake and on the road, so the journey from the house to here had taken mere minutes. It helped that both places were on the same side of town, of course, but still.

The gentle buzz of voices from a TV filled the air the moment I opened the door. Mr. Reeves was sitting at his desk, opposite the TV, with a take-out cup of coffee on a coaster next to his computer. He glanced up when I walked in. “Morning, Lani. I ran that article on the details of the upcoming paint run you rewrote. It’s going down great on the website.” “Good morning, Mr. Reeves. That’s awesome news.” I smiled and sat on the chair on the opposite side of his desk to him. “It’s this Sunday, right? Do you want me to cover it?” “That would be great.” He returned my smile and reached for his diary. He scribbled something down. “Before we get started, the Whiskey Key Whiskey and Wine Festival is in a couple of weeks to celebrate the real start of the tourist season. Are you available to cover it then?” “I don’t see why I wouldn’t be.” I pulled my phone out of my purse and opened my calendar. Two minutes later, I had both assignments written in. It was a strange feeling. I usually marched to the beat of my own drum, but I quite liked being told where to be and what to cover. It saved me time, and, well. Mr. Reeves was a nice guy, and if I could help him get his paper back on track, I would. “There. Now I won’t forget.” I smiled and awkwardly showed him the calendar screen. “Perfect,” he said as I locked the phone and put it back into my purse. “Now, the real reason for why I wanted to meet with you today...it’s about the Walkers.” I blinked, momentarily taken back. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is my agreement with William Walker going to get in the way of my work for you?” He laughed. “No, dear. Quite the opposite. It’s going to be helpful. Very helpful indeed.” That sounded kinda sinister. You know, like in the movies. It’s the kind of thing the double-crossing sidekick says right before they show their true colors, or the words the villain utters moments before blowing up the local Wal-Mart or something. My stomach tightened, but ultimately, my curiosity was stronger and more convincing than my wariness. “Okay,” I said slowly. “Can you explain?” He picked up the remote control for the TV and turned it off. The silence hung thick in the air until he cleared his throat, closed his laptop, and met my eyes. “There’s been rumors about Brett Walker for some time now.” “Some time now?” “Months,” he corrected himself. “Not many people have heard about this one.” “Okay...” My stomach flipped again. “Word is he fucked up big time and it cost his family a lot of money to cover it up,” Mr. Reeves went on. “I’ve been trying to find out what it was, but not only are they notoriously tight-lipped about the inner happenings of their family, it’s almost impossible to find out anything more than what I know. Which happens to be nothing more than there is something major they paid a lot of money to bury.” The lump in my throat formed quickly and fiercely. Swallowing it was impossible—It was lodged there. “Where do I come into this?” I asked, my voice quiet. “You have the inside line to the family. Camille trusts you—they all trust you. They might tell you...things.” “Mr. Reeves, my job is to make Brett look good. They’re not going to tell me anything that could destroy what I’m trying to do.” Even all the shit Camille told me was nothing more than harmless gossip, and she knows it. She simply wanted it to come from her and not the grapevine. “I don’t see how I can help here.” He rubbed his hand across his jaw. “I think you can. You’ll be in the house, Lani. Alone, presumably, on occasion.” Alone was a stretch, but still... “If what he did is as bad as it sounds, and I believe it is, then Brett Walker will get a real taste of

karma.” He clasped his hands in front of him on the desk. “My research so far has pulled up nothing more than kiss and tell stories from disgruntled women.” “And you think what they’re hiding is more than kiss and tell?” I asked slowly. “Much more.” “And you want me to find out what that is.” He jerked his head in a sharp nod, almost knocking his glasses off his face. He reached up and slid them back into place. “Yes.” “What will happen when I do?” I already knew the answer, but I asked it anyway. “I’ll know where to look for the proof and then I can publish it.” My heart clenched. Deep down inside me, I wanted to do it. What was wrong with me? This was a horrible thing to do, but did he deserve it? Maybe. Mr. Reeves leaned forward slightly. “Lani, if he’s done something bad, the people of Whiskey Key need to know. He’ll one day own the company that, at present, owns sixty percent of the town’s buildings. The people of Whiskey Key deserve to know.” “Okay,” I said. There was way more strength in my voice than I thought there would be. “I’ll see if I can find anything out. But if I don’t, I don’t. If they’ve already buried something, there’s no need to talk about it.” “No pressure,” he said, sitting back. No pressure my left tit. “Okay,” I replied quietly. “Was that everything?” He nodded. “Thank you, Lani. This will help a lot.” I’m sure it will, I wanted to say. But I didn’t. I confirmed I’d cover the paint run at the weekend and email him the article the following day, and then I left. Something gnawed away at my insides, a feeling I couldn’t quite pinpoint. Whatever it was, I didn’t like it, and it was most definitely connected to the fact I’d just agreed to do something so...underhanded. I knew the Walkers had a secret. I could sense there was something they weren’t telling anybody and figured it was about Brett, but I thought it was more on the stupid side of the scale than the serious one. If I was wrong...would the revelation of such a thing hurt the entire family and not just Brett himself? The chance was a good one. Pretty damn solid, actually, but then again...Maybe Brett did deserve it. Maybe he needed to be given a taste of his own medicine and be humiliated. The way he’d once humiliated me without a care. Did his family deserve that though? No... I blew out a long sigh and pushed my hair from my face as I pushed open the door to the offices. The hot, sticky air smacked me full in the face, but I shuddered my way through it to my car. And stopped. There was a single white rose tucked beneath my wiper blade. I frowned and slowly walked toward my car. There was nobody else around me right now except for an old couple walking their dog, and I knew they weren’t responsible for it. Taking care to mind the thorns on the long stem, I plucked the rose from beneath the wipers. That was when I saw the small, folded up piece of paper that was tucked in the corner of my windshield. I pinched it with my fingers and pulled it out, reading the one, lone word scrawled on it.

Sorry ?

Despite myself, I half-smiled.

Brett might have changed, but his handwriting was still the same god awful script it’d always been. I dropped my head and shook it, doing my best to drop my smile. It was impossible. This was so him— an apology he didn’t have to physically make. He could say sorry without the awkward confrontation and still come off looking like a good guy. I should have known the moment I saw the white rose. It wasn’t the first time he’d given me a one to apologize to me. The first apology had come when we were nine. He’d sneaked into my bedroom and read a story my childish mind was creating, about a panda who desperately wanted to be a ballerina and was struggling for obvious reasons. He’d stolen the sheets and when he put them back, he’d lost one. The next day, he’d cut a white rose from his mom’s rose garden and given it to me. When I’d asked why he’d given me a flower to say sorry, his response had been, “Because it’s pretty, like you.” Then he’d pinched me and run away. The second apology came when I was twelve. He overheard me and Camille talking about our periods and teased me until I cried. He hadn’t realized that I was scared because, hello, my vagina was crying blood. One day later, there was a white rose on my doorstep with a note. When I asked him about the rose again, he’d given the same answer. “Because it’s pretty, like you.” That time, he’d nudged me and handed me his last Reese’s. The third apology came when I was sixteen. I’d refused to help him with his English homework, so he, in turn, did the same to me with math. There was something I really didn’t understand, and it caused me to fail the test. He’d felt guilty because I’d helped him so many times in the past and he’d been petty. The following Monday, I’d found a white rose tucked into my locker with a note wrapped around the stem that said, “Sorry. And before you ask, it’s because it’s pretty, like you.” I took a deep breath and looked down at the rose in my hand. Its perfectly formed petals were white like freshly fallen snow and as soft as silk. The note crunched as I balled it into a crumpled mess in my hand and opened my car door. I dropped the note to the floor, but I laid the flower down carefully on the passenger seat next to my purse. As I drove home, I could think only one thing. Why the white rose, and why now, after all this time?



When I got home, I grabbed the rose and my purse and got out of the car. I paused for a second before going back and grabbing the note from the floor. I couldn’t leave it, not when I knew I’d only pick it up and put it where it belonged. Lani Montana, you’re a sentimental fool. I shook off the thought as I let myself into the house and dumped my purse and keys in the hallway. I didn’t care if this was sentimental. It was, but it was also a reminder that maybe somewhere under all the crap, Brett hadn’t changed so much. That might not be a good thing, but this rose reminded me of the Brett I once loved. Something that was definitely not a good thing, but I wanted to keep it anyway. When I was in my room, I knelt in front of my bed and reached under it. The shoebox was easy to find, and I had it out from under the dusty underside of the bed in seconds. Opening it, I coughed slightly as I dislodged some dust. Inside it was an old copy of Alice in Wonderland my grandmother had given me when I was eight years old and was coming into my love of the written word. It was her favorite story, and when she’d given it to me, it’d become mine too. I lifted it out of the box with as much care as I could and set it on the rug in front of me. I wiped my

hand down the front cover with the barest brush and opened it to chapter nine. There, folded between a ragged, fraying bit of fabric, was three dried, perfectly-pressed roses. They were severely degraded now, with the stems the only recognizable part of it. Even those were completely fragile. Beneath them lay three small notes with the word “sorry” scribbled on each one in the same rough handwriting that was on the note in my hand. I smoothed out the new note and gingerly slipped it beneath the disintegrating flower stems. A thorn dislodged from the stem, but no other damage was sustained to any of them. A breath escaped me. I didn’t know it meant that much not to destroy them. I lay the new rose down, covered it with the cloth, and shut the book. Minutes later it was back in the box and under the bed once more. I sighed heavily and stood up. I was hungry since I’d skipped breakfast in favor of the meeting, and now my heart was squeezing tightly in confusion. The roses were a reminder that Brett had always been a bit of a dick, but they were also a stark reminder that his heart was in the right place...Maybe a little late, but it always got there in the end. I changed quickly and headed back downstairs. I wanted to get in and out of the grocery story before it got really busy, but I wasn’t about to wear the nice dress I’d worn to see Mr. Reeves. Mr. Reeves. What I’d agreed to. I waved those thoughts away. If I dwelled on them too long, I might forget that I actually hated Brett. I picked up my purse and keys. The door clicked as I opened it, and I froze. “You didn’t stomp on it.” Despite myself, I half-smiled as I met Brett’s gray-blue eyes. “You thought I’d stomp on it?” He shrugged. “Stomp on it, tear it up, throw it in the trash. Something. Nice touch with the note though.” I tilted my head to the side. “Did you follow me home?” “I wanted to see if you’d stomp on it here. Is it burning in the sink or something?” A small laugh escaped me. “No, it’s not burning in the sink. It’s...safe.” “Safe?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, then.” “Is that why you’re here? Because I have things to do.” “A little, but I mostly wanted to talk to you. If you stomped on, tore up, or threw out the rose I knew I wouldn’t have a chance in hell.” “And you think now that you do?” “I figure I’m in with a chance.” I pursed my lips and made him think I was considering it. “I have to go grocery shopping. Follow me there and we can talk.” He held up his hand. His keys dangled from one of his fingers. “Why don’t I just drive you?” I stepped out of the house and pulled the door shut. I locked it and then mirrored his action. “I know better than to trap myself in a car with an asshole when I can’t escape. Why don’t I drive and you can push my cart for me? Show the people of Whiskey Key what a gentleman you are.” I threw those last words in with a smirk and a challenging raise of my eyebrows. “All right...” He hopped off the doorstep and backed toward my car. “Does that mean I get to spank you if I pass you in the aisle?” I stopped in front of him and prodded my finger against his chest. “No.” He held up his hands as he walked around the car. “All right, all right. No spanking.”



“Ouch!” I clapped my hand over my right ass cheek and almost jumped into some poor soul just trying to grab their milk. “What the hell?” Brett grinned, his eyes dancing. “You said no spanking. You didn’t say anything about pinching.” “That’s not fair. You never once mentioned butt-pinching as part of your gentlemanly ways. Besides, I’m still mad at you, so keep your hands to yourself.” I opened the fridge and pulled out some milk. His gaze followed me as I deposited it into the cart and then he said, “See? That’s what you should have stipulated before we left. You leave a loophole, and I’m going to exploit the fuck out of it.” “No. Really?” I deadpanned. “Walk,” I demanded. “Next fridge.” “What? Don’t you trust me to be behind you?” His grin widened, and the spark in his eyes turned mischievous. “I’m wounded.” “You’re starting to test my patience now.” I waved my finger at him and opened the next fridge, bending for my cheese. “Really? Are you sure I can’t stay behind you?” I snapped back up to standing so quickly I almost hit my head on the door. Just like I knew he would be, he was smirking, and his gaze was fixed firmly on my hip area. “Yes. I’m now one hundred percent positive. Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this.” “You probably shouldn’t have. I’m really not a good shopper.” I was figuring that out for myself. “Just stay in front of me and keep your hands on the cart, Casanova. I’m not interested in you hitting on me...or my ass.” “Have you consulted with your ass on that? I feel like she might be more agreeable.” I stopped, put my hands on my hips, and glared at him. “You just pinched my ass. She’s definitely going to side with me.” He offered me a lopsided smile that was somewhere between a sexy smirk and genuine amusement— and oddly adorable. “Will she side with me if I rub it better?” “Can you reach that bread down for me?” I pointed at the bread on the top of the shelf. He picked one loaf up and handed it to me. “That wasn’t a no.” “It wasn’t a yes either.” I smiled and put the bread in the cart. “But for the record, the answer is no. You cannot rub my butt better.” “So close.” He sighed and walked alongside me to the next aisle. Conveniently, we were in the liquor aisle. This store’s layout made little to no sense to me, but hey—I happened to need liquor to deal with Brett’s new, playful mood. I was becoming increasingly endeared to this side of him, which meant my anger was diminishing. And if I was no longer angry at him... I grabbed the biggest bottle of wine I could find on the bottom shelf and put it right in the middle of the cart. Brett’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a big bottle of wine.” I met his gaze. “In the last five minutes you’ve pinched my ass, asked to rub it better, and asked me if I asked my ass whether you could touch it. If that’s conductive of the rest of this misguided attempt to fill my kitchen, then I’m going to need this big bottle of wine.” He leaned over and picked it out of the cart. “You can’t drink all that by yourself.” “You’re making me want to,” I told him before turning away. “Now, what did you want to talk about? The real reason we’re here and I’m not shouting at you.” I walked down the next aisle and pulled a jar of pasta sauce off the shelf. He joined me as I was reading the back of it. “The article you sent Dad last night.” My mouth formed a tiny “o” but I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. That article was a mix up of bitchiness and niceties, but was completely honest.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For the things you wrote. You didn’t need to—and shouldn’t have— written that after the way I treated you yesterday.” The can clinked against the bottle of wine as I deposited it into the cart. “Well,” I replied in a voice just as low, moving down the aisle, “unless you had a complete personality transplant, you didn’t completely change. Everything I said was true.” “I don’t get it, Lani. I spoke to you like shit. Why did you write something so nice?” I sighed and looked down at the pasta I just pulled off the shelf. “Because...” I shrugged one shoulder, turning the pasta in my hands. A small lump formed at the base of my throat. “I don’t think you’re as bad a person as you want me to think you are, and...I was right.” “You were right? How do you know? Maybe you’re just holding onto a part of me that no longer exists. Like a memory.” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye before focusing back on the pasta. “Brett... Why the white rose?” He didn’t answer me for the longest moment, but when he did, he said, “Because it’s pretty, like you.”

CHAPTER TEN BRETT

Lani stilled. The pasta packet finally stopped crinkling in her grasp, and I ran my tongue over my dry lower lip. A thick silence descended between us despite the noise of the store. My words hung on every strand of the silence, dancing between us. What the fuck else was I supposed to say? Did she think I’d forgotten? That the rose and note were a damn fluke? I needed her to talk to me. She needed to know that I was thankful for what she’d written. That she hadn’t taken my assholish attitude and ran with it. She could have written an absolutely scathing article and sent that to my father instead. But she didn’t, because she was a fucking nice person. I acted like total shit, and she still didn’t rip me to pieces in that document. She could have. She should have. I would have deserved every word. Lani finally moved. She tucked her dark hair behind her ear, put the pasta in the cart, and straightened. Her hand rested at the edge, the hot pink of her nails bright against the black of the cart. “You could have just said it was because it was thoughtful.” “But then I’d be lying,” I said honestly, my lips pulling up to one side. She dropped her gaze before she looked up. Her dark, brown eyes fixed themselves onto mine, and while she wasn’t smiling at me, she wasn’t...not. Her bottom lip was pouted out, and the corners of her mouth were turned up the tiniest amount. “I’m amazed you remembered.” I grinned and leaned forward on the cart, resting my forearms over the handrail. “Lani, I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve apologized and meant it. I’m not likely to forget those.” “One hand? Sheesh. I take back my comments about you being a closet nice guy.” She side-skipped down the aisle to the other cooking sauces. “Ah ah,” I said, pushing the cart the way I was leaning on it. Then I held up one hand with four fingers up and my thumb curled into my palm. She flicked her gaze toward me for a second before she met my eyes. “I think if you’re trying to be Spock, it’s fingers together, gap in the middle.” “Four times,” I said. “I’ve apologized four times in my life and meant it.” And every time, you were the one I apologized to. She stilled yet again, her mouth slightly open. I knew the moment my words sunk in because she closed her mouth and swallowed. A light flush ran up her cheeks, and it was in that moment she broke our eye contact. She put down the sauce she was holding and walked around to the next aisle, leaving me standing where I was. Fuck, this was so hard. Why was it that nothing I ever said seemed right? I straightened up and pushed the cart to where she was far too engrossed in the back of a packet of cookies for it to be real attention. “I’m gonna go. I can walk back to get my car—” “Can you go back to the asshole trying to hit on me? It’s kind of easier than this Brett who’s a little too nice to me,” she said, interrupting me. “Your ass looks really good in the those shorts. Spankably good, actually.” What? She asked. She threw the cookies into the cart and looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Spankably good? Really? What the hell kinda crap is that?”

I darted forward and let go of the cart. I took her wrist in my hand and yanked her body toward mine, then smacked my hand against her ass. “That kinda crap,” I laughed into her ear. She spun and smacked my arm. “I didn’t need a demonstration. Now my ass stings, you prick.” “Here. Let me help.” I reached and slapped her other ass cheek, making her squeak. “There. Now they match.” “Brett Walker, you have five seconds to fucking run with that cart before I choke you on my flip-flop.” The hardness of her eyes said that although she was fighting a smile, she was really not kidding. I laughed and, grabbing the cart handrail, moved faster than I was probably allowed to with a heavy cart on a slippery floor. Thankfully for me, years of being an idiot by riding these carts up and down the aisles while being yelled at by my mom as a kid had served me well, and I kept control of it as I rounded the corner to the next aisle. Then a sharp slap rung out through the aisle, and a sharp sting radiated across my left ass cheek. “Motherfucker!” I hissed, grabbing my butt. Lani skipped past me, laughing loudly. She spun around to face me, her hair flying around her shoulders. She had the wildest grin on her face. It was the kind of smile that could light up an entire town if it had to, but fuck me, it was her eyes. They danced with the laughter that spilled from her lips as they focused on me. “Shit,” I said. That. Hurt. “What?” Her tongue peeked out between her teeth, giving her a playful look. “Your ass looked spankably good. It’s not my fault.” I took a deep breath and ran my tongue over my top teeth. “Don’t think you’re going to get away with that, Lani Montana.” She held out her right hand, glanced at her palm, and then turned it toward me. “I think I just did.” I slowly shook my head. “Oh no. You really, really didn’t.” The smile dropped from her face pretty quickly, and when she didn’t respond, I pulled my favorite chips off the shelf and dropped them in the cart with her things. “Did you just threaten me?” she squeaked out. I pushed the cart forward until I was standing right in front of her. I hooked two fingers beneath her chin, and with a cocky smile curving my lips, I said, “I don’t threaten, kitten. I promise.” “And that means what?” “It means you get to wait until I’m ready to get you back.” I chucked her under the chin and pushed off on the cart. I whizzed down the aisle, stopping at the end, and then I turned back. She was staring after me, confusion written in the furrow of her brow and the tightening of her lips. Oh, man. This was going to be fun. And probably kind of dangerous...



“So, tell me something.” “Hm?” I turned my attention to Lani. “Did you just kind of wake up one morning and decide to be a giant asshole? Or was it a gradual thing?” She licked around the top of her ice cream cone, her pink tongue bright against the pure whiteness of the ice cream. I blinked and swallowed. Please, don’t do that again. “I don’t know,” I answered with a shrug. “I

guess it was a gradual thing. I just changed and that’s the person I became.” She sidestepped a large rock on the sand. “Okay, but of all the things you could become, why a manwhore?” “It’s hardly a career.” “It is if someone pays you.” I clamped my jaw shut tightly to stop myself laughing at her. “I can’t see that going down particularly well with my family. Could you image the look on my father’s face if I told him I was leaving the business to be a whore?” “Yes, and I might just pay to see that conversation.” She flashed me a half-grin. I glared at her. “What? By all accounts, you’ve been doing it for free for eight years. Why not start getting paid now while you’ve still got the ability to get it up?” This time, I couldn’t keep the laughter in. “Nope,” I said with a firm shake of my head. “I have my rules, and I’m sticking to them. I’m determined to prove my family wrong.” Lani licked her ice cream again and looked at me. “Help me out here. I’m a bit confused.” Help? She wanted help? She was going to need it if she didn’t stop licking that fucking ice cream the way she was. “Really?” I drawled. “I couldn’t tell from the manwhore line of questioning.” She laughed. Her shoes swung beside her from where she was gripping them tightly, and she shook her head to get the hair from her face. A few strands were stuck on her eyelashes, and I reached out, softly pulling them away. “Thanks.” She smiled. “So this thing...the agreement you have with your family. What exactly is it?” I explained about the dinner we had while she munched down on her waffle cone. “Pops didn’t give me much of a choice. As shallow as it sounds, I’d be fucked if I was cut off. I’ve never done anything except work for my parents.” “Let me get this straight,” she said and licked her fingers. “No partying. No womanizing. No bad anything.” “That’s pretty much it.” I grimaced. “Usually I’d say that all work and no play quote, but it sounds like you’ve been balanced on the play side for too long, so this might even it out.” “I’m not all bad, you know.” “Yeah? I don’t see you feeding homeless people.” I laughed. “I do good stuff for people. I prefer to keep it to myself. That’s all.” She held her hands out at her sides and stopped walking. “Brett, how am I supposed to help you if you’re apparently hiding good deeds?” “I’m not hiding it.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I just don’t talk about it.” “Why not?” Do I have to have a reason? “Because I just don’t. It wouldn’t make a difference to how people view me, so there’s no point. I don’t do good stuff for myself. I do it because somebody needs to.” Lani looked up at me. Her head was slightly tilted to the side, and there was a dark curiosity in her eyes. I could sense that she wanted to push me, but I looked at her firmly. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I bet it would make a difference. If you really...Never mind.” “If I really what?” “Nothing.” She smiled, but her heart wasn’t in this one. “No.” I darted around her so she couldn’t walk any further. She side-stepped, so I did too. We both stepped like that for a moment, going left and right, before she dropped her head back with a heavy sigh.

“Tell me what you were going to say, or I’m going to kiss you and make you so mad you yell it at me,” I warned her. “You most certainly are not going to kiss me again!” She straightened, slapping her hands onto her hips. I grinned. “I don’t need to. You’re pissed at me already.” “You are such a shit.” She shoved her hand into my chest, but I didn’t move. “Jesus. Are you made of stone?” She prodded me hard with her fingertip. “Move, damn it. You’re like a statue.” I held my hands out to my sides. “I’ve not done a lot except party and seduce women for the past couple years. I’ve spent a lot of time in the gym.” Her gaze darted all around my body before she shook her head. “Good for you,” she said, but it was weak. “Now what were you saying before you started attacking me?” Lani rubbed her hands together in front of her stomach before she wrapped her arms around herself. “Brett...have you ever really paid attention to what the people in Whiskey Key think of you?” I raised my eyebrows and shrugged a shoulder. “Not really.” Slowly, she unwound her arms from her waist and dropped them to her sides. “They’re all waiting for you to destroy yourself,” she said, looking down at her feet in the sand. “They don’t think there’s anything good left inside you. Everything I’ve heard about you just screams that they’re waiting for the day you’re found dead in the gutter or something. The worst part is that I don’t know if they’d care.” I took in a deep breath and stepped away from her. I knew it wouldn’t be good, but shit. No wonder my family was staging an intervention. Was that really what people thought of me? That I was one more weekend blowout away from the end of everything? Lani’s eyes were focused back on me, but she didn’t say anything. “What about you?” I asked her without looking at her. I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Is that what you think?” “I don’t think it’s that far from the truth.” I jerked my attention toward her, glaring. “What? Do you want me to lie to you, Brett?” She tucked her hair back behind her ear. “Because if you want me to, I’ll coddle you and tell you they’re wrong and that you’re not doing anything stupid.” “No,” I said on a heavy exhale. “I want you to be honest with me.” She turned her face so she was looking out at the water. The sea breeze teased her dark hair around her face, and every time she tried to move it away, it blew right back there. “I don’t know why or how you ended up being this person, but you have to take responsibility for it. Nobody is going to believe in you if you give them nothing to believe in.” “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never done a thing wrong in your life.” Lani smiled, but it was sad. “I’ve done things wrong, but that’s because I don’t just wear my heart on my sleeve. I tend to pull it off and chuck it at people. I’ve trusted the wrong people and had my heart broken. I just wear those scars on the inside because they’re nobody else’s business.” I studied her as she spoke. Her voice was flat, no emotion in it whatsoever. Her expression didn’t change either, except for her tiny, sad smile. She didn’t make a fuss over what she’d just said, she just said it. Like it didn’t matter anymore. But all I could think about was that somebody broke her trust and broke her heart in the process. “You just need to...I don’t know, Brett.” She sighed and looked at me. “Do something good. Something that you’re not going to hide. Do something that shows people there’s still a good guy somewhere beneath the bullshit.” “And if there isn’t?” “Bad guys don’t give roses to apologize.” She was right there. But she was...different. She always had been.

“Just do something, okay? Make my life a little easier. Do something super amazing that I can write about. Something that’ll make people believe in you again.” I already did it on a weekly basis, but I couldn’t tell her about the shelter. If she didn’t understand what she’d been to me when we were teenagers, she wouldn’t understand what the shelter was to me now. An escape—the moms and kids I spent time with every single week were an escape for me. Mostly because the smiles on their faces put everything into perspective. “There’s the color run this weekend,” Lani said after a moment. “I’m covering it for the paper. Just...think about it, okay? Most people are running for charity.” “I don’t have time to raise money.” “You don’t need to raise it.” She smiled. “By the way? Whiskey Key Elementary teachers are running to raise money to renovate the gym hall and set up a vegetable garden. If you were interested.” She walked back in the direction of her grandma’s house. “If you run, let me know.” Her smile turned a little smug. “You’d look good on the front page, covered in pink and purple paint.” I laughed as she turned and ran across the sand. I couldn’t deny that her idea was a good one. I’d spent years hiding the good side of me down in Key West. Maybe I needed to do something good in Whiskey too. Goddamn her for making me want to be a better person. It was so much fucking easier not to be. Fuck it. I ran after her down the beach. “Lani!” “What?” She stopped at the edge of her grandma’s property. Shit, she was the one who should be doing the run. I didn’t say a word. I grabbed her face and kissed her. She squealed as my lips pressed against hers, but she didn’t push me away. Maybe she was too shocked to do it because she didn’t grab me either, but still. I released her just as quickly as I’d taken hold of her. “See ya.” “What the hell was that for?” She demanded, following me around to the front of the house. “That was for smacking my ass in the store. And this,” I grabbed her by her ass and pulled her body against mine, “Is for making me want to be a decent human being.” I kissed her again before releasing her and pulling my car eyes out of my pocket. Her mouth dropped open and she stepped forward, hand poised as if she was going to slap me. She stopped herself only inches from me. A slow, sly smile crept over her mouth as she backed toward her front door. “Yeah? I’ve been kissed better for worse reasons.” Well if that didn’t sound like a motherfucking challenge, I didn’t know what did. I yanked open my car door, my cock twitching inside my pants. “One day, Lani Montana, you’ll learn your lesson. Today is not that day, is it, kitten?” “Fuck off with your kitten!” she shouted. She stormed inside and slammed the front door, leaving me standing in the driveway, chuckling. I turned and came face-to-face with a very confused-looking Connie. “Hey, Connie.” She looked between the house and me. “What did you do to her?” I shrugged a shoulder. “I pissed her off because I kissed her. Oh, and I called her kitten.” She tilted her head to the side and then laughed quietly. “You know she needs to get laid, right?” “You don’t say.” I laughed myself and got in my car. “Hey, I wouldn’t put it past her to be planning my death right now, so you know. Can you make sure it’s not too painful?” Connie walked toward the door and threw a grin over her shoulder. “Oh, you have no idea, do you?” No, no I didn’t. But there was way more to that than just the death planning, I knew.

CHAPTER ELEVEN LANI

“You need to get drunk and get laid.” Connie dug a cookie out from the jar. “Like, tonight.” “Yeah, did that work out well for you?” I snapped, then froze. “I’m sorry. That was unfair. I’m just really pissed off.” Connie laughed and patted her stomach. “Being drunk might have worked out better. I probably would have fallen asleep before the sex happened.” She was probably right. Connie was a sleepy drunk. “Why are you guzzling mouthwash?” I put the bottle down and poised the cap right in front of my face. “I’m washing Brett Walker out of my mouth.” “Now if he didn’t just tell me he’d kissed you, I’d wonder what the hell you’ve been doing with him.” I threw the cap full of mouthwash into my mouth and glared at her. I swilled the vile tasting liquid around until I felt sure I’d rinsed every bit of my mouth out. The now foamy, green liquid spattered across the sink when I spat it out. “He’s unbelievable, Connie. Being around him today was just about bearable, and then he had to go and kiss me. Twice! And it wasn’t even the first damn time he’d done it.” “Back up.” She fished another cookie from the jar. “He kissed you before today?” “I do not want to talk about this!” “Hello?” Camille’s voice echoed from the front door. “Can I come in?” I walked to the kitchen doorway and looked through into the hallway. She already had got one foot inside the door, so I smiled and said, “You’re already halfway there.” She shrugged and came in properly, shutting the door behind her with a light push. “Brett texted me and told me he pulled an asshole move again. What did he do this time?” Connie tickled the corner of my mouth. “He kissed her. Again.” “Again?” Camille looked between us both before she settled on me. “Damn it. I told him to quit that shit.” “So did I,” I ground out and went to the fridge. I was hungry, damn it. And I wanted cookie dough, because cookie dough always made it better. “Earlier today, in fact. He’s simply incapable of respecting boundaries. How am I supposed to be around him if he can’t even not smack my ass?” “If I were a guy I’d smack your ass,” Connie said. “Ew, gross.” I flicked a chocolate chip from the dough at her. Camille sat the table and propped her chin up in her hand. “Lani, when was the last time you had a night out?” I paused, my hand in the cutlery drawer. “Um...a while?” Like a year, actually. I lived too far out of L.A. to make it worth having a night out, and where I lived, there were no decent bars. “How long is a while?” “Too long?” I guessed. The cutlery in the drawer clinked when I knocked the drawer shut with my hip. “I’m not a going out person, okay?” “And that’s why you’ve been single for four years,” Connie stated. “No, I’ve been single for four years because I like being single.” “When was the last time you got laid?” “Six months ago.” She throws her arms up. “Case in point. Now give me that.” She sat down and snatched the cookie dough from me. “Ooh, the spoon too.” “What the hell?” I asked. She dug in without consideration for me.

Nice. My lips still stung from where Brett had kissed me twice, I was conflicted with guilt over telling Mr. Reeves I’d do what he wanted, and now I couldn’t even get cookie dough. Not to mention that if I said anything, she’d pull the pregnancy card. Sigh...Being a good sister was so hard sometimes. “Let’s go out tonight,” Camille said. She practically bounced out of her seat as she met my eyes. “Come on, please? Except for when we did lunch, I’ve been working my ass off all week. I have tomorrow morning off” “Go,” Connie said around a mouthful of food. “Go have some fun.” Saying no now would only lead to me having to fight a battle I knew I’d ultimately lose. “Fine. Where and when?” Camille grinned and clapped her hands. “Nine tonight at Dirty.” “Dirty?” That was a new place. I didn’t remember it. “The best cocktail bar in town.” Her grin turned wicked. I was so going to regret this.



My phone buzzed as I waved Connie goodbye and got out of her car. She’d designated herself my driver —even if she was going home to watch Netflix now. I stepped onto the sidewalk and pulled it out of my clutch.

Brett: You’re going drinking with my sister? Me: Sorry, Dad. Did I need your permission? Brett: Funny. Me: I thought so. Brett: Be careful. Our bed and breakfast by the harbor just took a last minute bachelor party booking because their hotel in Key West overbooked them. Me: I don’t imagine they’ll be interested in a cocktail bar. Brett: You’ve never seen a cocktail bar like Dirty... Me: What does that mean?

He didn’t reply as quickly as his previous messages, so I hit ‘reply’ again, but I was interrupted by Camille’s arrival. Like me, she was wearing jeans and heels, and I was glad. I’d spent long enough deciding what I should wear. At least now I wasn’t worried that I was under or overdressed. “What does this mean?” I shoved my phone screen in Camille’s face before she could say anything. She squinted, taking it from me. “Oh no.” “Oh no? That doesn’t sound like I want to hear what you have to say next.” She pushed my phone back toward me with a grimace. “I knew I shouldn’t have told him I was going out with you.” I wasn’t moving, but I froze anyway. “No,” I said. “No, no, no.” “Yes.” Her hair bounced with her wince. “He’s probably already here. Just to be really annoying.” “Then do we have to stay?” “Yes! It’ll be fine. I swear. If he bugs you, Raven will kick his ass out. Promise.” “Who’s Raven?” “She owns the bar and makes the best damn cocktails in the world. They’re pretty much all her own recipes or twists on classic ones.” Camille grabbed my hands. “Pleeeease. I promise Brett will leave us alone.”

“Fine, but we’re dealing with this right away.” I shook my hands out of her grip and unlocked my phone.

Me: Where are you sitting, you ratbastarding shithead? Brett: Will you forgive me if I say I bought you a drink? Me: Can I throw it over your head?

“Will that help?” I spun around and glared at him. Which was hard. Because as annoyed as I was, I couldn’t ignore the fact that he looked damn good in a short-sleeved, white, button-down shirt. His tattoos peeked out from beneath the fabric, decorating his arm right down to his wrist. The starchily-pressed collar made his neck tattoo play peek-a-boo. “Yes,” I said simply. “Throwing a drink, preferably red wine, over you will make me feel a lot better.” “Why are you here?” Camille asked him, a whine in her voice. “I told you we wanted to chill out without you.” Brett dropped his gaze to my lower legs where I was wearing the same lace-up boots I’d worn the night we had our non-date dinner and not actually eaten a thing. “Because,” he said to my boots before he looked up and at his sister. “Hayley is on her own at the bed and breakfast tonight and the place is filled with the guys at the party. Dad wants me to keep an eye on them and see if they get busy.” “How do you know they’re here?” “I called Raven. How else do you think I fucking know?” “Oooh,” Camille teased. “Is being in a bar and unable to pick up a woman cramping your style?” “Don’t you have a girl’s night to be having fun at?” I grabbed Camille’s arm and pulled her back when she took a quick step toward her brother. “We were going to have fun until we found out you were here. Now I think it’s all but ruined.” Camille dug her cell out of her purse and looked at Brett and said, “I’m calling Dad.” Brett waited until she was out of earshot. “Do you think she realizes I stopped being scared by that threat like fifteen years ago?” For the record, yes, I did think Camille realized it. I also didn’t think she was calling to tattle, but more to check that he wasn’t bullshitting us for his reason for being here. “Why are you really here?” He snapped his attention back to me. Or, more specifically, my boots. “I have to say, guys are usually looking at my tits when they’re paying attention to a part of me that isn’t my face. “Sorry,” he murmured, sounding exactly like he wasn’t. “I just keep thinking about what those boots would feel like with your legs wrapped around my neck.” “Soft. They’re suede.” I smirked. I knew exactly what he meant, and snark was my only defense against it. Mostly because my clitoris was a traitorous whore and had perked up at his words. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” A fierce lust burned in his eyes as his found mine. “I meant to say that I can’t wait to see what those boots feel like when you wrap your legs around my neck.” There she was again. My clitoris was throbbing like hell. I clenched my legs together. Please don’t notice. Please don’t notice. This was all kinds of wrong. I hated him, so why did I kinda, sorta, really want him? “Is that how you pick up girls? No wonder you get stuck with the gold diggers,” I fired back. He held his hands up in front of his chest. “Point well made. Now I see I should have been chasing girls like you. This is fun.” I raised an eyebrow. “What exactly is fun about this?”

Brett took one step toward me and rolled a lock of my hair between his finger and thumb. He watched it for a moment before he tickled me under the chin with it. “Everything,” he said in a low voice, and my skin tingled where he ghosted his thumb along the curve of my jaw. “But mostly, it’s fun seeing how long it’ll take before you break.” “Break what? Your neck?” He stopped moving, his thumb just at the edge of my chin. His eyes blazed with both desire and determination, and my lips parted just enough for a tiny exhale to escape between them. “I don’t know if you’re cute or infuriating,” he mused. “Infuriatingly cute.” “Cutely infuriating,” he shot back. “Not really an insult. Just an astute observation.” I knocked his hand from my chin, finally, and took a step back. “Now in case you weren’t aware, I’m here to escape your crap. So, if you’d be so kind as to not say another word to me all night, I’d appreciate it.” I smiled, moving away even further just as Camille rejoined us. Brett slowly dragged his eyes away from me. “Well?” he asked Camille. “Did your little phone call prove I was telling the truth?” “Yes, it did.” Her jaw was clamped tightly shut. That was all she said to him before she grabbed my hand. “Come on. I want a Pussy Pounder.” I raised my eyebrows as she quite literally dragged me toward the door. “Does it come with the guy to do the pounding?” She grinned over her shoulder. “Depends if you pull the server.” She flashed the same grin to the guy on the door and we were both swept inside. I kinda missed being ID’d. I wasn’t even that old. I was only twenty-six. Did I look older? Why was I even worrying about that? Camille pulled me right up to the bar. It wasn’t as busy in here as I expected it was, but I instantly fell in love with the entire place. Perhaps part of that was because it wasn’t that busy, but I was pretty sure it was because of how I felt as I stood here. It was like magic, the way this bar made you feel. Sure, people were talking loudly and the music was even louder, but something about the way bright, white fairy lights twinkled along the ceiling beams and the length of the bar, combined with the light, leather furniture, was pretty special. Camille gave me a knowing look with a raise of her eyebrows and leaned over the bar. “Hey, Raven! Who do I have to blow to get served around here?” A woman around our age with fittingly dark hair threw her head back and laughed. Ice clinked inside the metal cocktail shaker in her hand, and she threw Camille a wink before she tossed the shaker in the air. It landed back in her hand the right way up, and she popped off the lid without seemingly moving, then filled three martini-style glasses with an electric blue liquid in one long pour. Somehow, amazingly, not a single drop of liquid splashed onto the bar. My eyebrows shot up. Well then, that was a fancy piece of drink pouring, wasn’t it? After taking money, Raven slid down the bar and leaned forward in front of us. She looked me over with bright blue eyes. “No, wait, don’t tell me,” she said over the music. “Dark hair, dark eyes, look of wonderment...you’re Lani.” “How did you know that?” I half-smiled. “I could be cocky and tell you it’s because I’m fucking awesome, or I could be honest and say Brett called and told me not to tell you he’d be here. Whoops.” She smirked and stood up straight. “Looks like that went wrong.” “Don’t worry. He already pissed me off outside.” “Ah.” She leaned back and went up onto her toes, looking to the side. “Yep, that explains why he’s

glaring at me.” She grinned sassily and wiggled her fingers in what I presumed was his direction. My smile dropped a little when Raven laughed. Camille obviously noticed because she nudged me, leaned in, and said, “Raven moved here from Key West. She worked in this place when it was Rocky’s Diner—after you left—and the moment she looked at Brett, she told him that if he tried hitting on her, she’d hit on him with a machete.” I propped my chin on my hand and offered Raven my widest smile. “I think we could be really good friends.” She laughed with a loud clap. “Girl, anyone who has Brett Walker’s number is a friend of mine. Now, what can I get you?” “Two Pussy Pounders,” Camille said. “And the guys who’ll serve them,” I chirped in. Raven laughed as she spun around to the liquor behind the bar. “Don’t we all want that?” Quick as lightning, she grabbed two cocktail shakers. She mixed the drinks faster than I could keep up with what she was pouring into it. All I knew was that there was a lot of liquor being poured freehand into those glasses. A lot more liquor than anything else. Two minutes later, after some more fancy shaking stuff, she poured the contents of both shakers into two cocktail glasses over a couple of cubes of ice. Finishing with a strawberry on the edge and two red straws inside, she pushed them across the bar with a flourish. “There. Try that,” she said to me. I was skeptical. I was a classic cocktails only girl, but hey, I’d give it a try. So I pulled the glass close to me and sipped. Flavor exploded on my tongue, and the aftermath of the initial sweeter taste was a comfortable warmth on my tongue. “Oh my god,” I groaned. “What is in this?” Raven held up one hand. “Red berry vodka, strawberry liqueur, a dash of cherry sours, and lemonade. Oh. And a cheeky shot of tequila.” “I’m moving in,” I said around the two straws between my lips. “This is the best thing ever.” She chuckled and as she picked up the twenty-dollar bill Camille had sneakily thrown down, she winked at me. “Girl, it should be. I’m the best mixologist in the state.” Well, then. I could take more of these drinks. All. Night. Long.



Two hours later, as the fairy light surrounded clock above the bar dinged eleven p.m., Camille and I fell back to our seats in a fit of laughter. The last two hours had been full of drinks, dancing, and giggles. She’d found herself with someone’s phone number brazenly slapped in her hand, while I found myself on the end of a sneaky butt pat—and a smooth transition of a scrap of paper with the hot guy’s number on. I had no intention of calling it, but it still felt good. The only bad thing had been the fleeting moments when I’d felt Brett’s too-hot gaze on me, but for the most part, I’d ignored that. I sipped from my new glass of Pussy Pounder—this thing was giving my inhibitions a pounding, never mind my pussy—and put my hand over my eyes, still grinning from whatever it was that had made me laugh. Camille was doing the same. Raven’s drinks were magical. I felt tipsy, but the good tipsy. Uncontrollable giggles and unfiltered

speech kind of tipsy. I should have been much more drunk than I was, and I knew the same went for Camille. “Ohhh.” She blew out a long breath. “That was fun.” “Speak for yourself,” I said, dropping my hand. “I think the last time I had that much fun I was eight.” Camille giggled. “Now you’ve had fun, tell me what’s going on with my brother.” “Nothing is going on with your brother,” I said with a completely straight face. “Something is going on with him.” I rolled my eyes. “If you count his misguided attempt to get inside my Victoria Secrets, then yes, something is. For him. Not for me. All that’s going on for me is gritting teeth and bearing his bullshit.” Camille looked at me, her lips twisted up to one side. “I don’t believe you. Before...” “Before, yes.” I looked down at my glass and stirred my drink with my straw. “I loved him, but that was a lifetime ago. That was before he showed me who he really was and broke my heart.” “What?” I snapped my gaze up to her. “Nothing.” “Lani!” “Fine, but you promise me you don’t say anything.” Camille waved her pinky finger at me with a soft smile. I linked mine through hers, and we shook. “Right after graduation, I heard him talking with Stevie Lewis.” I took a deep breath. “He said some stuff about me that hurt. He has no idea I heard what he said.” “What did he say?” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter now, but it doesn’t stop it hurting. I was more betrayed than anything. Let’s just say he’d spent a long time looking after the geeky girl only to turn around and be just like the others.” Camille pursed her lips. “All right. Is that why you left?” “No. I had a summer job at a paper in Scottsdale. I planned to leave a few days later anyway, but I just went sooner.” “I wish I knew.” I shrugged one shoulder. “Why would you know? I never said goodbye.” “I would have cared more if I didn’t know you’d come back one day.” She smiled. “All right, I have to pee. Hold my crap.” She slid her drink over next to mine with her clutch purse and got up off the stool. I rested my hand on her purse and looked over at the dance floor. Bodies writhed in the darker section of the bar, and I rested my cheek on my shoulder as I watched people move and dance together. My stomach twisted. I should have told Camille to drop the line of questioning about her brother. Whatever buzz I’d had going on five minutes ago had disappeared into nothing. Now, I just felt sick. I wanted to go home and sleep. I sat back up straight and looked at the drinks. They were almost full, but after this one, I was going home. It had been fun, but I had a lot of stuff to do tomorrow before the color run the day after, and a bunch of grandma’s stuff needed donating. I pulled my drink toward me, but before I could sip it, it was whipped out of my hand. I snapped my head around and met Brett’s eyes. “What the hell?” “Don’t bitch me out,” he said, his expression serious. “Thank me.” “For taking my drink away?” He looked at me, his eyes hard. “Lani, while you were just daydreaming and watching the dance floor, someone walked past and dropped something in your drink.” I stared at him for a moment. “What?” The hardness of his eyes dropped, and his lips turned down as he nodded. “In both your drinks. I’m ninety percent sure. You can’t drink this.”

I swallowed and looked at the glasses. “Where’s Cam?” “Bathroom.” Not only did I just feel sick, but now I felt...I don’t know. I couldn’t put it into words. Thankfully, I didn’t have to think on it anymore, because Camille returned. “Where’s Raven?” he asked her straight away. Camille pushed her hair from her face. “Behind the bar. Why?” He disappeared with both of our glasses without answering her. I explained to her what he just told me. She grabbed her purse, and we pushed our way through to where Brett was flagging Raven down. She held up her finger and finished serving someone before she came down. “What’s up?” Brett put the two glasses down on the bar. “They just got spiked.” Raven’s smile dropped, forcing her lips into a thin line. “You’re sure?” He nodded. “Out back,” was as she said before she turned away. She stopped to speak to a member of staff who nodded at her and then she disappeared. “Come on.” Brett jerked his head in the direction of the hall where the bathrooms are. We had no choice but to follow him. I had no idea what was going on or why we were following him, but I did it anyway. Raven was standing in front of a door that said “Staff Only” on a gold placard attached to it. “Give me those. In here.” She took the glasses from Brett’s hands and bumped the door open with her butt. “What are you doing?” Camille looked around what was obviously Raven’s office. Raven set both glasses on a part of her desk not covered in paper or empty chip packets, then she opened a drawer and pulled out a small box. Recognition dawned on me. She noticed. “You’ve seen these?” I nodded. “Testing strips.” “Damn right.” She pulled two sealed strips out, dropped the box, and tapped the strips against her hand before she tore each of them open. “They test the drink for signs of the two most common date rape drugs. I’m pretty sure they don’t stand up as evidence in court or anything, but it’s helpful, especially when somebody has drunk some. It helps the doctors treat them when they get to the ER.” She dipped her finger into one drink and touched her fingertip to one of the strips. The action was repeated for the second drink, except this time, she used a different finger. Within minutes, the tests showed that both were spiked. Brett’s jaw clamped shut so tightly I heard his teeth clench. Raven put the two strips down on the desk next to the glasses and looked at Brett. “Take them home. I’ll call your uncle. What did the guy look like?” “‘Bout my height, decent build, long hair tied up in a fucking ballerina bun?” He managed to get out. She grimaced. “That narrows it down right now.” She sighed and said. “Go out the back. Your uncle will send someone in in plain clothes like he did last time.” “Last time?” Camille asked, hugging herself. “It’s a bar. People are fuckheads. Can’t do a thing but try catch it.” Raven shrugged. “All right, look, you guys go. Cam, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Lani, it was good to meet you.” She smiled and picked up her phone, dismissing us. Brett grabbed us and steered us out of the office and through the back hall of the bar. Neither Camille nor I spoke as he manhandled us out to the car and released her. He pointed to the inside when the door was open, and Camille didn’t need telling twice. She climbed into the backseat and slid along it.

My gaze found his. “Are you taking me home?” “No.” “What?” “Lani, I’m not taking you home,” he said in a low voice, leaning his face in close to mine. “Have the bedroom in the fucking annex if you want, but you’re staying at our house.” “I will be perfectly fine at home. I didn’t drink any of that.” “Get in the fucking car.” “Get off your fucking high horse.” He took my chin in his hand. His grip was a little tight, and my skin burned where he was touching me. “Get in the car. Now.” I smacked his hand away from me and got into the car. Honestly, I appreciated the protective actions, but he could have at least said please. Demanding I do things wasn’t the way to go when I didn’t even feel tipsy anymore. In fact, I was a little too sober. “Wait,” I said when he started the engine. “Now what?” He met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “Why is she calling your uncle?” The mirror just caught the edge of his wry smile. “Because he’s the sheriff.” Of course he is.

CHAPTER TWELVE BRETT

I finished with Uncle Sam and left him talking to Mom in the living room. Camille had found some pajamas to lend Lani and gone to bed. Lani had disappeared down to the annex, carrying her boots, almost immediately after it. She hadn’t said a word to me since we left the bar half an hour ago, and part of me didn’t blame her. At the same time, a part of me thought she was a damn idiot for not just getting the in the car when I said so. I wasn’t throwing her in there to be a prick. I was doing it because I needed to get them both the hell away from the bar and the person who apparently wanted to hurt them. It was that simple. Every fucking part of me needed to get them away from the bar. What would have happened if I wasn’t there? No, fuck that. I knew what would have happened. They’d have finished their drinks and... Jesus, no. I couldn’t even think it. I didn’t want to think it. It was too damn horrible to consider. The worst part? I wasn’t even watching over them. The bachelor party had left twenty minutes before they returned to their table. I was watching Lani—just watching her. Shit, I couldn’t take my damn eyes off her. I barely had all night. And those goddamn fuck-me boots were to blame. I’d only said to her what I had outside the bar to mess with her, but once I’d said it... Well, fuck. I wanted those damn boots wrapped around my neck. I wanted that goddamn suede against my skin as I licked her clit until she came. That was what I’d been thinking about oh so damn gentlemanly when I saw that asshole walk past and drop something in their drinks. Yeah, I hadn’t even been actively looking out for them. I’d been thinking about Lani coming on my tongue. Although, if I hadn’t been... Dirty thoughts have silver linings after all. I rubbed my hand down my face and walked into the dining room. The bar at the end of room was fully stocked, and I stopped when I found my father sitting at it, nursing a glass of whiskey. He looked up before I could step away. “Join me?” I paused. “Sure.” I walked across the room and took the stool a couple down from him. He got up and poured me two fingers of the amber liquid before topping up his own glass. “Here.” He slid mine across to me and sat back down. “Thanks.” I wrapped my fingers around the cold glass and looked down into it. I didn’t realize it until now, but I was pissed off. I was really fucking pissed off, actually. At myself. At that dick in the bar. At Lani for being a pain in my ass when we left. I sipped the whiskey, but despite the harsh burn as I swallowed, it did nothing. It didn’t even taste good, and this was good stuff. It was dull and flat and did nothing to warm the chill that was spreading across my skin. The hairs on my arms were standing on end, making the shiver than ran down my spine too strong to fight. Dad peered over at me. “You did a good thing tonight.” “Just did what anyone else would have.” I took another mouthful of whiskey. Nope. Still tasted like shit. “Doesn’t matter. You didn’t need to go to Dirty tonight. You know as well as I do you didn’t go for that stupid bachelor party. You went for Lani.” I stared into the glass. “I wasn’t alone. I was with Matt. I wanted to see if I could take it.” “You’re a worse liar than your sister is when it comes to lying to me, but you’ve got the same tell.” I looked up. “Which is?”

“Your lies smell like bullshit.” Dad smirked. “Lies and bullshit go hand in hand,” I said, smirking back at him. He chuckled. “Lies or not, thank you. For being there tonight. For whatever reason. Your sister might be a grown woman, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about her.” Embarrassment flushed across my skin. It was a simple compliment, but even that was a rarity from him. “She’s my sister. Looking out for her is my job.” “And Lani?” “I did what any decent person would do.” I scratched behind my neck. Dad drained the rest of his whiskey in one mouthful. A clinking sound filled the air as the glass made contact with the wooden bar, and he put his hand on my shoulder. “Yeah. You tell yourself that, son.”



I couldn’t tell myself that. I knew what my father had said was true. Of course it was fucking true. Anybody with half a heart would intervene if they saw someone spike somebody else’s drink, but would I have been so mad if I didn’t know the woman whose drink had been touched? No. No way. There were two different types of anger too. My brotherly instinct had me pissed that someone had spiked my sister. I wanted to break their nose for even the attempt. I wanted to slam them against the wall and feed them their own damn drugs. But for Lani? I wanted to kill them. I didn’t just want to feed them their own drugs—I wanted them to choke on them. It was an alarming kind of anger. One that burned red hot no matter how many minutes passed. It crept through my veins like adrenaline, keeping me awake and feeding itself to my muscles. The clock didn’t tick over nearly fast enough when all I wanted was for it to be six-thirty so I could work out the anger in the gym. Then there was the anger because I was angry. I had no reason to be so angry over Lani. A part of me still hated her so fiercely that every time I looked at her, I never wanted to see her again. A part of me still hurt so fucking bad that I wished I’d never acknowledged her presence back in my life. I wanted her more. It was my biggest problem and the reason I was wide awake at two in the morning. I wanted her so badly it took every ounce of strength not to go down to annex, wake her up, and kiss her again. One more taste. That was all I wanted. Just one more. Sure, I wanted it with my cock buried eight inches inside her, but I never pretended I didn’t. One more—would it be enough? I didn’t think so. Every time I kissed her, I wanted more. I wanted it to be longer and deeper and harder. I wanted to kiss her until she moaned into my mouth. I wanted to kiss her until she forgot she hated me and I forgot her hated her right back. I wanted to kiss her until I couldn’t kiss her any longer. I sat up in bed and rubbed my hands down my face so harshly my skin stung. If I could, I’d rub this want right out of my body. I didn’t want to fucking want her. I wanted to forget everything she’d ever made me feel. If I could do that, she’d be just another girl. Just another girl in a sea of brown-eyed brunettes I barely

pay attention to. I wished like hell she could be that person. Everything would just be so much easier if she were. I’d be able to bullshit my way through this damn agreement. More importantly, I’d be able to forget about her. Something I couldn’t do now. I knew that, without a doubt, if Lani Montana walked away from Whiskey Key again, she’d never return. I’d never forget her either. I’d live forever with the memory of her imprinted into my brain, far more vivid and intimately than it ever was before. I dragged my hand down my face again and looked at my window. I hadn’t closed the drapes before dropping myself into bed. There was no moon, so there was no need to, but now a faint orangey light just reached the bottom of the glass pane. I got out of bed, adjusted my boxer briefs around my cock, and walked to the window. I had a full view of the annex across the courtyard, and thanks to the light emitting from the little light outside, I could see the courtyard too. Lani was sitting on one of the benches against the wall of the annex. Her knees were at her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around them. I didn’t know what she was looking at, if anything, but the softness of the light in the pitch-black darkness played across her face, illuminating every angle and shape that combined to make her who she was. I stood and watched her for a few minutes. She didn’t move any more than one or two slight twists of her head. She sat there, staring into the darkness, hugging herself. She looked damn lost. And god help me, I pushed away from the window and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the chair in the corner of the room. I shrugged them on along with socks and a t-shirt and grabbed a light sweater. My heart thumped a little too loudly as I made my way downstairs. If it weren’t for the light creaks of the stairs, I’d have made it down without a single sound. The back door scratched a little as it opened, and Lani’s head jerked toward it. “Hello?” “Hey.” My voice was quiet as I stepped outside. It took me all of ten seconds to cross the courtyard from the door. “You okay?” She looked up at me. “Did the light wake you? I’m sorry.” “No. I couldn’t sleep.” I sat down next to her. “Me either.” Her smile was sad. “How did you know I was here?” I pointed up to the window where my bedroom was. “My room. I saw the light, checked it out, and saw you.” “Ah. Sorry.” “What for?” She shrugged and let go of her legs. Her feet fell to the patio beneath the bench silently. “Getting you out of bed? I don’t know.” “Gotta admit, kitten, I’d rather you got me into bed.” She dropped her chin to her chest, but the action couldn’t hide her smile or mute her quiet laugh. “How did I know you’d say that?” “Maybe you were a mind reader in another life.” “Or you’re entirely too predictable.” I turned sideways on the bench and rested my arm along the back. “Predictable? I’m not predictable. I’m pretty much the most unpredictable person in the entire damn town.” She paused and tilted her head to the side. “Fine—your thoughts of the filthy kind are entirely way too predictable. Is that better?” “Probably as good as it’s gonna get, huh?” Lani smiled, turning her face toward me. It was the first damn genuine smile I’d seen from her all day,

and I knew it was genuine because of the way it reached her eyes. They lit up like the night sky, sparking and shining back at me. They made my heart beat fucking fast. “Yep,” she said. “That’s as good as it’s gonna get. Sorry, Casanova.” “You should smile like that more often.” The words spilled out of me before I could stop them. “Like what?” She reached up and slowly tucked her hair behind her ear. Fuck it, I was in deep now. “The way you just did.” The urge to touch her tingled the tips of my fingers, and the weak son of a bitch that I was, I gave in. I trailed my thumb along the curve of her lower lip from one corner of her mouth to the other. My gaze stayed fixed on her soft, plump pout, even as a tiny gap, barely big enough for a breath, appeared between her lips. “It was...real. And your eyes...It reminded me how pretty you are when you’re not mad at me.” She smiled even though I still touched her. It was a much smaller smile, but it had the exact same effect. Even as she dipped her head and tried to hide it. I didn’t let her. I tilted her head right back up and cast my gaze over her face. I wanted to commit every inch of that expression of hers to memory, because let’s face it—I probably wasn’t going to damn well see it again, was I? Lani didn’t pull back from me as I studied her. She looked right up at me, her make-up free eyelashes long and dark. A smudge of gray make-up was lingering beneath the outside corner of her left eye, and there was a smudge of something on her right eyelid, but the freshness of her skin—even if she was visibly tired—was strangely mesmerizing. I wanted to look more. I wanted to search her bare face until I knew every single little imperfection that was there, because as I looked at her, I knew they all added up to someone so gut-wrenchingly beautiful that I was completely and utterly screwed. “Jesus,” I breathed. “I want to kiss you so badly right now.” Her throat bobbed. “That’s not a good idea,” she whispered, her voice thick. “I know, but I want to anyway.” She turned her face right away from me. Her hair fell free from its position behind her ear, forming a thick curtain between us. I dipped my head and rubbed my hand over my mouth. Tiny goosebumps had erupted over her nearlybare shoulders, and god, I wanted to rub them away. But I didn’t. I did the right thing and said, “Are you cold?” “I’m fine.” She was such a bad liar. I shook out my balled-up sweater from my lap and draped it over her shoulders. She inhaled loudly, but the action was enough to make her turn back to face me. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “You’re welcome.” I half-smiled and looked out at the courtyard. “So what have you been looking at out here?” “Nothing. Just...thinking. About what happened...could have happened...tonight.” Anger fizzed in my gut again. “If you talk about what could have happened, I’m going to get irrationally angry again and then there’s no chance of hell of me sleeping tonight.” “You haven’t been to sleep tonight?” I stared at her. “Not a wink.” “Sorry,” she said. Like it was her fault. Which it partially was. “I just can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if you weren’t there. So, feel free to attend as many girl’s nights as you like.”

That made me laugh. “Or have your girl’s nights at home for a while.” “That could work.” She wrung her fingers in her lap. “Brett?” “Yeah?” “Thank you. I’m sorry I was kind of a bitch getting in the car.” I winked at her. “Don’t sweat it, kitten. It evens us up a little.” “Okay, as long as you call me kitten, you are way out in front on the asshole front.” Wow. “You really hate that nickname, don’t you?” She shifted and stared at me. “Only because you say it deliberately to piss me off.” I couldn’t even deny that. “Shoot me. You’re hot when you’re angry.” “You get me angry because you think I’m hot when I’m mad?” “No. I don’t think you’re hot when you’re mad. I know you’re hot when you’re mad.” She shook her head slowly, her brows drawn together in disbelief. “I was about to say I’ve never met another person like you in my life, but I’m actually very thankful for that.” “Lani, there ain’t nobody else like me.” I grinned lopsidedly. “I’m something special.” “It’s so nice to know that your lack of sleep hasn’t hindered your ability to put yourself up on a pedestal.” “I stay up there. It’s easier than getting down to be with the little people.” She pressed her hands to her mouth, but they weren’t tight enough to muffle her laughter. Her hysterical giggles escaped out from the tiny gaps between her fingers, and she had to drop her face right down until she was almost completely bent over at the waist before the giggles became tiny snorts. Was what I’d said that funny? Or had her lack of sleep caught up with her? It was that or she was laughing at me... “I have no idea why I’m laughing,” she breathed. Every other word was broken by a terrible attempt at keeping her laughter inside. “But thank you. Whatever you did, I needed that.” “Happy to be of service.” “I’m sure you are.” Slowly, I raised my eyebrows. “Was that an innuendo?” She ran her hand through her hair, pushing it right back from her face, and rested her hand behind her neck. “No, but of course you took it like that.” “If it sounds like an innuendo...” “It’s proof that you have a dirty mind, Brett Walker. Nothing else.” “I don’t need the innuendo to prove that.” “As evidenced by your obsession with my boots.” “Ah.” I smiled. “The fuck-me boots.” Her jaw dropped, but she was kind of smiling too. “Fuck-me boots? You call my boots the fuck-me boots?” “Shit. Did I say that out loud?” She nodded, desperately fighting a smile, which only made me smile wider. “Loud and clear, I’m afraid.” “Look,” I said, lighting pulling on a bit of her hair. “If you wear boots that go up to your knees with heels, I can only assume you’re inviting me to fuck you, okay? That’s why they’re fuck-me boots.” “Okay, now this makes sense.” She dropped her hand to her lap and blinked at me. “I wore those boots to our disastrous first meeting. Is that why you’re bugging me with the dirty stuff? My boots invited you to fuck me?” “No. I’m ‘bugging’ you ‘with the dirty stuff’ because I want to fuck you. The boots are a bonus.” “You...want to fuck me.” I stared at her flatly. “Yes, Lani. I want to fuck you, and you have no idea how many ways I’ve imagined

it.” “Imagined it,” she echoed. “You’re much less sassy when you’re tired. I’m not sure I like it. This conversation would be way more fun if you were tearing me a new one.” That snapped her out of what I could only describe as a daze. “All right. Fine. I’m going to bed. Alone,” she added as she stood. “Thank you for your sweater. I’ll add that to my list of Brett’s Gentlemanly Things.” I got up and took the sweater from her. “Look, I’ll even open the door for you.” I stepped around her and clasped the door handle. I slowly turned it and opened the door. “Nice.” She’d apparently found her sass again, because the word was injected with a cocky sarcasm. “Goodnight, Brett.” “Lani?” She stopped when she was one step inside the door. “Yeah?” I swept my arm around her and spun her against the open front door. My grip on it kept it firmly in place as her back collided with the wood, and she inhaled at the exact same moment. Lust burned through my veins, and I took one step in front of her, pinning her to the door. “What are you doing?” Her voice was breathy, and as I dropped my gaze to her chest, the quickness of her breathing was impossible to miss. Her chest was rising and falling like crazy. I dipped my head so my lips ghosted over her cheek on their way to her ear. “In case you were wondering,” I murmured against her earlobe. “Against the door is one of the ways I’ve imagined fucking you. With your legs around my waist, your nails in my shoulders, and your wet pussy hugging my cock.” She exhaled on a shudder. “Asshole,” she whispered. I placed my fingertips on her heaving chest, right above her heart. The quick dum-dum-dum of its racing beat told me everything I needed to know—she wanted me as much as she hated me. I stepped back with a smirk curving my lips. “Sweet dreams, kitten.” She said nothing as I strolled across the courtyard and back to the back door that was still ajar. I stopped in the doorway and looked back at the annex. Lani hovered in the doorway long enough that I could feel the ire in her gaze from where I was standing. The gentle click of the door shutting traveled through the still night air. I waited until the kitchen light clicked off before slipping back into the house and locking the back door. My cock throbbed in my pants, and by the time I got back to my room, it was hard as rock and throbbing against the confines of my boxers. I kicked off my sweatpants and got into bed. The head of my cock was trying to escape up over my waistband, but I tugged the underwear up higher and threw my arm over my eyes. No. I wasn’t going to do it again. I wasn’t going to get myself off to the thought of fucking her. The next time I got off, it’d be with her under me. Or over me. Or in front of me. I didn’t care how. But the next time I came, it would be because Lani Montana was coming over my cock too. I was determined. She was the ultimate itch—and she needed scratching.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN LANI

Masturbate. That was Google’s answer to my problem. Yesterday morning, Camille and I had woken before the birds despite the fact I hadn’t slept much that night. She had me home by eight in the morning. I handled emails and all the shit I needed to do, counting on the fact that I’d be so tired I’d sleep right through last night. I was wrong. Brett Walker plagued my dreams once again. Except this time, every one had been the same. I was against a door—or a wall—and he was fucking me exactly the way he said he wanted to. My legs were wrapped around his waist and I gripped onto his shoulders for dear life as he cupped my ass so tightly it only added to the way he moved inside me. And I woke up before I came every single time. Masturbation was, of course, the obvious answer. It wasn’t something I was shy about either. A girl has needs, after all. But over Brett... I really did hate him. His personality was giving me whiplash. I could physically feel the neck pain starting—or maybe that was from the dream sex... No, it was him. One minute he was sweet, my Brett, as my sentimental bitch of a memory had named him, and the next, he was that Brett. That sexy, unfiltered, filthy-mouthed Casanova who made me want his infuriating ass. Clearly, my current methods of dealing with him weren’t working. He was, after all, impossible. Trying to get him to be serious was like pulling teeth and having an orgasm at the same time. He had a one-track mind, and trying to get him to veer off that line of thinking was harder than trying to convince a physicist the big bang never happened. Not to mention that the charisma that radiated off him meant it was hard to stay focused myself. He had a crazy way of making me forget how badly I hated him. He had an even crazier way of making me forget that he once broke my head. All he had to do was smile. That slow, easy smile that lit his eyes up just right. The same one that hinted at mischief at the same time it screamed sex. I’d seen that smile too many times. Fighting it was ridiculous—he just turned on the charm even more, and while his words didn’t always get me, that smile sure as hell did. Maybe because I remembered that same smile being thrown my way tons of time as a teenager. Maybe because that smile now came with words—words I would have wanted to hear back then. Was my brain putting two and two together and coming up with four or fifty? I didn’t know. Everything about Brett confused me. I was running out of ideas. I didn’t know how to handle him. That was a lie. I knew how to handle him, but it was too risky. Playing along with him, letting him think I was giving in to his charm slowly... It was dangerous. Because he was dangerous. Then again... If it meant I could find out the supposed Walker family secret, would it be worth it? I didn’t have to tell Mr. Reeves what it was if it was too bad. If the secret would hurt Camille or anyone else, I wouldn’t say a word. I could do that. That would be easy. And okay, right? It was okay. I had to tell myself it was or I wouldn’t be able to do it. Finding out would be the hard part, but what if Brett thought he could trust me? What if he assumed it would be fine to tell me? Would he do it, or would it be an impossibility? I guessed there was only one way for me to find out.





I grasped my little camera tightly in my hand. The small backpack I had with me held everything I needed to get through three hours in the scorching summer heat, plus everything I needed to get notes on the race. My camera and voice recorder would get mostly everything, but I liked having a notebook around at all times. “Who are you looking for?” Camille sidled up next to me, pushing her bangs out of my eyes. “Who do you think?” She sighed. “My brother. Is he supposed to be here?” “Yep. I dropped a few hints earlier this week and told him that if he could show his ass around here and raise some money for charity, it’d be really helpful for me.” “Brett? Charity? The only charity he gives is to poor, lonely women whose vaginas need some company.” I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. “Exactly.” “Ah. I see.” She checked her watch. “Well, he still has time to show up, but he wasn’t at home when I left. I have no idea where he is, actually.” I frowned. That wasn’t good. “Do you think if I call he’ll answer?” “I don’t know. He does this sometimes—just disappears. It’s usually pretty hard to get hold of him.” Alarm bells dinged inside my head. “How often does he do it?” “Two, three times a month?” Camille shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. Sorry, Lani. We stopped asking him like a year and a half ago.” “A year and a half ago?” My voice came out a little squeaky. “That long?” She nodded with a grimace. What could he possibly be doing two or three times a month for that long? Was it because he was doing that ‘good stuff’ he refused to elaborate on? Now I didn’t just have alarm bells dinging—I had church bells ringing out. The longer I spent back in Whiskey Key, the more and more mysterious Brett Walker became. How could one person be so complex? “Are you looking to interview people?” Camille broke through my thoughts. “For the paper?” “Oh, right, yeah. I’m not really sure where to start.” I looked out at the crowd. There had to be at least three hundred people here. More, probably. I knew from spending a little too much time researching my home town last night that the color run was crazy here. Mostly because it signaled the start of the hard tourist season and was swiftly followed by the Whiskey Key Whiskey and Wine Festival. The crazy then started and didn’t let up for three months. “Want some help? I know exactly who will be happy to get their faces and names in the paper and remind the little people just how generous the resident multi-millionaires are.” A wry smile crept onto her face. Okay, now she was speaking my language. I was good at multi-millionaires. “Lead the way.” And she did. I smiled my way through two conversations with different people of whom I only had vague memories. The Lawrences were donating twenty-thousand dollars to the local authorities to renovate the park and add a skate park for the kids who couldn’t quite seem to make their own out of scrap wood, and the Peterboroughs were donating ten-thousand dollars to the local hospital for the maternity unit. According to Carly, both families were worth more than ten million.

They were pushing the boat right out with their donations. I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they’d spin right out of my head. It wasn’t until the third family that I actually remembered anybody, and it was only because I knew the guy standing in front of me from school. “Lani Montana!” Xavier Ryan swept me into a huge hug before I could anything. In fact, he grabbed me so tightly that I dropped my camera. Only Camille’s lightning-fast reflexes stopped it from falling to the ground. “Oh, hey,” I squeaked out, resting my hand on his back. “Geez, you’re strong.” He laughed and stepped back, running a hand through his thick, black hair. “Sorry. It’s just good to see you.” “You too.” And it was. He was no longer the lean, slim kid from high school. He was bigger and bulkier than I remembered, and he’d lost whatever baby face he had when we’d graduated. His once-oval face was now sharp and chiseled. “Lani’s working for the paper,” Camille said, giving me back my camera. “Can she ask you a couple questions?” “Really?” Xavier’s attention flicked from Camille to me. “You are?” “Yeah. I’m staying until Connie has the baby and need to keep busy.” I smiled and held up the camera and recorder. “Do you mind?” He held his hands out and, with a smile, said, “Not at all. Hit me with it.” “Okay. Let me get your picture first. Just stand normally and smile.” I took a few steps back, and when Xavier shot a stunning grin at my camera, I snapped his picture. I hit the button a couple more times, just in case. “That was great, thanks. Now, can you tell me why you’re running today?” I held the recorder up between us. “I’m running for the police department,” he answered, half-smiling at me. “They want to start a program for troubled teens, but their overall funding just got cut. My grandparents have donated ten thousand dollars to kick start it.” “What a great idea.” I meant it too. I didn’t remember there being many troubled teens on the Key, but there was every chance that had changed. “Thanks, Xavier.” “Hey, I can see Raven by the start line.” Camille tied her hair back on top of her head. “I’ll catch up with you soon, okay?” “I’m here all day.” I waved as she said goodbye to Xavier and disappeared into the throng of people. “How long are you staying?” Xavier drew my attention back to him with his question. That was rapidly becoming my least favorite question. “I’m really not sure. Maybe six months? I want to be here for Connie, but I don’t see myself staying here forever.” He raised his eyebrows. “You sure? ‘Cause you look awfully comfortable here.” I laughed. “It’s an act. I would actually rather be at home binging on Netflix right now. Besides, all the good being done from the donations today is making me forget why I really don’t like a lot of people.” Now it was his turn to laugh. “Yeah, I get that. So the paper, huh? What do you do when you’re wherever you are these days?” “Freelance journalism.” I half-smiled. “The traveling is fun.” “Ah, that makes sense.” “How about you?” He looked a little sheepish as he said, “Worked for my parents until I saved enough money for a deposit on a building. Now I own a gym.” Involuntarily, my gaze darted across his upper body. Yeah. I could tell. I coughed and stepped back when a light flush heated my cheeks. “Sorry. I’m apparently a little awkward today.”

Xavier grinned slowly. “Don’t worry about it. Hey—I’d love to put an ad in the paper. Do you have a card so I can call you this week?” I pulled one out of the back pocket of my jean shorts and handed it to him between my fingers. “Smooth. Real smooth.” His eyes sparkled as he took my card from my hand. “No idea what you mean.” “Of course.” “Xavier. How you doing?” Brett swept in from behind me and clapped Xavier on the back. I blinked and stepped back, away from them both. “Who are you? Joey Tribiani?” Brett shot me a dark look as Xavier returned the stupid manly back pat. “Not bad, man. You?” Xavier said. “All good. I’m afraid I need to steal Lani for a few minutes. Are you all done here?” Brett looked between us. I pursed my lips. “Yeah, we’re done, right?” Xavier looked at me. “Did you get everything you needed?” I forced myself to smile. “Sure did. Thanks, Xavier. I’ll speak to you soon?” “I’ll call you this week.” He winked as he stepped back and tucked my card into his pocket. “See ya, Brett.” “Yeah.” Brett watched as Xavier disappeared into the crowd and then turned to me. “What the hell was that?” “It’s called a friendly conversation. You should try it some time.” I shot him the bitchiest smile in my arsenal. Brett’s jaw twitched. “You gave him your number?” “No, I gave him my card. My number just happens to be on it.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the crowd. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, I yanked my arm out of his grip and jabbed my finger into his chest. “If you ever manhandle me like that again, my palm is going to manhandle your pretty little face,” I warned him. His expression didn’t change. He kept his dark gaze, flickering with anger, focused wholly on me, and his jaw ticked. “In case you don’t remember, Xavier Ryan is an asshole.” Without hesitation, I replied, “So are you.” “He looks at you like he just wants to fuck you.” “So do you.” “He’ll fuck you and not care about you the next day.” “I’m sorry, are we still talking about Xavier?” “Damn it, Lani!” He ran his hand through his hair. “The guy is a prick. Don’t go there.” Wow. Was he seriously going there? He was. I swallowed hard and folded my arms across my chest. “It’s none of your business where I do or don’t go. In case it’s escaped your notice, I happen to be an adult these days. Not to mention that you lost the right to have any fucking say in my life eight years ago.” Brett stilled. “What does that mean?” Shit. “Nothing.” I dropped my arms and stepped away from him. “Don’t you have a race to run?” His gray-blue eyes stayed intent on me for the longest minute. I forced down the lump in my throat and slowly took in a deep breath as if it would stop him looking at me the way he was. Like he knew I was avoiding something.

Like he knew there was a reason. “Where were you this morning?” The question blurted out of me before I could stop it. Brett closed the distance before us and pried the recorder out of my hands. He looked at it for a moment and then hit the button before he lifted it to his mouth. Then, with his eyes on me, said, “Brett Walker is doing the color run for Whiskey Key Elementary. New equipment will be delivered to the school for the gym hall in time for the new school year, and part of their fall term will be dedicated to setting up the new vegetable garden with the help of a local gardener. He’ll also go in weekly, for as long as he’s needed, to keep their vegetables growing correctly and teach them the importance of what they’re doing.” My lips parted as he turned the recorder off and put it back in the palm of my hand. “There,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t ask me how much it costs. I’m not gonna tell you. I don’t talk money like these cheap fools.” Oh my god. He actually did it. “Where were you this morning?” I asked quietly, clutching the recorder to my chest. A sly smile crept onto his lips. “Are you going to go out with Xavier when he asks you?” I stared at him. Was he...blackmailing me? He grabbed a bottle of water from a guy with a case full of them and let that smile move into a smirk. “Don’t go out with him and I’ll tell you,” was all he said, right before he turned and walked in the direction of the start line. Ass. Hole.



“Don’t go out with him and I’ll tell you.” I didn’t have words for how annoyed that made me. He had no right to hold my personal life over my head. My personal life, no matter how much he tried to insert himself—or his cock—into it, was nothing to do with him. How dare he use such a thing against me? It was manipulation of the most asshole level possible. If only I wasn’t so goddamn curious. I wanted to know—bad. I wanted to know where in the hell he disappeared to. What was so important that nobody could contact him? Why wouldn’t he tell anyone? Was he really doing something good, or was it all a ruse? I didn’t know what to believe where he was concerned. After all, he’d done one of his annoying personality flips again. Told me everything he was doing for the school and then let his inner fuckboy out to play. The worst thing? I was seriously considering—if he ever asked—not going out with Xavier if it meant finding out where Brett kept disappearing to. God, I wanted...No. I needed to know. It was bugging me to the point that I didn’t know what was annoying me more—Brett’s dick move or the thing he was keeping secret. The good thing, not the big thing. I was starting to wish I’d never left town. I tapped my fingers against my chin and snapped a picture as a group of young women crossed the finish line. I had no idea how many of these shots would be good, and I had more than enough candids to go ahead and put the article together, but there was something oddly relaxing about sitting just away from the hubbub of noise and watching multi-colored people emerge victorious. I’d never done a color run. It looked like fun. When my sister was no longer pregnant, I was going to kill her for getting pregnant and making me want

to stay here. I could at least plan that far ahead. Well, maybe not kill her. But I was going to make her life hell. Where the hell was Brett disappearing to? I swear I’d never wanted to know something so badly in my life. Where was he and why couldn’t he tell me? I didn’t care how good his supposed good deeds were. I wanted to know what they were. That was it. He could keep the goodness. Just tell me what he was doing. Was I asking for a lot?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN BRETT

I was dead. That was the only explanation for this fucking awful burning in my side. I was either dead or I was dying. Nothing else made sense. At least I’d finished the goddamn race. And I’d finished it before Xavier fucking Ryan. I grabbed a bottle of water from the girl at the finish line, undid the cap, and drank. The cold water was soothing, but my adrenaline was still running on high. I was covered in damn paint and all because of Lani’s stupid little hints. What the hell was wrong with me? I was doing all that for the school and using my mom’s gardener to go in once a week and make sure the kids didn’t kill the veggies. And I was paying him for it—not my parents. They didn’t even know, for god’s sake. It was all me. I didn’t need to run this stupid, paint-obsessed race. I could have made the donation and done the organizing and moved on with my life. I would have preferred that. The only reason I was making it public knowledge was because of Lani. It was Lani. All for Lani. I could feel the way she was twisting me around her little finger. Worse? I didn’t care. What I did care about was having to listen on a friend hit on her. Xavier was worse than I was. His reputation typically whispered of two girls in one night, and not necessarily separately. There were more than enough stories about his threesomes, but no—she wouldn’t have heard any of that shit about the golden Ryan boy, would she? The town was far too busy chatting shit about me to worry about him. God forbid they attack the perfect guy with quiet screw ups rather than the real guy with public ones. I rolled my shoulders and moved away from the crowd, grabbing a second bottle of water. It was stupidly fucking hot, and all I wanted was a cold shower to wash this paint from my body. It was still wet, and I could feel it trickling down my body and beneath my tank. It was gross. I was all ready to go back to my car until I saw Lani, sitting on the back of a bench, a camera in her hand and pointed at the finish line. She was too far away to see if she was taking any photos, but it looked like it. Our last conversation flitted through my mind. Pulling the Xavier card was a shitty thing to do, but if she knew about the shelter, she’d want to know why I did what I did. She’d have to know why I went and how I started, and I didn’t want to relive those stupid, immature memories with her. They were nothing more than bad choices. Bad choices I didn’t want her knowing about. Bad choices she didn’t need to know about. I screwed the cap back on my water and headed in her direction. She was like the sun—I couldn’t help but be caught up in her pull. It was irresistible, even when she was frowning at the tiny screen on a silver digital camera. Lani glanced up through her thick, dark eyelashes as I approached. Her fresh, pink fingernails stood out against the camera as she raised it. “Smile,” she said quietly, the barest twitch of her lips making her smile. I was such a fucking idiot, but I did it. I smiled, holding the water bottle, covered in what felt like three inches of paint. The click of the camera was strangely obvious, and the moment she dropped the camera, I moved back toward her.

“Do you mind?” She looked from the camera to me from under her lashes again. “You don’t usually ask me.” “Do you?” She waved her arm in a move that was either dismissive or careless. I picked careless, so I climbed up onto the bench next to her. I made sure not to touch her. I didn’t think she’d be too happy if I did. “I’m mad at you, you know,” she said without looking up from her camera. “That shit you pulled earlier was stupid.” “You mean the Xavier shit.” “No, the Humpty Dumpty shit.” I glanced at her and lifted my water bottle to my mouth. “It might not look like it, but I’m trying to protect you, Lani.” “Right.” She flicked through images on her camera. “All you’re trying to do is protect me from a guy who’s exactly like you because if you can’t have me, nobody else can.” I coughed. “That’s a jump.” “That’s the truth. You lost your shit over me talking to him, yet you have no issues telling me exactly how you’d like to fuck me.” She clicked off her camera and tucked it into her girly, floral backpack. “Even when I was trying to cope with the fact someone tried to drug me.” A thick lump formed in my throat and took up residence there. Fuck—she was right. Guilt swirled in my stomach, but my mouth didn’t relay that. “You didn’t exactly react badly to me, did you?” Lani flicked one of her long fingernails, took a deep breath, and looked out at the finish line. “Let’s be real, Brett. I’m not a robot. I’m an adult woman. You’re horribly attractive, and when you say shit like that to me, of course my body is going to respond. That’s natural, believe it or not. It doesn’t mean I want to feel that way.” I didn’t speak. “And the only time you get to act on the way I feel is when I say so.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Not because you think it’s right or because you think you know what I want. If I want you, Casanova, I’ll tell you. You get that?” I nodded and leaned forward. My elbows rested on my knees and I clasped my water bottle between my hands. “Problem is, kitten, I doubt you’ll tell me if you want me. When you want me.” “You like the word ‘when,’ don’t you?” I jerked my face toward her, thinning my lips. “Lani, I felt the way your heart beat beneath my hand on Saturday night. That wasn’t reluctance.” “Maybe it was.” “Maybe it was a filthy little lie.” “Maybe you should keep your shitty opinions to yourself.” I scratched the side of my nose and sighed. My attention was drawn back to the race. Numerous people crossed the line, covered in paint just like I was. We watched as they passed us, one-by-one, and after a moment, Lani pulled her camera back out. The button clicked with each press of her thumb. Temptation flickered through me, so I leaned over and looked at the little screen. The photos were all of paintcovered people running the race. I could pick out the people I knew relatively easily, and I couldn’t resist a smile as I saw usually well-put together people the complete opposite. I saw the camera for what it was—an excuse not to talk to me. But I wasn’t going to let that fly. “Are you going to go out with Xavier?” “Still none of your business,” she said without looking up. “He hasn’t even asked me.” “He will.” “And it won’t be your business then.” “All right. I’ll just have to find out when the date will be and stalk you the entire time.”

She dropped the camera to her lap and gave me a blank stare. “Really, Brett? Do you know how childish you sound?” “Yes.” My lips quirked to the side. “I don’t know why you think I care.” Her sigh was heavy, and she pushed her hair from her face. “You’re starting to piss me off.” “Look.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and looked over at her. “You don’t know Xavier. I do. You might go into a date thinking you’re gonna have a nice, quiet evening, but the entire time, he’ll be looking for another girl to take home.” Lani raised her eyebrows. “Really? He’d, what? Take me for dinner and leave with someone else?” God, she was cute. “No. He’d take you both home.” Her eyebrows went up even further. “He’s into threesomes?” “If the gossips in this town cared about the perfect Ryan boy, you’d know that.” “You make it sound like they’re all out to get you.” I smirked. “Okay,” she said quietly, glancing away. “Maybe they are a little bit. I could write a romance novel about the crap I’ve been told about you.” I sighed. “And it’s only just scratched the surface.” She looked down at her camera and flipped it over in her hands. “So tell me.” A shudder ran through me. “I’m not proud of the things I’ve done.” “Does that matter?” “If I’m telling you, it does.” “Why me?” She peered over at me. “I’m just a girl you knew once upon a time, Brett. It’s not like we’re friends anymore.” “Aren’t we?” I scratched at my chin, a small smile on my mouth. “Because I don’t usually talk this much to people I’m not friends with.” “Fine, we’re friends, but it doesn’t mean I like you.” “You don’t have to like me to want me, kitten.” “Just as well, since I don’t want you either.” I reached over and pushed her hair back behind her ear. “Yeah, all right. Tell that to your pussy next time I kiss you.” “There won’t be a next time.” She glared at me. “I’m not playing that game.” “All right.” I looked back over at the crowd. It was thinning out now, and I saw the familiar head of Xavier Ryan laughing with a blond girl and heading toward the overbearingly bright finish line. Slowly, I dragged my gaze toward Lani. She was staring off to the side, no longer paying attention to anything. “Let’s make a deal.” She snapped her head around and looked at me. “A deal?” “Yeah. If Xavier leaves here with a girl, you agree not to go on a date with him.” “Oh boy,” she said dryly. “I really get the good end of that, don’t I?” “I’m not done.” I nudged her with a laugh. “If he leaves the race with a girl and you agree not to go on a date, I won’t only tell you where I disappear to, I’ll show you.” Lani narrowed her dark eyes, piercing me with her gaze. She didn’t believe me. It was written in the shadows of her eyes. She didn’t think I would follow through, so I put my hand out to her. “I swear.” I moved my hand closer to her. “I might not tell you everything, but I promise I’ll show you.” She parted her lips as if to say something before she closed them and pursed them. A few seconds passed before she quietly said, “What if he leaves here alone?” “Then my previous asshole comment stands.”

“You promise you’ll show me?” “I promise.” She glanced at my hand. “I’m not shaking your hand. It’s covered in paint.” I shrugged a shoulder. “I already tucked your hair behind your ear. It’s all in your hair.” “Mothershit!” She frantically untucked her hair and looked at it. “Damn it, Brett.” I grinned. “Fine.” She dropped her camera into her backpack and, with a wince, put her hand in mine. “Deal.” I wrapped my fingers around her tiny hand. I shook once, firmly, and then looked out at the finish line. “Oh look. He’s leaving.” Lani dropped my hand like it was on fire and jerked her face in the direction of the line. Her expression was neutral for all of two-point-five seconds before her brow furrowed. I smirked. “You shithead! You knew he wasn’t leaving alone!” She turned and shoved her hand into my shoulder. Apparently my smugness was premature... Something I wasn’t used to. “Whoa!” I had to steady myself on the bench. “Easy, kitten.” “Kitten your ass!” She pushed me again. “You dick, Brett Walker! You saw him, didn’t you? You tricked me!” “Hey.” I laughed and stood up before she could ram the heel of her hand into me again. “Does it matter? We have an agreement and you get what you want.” She pouted. “And so do you.” I couldn’t argue with that. “I don’t really want to share with you where I go when I disappear.” “But I’m now not going to go out with Xavier if he asks, mostly because that,” she motioned in his direction, “proves he’s sluttier than a city full of naked whores.” “I tried to tell you.” “For your own agenda, sure.” I grinned and stepped toward her. Her gaze was hot on mine as I closed the distance between us, and her lips parted just enough for her to inhale sharply. The wood was cold against my hands as I grasped the back of the bench and leaned right into her. “You’re right,” I said in a low voice, glancing down at her full lips. “If I don’t get to have you, nobody else here can either.” “You’re—” “Going to have you. Accept it, Lani. I’m going to have you and you’re going to love every second of it.” I straightened up. “I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock tomorrow. That good?” “Make it eleven,” she said slowly. “What for?” “A little road trip and a hell of a secret reveal.” “Ten-thirty,” she corrected herself. “Anything I need to know?” “Yeah. Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.” “Dirty?” I pulled her from the bench and against my body. “Dirty,” I whispered into her ear. Then I smacked her ass and released her. “Brett!” she shrieked, looking down at her now paint-covered clothes. “I’m gonna kill you.” I jogged backward, laughing. “Ten-thirty, kitten.” “Kitten your ass!” she shouted again. “You’re dead!”



“Why does she get to know?” “Go away, Camille.” “It’s not fair. I want to know.” “You sound like a six-year-old who doesn’t know what they’re getting for Christmas.” “Brett!” My sister actually whined my name. “Come on. I’ve been bugging you for a year and a half. She’s been doing it for like a week and you’re telling her.” “Showing her,” I corrected her. “I’m taking her to where I go.” Camille scoffed. “You’re so in love with her still.” “I’m not in love with her.” “Then, wow.” She tilted her head to the side. “You must really want to scratch her name into your bedpost, huh?” I did, but that wasn’t the point. “Give it a rest,” I said, shoving my wallet into my pocket. “She’s going to write about it anyway and then nothing will be sacred anymore.” “I don’t know. Yours might be. To keep it secret, you must be rebirthing virgins or something.” “Camille?” “Yeah?” I looked her dead in the eye. “Why the fuck are you in my room?” She glanced around. “You’re right. I should get out. I might catch something.” I grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from the nightstand and launched it in her direction. “Fuck off, brat.” “Suck a donkey, asshole!” I shook my head. If I could trade my sister in for something, it’d be a statue of her. I still get twin status but I don’t have to listen to her whining. Even better, I’d get a painting of her and cover it in black cloth. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Lani.

Lani: You’re ten minutes late. Me: Cam pissed me off. I’m leaving now. Lani: Too late. I’m sitting in your driveway. Me: Sounds like you missed me. Lani: Apparently the rock I threw at you did, yeah.

Jesus. I loved it when she gave me attitude. I shouldn’t have, but I did. Mostly because it was that stupid, sarcastic humor that was so dry I couldn’t help but chuckle at her. She had an answer for everything and more questions than I could handle. I steeled myself with a couple squirts of my favorite cologne and headed out of my room. I glanced again at my phone as I reached the top of the stairs and saw another message from her.

Lani: Did you get trapped under that rock, Casanova? I’m going gray waiting for you. Me: You’d be hot if you had gray hair. Lani: I’m hot right now because I’m sitting in a car in direct sunlight in NINETY-TWO FUCKING DEGREES. Me: Coming. Lani: To the car, right? Me: Quit the sass or it’ll be down your throat. Lani: Try it and I’ll bite you. Me: Kinky. Lani: Not when I choke you on your own dick.

I laughed and opened the front door. Our conversation had lasted my entire walk through the house, and when I stepped onto the steps, I saw she was right. She was sitting in her car, except she wasn’t hot at all. She had the air con blasting if the way her bangs fluttered was any indication. She was hot, sure. But not temperature hot. Straight up, boner inducing, cum in your pants hot. Lani shoved her door open and got out. Her long, tanned legs seemed to go on forever as they reached out into the sunlight, and my gaze was drawn right toward them. My attention ghosted over her flat, strappy sandals and up her toned calves until her skin disappeared beneath a light pink skirt. “My face is up here.” “I know,” I said to her legs. “I’ll get there in a minute.” She huffed and slammed her car door shut. I didn’t hurry up checking her out. How the fuck could I? That light pink skirt was tight as shit and hugged her hips a little too well, and although her shirt was loose, the V-neck dipped just low enough that I had a good glimpse of cleavage. Fuck, she was hot. “My face is still up here.” I finally looked up at her face. Her dark hair was tied away from it in a ponytail, except for her bangs. The only make-up she was wearing was mascara and whatever it was on her lips that was shiny and made me want to kiss her until it all came off. She wasn’t hot. Looking at her now, that was almost an insult. She was downright gorgeous. “Earth to Brett.” She clapped her hands in front of her. “I promise not to yell at you if you speak to me.” My mouth curved to the side. “I like it when you yell at me.” She pursed her lips as if she was trying to hide a smile. “Are you focused again now?” “I was focused before.” “Okay, but can you focus on what we’re doing instead of on me?” “That depends,” I said slowly. “Does what we’re doing involve you being naked and on top of me?” She raised her eyebrows. “No.” “Fuck. So close.” “Not really.” I shook my head and hit the button on my key fob. A beep came from my car. “Get in. Let’s go.” Lani walked around the passenger side and got in. It took all I had not to stare as she folded her legs into the front seat of my car and shut the door. I was damn screwed. Her legs were my weakness. Boots or no boots. Whether it was suede or skin, I was obsessed with how they’d feel around me. My neck or my waist. Shit, I wasn’t damn picky. Either way she’d be moaning my name. I shifted in my seat and started the car. Fucking hell. I had to stop thinking about that, because if I didn’t, I’d have to pull over and try my luck at getting her in the damn back seat. I’d probably end up on the shitty end of the luck scale, but still. “Where are we going?” Lani turned slightly in her seat and looked at me. “Key West,” I answered. “But we need to stop at Target first.” Her brow furrowed. “Why?” “Because it’s part of it.” “Part of what?” I slid my gaze toward her. “You’ll see.”



Forty-five minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of Key West’s Target store. We’d barely spoken since my refusal to tell her anything. She’d actually turned the radio up, and I didn’t know if that was to stop herself talking to me or to send me the message that she didn’t want to talk. “Will you tell me why you’re here now?” she asked as we got out of the car. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper. “To get this.” She took it from me with a frown. The paper scratched as she pried it open with a gentle hand and looked at it. “Superhero scooter?” Her gaze rose from the paper to mine. “I don’t understand.” A small smile curved my lips. “You will. Come on.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the store. She was still holding the small bit of paper as I released her and grabbed a cart. “This is in a kid’s handwriting,” she said quietly, following me in. “I know.” “What are you doing?” “I told you. You’ll see.” I smiled over my shoulder and headed for the party section. I needed balloons, banners, and candles. Hats too. Oh, and a big old badge with number seven on it. Lani followed me without a word. Her eyes barely left mine as I pulled all the things off of the hooks and dropped them into the cart. A part of me wanted to tell her exactly what I was doing. It was the same part of me that was desperate to make her want me, but not because I wanted her. Because I wasn’t the person I’d acted like for years. I wanted her to see that. Somehow though, I knew words wouldn’t be enough. She needed to see it before I could tell her everything. Maybe then she’d understand...Just a little. When we got to the aisle with the scooters and bikes, I stopped in front of the scooters. “If you were a seven-year-old boy, would you prefer Batman or Spiderman?” “I, uh...” Lani paused. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been a seven-year-old boy.” I laughed quietly. “You’re right.” “I think you can pick either. They’re not that different.” “All right,” I said, cutting her a look. “They’re wildly different, and a seven-year-old boy will tell you so, so don’t say that again.” “Noted.” Her smile was small but somehow packed an amused punch. “Can I ask why you’re buying a scooter for a seven-year-old boy?” I put the Batman one in the cart and shrugged. “Because it’s his birthday. Do you think they make superhero cakes?” “Probably...” She trailed off. I pushed the cart toward the cakes. “Brett—what are you doing?” “What part of you’ll see don’t you understand?” “All of it,” she shot at me with a hefty dose of sarcasm. “If I understood, I wouldn’t be asking.” “You’re so sassy.” “Only when you piss me off.” “Avengers are superheroes aren’t they?” She threw her arms out to the side. “Why are you asking me? Do I look like I—wait. Avengers. Is that Thor?” I put my hands on the cake and eyed her. “Yes...” A slow, dreamy smile crept across her face. “Mhmm. He’s a superhero. He could hammer me any day.” “Okaaaay.” I put the cake in the cart and turned toward the registers. “You’ll let a fictional guy hammer you but not me. Boy, that makes me feel good.” “Are you Chris Hemsworth?”

“No, but I’m also not married.” Lani pursed her lips. “Touché.” I grinned as we reached the register. She was still glaring at me, probably because I just reminded her that her apparent celebrity crush is married and unavailable. “Don’t pout, kitten.” “You know, in my dreams, Chris Hemsworth is single and you’re gagged.” She put the balloons on the belt. “Am I at least in the same room?” She blinked, her long eyelashes fluttering quickly. “I don’t know how to respond to that.” “Say yes,” the dude behind the register said as he scanned the scooter. “Yes is always the answer.” “Now I remember why I left Florida,” Lani muttered. “You’re all pervs.” “Ah, yes, and California, home of the porn industry, is jam-packed with non-pervs,” I said dryly. “And you think I’m the sassy one.” She folded her arms as I paid. I tucked my wallet back inside my pocket and steered the cart to the doors. “Men aren’t sassy.” “And women aren’t kittens, but that doesn’t seem to stop you calling me it.” “Touché.” I smirked and popped the trunk. She waited until I’d loaded it before she said, “Now can you tell me where we’re going?” “I’m showing you.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN LANI

What was such a big deal that he had to keep it secret? Why, for the love of god, couldn’t he just tell me? I’d never been so worked up about anything. I didn’t get it. If he was showing me, he could tell me. I just wanted to know where he was taking me and why we were buying birthday things for a little boy. They were simple answers, and ones that could probably be answered in one if he’d just tell me. Brett pulled out of the Target parking lot. Would he keep his promise and tell me everything? That was all I really wanted to know. What we’d just done went against everything I knew about him. The Brett Walker I’d seen over the last week or so didn’t buy little boys scooters or balloons or party hats for their birthdays. He bought women drinks and pissed me off a lot. It was kind of...hot. “Promise me something?” Brett glanced at me at a red light. “Depends what it is,” I answered slowly, turning to face him. His strong jaw twitched. “Don’t ask questions until we leave.” “None at all?” He shook his head. “Why?” I asked him, my voice quiet. He shifted up a gear and pulled away when the light turned green. “Because it’s important to me that you see before you know.” “I...” His expression shifted, and I could swear I saw a flicker of worry turn his lips downward. How was I supposed to refuse? This, what we were doing, whatever it was, was really important to him. And somehow, I knew that whoever this little boy was, he mattered a lot to Brett. “Okay,” I said after a few seconds of silence. “No questions, I promise. But when we’re done, you have to tell me everything.” Brett only nodded in response. Yet that nod felt like it carried more weight than if he’d actually told me everything. Was this part of that big, huge secret his family was keeping? Or was this something else? Why was I kind of afraid to find this out? Brett took a left and pulled into the parking lot of a sizable apartment complex. It wasn’t the nicest I’d ever seen, but it was clean. There wasn’t a speck of dust on the windows, and several of them even had window boxes bursting with bright flowers. I looked across the car, but he didn’t look back. In fact, all he did was take a deep breath and get out of the car. I did the same and shut my door. “What about the stuff in the car?” I asked when he headed toward the big double doors. “I just need to check on something.” He waved for me to follow him. I did. To my surprise, the second we stepped through the door, we were greeted by a large, burly man with a gun at his hip. Where the hell were we? “Morning, Jake.” Brett shoved his hands in his pockets. “Morning, boy. Who’s your friend?” Jake’s eyes glanced over me and I swallowed hard. “This is Lani. Lani, this is Jake.” That was it. That was his introduction. There was no explanation of who he actually was.

“Hi.” I raised my hand awkwardly. Jake nodded in my direction before he gave Brett his attention. “Sali know she’s here?” “Yes, sir,” he answered. “I called her last night.” “Want me to get her for you?” “Please.” Jake pushed off the table he was sitting at. “Give me two minutes.” I watched as he crossed the lobby and scanned a card at the door. “Brett?” I said when Jake had gone through it. “Where are we?” “This is Hope Building,” he answered without looking at me. “It’s a shelter for women and children fleeing abusive partners.” My heart thumped against my ribs. I don’t know what I thought he’d say, but it wasn’t that. What was he doing here? “Okay, the question thing? Can I ask about this?” He nodded. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about the building. Just...not me. Until after.” That was fair. “Who’s Sali?” “That’d be me.” A tall, fifty-something woman in jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt came through the door with a big grin on her face. Her dark blond hair, streaked with a few grays, was piled on top of her head in a messy twist, and she had paint on the front of her t-shirt. “You must be Lani.” “Uh... Yes, ma’am.” I blushed a little. “It’s lovely to meet you!” She wrapped me in a warm hug for a few seconds before greeting Brett the same way. “I’m so glad you’re here. Sy has been asking when his party is starting for the last two hours.” Brett smiled. “Where is he?” “In the games room. We bought wrestling for the PlayStation and he’s playing it with Ivan. With the volume right up, of course.” Sali put her hands on her hips. “So you’re free to go through to the main room.” “Awesome. Could you take Lani there? I’ll get everything out of the car.” He backed toward the door. “I’ll help.” Jake offered. “The helium balloons are in my trunk.” “Come on.” Sali gently cupped my elbow. “Come with me.” I opened my mouth but nothing came out. What on earth was happening here? Sali scanned a card through the thing in the door. It beeped, flashing green, and she opened the door with a glance back at me. “You look confused, hon.” “Am I a horrible person if I say I’m really confused?” I asked, hoping my hesitance didn’t show in my voice. Sali laughed quietly. “He hasn’t told you anything, has he?” “Aside from this is Hope Building and your name is Sali? No. Not a damn thing.” This time, her laugh was louder. “Come on. In here.” She pushed open a door and led me into a large room. A massive dining table stretched out along one end. Party food already adorned it, and just behind the table were two large French doors that opened out onto a massive yard. “Wow. This is lovely.” I looked around the room, and it was. It was warm and comforting, from the plain, cream walls covered in silly photos to the bright, blue curtains. “Thank you.” She smiled and offered me a seat on the sofa. I took it. “So, Hope Building.” Sali pushed some wily bits of hair from her face. “He really told you nothing?” “Nope. I didn’t even know where we were until he told me. Inside the door.” Her lips pulled to the side. “Ah, yes, we’re Brett’s biggest secret.” Were they? Hmm. “Hope Building is a women’s shelter. It was previously a run-down hotel until I took it and poured

almost every last cent of my divorce settlement into it. I take in women and children who need a safe place. Some leave after a few days, some stay here for a long time.” Sali leaned back against the sofa and folded her hands in her lap. “Well, shelter might not be the best world. It’s more of a center. Everybody has their own small apartments, but the ground floor is communal. These ladies need the support of people who know how it feels, and that’s what we try to do. We celebrate holidays and birthdays together, we have childcare for the moms who want to work with kids not in school. We help them get back on their feet.” “That’s incredible.” I fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of my skirt. “But what does Brett have to do with this place?” Sali pauses with her eyes toward the door. After a few seconds she looks back at me. “Hon, I own this, but he may as well be the heart of it. If it weren’t for him, I don’t know if any of my kids would have hope. Or my ladies.” “I don’t understand.” “He keeps this place alive. And open.” She scratched the side of her nose. “I don’t like to charge my ladies rent. I have to, but I keep it as low as possible. When they go back to work, they pay a little more, depending on how many hours they work. If they bartend or are wait staff, they pay on their wages, not their tips. It means a lot of it comes out of my own pocket...and donors. Every Christmas, he donates fifty thousand dollars to me so I can keep it open.” Oh my god. “I own the building outright, but repairs and upkeep don’t pay for themselves. Neither do the things they need. Most of the time, people arrive with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and little to no money. The money Brett gives me helps me help them.” “Oh my god,” I whispered. “That’s so small in the grand scheme of it. It’s only money. It’s the other things he does that make a difference.” “What...what does he do?” “Let me tell you about birthdays.” She smiled. “Unless they’re working, it’s hard for these moms to afford the things their kids want, so we have a birthday rule in place. The week before their birthday, they have to write down the one thing they really want, but it can’t be more than fifty dollars. Then Brett takes that note and goes to buy it for them. It doesn’t matter what it is. He always gets it.” Oh. My. God. That note. Today. It all made sense. “The older kids know what he does, but they hold our pretense for the younger kids who believe their moms are behind the gifts.” “He’s a real life Santa Claus.” I touched my fingers to my lips and smiled. “I suppose he is.” Sali smiled back. “Then Jake buys ridiculously large balloons, Brett buys the little things, and we have a party. Eliot, a nine-year-old boy who’s been here for eighteen months with his mom and sister, got a scooter for Christmas last year. Sy, who arrived with his mom eight weeks ago, has been enamored with it ever since he got here. Nobody was surprised when he asked for a scooter. Eliot will be glad to have his back.” I was in in a parallel universe. It was the only explanation for this. “He does Christmas too, doesn’t he?” Sali swallowed, blinking back tears. “Every year. The one thing they want, he buys it. And I can’t tell anybody because he refuses to let me.” “Because he doesn’t do it for the credit.” How many ‘oh my gods’ was too many? “I didn’t know. But why?” “Ah.” She patted my knee. “That, hon, is his story to tell you.”

“Voila!” Brett burst into the room with the scooter in his hands. “Where in the hell did you get a giant blue ribbon?” I asked, looking at the large bow tied around the handlebars. He tapped the side of his nose with a wink. I rolled my eyes. He carried the scooter outside and set it against the porch railings. When he came back in, Jake was carrying four balloons with weights on the bottom. They were all superheroes, and I was tempted to put money on little Sy turning up dressed like one. “Here.” Brett tossed a packet of multi-colored balloons at me. “Be useful and blow them up.” “You could try ‘please’ once in a while, you know,” I replied, tearing open the packet. Balloons spilled out onto my lap. Sali laughed and stood up. “She’s got your number, Brett.” “I know,” he said wearily. “It’s exhausting.” “It’s about time someone called you on your crap.” “Well now you sound like my mother. And my grandmother. And my sister, actually.” “And the rest of Whiskey Key,” I muttered and put a balloon between my lips. “Good.” Sali smiled widely and kissed his cheek. “Is half an hour enough time?” Brett nodded. “We’ll be done. Where’s the tape?” Sali pointed to a tape dispenser on the table—which was right next to him—on her way out. I shook my head and tied the balloon off. I batted it onto the coffee table in front of me and grabbed another. “So, you’re like the birthday fairy around here, huh?” “Ah...she told you.” “Well, that and I was there when you bought the scooter.” I raised an eyebrow and blew into the balloon. “Which was not under fifty dollars.” “Shh.” He smiled, and it was mischievous. “It was only five bucks over.” His smile was so infectious. Maybe it was the way his cheeks were a little pink or the way his eyes shone. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I had to smile back. This side of him... He tore a bit of tape off of the dispenser and lifted a banner up. “Can you help me?” I tied off a second balloon and put it down. “Sure.” I reached him and took the end he gave me. “Why do you do it?” Brett taped one corner to the wall. “Banned question.” “Boo.” I pouted. He glanced at me. “Fine, I’ll give you the easy answer. But if you pout like that again, I’m kissing you.” I covered my mouth with my hand. A smirk appeared on his face. “I do it because somebody has to. These kids have seen enough hell, and in some cases, like Sy’s, they’ve been through it too. What’s fifty bucks on a birthday present for them if it makes them smile?” I took the tape he offered me and stuck my side to the wall, then looked at him out of the corner of my eye as he tore off another bit of tape. “These kids don’t have many people to believe in. Their moms are struggling and most of them don’t have a lot of money. I’m like...a walking happy place. I play soccer or baseball with them and their moms can take a breather or whatever. Hell, I’ve even baked cookies with them and one of the moms before.” He smiled and looked down. “I can make a difference in their lives. A difference they need, even if it only lasts for ten minutes.” There he was. That was my Brett. The one I remembered—the one I’d loved. That softness...that heart. His heart.

His words sucker-punched me right in the gut. Just like that, a piece of my hatred for him was stripped away. It fizzled out into nothing, and the worst part about it was that it was a piece I held close to my heart. It was a piece that guarded my heart. He’d exposed it in less than one hundred words. “What?” Brett smiled and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I pressed my lips together and stepped toward him. I hesitated before I put my hand on his chest, right over his heart, and looked up at him, my own heart thumping hard. “You’re really ruining your reputation as an asshole, you know that?” He laughed lightly, the sound rumbling across my skin. “Lani,” he said in a low voice. “Why do you think I haven’t told anyone?” “I don’t know, but you’re going to tell me when we leave here.” “Fair point.” He placed his hand over mine and wrapped his fingers around my palm. “I’m really glad I brought you here today.” “You are?” “Yeah.” He lowered our hands and then cupped my chin. He brushed his thumb over my cheek. “Because right now, you’re looking at me like you don’t hate me as much as you did an hour ago.” I glanced down and then looked away from him. “Lani?” I reached up and pressed my lips against his cheek. His stubble was rough against my mouth, but I let my touch linger for just a second before stepping back. “I don’t.” His eyes held mine for an uncomfortably long second. Zings of something unidentifiable shot up and down my spine, and I took in a deep breath, because in his eyes, the asshole Brett was completely gone. Right there, in that moment, he was my Brett. It took everything I had to blink back the unwanted emotion and bury it again. Two gentle knocks echoed from the door. We both turned at the same time. Sali looked between us with a questioning lift of an eyebrow. “Sorry. Stephanie wanted to come down and see before everyone else got here. Sy’s still in the games room.” “Sure.” Brett smiled. “Come on in.” “Come on, honey.” Sali placed a hand against the back of a woman whom I couldn’t see. When she came into view, I swallowed hard. She was obviously pregnant, at least six months, and she had a hand rested on top of her stomach. She held herself timidly, and she was tucked carefully into Sali’s side. Sali was a pillar of strength for her as she led her across the main room. Stephanie, as I assumed the other woman was, glanced a few times at Brett, but she didn’t say anything as she looked around the room. A tiny smile spread across her face as she took it all in. Jake had apparently done a great job with the balloons, and although we still had tons of decorations to put up, she looked as though she loved it the way it was. “Come outside,” Sali said quietly. “Sy’s present is waiting for him.” I turned and watched as both women went outside. Brett stepped up next to me and took a deep breath in. All I could do was touch his arm, so I did. I hooked my hand around the crook of his elbow and squeezed lightly. He didn’t look at me, and seconds later, I found out why. A loud gasp came from the porch. Brett stepped forward, toward the open doors, and waited in the doorway. I shifted just enough that I could see. Stephanie was being held up by Sali. She had her hand covering her face, and her tears, although quiet, were still audible to me. My heart clenched in my chest at the sight of this beautifully pregnant woman

crying because her son’s biggest wish for his birthday had been fulfilled. And Brett was the reason why. Stephanie turned toward Brett. She was shaking, and the tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at him. “Thank you,” she said, her voice scratchy and hoarse. “Thank you so much.” His smile was gentle and honest. “It’s my pleasure.” She hesitated, but then she threw her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest. When he wrapped his arms around her, I had to look away. Everything in me wanted me to cry, wanted to watch just how tenderly he held her, but I didn’t need to see it. I could feel it. I could hear it. In her sobs and his calming ‘ssh’ as if he were soothing a crying child with a grazed knee. Another strip of hatred folded into nothingness. God, he wasn’t perfect. No, he wasn’t even close. He was so wonderful, though. Even despite everything. He had a heart of gold beneath all his bullshit. “That’s the first time she’s spoken to him,” Sali whispered, now right beside me. I blew out a quiet breath and looked at her. “Really?” She nodded, her lips turned down. “It takes time for them to trust anybody, especially a man. You’d be surprised how many times the first words he hears from a new resident is ‘thank you.’“ I finally looked up. Brett held her hands and he looked as if he was saying something important to her. No. I imagined most of them said ‘thank you’ to him before anything else. I wasn’t surprised at all.



“Why can’t I have a turn?” Brett said to Sy. The little boy shook his shaggy black hair. “Because you’re too big and I have to race Eliot now.” “He’s right, Brett,” the little boy I now knew as Eliot said. “He knows I’m going to beat him.” “Are not!” Sy shouted, pointing at him. “I’m a superhero!” Yeah. I was right. He was dressed as Superman. “All right, all right,” Brett said, holding his hands out. “You guys race. Shall I count?” “No.” Sy looked shyly back at me. “I want the pretty girl with the pink skirt to do it.” Brett peered over at me with a half-smile on his face. “What do you say, Pretty Girl in the Pink Skirt? Will you start their race?” I laughed and joined them on the grass. “I think I can do that.” I bent down next to Sy. His little cheeks flushed pink. “You’re pretty.” Brett covered his mouth with his hand. “Well, you’re very handsome, Mr. Sy.” I kissed his cheek. “I’d love to start your race.” Eliot rolled his eyes. “Nobody ever kisses my cheek when it’s my birthday.” The males here were demanding. “Here.” I leaned around Sy and kissed Eliot’s cheek too. “Is that better?” He blushed bright red. “All right, stop flirting with the pretty girl,” Brett said. “No fair,” Eliot said. “You keep flirting with her.” “She’s the same age as me. I’m allowed to flirt with her.” “She’s too pretty for you,” Hilaria, a six-year-old little girl butted in from where she was making daisy chains a few feet away. “Honestly, Brett. As my mommy would say, honey, you are batting out of your

gosh-darn league, aren’tcha?” She punctuated that with a sassy raise of her eyebrows. I bit my cheek to stop myself laughing at the perfect, white-blond little girl. She had that look down something fierce, and my god, the world had to be ready for that one to grow up. “She’s right.” Eliot nodded somberly. “Why do you get the pretty girl?” “Because he’s a pretty boy,” Sy answered. “I’m not pretty!” Brett argued. “I’m handsome.” Sy looked at him dryly. “So am I, and I’m seven.” “Touché,” Brett muttered. “All right,” I said, fighting real laughter. “Can we move on? Boys, on three. First to the beanbags, okay? One, two, three.” I clapped my hands and they both shot off down the path. “These children kill me,” Brett whispered. “But I kinda love them.” “Really,” I whispered back quietly. “I couldn’t tell.” He nudged me with a quiet chuckle. “They’re so happy despite it all. I can’t help it.” Hilaria clapped her hands. “Are you talking about us again?” “Only about how beautiful you are,” he replied without a missing a beat. “Mhmmmm.” She stared at him. “Here.” She got up and tapped the top of his head. He ducked it, and she placed a daisy chain necklace around his neck with quiet tenderness. “There you go. Now you’re a little prettier than before.” I looked down, hiding my mouth behind my hand. God love childhood bluntness. “And Miss Lani.” She put another over my head before I could do anything. The soft petals of the daisies tickled against my collarbone. “Why, thank you, Miss Hilaria. It’s beautiful.” She grinned, showing a missing top tooth. “My mommy taught me forevers ago. She doesn’t always make them now, but I like to.” “I have an idea,” Brett said, taking her tiny hand. “Why don’t me and you make your mommy one?” Hilaria tilted her head to the side. “Yes. Mommy would like that.” She immediately walked past us. “We need the long daisies. They’re the bestestest ones.” “You got it.” Brett got onto his hands and knees and scoured the grass for the best daisies. Yep. I should have left hours ago. Could I handle Brett Walker on his knees, helping a six-year-old little girl search for daisies? I didn’t think so. In fact, as I watched him pluck one from the grass, I knew I couldn’t. Oh, lordy, lord, lord. My heart, my soul, everything. It burst as he placed it in the palm of her hand without crushing a petal. He was so crude and forceful sometimes. How could he be so tender too? “I win!” Sy screamed, almost crashing into the porch. Eliot came up a second later. “You’re right. You did. Good job, buddy!” I smiled as the older boy patted Sy on the shoulder. Then he grinned at me and winked. With two eyes. Seriously. My heart. If it survived today it would be a goddamn miracle.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN BRETT

Lani hadn’t said a word since we left the shelter. I could see on her face that she was trying to process what she’d seen. Confusion flitted across her face in the form of a furrowed brow and wrinkled nose every few minutes. I didn’t know what to say to her to help her, mostly because the conversation that was coming had to be driven by her. She was curious. She always had been. She always had to know every little thing in the world. Everything had to be explained right down to the letter. Even the letter itself had to be explained. She had a million questions for me. I just knew it. And I was fucking terrified. Back there, she looked at me like she didn’t hate me. Like I wasn’t total shit. Like I wasn’t nothing. Like I was somebody. Somebody she respected. And fuck, it was her, wasn’t it? Her opinion. Always her opinion. She was all that mattered. Fucking hell, why did it have to be her? Of all the people that could matter to me it was her, even now, eight years later. Shit. I ran my fingers through my hair as I sat on the beach next to her. My toes dug into the soft, hot sand. If it weren’t for the blanket we were sitting on, my ass would be burning like a damn liar right about now. “So that’s where you go,” she said on a quiet exhale. “Yep. That’s where I go. My good deed. My little secret.” Because the big one, The Thing was fucking destructive. Lani reached up and pulled her hair out of its tie. It fell down around her shoulders in one big wave. The kink from where she had it tied up looked strange, but she didn’t care as she ran her fingers through it. “I can’t say I ever would have imagined you there,” she quietly admitted. “I don’t know what I thought, actually. But not that.” “Yeah.” I looked out as the sea crashed against the sand in sprays of pure white. “But we’re done now, so you get what you want. Ask me whatever you want to know.” “Are you sure?” She looked over at me, tucking hair behind her ear. “Because...you don’t have to.” “No, I made you promise. I’ll answer what you want about the shelter and me. Anything.” I met her gaze. “I swear, Lani. Ask me whatever. It’s yours to know, and then you can write your article and tell everybody that I’m actually the kind of person they don’t think I am.” She looked at me long and hard for a moment, her long, dark lashes like thick curtains every time she blinked. “Why?” she asked. “Why do you go and do what you do?” “Why do I do it today or how I started?” Her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “Everything.” I took a deep breath and looked back out at the sea. “When I was twenty-three, I hit probably my lowest point in what the people in this goddamn town would call my spiral into nothing. I had no limits. I drank every night, I really didn’t respect women at all, and on occasion, I smoked pot.” Her inhale was sharp. I couldn’t look at her. She was looking at me, but I couldn’t do it back. “Drugs are big here. You might not think it, but they are. At least they were more then.” I rested my elbows on my knees and dove my fingers into my hair. Focusing on a small, cracked shell buried in the sand, I said, “I had friends then who were into it. I wasn’t big on it and it was never a real issue for me,

but for them, it was. They needed it. One night, I was driving to a party in Miami and we got stopped just before we left town. There was two hundred dollars’ worth of pot in my trunk.” Lani said nothing. She didn’t move either. “My uncle gave me a warning. He let me off easy. He didn’t tell my parents either, and I don’t know why he didn’t. But he said if I did it again, he would. That was a bigger threat than going to jail.” I paused. “You did it again, didn’t you?” she whispered. “Not intentionally,” I said honestly. “One of the guys got bail, and we were headed into the center of town for a few beers. My uncle and the rest of Whiskey PD were in the habit of stopping me randomly to check I wasn’t carrying drugs. That happened to be a night I got stopped. The guy I was with had enough cocaine on him that he couldn’t claim personal use.” “Did you go to jail?” I shook my head. “They saw my innocence. For some reason, the officers that stopped us believed I wasn’t involved and it was just timing. But my uncle told my parents about both times. Mom cried, and Dad was so mad he ordered Uncle Sam to lock me up. He refused, but he said I had to do something good or he would. He told me to find some good I could do in the world within two weeks or he was arresting me.” “Oh my god,” Lani whispered. She didn’t seem capable of talking loudly, and I didn’t blame her. “I was looking for charities when I found Hope Building. Sali was trying to fundraise online. She needed new plumbing, and I thought a donation to cover that would be enough.” “And it wasn’t?” “It was, but then she invited me to see who I was helping. My parents pretty much forced me to go, but within thirty minutes of being there, I kinda fell in love with it.” I pulled my lips to the side and looked up. “They were so grateful for my money and that I cared enough to come down and see them. Of course, it wasn’t me, but I didn’t want to tell them that. So a couple weeks later, I took down some sports stuff. Soccer ball, football, baseball gear.” Lani brushed her fingers against my arm. “And you didn’t have to?” I shook my head. “As far as my family was concerned, I was home free. I’d done something good. But I wasn’t so sure.” “How could you not be sure?” “I got a rush,” I admitted. “Knowing I’d helped them when nobody else would? Sick rush of pleasure. I don’t understand it, but I just feel so fucking good when I’ve been there.” “It’s not sick or weird,” she said quietly. “I feel the same right now and I haven’t even done anything. I just watched you do it.” “Yeah... I don’t get it, Lani. Those women are afraid of every man but me. It doesn’t make sense.” “No, it does.” She turned and placed her hand against my cheek. She forced my head around until I was looking her dead in the eye. “Total sense, Brett. You’re there for them when nobody else is. Those kids look up to you and they love you. They respect you. I saw it. How can they be afraid of you? You’re not scary or dangerous. You’re an asshole, but you’re a good one.” “A good asshole.” I laughed quietly. “That’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one.” “Maybe...” She glanced down as she smiled. “But you kept it up when you didn’t need to. Three years, Brett? That’s dedication.” “They need me.” I slide her hand down my face to her lap. “I don’t do it because I want to. I do it because I have to.” “But why do you have to?” “Because someone has to. Where would they be—where would their kids be—If nobody cared enough to help them? Do you have any idea what they go through? It’s hell on Earth. If the kids are lucky, they see

bruises. If they’re unlucky, they have their own. I can’t wring their husbands’ necks, as much as I’d like to, but I can do this. I can make sure they get to smile.” Lani kept her eyes trained on me. “You see yourself the way everybody else does, don’t you?” “I see myself the way I know I am.” “I think you’re horrible,” she said quietly. “I think you’re brash and rude. I think you don’t consider the consequences of some of your actions and you think everyone will do what you want because of who you are. I think you’re spoiled and sometimes, really freaking not great to be around.” I wanted to speak, but the shadowy glint in her eye told me not to. “But I also think you underestimate yourself.” Her pink lips parted and she sighed. “I’ve seen hundreds of truly cruel people, Casanova, and you aren’t one of them. It’s an outer shell for you. Beneath that you have such a big heart. I don’t know why you won’t show it to anybody, but I’m thankful I got to see you to show it to people who deserve it. And for everything that you do that you refuse to take credit for, I think you’re really quite wonderful.” I reached out and trailed my fingertips across her hairline until I tucked her hair behind her ear. “Would it make you happy to write about what I do?” “Yes, but only because I think everyone sees you as some beast, when you’re not.” She looked down and turned her face into my hand slightly. “Today...you reminded me of the person you were in high school. The good guy always looking out for people. It made me realize he’s still in there somewhere.” He was still in there. That guy has always been a part of me. I just forgot him when I lost my best friend. “Write about it,” I said softly. “If it matters that much to you, write it. Just don’t name the shelter, Sali, or any of them. Don’t even tell the location. Just...say what I do.” “Really?” Her gaze snapped up to mine. “Why the change of heart?” “Because it’s important to you.” “But is it important to you?” “No.” She leaned back, making my hand fall away. “No? You don’t care?” I shrugged and smiled. “Not really, kitten. I know what I do. I know I’m not the person they think I am. I told you; I don’t need their approval for anything I do. I don’t need credit or recognition because I don’t help Sy or Eliot or Hilaria or their moms or anybody else for myself. I do it for them. Nobody else was gonna buy Sy a scooter today. Nobody else was gonna help Hilaria make her mom a daisy chain necklace. Nobody was gonna make it possible for Eliot to race Sy. Nobody was gonna throw a party or put in a surprise grocery shop so Sali doesn’t have to bother this week.” Fuck. I didn’t mean to say that. “You…you did that?” Lani stared at me, her mouth open. “For real?” My gaze flitted from her to the sea several times before finally resting off somewhere in the distance. “Yeah. This morning, before you came over. It’s Sali’s birthday tomorrow, and nobody is allowed to make a big deal out of it. So I bought food for the main kitchen for a week instead of getting her a present.” Lani covered her face with her hands and looked up as her fingers dragged down the sides of her nose. She dropped her head back for seconds before she stood and walked away from me. Barefoot, she padded across the sand and closer to the shoreline. She stopped right as the wet sand met the dry, and even from where I was, I could see how her toes sunk into the wetter, darker sand. I rubbed my hands over the back of my neck. She was right. The two sides of me didn’t mesh, but how did she get that? How did she put together the guy who wanted to fuck her voice out of her with the guy who did what I’d done today? There was no way to do it. The puzzle pieces didn’t fit.

The sides didn’t go together. Unless you put her in the jigsaw. Then it worked. She went in the middle. She made the sides of me make sense. She always had. And she had no idea. I stood up and slowly walked toward her. “Lani,” I started softly. “How?” She wrapped her hands around the back of her neck. “How does somebody so seemingly egocentric, selfish, forward, and self-obsessed do something so kind and giving and perfect on such a regular basis?” Slowly, she turned to face me. She slid her hands down the side of her neck. “How the hell does such a fucking self-centered asshole become such a selfless, hopeful light of a person in such little time? Is there a switch? Is there something inside you that makes you go from one to the other? How, Brett? How does that happen, for the love of fucking god?” “If I knew, I’d tell you,” I replied, much more quietly than she spoke. “Because I want to know too.” “Brett...” She spun toward me, caught my gaze, and then did something I never thought she’d ever do. She kissed me. She grabbed my fucking t-shirt and she kissed me. Her soft lips pressed hard against mine. Her fingers wound themselves into my shirt as she pulled herself further into me, and despite knowing I should push her away, I didn’t. I wound one arm around her toned waist, and with the other hand, I cupped her tight ass and I kissed her the fuck back. I kissed her so fucking hard that if I never kissed her again, I’d have half a chance at being okay with it. I gripped her against me so goddamn tightly that escape was impossible, and I swept my tongue against hers for no other reason than to taste her. She tasted like the ice cream and pink lemonade she’d had at the party. Sweet. Addictive. The two things she was. Blood shot through my body to my cock. It hardened inside my pants as our tongues battled and my heart thumped inside my chest. Fuck, I wanted her. No, I needed her. Somehow, I savored the kiss. I savored every sharp breath and finger-twitch and touch of her tongue to mine. Even as the kiss slowed, I loved every second. I drank her in and with every moment I fell deeper and deeper into the consuming abyss that was Lani Montana. If I never breathed clean air again, I would be so fucking okay. I wanted her. Every moment. I wanted to breathe her in and never let go of her. “How?” she whispered the word against my mouth, gripping my shirt so tightly I thought she’d break it. “I don’t know,” I replied, resting my forehead against hers. “I can’t answer what I don’t know.” “Can I write it?” she asked, hesitantly lifting her eyes to meet mine. “The school first.” Her smile held a hint of mischief. “I already submitted that. You’re tomorrow’s front page.” “Bitch.” “Asshole.” I cupped her cheek. “Write it. It makes you happy, so write it.” “Right now.” Her eyes sparked with excitement. “Please?” I lifted my other hand to her face and held her fucking gorgeous gaze. “You swear you’ll keep them safe?”

Her blink was almost in slow motion as her eyelashes fluttered up. “With my life.”



“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lani tilted her head to the side and rested her cheek on her hand. “Really? You don’t know GoFundMe?” “I think I’ve heard of it...” “Fuck me, you live in a world of your own, don’t you?” “Fuck me? Okay. I’m here.” “Brett!” She threw her empty, folded up chip bag at me. It fell to the floor. “This is what I’m talking about. The asshole-nice guy whiplash.” “Sorry,” I said, looking up at her. “But I can see your panties. Or lack of.” “I’m wearing panties!” She tugged her skirt down over the curve of her ass. Realizing it was hiding shit, she moved her legs so her underwear was sadly hidden from me. “Damn it, Brett. I need you to approve the GoFundMe because I know my boss will ask me about it.” I threw my hands up. “I approve the Fund Me Go.” “Okay. Now I know you’re fucking with me.” “I’d like to fuck with you.” She stared at me flatly. “Focus.” “I am.” “Brett!” “I’m sorry. It’s very hard.” “I’m sure it is. You’re being asshole again, Brett.” Again, I threw my hands into the air. “All right, all right. Yes, I know GoFundMe. And yes, if you want to raise money, I’ll approve it because of my affiliation with the house.” She clicked a couple times before setting her laptop on the floor in front of her. “Why couldn’t you just say that?” I grinned. “It’s way more fun to fuck with you.” “I’m starting to hate you again.” “That’s not what it sounded like half an hour ago.” She tied her hair back up in a ponytail and rolled her eyes. “Momentary lapse in sanity.” “Liar,” I immediately shot at her. “Prove it.” “Come here and tell me you don’t want me.” With a hefty sigh, she got up. Her footsteps were silent as she crossed the soft carpet to me. She stood in front of me, looking at me, and said, “I don’t want you.” I darted forward when she stepped back. I gripped her hips and pulled her down on top of me. She squealed as she came forward, but I didn’t care. Her legs slipped either side of me, her knees nestling nicely between the sofa cushions. I slid my hands around to her ass and pulled her hips toward mine. “Brett.” “Lani.” I lifted my face up to hers, smirking. “Problem?” “Yes.” She planted her hands against my chest. “I’m on top of you.” “Try again.” “Your, um, cock is against me.” “Try again.”

“This is not okay.” “I’m still not seeing your problem.” “You’re being an asshole again.” “I’m aware.” She swallowed. “Can you please let me go?” I slid one hand up her neck and pulled her face down to mine. “Never.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN LANI

That one word made me take a deep breath. Never? That was a double entendre if I’d ever heard one. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a decision he got to make. That was firmly in my hands, whether he realized it or not. Damn him, he’d let me go if I wanted him to. “Brett,” I said, “Let me go.” His gray-blue eyes met mine with such ferocity I almost couldn’t breathe. There was nothing but want in them. Pure, hard want. I didn’t need to think about what he wanted. I just knew. Me. He wanted me. “No,” he whispered, his lips barely a breath from mine. “Brett.” “Lani.” “Stop it.” I pushed at his chest yet again. His fingertips burned as they crept beneath my shirt. “What if I can’t?” “Then I punch you in the face,” I lied. Lied because my heart was beating like crazy. Lied because I wanted him right now too even if I couldn’t put it into words. Lied because the way his fingers ran across my skin was like goddamn magic. I didn’t want him to know it. Today he was another class of human—he was the heart I remembered loving so much. But that didn’t take away from what he defaulted to. He was proving it by the way he wouldn’t let me go. “Please,” I whispered. “Fine.” He released me and let his hands fall to his sides. Still, I didn’t move. I stared at them dumbly. He’d released me. I wasn’t moving. Crap. “You’re not moving,” he breathed. “Any reason why?” I swallowed. Would it be bad to give in just once? Yes. Fucking hell, yes. I knew Brett Walker. If I fucked him, I’d be nothing to him within hours. But I wanted to. Shit, I wanted to! What was wrong? Why wasn’t I moving? Why couldn’t I stop? “Will Sali be mad if I do the GoFundMe page?” I asked quietly. It was the only thing I could say to cut off the thoughts of having sex with him. He smiled and took my jaw in his hand. “Lani, she told you she opened the house with her divorce settlement?” I nodded. “Kitten,” he said. “She was one of them. He beat her so bad she was in hospital. She almost died. She escaped when she could and she bled him as dry as she could. I love Hope Building because her own

hope bleeds through every brick.” I took a deep breath and covered his hand with mine. “And she matters to you.” “Everyone in that house matters to me,” he said quietly. “Every last one.” I blinked and for the second time today, I kissed him. But it wasn’t like before. This wasn’t soft or anything close to gentle. This was hard and almost desperate. The way my lips flattened against his was firmer than any kiss I’d ever experienced. It jarred me. There wasn’t anything particularly passionate or needy about the way I kissed him, but it slammed into me like a tornado regardless. Maybe it was how he didn’t move, not even a muscle twitch. Maybe it was how I didn’t pull back at the realization. Maybe it was how firmly he held my ass in his large hands. Maybe it was how his hard cock pressed against my aching pussy. Maybe it was how fucking stupidly I wanted his cock against my aching pussy. I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know. If I broke it down, I was fucked. I didn’t want to be fucked. Well, I did. But not that way. Not emotionally. Physically? Yes. Right now, I wanted Brett Walker to fuck me into another galaxy and not apologize for it. Why was compassion and kindness so fucking hot? What the hell was it about his personality switch that got me? The worst part was I knew that when he switched back right now I wouldn’t care. I’d still want him. Brett Walker was the itch you couldn’t scratch but contorted yourself in strange positions to catch. If it took a bamboo stick and a hefty dose of self-loathing to get rid of this stupid freaking desire, I’d take it. “I thought you wanted to get off me,” he said against my mouth. “I did,” I replied. “But then you got sweet and...” He paused. “And what?” I swallowed. Shit, was I going to do it? Did I want to? Would I regret it? Yes. Yes. Yes. I was going to do it and I was going to regret it because I wanted to. I slid my hands up his arms to his neck and leaned my face down into him. “All the things you wanted to do...pick one. Do it right now.” His grip on me tightened. “You don’t know what you’re asking, Lani.” “I know exactly what I’m asking. I’m asking you to fuck me senseless, Brett. But if you don’t want to...” He grabbed the back of my head and brought my face to his so our noses were tip-to-tip. “I want to. Trust me, I want to. I just don’t believe that you want to.” I pulled back just enough that my vision was focused and I could see perfectly the way his eyelashes fanned out and framed his stunning gray-blue eyes. “I want to,” I said softly. And I didn’t know if I’d ever meant anything more. Brett stared at me. His jaw twitched, meaning his lips did the same thing. Except his lips moved up into the tiniest smirk, one that I knew was supposed to be threatening. “Do you, Lani? Do you really want me to fuck you? Because let me tell you this, kitten—when I fuck you, you’ll feel me for days. Every time you walk, you’ll feel my cock inside you, fucking you. You won’t be able to sleep unless you’re dreaming about being on your pretty little fucking knees in front of me. Every time you wake up it’ll be screaming my name.” He curled his fingers around my neck so perfectly it felt like they were meant to be there. “And every fucking second I’m inside you, you’ll be praying to the god of mercy because I’ll fuck you so damn hard you’ll wish I’d give you that—mercy.”

“Maybe I don’t want that,” I whispered against his lips. He tugged my hips forward so hard I whimpered when my clit pushed against his thick cock through our clothing. “Then the only thing I expect you to beg for is more.” “Really? I expect you to fuck me so hard I can’t beg for anything.” “Touché.” “Wasn’t it?” “Lani? Shut up, because I’m going to kiss the fucking life out of you.” Before I could consider replying, he did it. Brett pressed his lips to mine and kissed me damn hard. Not my kind of hard though. His kind of hard. The kind where the simplest of touches could be felt in never-ending shivers across my skin. Where no other kiss could even compare. It was wrong. I knew it was wrong. The problem was that the things that were so wrong, so often felt so right. His abs were rock hard beneath my fingers as I slid my hands down to his stomach, and they weren’t the only thing I wanted to touch that was hard. I had no idea what had come over me, but somehow, in the middle of it all, I knew one thing: fighting it was futile. If I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I wouldn’t be sitting on him with my lips against his and my hands on his stomach, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be clenching my thighs in a stupid attempt to get rid of the ache between my legs. No,, deep down, I wanted this. Especially after today. I wanted this and I wanted him while he was the guy I remembered. “Get up,” Brett ordered, his mouth still on mine. “Your room. Now.” He didn’t need to tell me twice. Lord only knew that if he did, I’d have fought him. He knew exactly how to push my buttons, and right now, he was pushing all the right ones. I wanted it to stay that way before my common sense clicked in and I started to regret this. I climbed off of him and grabbed his hand with a strange confidence. I wasn’t exactly used to having random sex with not so random guys, and especially not someone like Brett. Someone who wasn’t afraid to tell me what he wanted. Maybe that was where it came from. His willingness to tell me what he wanted, how he wanted it, and where he wanted it perhaps matched what I myself wanted on some level. As I dragged him up the stairs, I knew I wanted to find out if he could fuck the fuck as well as he talked the talk. I didn’t have to wait long to find out. The second we crossed the threshold into my room, any lead I had on him from pulling him up the stairs behind me was gone. He spun me into his body, slammed the door, and pushed me back against it. The wood was still vibrating from the harsh bang as my back collided with it, but it was no more than a fleeting thought, because lust took over. Brett pinned me to the door with his body, slipping one leg between mine and keeping the pressure on my throbbing clit courtesy of his strong thigh. His fingers slipped between mine as he lifted my hands above my head so I couldn’t even touch him. I was completely trapped, and all it did was cause my desire to explode like adrenaline through my veins. I wanted him. Fuck, I wanted him. So I let him have me. He dove his tongue between my lips mercilessly. He was right when he said he’d never give me mercy. He didn’t, not from his kiss, his grip on my hands, or the way his cock pressed against my hip. He was

relentless in his assault of my senses, from touch to taste and everything in between. I was incapable of stopping him as his hands roamed across my upper body and beneath my shirt. I didn’t give a crap as he pushed it up over my breasts and eventually, my head. His followed seconds later, and his hot skin burned as it pressed against mine. I gasped when his mouth traveled down my neck. He licked and sucked at my skin between hot kisses, and my heart thundered when he slipped his hands beneath the hem of my skirt and pushed it up so it was bunched around my hips. Brett hooked one of my legs up over his hip then, returning his greedy mouth to mine, brushed one finger over my thong. I whimpered. It was ridiculous, but I did. The light touch had ghosted right over my clit, and I was already aching for him. In that moment, I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone. Sure, it was lust talking, but I was going to listen to it. Especially when he smiled against my mouth as he eased my underwear to the side and his fingertip made contact with my aching clit for real. Oh. Dear. Fucking. God. That time I really did whimper, and I couldn’t even hide it. He slid his fingers easily through my wetness and kissed me harder as he slowly eased one finger inside me. I gasped as heat shot through me. Brett positioned his body against mine and a second finger joined the first. The new position allowed him to place his thumb over my clit and circle it with the rhythm he moved his fingers inside me with. I ran my hands over his shoulders and dropped my forehead to his bare shoulder. He dipped his face into my neck and kissed as his hand worked some kind of fucking ridiculous magic between my legs. The pleasure hit me hard and fast. Way before I knew it was coming, way before I could control the buckling of my knees as the quick orgasm shattered through me. Brett grabbed me with lightning quickness so the one leg I was standing on that was now weak as hell didn’t let me fall. Somehow, through my harsh breathing, I caught his low chuckle. “Can you stand up now?” he murmured into my ear. “Shut your face,” I breathed, leaning back against the door. He stepped back, a sexy smirk on his face, and reached into his pocket. He flipped out his black leather wallet and pulled a small foil square from it. He threw the wallet to the side on the bed, keeping his eyes fixed on me. Something in his eyes made me take a deep breath in. Need raged in his gaze, and it didn’t soften as he clasped the edge of the foil square between his teeth and reached for his belt. The clink of it unbuckling screamed through the air, and my attention was drawn downward as he dropped his jeans. Even through his tight, black boxer briefs, I could see the thing I’d felt more than a few times. His cock was long and hard and thick, the thing of freaking porn stars, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted it. Bad. Really, really bad. That’s how much I wanted it. Brett ripped open the condom and, after throwing the wrapper toward my bed, dropped his underwear and grabbed his cock. I watched, giving it more attention than I should, as he rolled the rubber down over his shaft and came toward me without even stepping out of his jeans. I vaguely remembered that I, myself, was still in an awkward state of undress. My bra was still on even if my strap was hanging off my shoulder, my skirt was around my waist, and my panties were scrunched to the side so he could reach my pussy easily. He grasped my thighs and bent forward a tiny amount. I moaned as he lifted me up and the head of his cock brushed the inside of my thigh. “Wrap your legs around my waist and sit your pretty little pussy on my cock,” he rasped in my ear. I gasped as he dug his fingers into my ass. I had no intention of not doing as he said, so I wrapped my

hand around the back of his neck and reached between our bodies. His cock was hard in my palm, the vein along the side of it throbbing against my skin. My lips parted as I guided him toward me. His grip tightened on me until the head of his cock brushed over my clit. He was completely still, and as his cock got closer and closer to my wet opening, my heart beat faster, because there was no reason for him to be still—unless I was about to get the fucking of my life. I slipped my hand up, my heart beating ten to the dozen and rested it against his shoulder. Brett looked me dead in the eye as he pulled my hips toward him—and me down onto his cock. My mouth formed a tiny ‘o’ as he buried himself inside me, and he groaned, pushing me fully back against the door. I gripped his shoulders for dear life as he pulled his cock out and thrust it back inside me. The rough hair that dotted his body above his cock rubbed over my sensitive clit with each thrust thanks to the angle, and it took only seconds before I had my head dropped forward onto him once again. He moved like fucking crazy. His grip on me didn’t let up, not once. Not even as he paused to change the rhythm, teasing me with long, slow thrusts before once again driving into me relentlessly. Mercy. He was right. I wanted it. But I’d be damned if I’d ask him for it. The buildup of pleasure that continuously trickled through my body was almost unbearable. It grabbed hold of me and refused to let up or get closer to the edge of release. Brett groaned into the side of my neck, and the deep sound rumbled across my skin. The vibrations combined with the way he moved against mine heightened all of my senses until I was beyond hyper-aware of everything. The way the grooves of the wooden door dug into my back. The heat of his fingers as they seared into my skin. The speed of his hot, ragged breath on my neck. The tightness of my pussy as it clenched around his cock with each thrust. The slow yet strong build as his relentless pace finally pushed me right to the brink of my orgasm. And then tipped me over. My cry was muffled by his shoulder, but my entire body went rigid, my muscles spasming endlessly. He didn’t let up as he groaned out his own pleasure, and only when he had didn’t he still, his cock still buried inside me. We were a mess of slick skin and ragged breaths, of trembling limbs and racing hearts. Brett slowly eased his grip off me, lifting me up and pulling himself from me with a tenderness that shocked me. I clenched my muscles as my legs dropped and he wrapped one arm around my waist. “Well, fuck,” he muttered into my hair. “I hope that’s a good fuck.” He laughed quietly. “A very, very good fuck.” I blew out a long breath which only made him laugh louder. “Um, Brett? I feel awkward.” He pulled back and met my eyes. “You do?” “Yes. Our...um...cum is dripping down the insides of my legs.” He ran his tongue over his upper lip, amusement flickering in his gaze. “I can see how that would be uncomfortable.” I pressed my legs together and squirmed. “No, no, you don’t. I really need to shower or something.” He laughed...again. It was nice to know that my awkwardness was so amusing for him. “All right. You go shower.” He kissed the corner of my mouth and stepped back. “Throw me a towel, then I’ll go order us some food so you can write your next stunning character reference for me.” I tugged my skirt down over my ass and upper thighs with one hand and grasped the door handle with the other. “You’re...not leaving?”

The condom snapped when he rolled it off, punctuating the speed with which his eyes found mine. Light lines appeared on his forehead as his brows drew together. “No. Why would I leave?” I opened my mouth to answer and then shook my head. Brett pulled up his clothing and came back in front of me, buttoning his jeans. “You thought I’d leave?” I didn’t answer him. Something flared in his eyes as he cupped my chin. “Not you, okay?” “Okay.” My voice was quiet, but something inside me...niggled. It felt a bit like regret. And it didn’t dim when he kissed me again.



“I can’t do this.” William barely glanced up at me from whatever he was working on. “Do what, dear?” I always hated being called ‘dear.’ “This...this thing.” I waved my arms around. “With Brett. I can’t do it anymore. I have enough for one more article that I promise will make him look like the good guy I know he is, but I just can’t do this.” He swept his pen across the bottom of the page and, with a sigh, set down the pen and pushed his work to the side. He pinched the arm of his glasses and pulled them down from his face. “Lani,” he said quietly, finally looking up at me with eyes several shades darker than his son’s. “Of course you can.” “Of course I can?” I blinked at him. “No, trust me, I can’t. This is not going the way we agreed when I took that damn check. It was supposed to be minimal contact with Brett and the rest through you, Mae, and Camille. This is not working the way I thought it would. It’s Brett all the time and I...” I paused and looked away to take a deep breath. “I can’t...do...that.” William studied me for a moment, his face expressionless. The only indication that he was thinking came from the way he scratched his forefinger slowly beneath his chin. “Sit down.” I didn’t move. “Please, sit down.” He motioned to the chair opposite his desk. This time, I did as he asked and nestled myself into the comfortable chair with my hands on my lap. “There was a reason I asked you to do this for me. And no, it wasn’t because Camille suggested you. She and Brett like to think it was, but when he agreed to this, I was already thinking of you.” He put the glasses on top of his closed laptop off to the side of his desk. “Why?” I ran my hand through my hair. “Why me, of all people?” He looked me dead in the eye and said, “Because with you, he’s a different person.” “You could have fooled me.” He chuckled quietly and reached for his packet of cigarettes. He tapped one out of the packet, put it between his lips, and lit it. “I’m assuming, then, that there is one glaring point nobody has mentioned to you about his behavior.” I raised my eyebrows. “Lani...The day you left was the day these problems started.” I took a deep breath. “What?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN BRETT

“What?” Lani’s breathy tone caught my attention as I turned the hall toward Dad’s office. What was she doing here? I stopped a foot away from the door and turned my face toward the open doorway. Dad sighed heavily. “When you left, he changed. Almost immediately.” Fuck. “I don’t understand,” Lani said in a small voice. “Why would he change just because I wasn’t here?” There was silence for a moment. “That’s a conversation that’s best left to the two of you.” “Feel free to stop speaking in code at any time.” Dad laughed. “No code, I promise. Besides, if you’d like to know what I’m talking about, he’s standing right outside the door.” “Shit,” I muttered. “Hi, son.” “Hey...” I shuffled toward the doorway. “I was just passing by your office and...” “Decided you’d stop and listen to our conversation.” Lani turned and speared me with her gaze. “Hear anything good?” “Well, everything I heard involved discussing when you left, so I guess that depends whether or not you’re gonna tell me why you did.” She took a visibly deep breath before her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Okay,” she said softly, looking down. “Okay.” “Okay?” I stilled. “Just like that, you’re gonna tell me?” She swung her gaze back to me. “Only if you tell me what your dad means.” “Okay.” I shrugged. “Let’s go chat on the beach.” Lani looked at my dad for a moment before she pushed herself to stand up. “Better get this over with,” she whispered. I think it was meant to be to herself, but she never was very good at being quiet. I led her out of the office and through the kitchen to the back door. It was still early so the humidity wasn’t terrible, but it was the only place we’d be able to get privacy to have this conversation. And what a fucking conversation it would be. Oh, yeah, hey, I never told you, but the reason I lost it when you left was because I was fucking in love with you. Jesus. This was fucked up. I turned and took Lani’s hand to help her down the last few uneven steps to the beach. “Thank you,” she said softly, peering up at me through her lashes. I don’t know if it’s because of what happened between us yesterday, but it’s so fucking awkward. Not to mention that every time she pursed her full lips, I just wanted to kiss her. “So. Where do we start?” she asked, sitting down on the sand and removing her shoes. “At the beginning. With why you left.” I dropped down next to her and rubbed my nose. “Imagine that.” She ran her hands through her hair and, with her hands clasped behind her neck, looked out to the water. “I kinda hoped we wouldn’t ever have to have this conversation.” “Even after yesterday?” Bright red flushed up her cheeks, even if she did turn her head in an attempt to hide it. “Yes.” “You wanted to leave again without having it.” “Well...yeah. That was my plan.” I shrugged one shoulder. “Now you can’t. Tell me why you left.” Lani let her hands fall away from her neck and she turned her face toward me. “Remember a few days

ago when I said I’d had my heart broken?” My mouth was dry. “Yeah?” “You were the one who broke it,” she whispered. Something I couldn’t discern slammed into me, hitting me hard in the gut. Guilt? Shock? A mixture of both? I broke her heart? How could I have possibly done that? “I don’t understand,” I replied slowly. She looked away and rested her cheek in her hand. “Right after graduation, you were talking with Stevie Lewis. It was so loud I don’t think you knew anyone could hear you, much less me.” Recognition whirred inside me as the whisper of a memory pulled itself out of the mess of emotion that was that week. “You were talking about the graduation party your parents were throwing and the one blind eye they were turning to the fact alcohol would be present for the first time in your life. That invite-only one that never stayed that way. Stevie asked you if I would be there, and you laughed at him.” She paused, her face tilting down to look at the sand, her cheek in pressed against her palm. “You asked him why I would be there. The only reason you ever pretended to like me was because of Camille, because she and I were best friends. That you only protected me from what would have been a hellish four years for the geek girl because you knew she wouldn’t be able to. You told him that now that we’d graduated, the pretense was up. I was nobody to you except your sister’s best friend and the girl who helped you keep your GPA high enough to graduate and get into college. I was nothing.” Shit. I’d said that, hadn’t I? Fuck, I had. I remembered now. I remembered that exact fucking conversation. I only said it because I knew she wouldn’t be there—because she and Camille had plans with some of their friends. I rubbed my hands across my face and into my hair. Oh, motherfucker. It hurt. Me. I was the reason she left. I broke her heart. I made her go. For eight years, I’d blamed her for the reason why I’d lost control, yet here was the truth being laid out in front of me. It was all my fault, for one stupid fucking throwaway comment I never meant. “Lani...” I trailed off. What the fuck was I meant to say? How the hell was I supposed to apologize sufficiently for that? I could send her a hundred white roses with a hundred scribbled notes to match each one and it still wouldn’t be enough. Shit, nothing would be enough. Ever. I broke my best friend’s heart. No wonder she fucking hated me. I would hate me too. Hell, I did. I hated myself for doing that to her. Lani pushed up off the sand. She stumbled on the soft grains as she got to her feet. I reached out to help her, but she flung her arm backwards with a clear message. Don’t touch me. She walked a couple of feet down the beach, closer to the water’s edge, and swept her fingers through her hair. Her soft, dark hair fell over her shoulders in waves until she dropped her arms and wrapped them around her middle.

Me. It was me. I’d asked myself almost every day why she’d left, and I’d looked at the answer in the mirror at the same time as I asked the fucking question. Slowly, I dragged myself up. I wanted—no, I needed to apologize, but the word ‘sorry’ seemed so fucking inadequate. It was almost insulting. Five tiny letters couldn’t encompass the emotions that were battering me. I’d never despised another person as much as I did myself as I watched her stare into the ocean. I never imagined I’d ever hate anybody so much. “Don’t,” she said quietly as I approached her and reached for her. “Don’t.” I took a deep breath and shoved my hands in my pockets. “Have you ever been in a situation where sorry doesn’t seem like the right word?” She laughed, but there was nothing warm about it. It was bitter and chilling. “No. I’ve never been that terrible to anybody.” “Point well taken.” I looked down at my feet. Sand spilled over the edges of my sneakers. “I never should have said those things about you. I’m sorry, for whatever it’s worth.” “Nothing,” she said firmly. “It’s worth nothing, Brett. You’re not sorry you said it. You’re sorry I heard it.” “No.” I turned and looked at her. She didn’t look back at me, so I grabbed her face and forced her to meet my gaze. “I’m sorry I ever spewed such bullshit about you.” She slapped my arms from her and took two steps away from me. “No, you don’t. If you meant that, you never would have said it. I never did anything to do for you to hurt me like that. Not once. Not ever.” “You were never supposed to hear it.” “Oh, I’m sorry I overheard it! I’ll do better not to eavesdrop on little bitching sessions anymore!” Her nostrils flared. “You’re sorry I heard you say it. God, I’m such a fool.” Her knuckles turned white as she fisted her hair. “Crap!” “I was tired!” I said, my voice a little too loud. “I was so fucking sick and tired of hearing the shit,” I continued in a quieter voice. “Why was I, the most damn perfect guy in the year, bothering with the girl so obsessed with books she was never seen without one? Why did I, the best varsity quarterback in the state, bother with the girl who could probably recite Shakespeare in her sleep? I knew you wouldn’t be there. I used it to make him shut up. I said all the shit I never meant, and I can’t believe you heard it. I was fucking young and fucking stupid and if I could do it all again, I’d never say it.” “And that makes it okay, does it?” Her voice was so full of venom it pierced me right to my bones. “You were young and stupid and sick and tired. What about me, Brett? Aside from your sister, you were my best friend in the world and you broke my heart in the space of ten seconds.” “It doesn’t make it okay.” I held her gaze. “I can’t ever take it back or change it. But...Lani, whatever you have that you need to do to get it out...do it. Shit, yell, scream, punch me. I deserve whatever you’ll throw at me.” Something flashed in her eyes—something that looked all too much like real, pure hurt. The kind of hurt that you should never see in anyone’s eyes, let alone the eyes of somebody you care about as much as I cared about Lani. She didn’t deserve to feel it, but I deserved to see it. I deserved to see how much I’d destroyed the people I loved. “You really,” she started, “really don’t want me to do that.” “I do.” I rolled my shoulders back and lifted my chin, keeping eye contact. “Go ahead. Let it out. Everything you’ve kept inside...Let go, Lani. I deserve it.” “No. I don’t trust myself to keep you alive, honestly.”

“All right. But answer me one thing.” “What?” “Why did what I said break your heart?” Emotion fired across her face so quickly I couldn’t pin a single one down, and before I knew it, I’d pulled the trigger on her pent-up hatred. “Because I loved you!” She clasped her hands to her stomach as soon as the word ‘you’ left her mouth before she staggered backward. She regained her footing and straightened up, dropping her hands as the words seemingly echoed in the sea breeze that swept between us. “I loved you,” she said again, this time much more calmly. “And I was going to tell you. Before the party. Before I had dinner with the girls. I was going to tell you how I felt before the summer started and I left for college. I didn’t care what would happen. You were my best friend and I loved you and I had to tell you.” Fuck. “But you!” The fire reignited inside her, coming out as red-hot anger lacing every word. “You had to be you, didn’t you? Do you have any idea how what you did hurt me? Did you have any clue at all what your stupid fucking ego trip would do to me if I ever heard you? No. You wouldn’t have. You never thought of anybody but yourself!” She closed the distance between us. I braced myself for whatever else she would throw my way. “I was in love with you, you complete and utter fucking fuckwit!” She slapped her palms against my chest. “Because I saw you. The person you were rather than the person you portrayed. Then you fucking broke my heart being that person. Broke it!” Her voice was hoarse as she slapped me again. This time, I stepped back as her hit stung my skin. “And you didn’t care!” She shoved her finger in my face, her gorgeous eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. “You said that and you didn’t care, and that was the moment I realized it didn’t matter if I loved you, because Brett Walker cared about one thing and that was Brett Walker. You didn’t care about me or my feelings. I had no reason to stay here in this dumb little town with nothing for me. My options were become a Walker or work for a Walker.” She moved back with a little laugh and threw her arms out. “How ironic I should come back when I did and look—working for a Walker. I guess Whiskey Key sucks you in and doesn’t even have the decency to spit you back out with honesty. A little like you.” My heart thumped against my ribs, but I didn’t say a word. These were all the things she’d been dying to say to me since she left. Especially since she came back. I needed to hear it. She was my reality check. My father was right. Lani Montana made me a better person. I didn’t know how or why, I just knew that she did. “I hate you so much,” she said after a few seconds of silence. She moved away from me, brushing wayward, dark strands of hair away from her face. “I hate you so fucking much, and you have no idea. I want to let go of it. I want to forgive you, but I can’t. I can’t let go or forgive or forget or any of that other bullshit people say you should do after someone’s hurt you because it ain’t that damn easy. It takes a lot to do that, and I don’t know if I have it inside me. I’m not a fucking superhero. I’m just a woman holding onto a part of her past she should let go, but I can’t. Fuck it, I can’t!” She was broken. I broke her. I wanted to fix her. But what did you do when nothing you could ever do would ever fix it? You stood. You listened. You took all her hurt inside you, finally releasing it from her. And you realized that one day someone would love her harder and treat her better than you ever could. Even if it fucking broke you right back.

“Then let go,” I said quietly. “Don’t hold on to anything of me, Lani. Quit this. Leave it. I won’t hold it against you.” “You...” She looked up, her eyelashes brushing against her skin before she dropped her gaze back again. “Just when I think I can. Just when I think I’m ready, you go on and be so very you.” Her voice was thick, her eyes once again shining with tears. “Fucking hell, Brett! The run? The school? The shelter?” She pressed her middle fingers against the corners of her eyes. “Just when I think I have a fucking handle on my emotions, you have to do it. You have to do something so completely you—the real you. And then I feel like I’m on the edge of falling right back in love with you all over again.” She pressed her fingers so hard into her eyes it had to hurt, but it didn’t keep it inside. The tears still escaped. “And it makes me hate you more!” she all but screamed it at me. “Because I want to hate you, you selfish, egotistical, fucking asshole of a kind-hearted, caring, undervalued guy!” An opinion of me had never been so adequately expressed in such accurate words. But I was stuck. Stuck on the tears. On her truth. “You know why it changed when you left?” I asked her, my throat dry. “Why I changed after you went?” She dropped her hands and looked at me, but she didn’t say a word. “Because you broke my heart too.” I clenched my fists in my pockets. “You disappeared without a word to anyone, and the people who did know wouldn’t tell me anything. I was too dumb to apparently put two and two together and come up with four.” “You could have found me if you really wanted,” she whispered through her silent tears. “I could have. I was so mad that I didn’t want to. For a while, I hated you. I didn’t know how you could leave me without telling me. I fucking needed you more than you knew. You were the one damn thing in my life that made sense to me, Lani. I had you. Always. Until the day I woke up and I didn’t have you anymore.” “That’s because I deserved more than you.” “I know that. Now. I know it now. And I hate myself. Believe me, I fucking hate myself so much, but there’s one thing you don’t understand.” “Then tell me.” I looked her dead in the eye and said, “You were my best friend and I loved you.” She swallowed. “I loved you.” I walked toward her, fully ready for her to push me away, but she didn’t. She stood, unnaturally still, until I was right in front of her. “When you left, I told myself I didn’t love you. But now? Now I look back and I know I did. Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t feel the way I do every single fucking time I look at you. You can stand in front of me and tell me you’re on the edge, but, Lani? I’m over the edge. I don’t think I ever didn’t love you.” She took a deep breath and dropped her chin to her chest. Her shoulders heaved and she covered her face with her hands. “It doesn’t matter!” she yelled, exploding away from me. “I left because of you. Because of your words. Because your ego was bigger than your heart. So don’t you dare stand in front of me and tell me you’ve always loved me, because you’ve already shown me once that your love is worth jack shit.” I deserved it, but fuck if it didn’t cut through me like a blunt knife. It stung like hell. Like vinegar on an open wound. “If that’s how you love people, I don’t want it,” she said quietly, swiping at her cheeks. “I don’t even want your friendship.” “Maybe it was.” I put my hands back in my pockets. “But it’s not now. If I could go back and change it, I would. I’d never say it and instead I would tell you how I feel.” “You can’t change it. You can’t take away how much you hurt me. It wasn’t something that could be

brushed off as a joke. It was cruel—just cruel. It doesn’t matter how much you want to change it.” She sniffed. “Tell me something—if you knew I’d heard, would you have followed me?” I beat down the pain that was slowly making its way through my veins courtesy of my aching heart. “I don’t know.” Honesty sucked, but it was all I had left. “What about now? What if I packed up my car and left, would you follow me now?” “Would you want me to?” “What difference does it make?” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “It doesn’t matter what I’d want you to do.” “It does.” I scuffed my foot across the sand like a little kid, glancing away from her to the step that lead up to the house. “Makes a big difference,” I said, bringing my attention back to her. “If you told me you never wanted to see me again, I would let you go. I would hate it, but I would.” “And if I didn’t say that?” “Then I’d follow you to wherever you took me.” Her bottom lip trembled, but she took it between her teeth to stop it. “Why?” she whispered after a second, blinking back tears again. “If I were anyone else, you wouldn’t even remember my name.” “But you’re not anyone else.” I stepped closer to her, and when she didn’t move, I took another. I hovered my hand by her beautiful face before I lightly brushed my fingertips across her cheek. My touch swept loose hair back behind her ear. What if this was the last time I saw her? Would she really leave? Maybe take her sister with her? I didn’t know, but I didn’t want to forget what she looked like. From her dark eyes and lashes to the way the tiniest of freckles dotted the skin beneath her eyes, I wanted to remember. Even the wispy hairs around her hairline and the little chapped bit of skin on her lower lip. All of it. “You’re you,” I finally said after a moment of committing her every feature to memory. “That’s all there is to it.” “That’s it.” Her lips twitched, but it wasn’t warm. It was...sad, because even as they flicked upward, somehow, the corners of her mouth were still turned down. “Tell me one more thing. Me. What am I to you? A means to an end? The mountain you finally conquered?” “Neither of those things.” “Then what?” “Everything.” The word fell from me on an exhale. “To me, you’re everything.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN LANI

I licked my lips and stepped back. Everything. That didn’t make sense. How could I be everything to somebody who was so used to treating people like they were nothing? When it came down to it, I was no different than the women who’d kept his bed warm for the last few years. Physically, we were made the same. Mentally, I didn’t know if Brett Walker knew what it was really like to have someone be your everything. “I need to go,” I said, my voice scratchy. “I can’t have this conversation anymore.” “You can’t drive this upset.” “I’m upset, not dying.” I pressed my hands against my stomach. “I just—I need to be alone so I can process this. I can’t...I can’t.” I turned away from him and ran to where my shoes were on the sand. Barely stopping as I swept them up, I kept my attention fully focused on the steps that would take me back to Walker House and my car. At least I didn’t have to go back through the house. There was that, at least. I slipped my shoes on at the top of the rock steps. I probably should have put them on before, but I didn’t care. I needed to get away from Brett—as long as I breathed the same air as he did, I was in trouble. I was at risk of breaking, because damn it. I believed him when he said he hadn’t stopped loving me. I don’t know why. I didn’t want to believe him. I had no reason to believe him. No reason except the haunted, raw look in his eyes when he said those words. And that? Well, he was a freaking good actor, but he wasn’t that good. Nobody could be that good. “Lani? What’s wrong?” Camille rushed toward me, her car keys in her hand. I shook my head and diverted around her to my car. “Ask Brett?” All I could do was nod in response. If I started talking, I would cry. Hell, I was going to cry anyway. I was going to cry the damn second I got home, but I knew if I broke the dam holding it all in right here in her driveway, I wouldn’t be able to go home. “Brett! What the hell did you do?” Camille shouted, walking into the house. I got in my car, slamming the door behind me. Somehow I managed to dig my key out of my pocket and shove it in the ignition to start the engine. Then I tore the hell away from the house. I probably broke every speed limit in the state as I drove across town to my grandma’s house. Well, that was an exaggeration. I didn’t break any speed limits at all, but it felt like it. Probably because the roads were clear and the stop lights always ran in my favor. It was almost as if the universe knew I was seconds from falling to pieces. My tires squeaked as I pulled up outside the house. I turned my key in the ignition but left it there, my two key rings jangling as they hit into each other. That conversation. The one I’d waited years to have yet hoped I’d never have to actually have. It’d happened, and it hadn’t gone the way I thought it would. How could I have known how he felt back then? We were best friends, but I thought that was it. He was too good for me, and our teenage years weren’t an angsty young adult novel or a cheesy chick flick movie. They were real, and in real life, the guy at the top of the social totem pole didn’t fall for the girl who was close to the bottom. Those things had changed now, of course. But back then, it was everything.

He’d loved me. He maybe never stopped. He maybe loved me right now. It was too much. His words rolled around my mind over and over, echoing again and again until I winced with every thought. I couldn’t take that knowledge—I couldn’t put all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that he was together and make them fit. It didn’t fit. It didn’t make sense. Young or not, you didn’t say what he said about someone you care about. Not even in private. Was that what always hurt most? That—if what he’d said back then was true—he hadn’t said it to my face? It would have been easier to swallow. It probably wouldn’t have felt like such a betrayal. And now it felt like a double betrayal. I’d loved him. He’d loved me back. He’d lied. He’d hurt me for absolutely no reason—no reason other than his own ego. Perhaps that was the thing was unforgivable. Not what he said, but why he said it. Eighteen or not—hurt like that didn’t go away overnight, not when the person who hurt you as much as he had me. It didn’t go away in eight years, either. Because some things just didn’t. But now it had. The only problem was that pain had been replaced by something worse. Happiness that he hadn’t meant it, but anger and hurt that his he’d valued himself above me when I knew he valued so many others above himself. My car door opened, breaking into my thoughts. Connie sat herself in the passenger seat and looked at me. “You’re crying.” I wiped at my cheeks. “What do you want?” She studied me for a moment before her expression softened. “Brett called me.” “Oh.” “He said he knew why you left town, that he’d fucked up, and that you looked like you needed me.” That was all it took. Seconds later, I was leaning across the car, my face pressed against my big sister’s shoulder. She held me while I cried out all those years of unnecessary hurt and resigned myself to the new pain.

CHAPTER TWENTY BRETT

“Brett Walker! What the hell did you do to her? And what are you doing out here? Do you have any idea how many times I’ve screamed at you?” “Yes,” I answered without turning around. “Your voice, much like a group of cats fighting in an alleyway, tends to transcend time and space quite easily.” Camille clipped me around the back of the head and sat down next to me on the sand. “Ass.” I slowly nodded, flicking a broken shell up into the air. I’d been doing it ever since I got off the phone with Connie and she told me she was going to see Lani. I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to go after her, but I knew by the look in her eye it was the wrong thing to do. Sending her sister was the best option I had. “What did you do?” Camille asked me, her voice now much softer than her previous screeching. She nudged her elbow into my arm. “Come on. Tell me.” “Graduation. I spoke to Stevie Lewis before we all left about the party we were having.” My voice was completely flat, and now, I held the shell in my hand instead of flicking it up and down. “He asked me if Lani would be there, and I laughed. Told him no, why would she be? The only reason we were friends was because of your friendship with her. I looked out for her for you. That she was only the girl who’d helped me keep my GPA up. That she was nobody more than your friend. She was nothing to me.” Camille took a deep breath in, but she didn’t speak. My thumb ran over the light grooves of the cream and brown shell. “I’m why she left. Me. Because I was a naive fucking idiot, and I broke her heart. I was in love with her but my ego got in the way. She loved me and she heard. I’m the fucking reason for everything. The reason you lost your best friend. The reason I lost mine. The reason Connie rarely saw her sister. The reason the rest of her family have barely have seen her since. I’m the stupid fucking reason she left, because I hurt her so badly she couldn’t be here anymore.” She punched me. Straight in the upper arm. It hurt like fuck as the sting from her fist radiated across my skin, but I didn’t yell at her. I didn’t do anything except pick the shell back up because I’d dropped it. “You deserved that,” she muttered, rubbing her knuckles against her thigh. “Yep.” I flipped the shell over and looked out to sea. “I broke her and now she hates me so much I can’t fix it.” “Some things aren’t meant to be fixed. Some things have to stay broken because they need to be replaced.” “I figured that much out. Except I’m the thing that needs replacing for her. She deserves somebody who can love her right.” Camille slowly turned to face me, her eyebrows raised. “Are you admitting that you’re still in love with her?” “Never wasn’t,” I replied simply. “I just hid it under my anger. How could I get over her? I never had closure.” “And she’s Lani.” I swallowed. “And she’s Lani.” “You have to do something,” she said quietly. “Like what? Midnight serenade about how sorry I am? Write her a fucking love letter? Ask the Doctor to bring the TARDIS to go back in time and change everything?” “God, you’re one mopey bastard when you don’t get your own way.” Camille stood up. “Do something, Brett, Jesus! Make her listen to you, even if you have to break into her car and plant a CD with a recorded apology on—wait, no, don’t break into her car. That won’t help.”

“Ya think?” I quirked an eyebrow. “It’s not as simple as you think it is. You didn’t see her, Cam. You didn’t see the look in her eye when she was letting it all go. Nothing I do will ever be enough, because there will always be a part of her that will hurt. And I can’t take it away.” “That’s your problem!” She pointed her finger down at me. “You can’t take someone’s hurt from them. It’s a part of them. The way you made her feel will forever be a part of her life, and I bet if you asked her, she wouldn’t want you to take it away.” “Thanks for that, Dr. Phil.” She kicked me. Actually fucking kicked me. “You can’t take that away, you insensitive shit, but you can make it better. You can’t say sorry enough because sorry isn’t a word, it’s a feeling. You have to show her that you’re sorry.” I took a deep breath. “Cam?” “Yeah?” she said softly, sitting down next to me. A lump hit my throat hard. “Don’t let her leave town.” “Why?” I peered over at her, looking at her properly for the first time since she joined me here on the beach. “Because I don’t know if I can lose her again.” She smiled sadly and rested her head on my shoulder. She wrapped an arm around me and squeezed. “She’s your person, isn’t she?” “My person?” “Yeah, you know. Your person. The one whose soul clicks into place against yours. Evens you out. Makes you whole. She’s your person.” The lump in my throat felt all too thick as I looked back out at the water. She was right. There was no doubt about it. Lani Montana was my person. “What do I do?” I said in a low voice, running my hand through my hair. Camille sat up and moved onto her knees. “Make her believe it.” She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Where are you going?” I looked up as she stood. A grin spread across her face. “I’m going to make sure she doesn’t leave town. And I’m taking Raven with me.” Was it too late to retract a request?

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE LANI

A distinct lack of privacy was one of the things I’d forgotten about Whiskey Key. It didn’t matter that I’d begged to be left alone after my mammoth cry. It didn’t matter that I said all I wanted was to eat pizza and work. I was ignored, and the last two hours had not been what I’d expected them to be. Namely because Camille showed up with Raven right behind her. And with Raven came two large-ass coolers of alcohol for cocktails and a box with different glasses. Apparently, it was blasphemy to serve cocktails in the wrong glasses. “Holy shit,” I said, looking at the boxes. “You’re a portable cocktail bar.” Raven laughed, flicking her black hair over her shoulders. “That might not be a bad business choice, all things considered.” Connie wrinkled her face up. “This seems highly unfair to the pregnant woman.” Raven turned her bright blue eyes in my sister’s direction. “There’s another cooler in the car. You get corresponding mocktails.” “And you just became my new best friend.” She laughed and stood up with a wink. “I’ll be right back.” Camille grinned. “Am I not the best friend ever?” “No debate about it,” I said. “But I’m a little upset I can’t just mooch around in my bed with my laptop.” She snorted. “Over my brother? No. Oh, by the way, I punched him for you.” My lips cracked into a little smile. “Hard?” “I think my knuckles still hurt.” Connie leaned forward and put her hand out for a high five. “Attagirl.” Cam looked at her wide open legs and then her hand. “Is it a high five or a low two you want?” “There’s a person’s head in my pelvis. Do you want to go there?” Needless to say, my sister got her high five pretty swiftly. “Right, clear the coffee table.” Raven hauled a third cooler into the living room and set it down just away from the others. “I’m going to mix drinks while you tell me what he did.” I moved my phone off the table. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” “But you’re gonna. Even if I have to get you drunk to do it.” She flashed me a grin before she shoved the small box of glasses at Camille. “Unpack those.” Camille saluted her and got to work. “Just do it,” Connie said. “You can’t listen to me or Camille because we’re biased. Raven isn’t.” I felt like I was in the middle of an ambush. Like they’d planned thi—bitches. They had. Somewhere along the line, Connie and Camille had planned this. It was no damn coincidence. “Fine.” I launched into a rundown of my conversation with Brett earlier today. Raven nodded as she mixed both normal and virgin cocktails. By the time I was done explaining, she was pouring the drinks into four glasses. “Wow. What a douche.” She put the caps back on the cocktail shakers. Then she pushed a glass toward each one of us. “They were eighteen,” Cam pointed out. Raven side-eyed her. “I didn’t know age excused being a douche.” “It doesn’t.” Cam sipped her drink. “I was just pointing it out.” “Whose side are you on?” “That’s a mean question. I’m on everybody’s side.” “You can’t be on everybody’s side,” Connie said. “Sure I can.” Cam kicked off her shoes and crossed her legs. With a flick of her hair, she said, “What

my brother said was wrong, especially since he didn’t mean it. But, equally, Lani shouldn’t have left without confronting him about it. All of this could have been avoided if she’d just said something.” “Wait. So this is my fault?” I looked at her. “I’m not saying that me leaving the way I did was right, but he hurt me more than you can imagine, Cam. I didn’t just not want to talk to him. I couldn’t.” “It’s not your fault.” She sighed. “I just...I don’t know. This could have been so easily solved, but I guess emotions fuck it all up.” “The thing you’re all forgetting is that this happened a long time ago,” Connie said, stirring her drink with her straw. “For it to still be such a big deal today means that neither one of them is over the other.” “I’m sitting right here.” I waved. “They’re not,” Camille continued. “He told me that earlier. He said he never had closure where she was concerned, so instead of getting over her, he just buried his feelings, but now they’re back.” I sipped my drink. I didn’t need my heart to beat as quickly as it was. Connie snorted. “Right. Just came back like the flu or something.” Raven smirked. “Agreed. They haven’t just reappeared overnight. Hell, if you’d asked me when you were in the bar, I could have told you he was head over heels in love with her. I’ve never seen him look at anybody that way.” “I’m still here!” This time, I said it too loudly. “Would you prefer if I left the room so you can continue discussing me?” “Technically we’re talking about Brett,” Raven pointed out. “But if you want to leave, you can. But you won’t hear my stunning life advice.” Camille groaned. “The last life advice you gave involved vibrators.” “That was solid life advice.” “Solid.” Connie giggled. I licked my lips and, fighting my smile, said, “All right. Stunning life advice, Raven. Hit me.” Raven swallowed a mouthful of cocktail and set her drink down. The glass hit the table with a light clunk, and she rubbed beneath her nose before she met my eyes. “Eight years. You’ve held on to that hurt for eight years, Lani. Now, you have the answers to your questions. What you choose to do with them is up to you—and nobody will blame you if you choose never to speak to him again—but, girl, you can’t hold on to the pain anymore. “Camille’s right. All of this could have been solved if you’d just talked to him, but I get why you didn’t. Running away from problems is so much easier than facing up to them. You can’t do that anymore. You have to tackle this problem face on, because no matter how you look at it, it’s a problem. If he’s admitting that he’s in love with you, then you have to deal with that. You don’t owe him anything, but you owe yourself a lot. Even if all you do is say goodbye.” “Makes sense,” I replied quietly. “But you have to figure out whether or not you’re in love with him first.” “I’m pretty sure right now I hate him.” “Love and hate go hand in hand. Just because you don’t like or hate somebody doesn’t mean you don’t love them.” Her lips quirked up to one side and she flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Only you can answer that question, but until you do, you’ll be stuck in this place because you’re probably going to make the wrong choice without the right answers.” I looked down into my glass. The bright red liquid stared back at me, glinting in the late afternoon sunlight that streamed in through the window. My stomach was coiled tighter than a snake ready to pounce. Did I love Brett? I knew the answer to that. It’d been the same answer for years, because she was right. Love and hate went hand in hand. I knew that because I’d felt those things exist in perfect harmony since the day I heard him say those words. “Lani?” Camille said my name softly, touching my knee.

“You know where he goes when he disappears?” I peered up at her through my hair. “Where he took me?” She shook her head. “There’s a women’s shelter in Key West. He writes them a check every Christmas to make sure they can stay open and makes sure every kid there with their mom has a birthday present and party.” I put my glass down on the coffee table. “He goes regularly to hang out with the kids. He bakes with them and all kinds of shit you can’t ever imagine him doing. The first words he usually hears from the women there are ‘thank you’ because he’s making a difference in their lives.” “Holy shit,” Cam whispered. “And he doesn’t tell anybody because he doesn’t want the recognition. He doesn’t want the validation of anybody because he doesn’t do it for that. He does it because he loves the kids there.” I rested my chin on my hand and looked at my sister and Raven too. “He’s letting me publish one of the articles on what he does, as long as I keep the shelter anonymous. He’s letting me tell everybody what he does because he knows how badly I want to.” Raven smiled. “How can you not love someone like that?” I finished on a whisper and looked down. My eyes stung yet again, but there were no tears. God only knew I’d cried out everything I had earlier on today. Raven was right. There was no ignoring this. I just had to figure out what the hell I was going to do about it.



One cocktail turned into two, which turned into three, that turned into three takeout pizzas, garlic dough balls, cookie dough, and another few cocktails in front of Magic Mike. Yeah. And now, we were all regretting it. All except my very smug sister who only indulged in the food. Apparently one delight of pregnancy was watching your friends and sister get wasted and laughing at their hangovers the next morning. I got rid of her by making her take both Cam and Raven home. Thank God. I was about to commit murder two times over if she laughed at me anymore. I wasn’t that hung over, if I was honest. I was tired more than anything. Emotionally and physically freaking tired. Even having a couple too many Pussy Pounders didn’t help me sleep particularly well. I woke up around four a.m. and barely slept from then until everybody else woke up. Now, I’d showered, gotten dressed, and brushed my hair. It was still pretty damp, but I had no intentions of going anywhere today. Maybe into the newspaper office, but no further. Of course, if I went into the office, my boss would only ask me whether or not I’d found out more information about the supposed Walker secret—the one I’d heard nothing about. The one I wasn’t sure I wanted to know anything about. I’d had enough secrets where the Walkers were concerned this week. I looked at my phone. A part of me wanted to pick it up and call Brett, but I didn’t know what I’d say. I hadn’t so much processed what we’d talked about as I had thought about what I was going to do next. Raven was right last night—I could hold onto the pain I’d already nurtured for far too long and never move on, or I could look at where we were right now and go forward. From the perspective of today, I was pretty sure I’d forgiven him. No—I’d forgiven him. I wouldn’t be able to forget what he said, but I guess...strangely...I got it. We were young, and he made a mistake with what he said. Maybe if I had been braver back then I would have interrupted that conversation and ask him what he

was talking about the way I would if I heard him say that now. He made a mistake, but so did I. So did I in not confronting him. We were both wrong, and I couldn’t blame all my hurt on him. I held responsibility for a part of it too—a much smaller part, sure, but still a part of it. Perhaps that was what I had to say to him. That I was sorry I wasn’t brave enough to confront him. I was sorry I’d left. I was sorry it had taken me eight years to come back. That my apology didn’t depend upon him returning one for his part in it. Two knocks at my front door pulled me out of my thoughts. As I stood to answer the door, I could feel the lightness inside. It was the right choice to make if either of us ever wanted to move on...No matter where moving on would take us. I opened the door to the sight of a portly man with bright pink cheeks. “Lani Montana?” he asked gruffly, an iPad in his hands. “Yes?” “Got a delivery for ya.” “Oh, but I haven’t...” I trailed off as he turned and walked back to his van. “...Ordered anything,” I finished. He threw his iPad onto the passenger seat of his van and opened the back door. It squeaked as it slid, and I frowned as he pulled out two large boxes with white roses in. “Um...” “Where’dja want these?” Delivery Man asked me. “Um...” He gave me a toothy grin. “Unexpected, huh?” “You could say that.” “Best find a place for ‘em, darlin’. I got another six of these.” I blinked at him. “I’ll put ‘em through ‘ere in the kitchen, should I?” “Sure.” I stepped to the side to let him pass. He shuffled past me with a chuckle, the flowers safe in his arms. He set them down on the charcoal, granite-topped island in the middle of the kitchen and turned, passing me again. Another six of them? What on earth? I knew where they’d come from. Of course I did. Only one person had ever given me white roses, but this many was insane. I watched in stunned silence as Delivery Man came in and out of the house another three times, each time carrying another two bouquets of roses. “There are no more, are there? I think they’re going to be living in sinks as it is.” He chuckled, his iPad back in his hands. “No more. There’s a card, though. Just need you ta sign this.” I scribbled my finger across the box on the iPad screen. “A card?” “Yeah. ‘E wanted us to write ‘sorry’ ninety-six times, but I told him ‘e was havin’ a laugh if ‘e thought I was gonna do that. So I wrote a little ‘times ninety-six’ down there in the corner for ya.” He handed me the card, and sure as hell, he was right. He had done that. I smiled at him. “Thank you.” “I dunno what ‘e did,” Delivery Man continued as he walked out of the house. “But that’s an all right apology, that.” “Yeah. It’s something.” “Have a good day, miss.” “You too.” I slowly shut the door as he got into his van.

My feet stuck to the laminate flooring as I walked into the kitchen and took in the scene before me. Eight bouquets of white roses, twelve a piece. Ninety-six white roses. Ninety. Six. White. Roses. Brett Walker had lost his damn mind. I grabbed my phone from the coffee table and when I was back in the kitchen, snapped a picture of them. I had to stand on the chair to get them all in frame, and I stayed standing there as I texted the picture to him.

Me: Um...I’m assuming these are from you.

I jumped down off the chair and leaned against the kitchen side. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with these flowers. I didn’t have enough vases for them. Hell, I didn’t have enough space for them, never mind anything else. Ninety-six. Why on Earth would he send me ninety-six roses? Twelve? Twenty-four? Hey, even thirty-six—sure. But ninety-six? More knocks sounded at my door, and I pushed off the counter with a sigh. Please, no more flowers. “Yes?” I said, swinging the door open. Brett stood there in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. “I figured you’d want an explanation.” “For the greenhouse exploding in my kitchen, or...?” My lips twitched into a tiny smile. “That would be wonderful.” “Can I come in?” I stepped aside for him to come in and shut the door behind him. “I just have one question,” I said, leading him into the kitchen. “Why ninety-six?” “Well...” He shuffled in after me and lifted his blue-gray gaze to mine. “I wanted to give you something to show you how sorry I was, and since it’s always been roses...there are ninety-six months in eight years. I was going to go for weeks or days, but I figured four hundred and seventeen or almost three thousand roses was a little bit of overkill.” “But ninety-six was the perfect number?” My lips pulled to one side again. He shrugged a shoulder. “It fit well in bouquets of twelve. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. For every day I hurt you.” I believed him. His lips were turned downward, and he looked at me with the kind of raw honesty you couldn’t fake. Honestly, right now, all I wanted to do was walk forward, wrap my arms around him, and hope he’d do the same right back. I didn’t, though. I held on to the urge and pushed myself up onto the counter. I scooted back a little and gripped the edge. “I’m not angry with you anymore,” I said quietly, looking into his eyes. “Well, I am. I’m angry at why you said it, but not what you said. But...I’m sorry too. If I could go back, I would have told you I’d heard it. I would have always left, but you would have known why.” “You have nothing to apologize for.” “I do. None of this would have happened if I’d just been brave enough to tell you I’d heard.” “None of it would have happened if I’d never have said it.” “Oh, I know. It’s almost entirely your fault.” Brett smirked. “Almost entirely?” “I was trying to be nice, but whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s all your fault. But I didn’t make it better, I just made it worse. So...I’m sorry.” He shook his head and walked toward me. He hesitated for a second before he rested his hands on my

knees and looked up at me. “I’m sorry, Lani. I never considered for a moment that you could have heard what I said, but if I had...I would have chased you. You know that, right? If I thought for a second I was why you left, I would have come after you until you knew I didn’t mean it.” “I know.” My voice broke a little. “But I forgive you, Brett. I can’t believe I’ve hurt over something so ridiculous for so long.” “It’s not ridiculous.” He parted my thighs and stepped forward. His eyes bored into mine, and I bit my lower lip when he framed my face with his hands. “You’re not nothing. You never have been nothing. You’ve always been nothing less than absolutely everything to me. And if anyone should have been brave back then, it should have been me. I should have told you how I felt.” “Maybe I should have told you too.” I placed my hand over his. “It doesn’t matter now. We can argue it until we’re blue in the face but it won’t change it.” “You’re right.” A steely determination replaced the sadness in his eyes, and his jaw twitched as he dropped his gaze to my lips. “So I’m going to do what I should have done eight years ago, and if you punch me, then hey, I deserve it.” “What?” My heart thumped as he closed his hand around the back of my neck. “Lani, I’m in love with you,” he said and pressed his lips to mine. I battled with myself for all of one whole second before I leaned down into the kiss. It was warm and simple, yet I felt it everywhere. It tingled over my skin, making little goosebumps pop up all over my arms. It felt right. For the first time, kissing him felt completely and utterly right. “I’m amazed you didn’t punch me.” I laughed and dropped my forehead to his shoulder. “I can’t,” I said through my laughter. “I’m too tired to punch you.” He dropped his other hand from my face to my waist. “I really am sorry.” “Stop.” I pressed two of my fingers to his lips. “I don’t want you to be sorry anymore.” “Then what do you want?” he said against my fingertips. I dropped my hand and hooked my fingers through the neck of his t-shirt. I tugged, bringing him closer to me, and when the tip of his nose touched mine, I closed my eyes. “I want you to make me fall in love with you.” His hand, still at the back of my neck, twitched. “That’s a pretty risky question. I’m kind of irresistible.” I pulled back, opening my eyes, and smiled at him. “Prove it.” “All right, but don’t blame me when I romance you right out of your lacy panties.” “I’m not sure if you’re making good progress already or not...” He smirked, his little cocky side coming out to play. “I could skip the romance and just get you out of your lacy excuse for underwear.” “Sex and romance aren’t the same thing, Brett.” “Sure they are, as long as I tell you I love you while I fuck you.” I blinked. “I’m not sure it works like that.” His smirk turned sexy. “Can I convince you?” “I think the order is flowers, food, and then fuck.” I pointed to the flowers. “You’re one third of the way there.” “Can I make you a sandwich?” I simply shook my head and sighed. “This is going to take a long time, isn’t it?” He stepped back and threw his arms out to the sides. “All right, all right. I’ll take you on a date.” I raised my eyebrows. “I need a date for some charity dinner my mom is hosting for Hope Building tomorrow,” he admitted.

“Black tie. Fancy shit. My mom is having a stylist bring dresses to the house later.” I stared at him flatly. “That’s the most romantic way I’ve ever been asked out.” Brett didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow with flowers. Then I’ll feed you at dinner, and when it’s all over, I’ll take you to bed and fuck you blind. Okay?” “That’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?” “Look, I already told you that I’m in love with you. That’s as romantic as I can be.” I smiled. “I suppose you win that one.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO BRETT

“This is ridiculous!” Lani yelled through the door. “It’s just a dress!” I yelled right back. She yanked the door to my sister’s bedroom open. She was back in her leggings and tank top. “No, it’s not just a dress. Is what you’re wearing just a suit?” “Yeah. Is it supposed to be something more?” “Aaaauuuugh!” She groaned and slammed the door shut again. Did I say something wrong? When was a dress not just a dress? Weddings, obviously, but fuck me. This was just a charity function. I didn’t even know about it until this morning. Hell, I wasn’t gonna go until Lani said I needed to do something romantic. If only there were a manual on making someone fall in love with you. One that didn’t involve sex. Shit, if she’d just let me fuck her again... Hell, I didn’t need to fuck her. I could just eat her pussy and she’d be in love with me by the time she came in my mouth. She knew it too. That’s why she was doing this to me. Forgiven me my ass. She was torturing me. Well...no, she had forgiven me. I could see it every time I looked at her. The shadows in her eyes were gone whenever she looked at me. There was no longer a lingering hint of hatred staring back at me. I had no idea what had prompted her to give me forgiveness I wasn’t sure I deserved, but I wasn’t going to turn it away. I wasn’t going to lose her again. If she wanted me to make her fall in love with me, then goddamn it, somehow I’d figure out how to do that. “Lani?” I knocked on Cam’s bedroom door. “No!” she shouted. “This is hell!” “It looks great!” Camille said to her from inside the room. “Honestly.” “Great sucks!” We needed backup. Pronto. “Moooommmmm!” I called out as I ran down the stairs. “Mooooommmm!” “What?” Mom appeared from the living room. “Did they find one yet?” I gave her my flattest look. “I can’t cope with that, Mom. Neither of them have found one. It’s a dress, not a car. Why is it so hard to choose?” Mom’s lips pursed into a smile. “Because dresses are everything, darling.” “Yeah, well, so is silence instead of screaming women.” She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring them down here now. Jenny will find them something.” Jenny poked her head around the door. “Will find who what?” I met her warm, brown gaze. “My sister and...Lani...something to wear. Before I throw myself out of the window.” Jenny laughed. “They didn’t like the ones they went up with?” “They liked them just fine, but it was too short or too long or too frumpy or too tight or the sleeves were too...sleevey. I don’t know.” That caused both Jenny and my mom to laugh really hard. I swear, the women in my life loved getting amused at my expense. “Okay,” Mom said. She swept right past me toward the staircase. “Girls?” she called when she was halfway up. “Bring the dresses down. Jenny is pulling some more for you.” “Do I have to listen to this more?” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “I have some work to catch up

on.” Mom raised her eyebrows as she joined me back at the bottom of the stairs. “Really? You want to go and work?” “It’s that or this.” She laughed and kissed my cheek. “Go work.” “For your information,” Lani said as she stomped down the stairs with an armful of dresses. “This is not fun. This is not a fun date.” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked at me. “This is stressful.” “You’re so pretty when you’re mad at me.” I grinned and tapped her nose. “Will I be pretty if I murder you?” “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to be romanced. I’m taking you on a date. What more do you want?” “This is a date?” Camille raised an eyebrow, looking a little too much like mom to be entirely comfortable. “Isn’t that kind of cheap?” I pointed at Mom. “She said I can’t miss it and needed to bring a date. This is really all her fault.” Mom looked between me and Camille. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re both twenty-six.” She turned around and walked back into the library where the dresses were. “Crap. My laptop is in there.” I followed her in and stopped dead. There were rails and rails of clothing—at least eight—all covering the floor. There were dresses slung over the backs of the chairs and the sofas, and one was even hanging, covered in plastic, from the top of one of the bookcases. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we’d renovated the library into a clothing store.” Mom laughed. “Just temporarily, Brett. I moved your laptop over by the sofas.” I looked at the corner sofas where we sat the first time Lani tried to get information for an article. “Oh, yes. I can see it now. Oh no, wait. That’s a dress that costs as much as someone’s car.” I was only saved from Mom’s light slap because I darted out of the way. “Here.” She picked it up from the middle of the table and passed it to me, along with the charge lead. “Take this and go find your father if you’re going to work.” I took the laptop and lead from her and glanced at the rails. Hanging on the end of one was a red dress I liked the look of, so I whipped it off the rail and draped it over Lani’s arm. “There. Try that one,” I said, letting go of it with a wink. “If this is perfect I’m going to kill you,” she said after me, peering over her shoulder. I grinned as I backed out of the library. “It will be.”



“I’m going to kill you.” I looked over as Lani dropped herself onto the sofa next to me. “It was perfect, huh?” “It needs a little adjustment, and I’m going to need some tape to preserve my modesty, but yes, it’s perfect. How did you do it?” “Easy,” I said, returning my attention to the spreadsheet. “I grabbed the first one I liked the look of and handed it to you. Like a regular human does when they need something to wear.” She nudged me with her elbow. “All right, all right. Your point is heard and understood.” “It’s just a dress,” I said again. “Logically I know that, but illogically, they all look like shit when I wear them.” “Impossible.” I saved the sheet I was working on and moved to the next. “You could wear nothing but a ripped up, thirty-year-old rock concert t-shirt and you’d still look gorgeous.” Lani turned to face me with a light flush burning up her cheeks. “Oh, now you’re being sweet.”

“I’m just telling the truth.” I hit CTRL-S to save and met her gaze. “It’s just a charity dinner and fundraiser. You can wear what you want. You don’t even have to come.” “It’s for the women’s shelter. I want to come.” I smiled and cupped her chin. “Then come, but stop worrying about what you look like. You’re gonna have the prettiest smile there and that’s all I care about you wearing.” She raised her eyebrows. “Okay, I care about your underwear too.” I sighed and dropped my hand. “Nothing gets past you, does it?” “Yeah...I don’t know if I can wear underwear.” “I’m sorry, what?” I swallowed, putting my laptop on the desk. Why the fuck was my cock twitching at that? “You can’t wear underwear?” “Maybe,” she hedged. “But it’s kind of...tight. I might have to find those seamless underwear thingies that are like giant sanitary pads but stick to your skin.” “That went from sexy to gross real quick.” Lani laughed and leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Sorry, it’s the truth. Also, your own fault. You picked the dress, not me.” “Can we get another one?” I pushed to the edge of the sofa cushion to stand up. “No!” She launched herself at me, tackling me down against the back cushions before I was fully on my feet. She practically threw herself onto my lap. “I want that one!” I laughed, wrapping my arms around her. “Yeah? Why so bad?” She rolled over, propping herself up with her hand on the cushion, and gave me a sly smile. “Because it’s going to be really fun to watch you navigate a fancy event in a suit with a huge hard-on.” My eyebrows shot right up. “Is that a promise? Because you’ll be responsible for it...and getting rid of it.” Lani tried to move off of me, but I held her tighter until she stopped wriggling. “Fine,” she said, shuffling so she was sitting on me properly. I opened my legs so her ass dropped down to the cushion between them and grinned. “That sounds like a double promise to me.” “Don’t push your luck, Casanova.” “I always push my luck, kitten. It’s why I’m so lucky.” “Lucky, annoying, insistent... who’s keeping track?” “You, evidently.” My lips quirked up. She lightly slapped my chest. “Someone has to. Otherwise your ego might get out of control again.” “Lani, you’re sitting between my legs and want me to make you fall in love with me. Trust me, my ego is fucking crazy right now.” “Is it too late to take back that request? “No.” I ran my hand through the loose locks of her dark hair. “If you don’t want me to...” She dropped her head back, the tiniest of smiles playing on her full lips. They parted for a moment before she closed them again. Then, with a soft look on her face, she leaned up to me and kissed me. It was brief. Mere seconds. Mere jolting, heart-stopping seconds. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” she said quietly, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t want to make you fall in love with me,” I admitted, the truth of the words hitting home. “I want you to fall in love with me because you can’t stop yourself.” A slow smile spread over her face, lighting her eyes up. Oh yeah. I totally got that right. “Well played, Casanova.” She kissed my cheek and finally extracted herself from my hold. “Okay, I

have to go. I need to finish this ‘stunning character reference’ for you to send to your dad.” She shot me a sassy smirk as she stood up. I rested one arm across the back of the sofa. “Do I get to read it all first?” “Ask your dad,” was all she said before she left the room with a bounce in her step and the flash of a smile. I raised my eyebrows, looking back over at the TV. I’d already read some of it and knew roughly what she was going to write for what I hadn’t read. She was just being damn awkward on purpose. Mostly because she knew that now, I would ask my father. That woman... The sound of a throat clearing by the doorway made me look up. Aunt Bel was leaning against the dark frame, her freckled arms folded across the top of her stomach. She had on obnoxious coral lipstick, and she bared her teeth at me in a grin that made her look a little too much like an escaped mental patient from the eighteen hundreds. “Yes?” I said after a moment of her unnerving grinning and staring. “Mhmmm,” she hummed, pursing her lips but still smiling. This was a little uncomfortable. “What?” That grin reappeared. “Aunt Bel.” “Yes?” “Is there any reason you’re standing in the doorway and grinning at me like you’re contemplating my murder?” She laughed loudly, but it came out more of a cackle than anything. It didn’t exactly reassure me that she wasn’t planning to kill me, if I was honest. “I don’t want to kill you, boy. I just think it’s funny.” “Think what’s funny?” She cocked her head and a bit of hair fell loose from her scrappy bun. “Of all the women...you pick that one. The one whose heart you broke.” “Camille told you?” “No. Don’t be stupid. I knew years ago.” “What?” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “You knew? You knew and you never said anything?” She blinked. “Why in the shit would I tell you? You never asked.” “I asked a hundred times!” “No. You bitched and whined. You never asked.” I stared at her. “You’re impossible.” The grin returned for a third time. “Thought you’d know that by now, boy.” “Why didn’t you just tell me you knew?” Aunt Bel shrugged. “Figured she’d come back one day and you’d find out. Besides, you needed to sample the cocktail sausages before you got a taste of the steak.” “I have no idea what that means.” “It means that even if I’d told you and you’d chased her, you wouldn’t have appreciated her.” She waggled a finger at me. Her nail paint matched her lips. “You needed to sample the shandy before the champagne.” “Are you comparing Lani to champagne?” “Yes. And you’re the shandy, you little shit.” I shook my head and grabbed my laptop. “I have no idea how anybody can hold a conversation with you that actually makes sense.”

She cackled again. “I still think it’s funny.” “Hilarious.” “All the girls,” she mused, straightening up and stretching her arms out in front of her. “All the girls who dropped dead at your feet and you pick the one you have to chase.” Her laughter followed her down the hall, slowly getting quieter as she got further away. I hated to admit it, but she had a point.



How long did it take to put on an evening dress? Currently one hour, seventeen minutes, and twenty-nine seconds. But who was counting? Certainly not me, and certainly not because we were running the risk of being late as it was. For all my faults, it always surprised people that, for the most part, I was a bit of a stickler for time. Unless I wanted to piss somebody off—then I was almost always deliberately late. Today, however, it wasn’t my fault. I was waiting. I was bored of fucking waiting. There was only so long I could wear a suit before I started to feel like a fancy pants lawyer or some shit. “Mae.” Dad knocked on the door to Mom’s huge dressing area. “We’re going to be late.” “Two more minutes!” she trilled back. I groaned. “You said that twenty minutes ago.” “If you aren’t ready, we’re going to leave without you,” Dad warned her. “You said that thirty minutes ago!” Camille yelled. “Smartass,” I muttered. “Too close to the nipple!” Lani shrieked on the other side of the door. I shared a confused look with Dad. “What the hell are you going in there?” The door opened and my sister’s face appeared. “Tit tape,” she answered simply. “Tit tape,” I said slowly. “Yep. Otherwise the attendees are gonna get more for their money than they expected.” Cam shut the door before either of us could respond. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered, sitting on the chair in the corner of my parents’ room. I rubbed my temples firmly. “That’s women for you.” Dad perched on the edge of his bed and loosened his tie. He un-popped the first button of his shirt. I did the same. Clearly we were going to be late, so we might as well be comfortable while we waited. “I’m amazed you convinced Sali to come,” I said to break the silence. Dad slid me a sly smile. “I have my ways.” I raised my eyebrows questioningly. “I promised to double the amount raised tonight if she attended.” “Weren’t you going to do that anyway?” “Of course, but she didn’t know that.” He tilted his head toward me. “Not to mention that I think she’ll be glad for the night off.” He was right. She just worked and worked, rarely taking a break. It was only a dinner, but we wanted her to see firsthand the amount raised. “Dad? Thanks for doing this.” He smiled at me. “No.” He leaned over and grasped my shoulder. “Thank you for proving me wrong. What you do for Hope Building is incredible. I’m proud of you.” I swallowed hard. It’d been a long time since I’d heard those words. “Thank you.”

He squeezed and released me as the door opened. Mom stepped out in a floor-length, white gown made her look a bit like an angel. Seriously. Now I knew where I got my looks. It was all Mom. I stared at the door. It was ajar, and now that I knew what my mom looked like, all I cared about was seeing Lani. I’d picked her dress, sure, but I’d just thrown it at her. It was pure luck. I had no idea what she looked like or how it would fit her. I wanted to see it through. Fuck, I wanted to see it. Camille slipped through the door with a giant, shit-eating grin on her face. Smugness glinted in her eyes, and as my parents left the room, she stopped in front of me. “I kinda wanna stay and see if you fall a bit further in love with her when you see her in that dress.” “Is she coming out now?” “Uh...I’ll see you downstairs.” Camille hiked up her dress and left without really answering me. I frowned after her and turned toward the dressing room. Of course, Cam’s lack of answer had actually given me one. Why wouldn’t Lani be coming out? “Lani?” The door clicked shut—and the lock did too. I sighed and stood. When I’d crossed the room, I leaned against the door frame and placed one hand against the door. “Lani?” “Yeah?” Her voice was small as it came through the door. “Come out.” “I...I’m not sure.” “Why not?” “I’m just not.” “Let me in.” I lowered my hand to the handle and lightly shook it. “Come on. Please?” Silence. Then...the lock unlatched. I turned the handle and slowly pushed open the door. My eyes found her instantly. She was standing in the middle of the room, next to my mom’s make-up covered unit, with her hands pressed flat against her stomach. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders in loose waves, and aside from her dark red lipstick, her make-up was as natural as always. But it was the dress. It clung to her like a second skin, unforgiving in the way it hugged her hot little body. Every single curve she had was on show, and my gaze traveled the lines of the red fabric until I’d taken in every inch of her. Until I’d see every single inch of the dress and how it seemed to be so perfectly melded to her until the light flare out at her knees. There was a dip in the neckline that showed a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, but it was the side view and the reflection in the mirror that showed the need for the tape. It was backless, and without the tape, the fabric that was so flat against the sides of her breasts would only be held in by the thin straps looped over her shoulders. “You’re staring at me,” Lani said quietly. “I can’t wear this, can I?” “Kitten, the only time you won’t be wearing this is when I throw it on my bedroom floor.” My gaze traveled over her once again. Fuck, I wanted to tear that right off her. Right now. “I can’t wear this!” Her hands slid across her stomach until she was hugging herself. “Ugh, this is ridiculous. I’m not going.” “Hey.” I closed the distance between us and grasped her shoulders before she could get too far away.

“What’s wrong?” “The dress,” she said, her gaze lowered. “It’s too tight and too much for this. I look ridiculous.” “No, you’re being ridiculous. You don’t look it at all.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE LANI

I appreciated his effort, but I knew what I looked like in this dress. My stomach pudged out a little too much, I wasn’t wearing a bra so the mole on my back was in full view of everybody, and I was pretty sure that yes, my butt did look big in this. “I do,” I said, finally lifting my gaze to meet his. “If I eat anything in this I’m going to look like I’m six months pregnant. And that’s if the stitching holds up.” Brett took my chin in his hand and dipped his face close to mine. “Then you’ll be the prettiest pregnantlooking non-pregnant woman in the room.” I slapped his arm and stepped back. “This is serious!” “I know, I know.” He put his hands up. He sighed as he dropped them. “Look here.” He pulled me back toward him and spun me around. He stepped into me, pressing my back against his body, and rested his hands at my waist. We were standing in front of the mirror, me in this dress, him in his suit. He stood almost an entire head above me, and he rested his chin against the back of my head. “Look,” he said quietly, his breath tickling the top of my head as he exhaled. “Stop thinking about all the things you think are wrong with this dress, because I know we see a different damn thing when we look in this mirror.” “We do, and that’s because you clearly need your eyes tested.” He shook his head, smiling. “My eyes are just fine.” “Fine,” I said, lifting my chin and meeting his gaze in the reflective glass. “Then you tell me what you’re seeing.” “I see you,” he said simply. “I see a beautiful woman who doesn’t understand or appreciate her own attractiveness. I see misplaced insecurity and unnecessary fear.” His thumbs gently stroked across the bare skin of my back, just dipping inside the dress as he lowers his hands to my hips. “I see a beautiful woman wearing a dress that was obviously made for her. And if it wasn’t made for her, it was made to be a torture device for me.” I dropped my head to hide my smile. Perhaps he was right on both accounts—I could certainly feel the evidence of the torture device as it pressed against my lower back. Invitingly too, I had to add. “See.” He reached around and gently lifted my chin so I was looking into the mirror again. “Just think about it like that. There won’t be a second tonight that I won’t be thinking about leaving so I can take you home and rip this dress off you.” “Rip it off me? It’s a two thousand dollar dress!” “That’s such a waste of money when you’re priceless completely naked.” “Yeah? Tell that to your cock.” “I’m trying,” he admitted. “He’s not listening.” “He?” He referred to his cock as ‘he?’ “Shh. Don’t say it so loud if you’re going to be mean. He might get upset.” I raised my eyebrows again. “Really?” Brett grinned. “He has feelings. And right now he’s feeling like ditching this party and burying himself inside you.” I blinked at him in the mirror. “I don’t know if this was deliberate, but congratulations, you’ve officially gone far enough off track that I think I’ve forgotten why I shouldn’t wear this dress.” I stepped forward, and in the mirror, I caught his gaze dropping to my ass. He stared unashamedly until he probably realized I wasn’t moving anymore. “It’s gonna be so hard not to spank you every time I see your ass tonight.”

“You manage not to smack my ass quite a lot. Do the same tonight.” “I’m not sure you understand how hard it is.” I glanced back and down at his pants. “Pretty clear on that.” His grin was devilish when I looked back up and caught sight of his tie. “Oh, wait.” I turned and stepped into him. “What?” “Your tie.” He tilted his head back as I went for his undone top button. I slipped it through the buttonhole and trailed my fingertips down to his tie. It didn’t need much tightening, so it only took one soft push to put it back into place properly. “There,” I said quietly, resting my fingers on the smooth satin. “Perfect.” Brett looked down at me and smiled. “Thank you,” he replied, trailing his hand down the curve of my jaw. He dipped his head and brushed his lips over mine oh-so-lightly that if I didn’t feel the tingle of his touch, I could well have imagined it. “Come on. We’re going to be late.” “Okay.” I pulled my clutch off the dressing table and, after verifying my phone was inside, I nodded to him. “Let’s go.”



“I hope you realize you’re going to be glued to my side all night,” Brett murmured in my ear as we walked across the vast ballroom-type room toward our table. “Really?” I replied just as quietly. “Your vice-like grip on my side didn’t clue me in to that at all.” “Damn, then I’m not holding you tight enough.” He twitched his fingers to tighten his grip, but the teasing way he did it just tickled me. “Stop it,” I breathed out. “It tickles.” “Hmm.” He turned his face into the side of my hair as he pulled my chair out for me. “What’s ‘hmm?’“ I leaned back and looked at him. “Nothing.” His lips curved up sexily. “Just me wondering if it’ll tickle you as much when I use my mouth there.” A shiver ran down my spine and I—somehow—managed to repress an entire-body shudder at his words. “You’ll have to wait to find out, won’t you?” I flashed him a playful grin and took my seat. His gaze was hot on me even as he eased my chair forward. “Hmm.” “You’re hmm-y today.” “Hmm-y? Is that even a word?” “Did I just say it?” “Yes.” “Then it’s a word.” Brett sat down, fighting his smile. “You can’t just make up words to suit you.” I blinked at him. “You’re talking a bunch of words that were once made up to suit people.” He stared at me for a second before lightly shaking his head. “I have no idea how I’m supposed to argue that fact.” I picked up my glass of water. “Can’t argue the truth.” “You’re sassy tonight.” “It’s the knowledge I wield a weapon capable of driving a man to torture.” I sipped and put the glass back down. “I’d probably not be so sassy if you stopped looking at me like you want to eat me.”

He leaned in and whispered into my ear, “But I do want to eat you. Until you scream, to be precise.” I blushed. Hard. Brett laughed under his breath as he sat back in his chair properly. He looked oddly proud of himself, and judging by how hot my cheeks were, it was no surprise. He had me blushing so hotly you could lie me on my side and fry an egg on my cheek. Awesome. “Behave yourself,” I demanded, clearing my throat. “I have been ever since you came back.” He peered sideways at me. “Now it’s all pent up inside and I need to get it out.” “Or you could grow up.” “I could, but saying a few more things that’ll make you blush like that seems like way more fun.” I pursed my lips, but my response was cut off by Camille’s arrival to the table. She stared at me as she sat down. “Why are you blushing like that?” Of course, that only made me blush harder and Brett laugh again. “On second thought, I don’t want to know.” She smoothed out her black dress and scooted her chair in. She leaned right forward and looked at her brother. “Keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear it.” “Why? ‘Cause you aren’t getting any?” “Ooookay!” I held my hands up and mimed pushing them apart. “If you’re gonna do that, I’m changing tables. I’m not sitting between you while you fight all night.” “Who’s fighting? Are they hot and oily?” Brett groaned as his Great Aunt Bel took the chair directly opposite us. “Who sat you with us? I told Mom you’d drive me crazy if she put you by us on the seating plan.” Aunt Bel looked up and cocked her head to the side. “There’s a seating plan?” “The card is right in front of you.” Her glasses were hanging around her neck on a multi-colored beaded chain, and she lifted them to her eyes while bending forward and squinting at the card. “Oh. Well, that’s unfortunate.” She plucked the card from the table and flicked it at Camille. “Cammy, dear, go find where I’m supposed to be sitting and swap this.” Camille blinked at her as she lifted the card. “Aunt Bel, you can’t just mess with the seating plan.” “Yes, I can.” “No, you can’t.” “I can do what I want. That’s what happens when you get old. Nobody gets to tell you what to do.” She peered over at Brett and pointed her glasses in his direction. “Except you. You started that early.” Brett wasn’t happy. “Seriously. Go find your own seat.” “I’m sitting in it.” “The right seat.” “I’m sitting in it.” Dear god. Coping with the Walker family was like being freshly qualified as a teacher for college students then being thrown into a glass of sugar-hyped five year olds. “Aunt Bel,” I said, kicking Brett’s ankle under the table. “Just stay here, but behave, okay?” “Ha! I always behave.” Her eyes glittered. “Are the hot, oily fighting men here yet?” “I’m going to find her seat,” Camille muttered, standing up. “There are not hot, oily fighting men,” Brett said. “She was talking about me and Camille.” “You just can’t get the staff,” Aunt Bel tittered. “I’m going to have to have a word with your mother about the entertainment at these things.” “Aunt Bel, if you saw hot, oily men fighting, you’d probably have a heart attack.” “And I would die very happy.”

I looked between them both. I felt a little like I should have a scorecard and be refereeing this. The constant back and forth between them was exhausting and, honestly, a little scary. I tuned them out until Aunt Bel cackled. “You can tell you’re a Walker, boy. You’re just like me.” Brett froze. “God help me.” “He can’t,” I said to my plate. “He’s too busy giving me strength.” Aunt Bel looked at me. “Smart mouth. I like that in a girl.” I smiled. I never would have guessed. Camille sighed as she approached the table with a name card in hand. “Have you told her about The Thing yet?” Aunt Bel asked Brett. Camille spun on her heels and walked off. That alone made something ring in the back of my head—and Brett’s reaction to her words made my curiosity gene bounce up and down like a kangaroo on crack. He was deathly still, and judging from the immediate tension that formed in the air, his gaze was just as terrifying as his stillness. The Thing? What was The Thing? Aside from not knowing what it actually was, I knew one thing from his reaction: This was the secret. The one thing my boss wanted me to find out. The thing that could ruin this family. Two weeks ago, I wanted to know it. I wanted to do just that. Today? I felt sick at the mention of it. At the memory of what my boss wanted with it. And, deep down, for the first time ever, I didn’t want to know something. I was afraid of what it was. “No,” Brett finally said, snapping his jaw shut. “But thank you for bringing it up. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” His tone was so dry you could mop up the Atlantic Ocean with it. “We’ve all done it once in our lives,” Aunt Bel went on, apparently oblivious to his very blatant discomfort and annoyance. “I don’t know why everyone is so worked up about it. It’s just a—” “That’s enough, Belinda.” Henrick Walker, Brett’s grandfather, stepped up behind her. He clamped a firm hand on her shoulder, and that shut her up with a snap. I blew out the breath I’d been holding at her words and pressed my fingers against my forehead. “You know we don’t discuss it. What Brett tells Lani and when is his business,” he continued. “And you will not interfere with that.” Aunt Bel said nothing. She simply pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows with the petulance of a child in time-out. Henrick looked at Brett, his gaze gentle yet firm. “You look like you need some air.” It was less an observation and more an idea. And by idea, I mean order. Brett needed air whether he liked it or not. To his credit, he didn’t argue. He nodded and excused him from the table before anybody said another word. Nobody wanted to say another word. At least, I didn’t. My throat was dry, and my stomach knotted as Brett stalked through the room toward the doors. Even though he was angry, he half-stopped several times to greet people, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he did that. “His to tell,” Henrick continued as he took the seat next to Belinda. “Although you may well have forced him to tell her before he was ready to.” Tell me what? I wanted to ask. What wasn’t he ready to tell me? What was he hiding? And maybe more importantly, how many more secrets did Brett Walker have?

Did I even know him at all?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR BRETT

“I just need a break from Aunt Bel. Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be back down soon.” I kissed her cheek. “She’s not supposed to be at your table.” She frowned as she patted my hand in hers. “I’ll have a word or two with her.” I waved it off. “It’s fine. Pops is there. I just need to breathe.” I walked away from her before she could protest further. I knew the floors and halls of Walker Hotel like I knew the back of my hand, given that I’d worked here every weekend for two years when I was a teenager. I also knew that the entire top floor would be blocked off in case any of us wanted to stay in one of the suites tonight, so that was the direction I headed in. I grabbed a key from reception and took the elevator up. Focusing on the four, silver walls around me kept my annoyance in check until the doors pinged open to the top floor. Then, as I stepped out, I felt that boxed-up anger explode through me. I slammed the door to one of the suites shut behind me and threw the key card onto the sofa. It bounced off onto the floor, but I left it there as I headed for the doors to the balcony. I yanked open the doors and loosened my tie with a harsh jerk as I stepped outside. The sea air did nothing for me. Neither did the view. I didn’t care for the calmness of the waves as they crawled up the beach or the unmoving white clouds hanging against the edge of the sunset as it crept across the sky. I didn’t want to be calmed. I wanted to be annoyed. The Thing. The Fucking Stupid Thing I never should have done—never mind that I wasn’t completely aware of it happening. It was just one more blot on my fucked up record of my early twenties. Something I now held full responsibility for. That made it worse. Knowing I could no longer blame my actions on someone else riddled me with guilt, not only because I had, but because I had no excuses. I had no excuses for my behavior then because I was the sole cause of it. I was the one who summoned the storm that I would come to blame for my shitty decisions. The guilt of that was enough. I never wouldn’t feel guilty for hurting Lani. I never wouldn’t feel guilty about blaming my actions and choices on her leaving. I never wouldn’t feel guilty for blaming her for what happened that night. For the thing that made my family more ashamed of me than I ever thought they could be. The Thing. The reason Lani had even been inserted right back into my life the way she had been. What a full fucking circle it’d been. I made her leave. And when she found out about the thing I regretted, the thing I kept hidden, that had cost a lot of money to keep hidden, she’d probably leave again. I knew that. That was why I never wanted her to know. Not because I was malicious or I wanted to keep anything from her, but because I didn’t want her to go. I could survive without her, but that didn’t mean I could live without her. “Brett?” Lani’s voice was hesitant and questioning all at the same time. “Are you here?” “On the balcony.” I leaned forward onto the railing and stared out at the beach below. The door clicked shut across the room. I took in a deep breath and dropped my head down. Was she going to ask me about it? Would I have to tell her right now? I’d have to tell her. I knew I would. The cat was out of the bag and screeching as it climbed the curtains. I just wanted to...I don’t know. Not do it right this second.

I was a fucking pussy. Lani leaned her elbows on top of the railing. Her arm brushed mine, and although it wasn’t skin to skin, the fleeting contact made my heart race. I was fucking done for with her. If that was all it took, I was completely and utterly lost to her. “That was interesting,” she said. I looked over at her, my head still dipped down. “Depends on your view of the situation, I expect.” “The Thing, huh?” Her shining brown eyes found my gaze. “Sounds ominous. Like a basement fell of gremlins who’ve been fed after midnight.” That drew a small laugh from me. “Probably just as stressful as that.” “Your Aunt Bel is crazier than I remember her being.” I shook my head slowly, finally lifting it back up properly. “Nah. Eight years away just diluted your memory some. She’s always been certifiable.” “Your grandfather shut her up pretty good.” “Yeah. Shutting up your sister. That’s a skill I hope he’ll teach me one day.” Lani giggled. “You love her really.” “Only on Tuesdays and Fridays. Mondays are negotiable.” I half-smiled. “Does Camille know about the ominous The Thing?” “She does.” And she’s the reason nobody outside of my family does. “So, it’s a big family secret?” “Where are you going with this?” She rested her chin in her hand. “Nowhere in particular. I’m just trying to figure out why everything kinda...imploded when your aunt brought it up. I mean, you’ve done tons of dumb shit and you’re pretty open about your mistakes, so this must be something really huge.” I sighed and sat on the rattan sofa in the corner of the balcony. I patted the cushion next to me, and Lani lifted her dress to join me. “Not really,” I said, leaning my arm over the back of the sofa. I toyed with a lock of her wavy hair as I looked out through the slats in the railings. “I wouldn’t say it’s the worst in terms of some of the things I’ve done, but it’s the thing I regret the most.” “And you don’t talk about it?” “Since it happened? No. That’s why it’s called The Thing. Mom referred to it as that once and it stuck.” I could have been imagining it, but Lani leaned into my side a little more. “Was it illegal? “ she asked. I thought about that for a moment. “Not what I did, no. But the things that came after...to an extent, yes.” “Well, if this is a guessing game, you should know that you’re winning. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I laughed quietly and trailed a finger up and down her bare arm. “No guessing game. Although a part of me wishes you could guess it. Then I wouldn’t have to say it out loud.” “Why would you want me to guess it?” “Because now you know there’s something there that I’m keeping from you.” I turned my face toward her and cast my gaze over her profile. The tiny bump on her nose. The wayward eyebrow hair that wasn’t lying flat. “And if I tell you, it’s another reason for you leave,” I admitted quietly after a moment. She shifted, turning her body toward her. “And go where?” “Wherever it is you live.” “Well right now I live in Whiskey Key,” she said, her lips tilting up on one side. “My roommate shipped my stuff and rented my room. She sold my car and transferred me the money. I literally have nowhere to go except my grandma’s house.” “Isn’t your mom selling it?” “She can’t. Grandma left the house to me and Connie.”

“She wanted you to come home.” Lani nodded, diverting her gaze. “I wish I had sooner.” So did I. I wished for a lot of things. None of which I could change. That was just how it worked. “I didn’t want to stay here.” Lani tucked her hair behind her ear. “I wanted to stay for a week after the funeral, sort the house, and then go. But then life happened, and now instead of having a thousand reasons to go, I have a thousand to stay.” I wanted to be a reason for her to stay. No, I was fucking selfish. I wanted to be the reason she stayed. “There’s Connie, the baby...Camille...I want to help Sali and everyone at Hope Building...” she trailed off and then, glancing at me, whispered, “And you.” I turned on the sofa and cupped her face in my hands. “I want to be the reason you stay,” I said quietly, giving life to my thoughts. “But I don’t know if you’ll want to.” She rested her hand over mine, her touch as light as a feather. “There’s only one way to find out.” My stomach tightened. “I know. But...not right now. After. Later tonight.” She nodded, squeezing my hand, but something lingered in her gaze. “What’s wrong?” “Do you have any other secrets that may randomly be revealed in the future by your crazy old relatives?” I smiled. “No. Not that I know of, at least. There are probably some awkward toddler stories hanging around, but just in case, I’ll give you a full run down of my life since you left.” Her lips pursed, but they curved too. “That works.” I winked at her and stood. Then I grabbed her hands and pulled her up, drawing her against me so I could wrap my arms around her waist. “Now,” I said, looking into her eyes. “Let’s forget this for the next few hours and go back downstairs where I can return to my usual smug, asshole self.” “Why do you need to be a smug asshole tonight?” I smirked. “Because I have you and nobody else does.” “You’re making me sound like I’m your new puppy.” She raised an eyebrow. “Or a slice of cake.” “Fine. Then I get to be a smug asshole because you’re mine.” “Still sounding like I’m a new puppy.” I held her tightly and touched the tip of my nose to hers. Her eyes briefly fluttered shut. I smiled. “Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re completely mine.” “I kinda like it when you say it that way,” she said softly. “Good. Because I have no problem telling you that I’m completely yours.” “So, you’re like my new puppy too.” My smile changed to a grin that stretched ear-to-ear. “Exactly like a new puppy.” She laughed, her smile mirroring mine. “You’re crazy, Casanova. And if you say ‘only for you,’ I’m going to punch you.” “I’m crazy for my new puppy.” I stepped back when she twitched. “I didn’t say it!” I was pushing my luck though, wasn’t I? “I sure hope you’re not calling me a bitch.” Her bangs swept over one eye as she fixed me with a steady look. “Damn it.” I knocked my fist against the top of the railings behind me. “That backfired.” Lani held the look for only a few more seconds before her wild giggles returned. She tapped my nose with a cheeky smirk on her lips. “Of course it did. I’m female. I can bend anything to go my way. Hell, I could twist steel if I wanted to.”

“Yeah? Well let’s get the rest of this night over with so, if you still want me later, I can take you home and you can show me just how twisty you can get.” “Was that supposed to be sexy?” I paused. “It wasn’t?” She tilted her head side to side before pinching her fingers in front of her face and squinting. The tiniest breath of air was left between her finger and thumb. “Lil’ bit. Not a lot.” I sighed. “If Aunt Bel was right about anything, it was that of all the women in the world, I had to pick you, didn’t I?” “Of course.” Lani grinned as she walked toward the door and threw over her shoulder, “I’m fabulous.” I dropped my eyes to where her dress hugged her butt. “So is your ass in that dress.” She clapped her hands over her butt cheeks as she disappeared inside the room. Damn it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE LANI

I leaned back against the wall. Dinner had been over for a while, and now I watched everyone else dance. Camille flirted with Xavier somewhere in the room—hopefully hidden from her brother’s potential view—and Aunt Bel told anyone who’d listen about her gerbil with an allergy to lettuce. I didn’t know anybody or anything could be allergic to lettuce, but if it had to happen, it would be related to Aunt Bel. Because, crazy. Even my sister had left, but not before she guilt-tripped me for not calling her since Brett and I figured things out. Well, most things. Apparently one thing still lingered. She didn’t know about that, though, so I apologized and promised to bring her donuts the next day. It was the least I could do. At least, it was according to Connie. I now knew better than to argue with a pregnant woman. Especially that pregnant woman. I liked the quiet that being on the outskirts of room gave me. Okay, quiet was an exaggeration, but it allowed me to think. Mostly about Brett’s secret and my future here in Whiskey Key. I wasn’t lying when I said to him he was a reason to stay. He was. I couldn’t deny the way things had changed. I couldn’t ignore the butterflies he gave me just by looking at me or the way my body reacted to him. The way I reacted to him. It had almost become a new normal. The tingles and the heat and the racing heart. It was effortless too. He could look at me across a crowded room and I’d still feel the same. I was in love with him. Completely, utterly, wholly, irrevocably. There was no way out from this. I didn’t want a way out. I didn’t when I loved him as a teenager and I didn’t now. If soul mates existed, he had to be mine. There was no other explanation for the way we both felt about the other after so many years. So much had changed, but the fierceness with which I was able to love him hadn’t. If I regretted anything, it was not telling him I loved him when he told me. But I’d wanted him to fight. I’d wanted him to prove on some ridiculous level that he really, truly wanted me. He’d done it though. He’d won that the moment he told me he wanted me to love him because I wanted to, not because he’d made me. That alone showed me that maybe his love was worth more than mine, although mine was the only one that had never really been in question. To me. He’d questioned it the way I’d questioned his. Then again, he’d never questioned the way he loved me. Our biggest tragedy was naive teenage stupidity and fear. If we’d gotten through that, we could get through any secret he had buried in his closet...couldn’t we? Because I wanted to. That’s what I wanted to do. I wanted him to fight for me, but I wanted to fight for him too. Brett needed fighting for. Insecurity wasn’t a quality he shared with anyone very easily, but I’d seen it tonight. It’d been all over his face. Insecurity and fear plagued him, and I was in the center of that. I wasn’t the cause of it, but I was sure as hell the catalyst for it. I didn’t see how he could have done something that made him feel that way. Unless he’d killed a puppy. Then we’d have issues. “Lani.” I turned at the sound of my boss’ voice. “Mr. Reeves. How are you?” “I’m well, thank you. Yourself?”

“Can’t complain.” “Can we have a word?” “Of course.” I followed him just outside the doors, clutching my half-full wine glass still. I’d been so lost in thought I pretty much forgot I was holding it. The noise quieted significantly when we stopped a few feet away from the giant room. “What’s up?” I asked him, holding my glass to my chest. “I overheard Bel Walker earlier this evening. She referenced the Walker secret.” “I don’t know it,” I said straight away. “I asked him but he wouldn’t tell me.” All right, so I was a dirty liar. Mr. Reeves studied me for a moment. “Really?” “He wouldn’t tell me a thing.” At least that was kind of honest. I wanted to say more, but something told me it would be overkill. I didn’t want him to know that I was going to find out soon. “Do you think he’ll tell you?” I opened my mouth, but the words I planned to say didn’t come out. What came out surprised even me. “Mr. Reeves, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.” He tilted his head to the side. “This?” “All of it.” I took two steps back. “I don’t think this is working. Please consider this a termination of the trial period. I’ll have a formal resignation to you tomorrow.” I didn’t wait for him to answer. I walked past him back into the room and lost myself in the busyness of it all. My heart pounded, but not in a good way. I wanted to stay in Whiskey Key—a decision I’d made no more than three hours ago on that balcony with Brett—but I now had no job. Clearly, it was off to a fabulous start. I sighed and sat at my table. Aunt Bel was sitting in her chair, asleep. Her arms were folded across her chest which rose and fell gently. How could she sleep in this noise? It must be a trick only for babies and the elderly. Shame I couldn’t be taught it. I could have done with a nap, if only for five minutes to shut out the world. “He really loves you, you know,” Aunt Bel said, her eyes still closed. I hid my mouth behind my wine glass. “I thought you were sleeping.” “Nope. Just listening.” “To what?” “Everything.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.” Aunt Bel snapped her eyes open. “How the hell did you know that?” She grinned. “Lucky guess. You just confirmed it.” I rolled my eyes for a second time. Just to make a point. “Whatever. Do you know where Brett is?” “He’s right behind you.” I turned around and looked right into his smiling face. “Oh, hi.” His eyes twinkled. “Dance with me?” “Um, I don’t dance.” “Neither do I.” He held one hand out anyway. “So, we’ll both look like complete idiots.” I looked at him for a moment before I said, “Fine.”

His long fingers curved around mine as I put my hand in his. He pulled me up slowly, then with a nod to Aunt Bel, pulled me over to where a band was playing. Other people were dancing too, and Brett winked at me before he pulled me close and circled my arms with his waist. “I thought your mom said there was some kind of auction,” I said into his ear as I looped my arms around his neck. “In around half an hour,” he replied, his lips right by my ear. “We’ll be gone before then.” I was about to ask what for, but of course I knew that. I didn’t want to think about it though. I was comfortable where were, pressed against each other and swaying in time to the music. Thank god neither of us could dance, because we weren’t dancing. Not the kind of dancing you think of normally at least. We were one-year-old-in-front-of-the-TV dancing. It worked for us. Mostly I just liked the way he held me. It wasn’t too tight, but it was just tight enough that I couldn’t move away even if I wanted to. He tickled his thumb across my back just above my dress which sent shivers up my spine, and his warm, gentle breaths danced across my ear as he pressed his cheek against the side of my head. It felt an awful lot like the moment you stopped falling love and hit the ground hard. No matter what he said to me tonight, I would tell him. I would tell him I felt the same way he did. For some reason. Despite it all. I didn’t want revenge anymore. I didn’t want to break his heart. I wanted to own it. “Everybody is staring at you,” he murmured just loud enough for me to hear. “Is that why you sound smug?” He pressed his lips against the side of my head and laughed into my hair. I took that as a yes. “Little bit,” he answered when he managed to get his laughter under control. I didn’t think it was that funny, but whatever. “Such a male.” “That’s a good thing.” “It’s funny.” “Xavier is staring at your ass.” Ah. “That explains why your hand is slowly slipping down to my ass.” “Oh, you noticed. Good.” He quit the crap and cupped my ass cheek firmly. Then, right as the song came to an end, he pulled me right into him and pressed his lips against mine. The surprise of it sent shockwaves through me, and I found myself leaning into it before it fully registered that he was kissing me. It warmed me right down to the pit of my tummy. And further. That had to be the wine... “What was that?” I asked when he pulled back. He met my gaze and grinned. “That was me making a point.” “What point was that exactly?” “You’re mine. How many times do I have to say it?” I shrugged. “Until I get sick of it.” He shook his head and laughed. “All right. You win. Are you ready to go?” I nodded. “Let me get my purse.” I extracted myself from his grip and grabbed it from the table. He was right behind me, and he took my

hand as he waved goodbye to Aunt Bel and asked her to tell his parents where we were going. I thought we should probably say goodbye to Sali, but on the way out, I caught sight of her beaming face in the center of a conversation. Anonymity didn’t seem to be working too well for her. Unless she was a cousin who’d come to town or something. Who knew? Brett and I didn’t speak as we navigated the hallways of Walker Hotel. It was quite nice actually, the silence. It wasn’t something we had often. It was either fighting, teasing, or kissing. That balance worked for me—and for us. Brett pulled a keycard from his pocket and pressed the button on the elevator. The doors pinged open immediately, proving that he had some form of elevator magic because that never happened, and we stepped inside. He never released my hand as he hit the button for the top floor and scanned the key. I looked at him. I couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the wine, because in this moment, surrounded by mirrors, I was struck by how utterly imperfect he was—but in the best possible way. A strange thought to have, I know, but I had it all the same. After all, everybody who looked at him saw this wildly perfect-looking guy. They saw blue-gray eyes and thick eyelashes and a sharp jaw and perfect lips. They didn’t see the tiny scar on his nose, barely visible thanks to the crease. They didn’t see the mole on his eyelid, covered mostly by his eyelashes. And they didn’t see that his left eye was just a hint more silver than his right one was. Or that despite all the words he spoke, his eyes said far more than his mouth ever did, if only you listened hard enough. “You’re staring at me. That’s a new one,” he said, peering sideways at me. He wasn’t wrong. I laughed and kissed the corner of his mouth, letting my lips linger close to his for a moment longer than I really needed to. Thankfully, the elevator doors opened before he could say anything. We both stepped outside, and almost as soon as he let us into the same suite I’d found him in earlier, I leaned against the wall and pulled off my shoes. “Uuuurrrnnnnn,” I groaned, flexing my toes. Oh my god. Nothing felt as good as pulling off high heels. Except taking off your bra, but as I wasn’t wearing one, it was a moot point. Brett eyed me. “Can I help you with anything?” “Ahhhh.” I dropped my shoes and looked down at my wriggling, free toes. “It feels so good. Better than sex.” “We’ll see if you’re still saying that in two hours.” He smirked and went over to the minibar. “Drink?” What the hell. “Sure. What’s in there?” “Uhh...” He bent over and damn, those pants looked really good on his butt. “Are you staring at my ass?” “Stop stealing my lines,” I grumbled, hiking up my dress. It dragged on the floor now I was no longer wearing my own four-inch torture devices, and if I didn’t, I was going to end up face-down, ass-up, and Brett was for sure going to get ideas. Ideas that would be awkward in a dress this tight...and totally unsexy with my sanitary pad undies stuck to my lady bits. Come on. I’d rather be unsexy than commando. And if anyone thinks commando is sexier, they’ve obviously never had a vagina. That shit is gross. “There’s wine,” Brett said, kneeling down in front of the fridge.

“What kind?” “White.” “What kind of white?” “Jesus, look yourself.” I looked at the floor then at my dress. “No. If I get down there, I won’t get back up in this dress.” He sighed and put all the bottles out on top of the bar. “Here.” I peered across all the labels and selected the one I wanted. “That one.” I stepped back. “Where are we sitting?” “Do you want to go outside?” “Do you want to have this conversation outside?” “Hmm. No. Not really...unless there’s nobody around.” I crossed the suite to the doors and opened the right one. The floor of the balcony was a nice warm temperature against the soles of my feet, and yes, I felt like a complete tool peering around and down at all the balconies. They were all empty. At least the ones closest to us were. If I couldn’t hear the two guys talking six balconies over and three down, they couldn’t hear me. “We can sit here if you want to.” Brett poured the wine and a whiskey for him. He glanced over at the doors several times before he finally nodded and brought the drinks over. He set them on the table on the balcony in front of the sofa and shrugged off his jacket. I sat down, wishing I had the freedom to undress like he did. Oh. I did. I could pull off the tit tape! Hallelujah! My eye twitched like crazy as I got stuck in to the arduous process of removing the tape from my skin. Why did it leave fabric so much easier? It burned my boobs as I tugged at it, stinging almost worse, and I could swear my skin was screaming at me for being such a bitch. “What are you doing?” Brett didn’t bother to hide his amusement in his voice. “Killing myself, apparently. Ouch!” I pulled the last bit of the tape off like you’d pull off a Band-Aid and dropped it onto the table. “Wait. Hold on.” I got up and darted back inside. When I was there, I bent over and rolled my dress up my legs. I needed to get rid of this awkward panty-liner-sanitary-pad thing. While the lack of a seam—or fabric—was a lifesaver in this dress, I was so uncomfortable. I yelped as I pulled it off. Then I threw it right where it belonged. In the trashcan. As I walked back out onto the balcony, dress back in place, Brett laughed and leaned right back. While I’d been pulling what was apparently an extra layer of skin from myself, he had pulled off his shoes and socks and undone all the buttons of his shirt. And taken off his belt. Guys always had it so much easier. I doubted I could even swing my feet up onto the sofa in this dress. I tried it anyway. I did it. Win. “Tell me the story of Brett like you promised.” I grinned and sat back against the sofa. Brett let out a sigh and ran his fingers through my hair, from my scalp right to the very ends. The touch, although not meant to be teasing, was so light and gentle that it sent a shiver across my skin. “I don’t need to start at the beginning. You know most of that. I screwed up any football prospects in college with wild partying. I barely graduated because I spent too much time screwing around. I only didn’t get arrested and tossed in jail because my uncle is the sheriff. You don’t know the truth about the women.” Did I want to know the truth? My gut didn’t know the answer any more than I did.

That wasn’t good. “It’s not as bad as people make it out to be.” He laughed once with a slight smile playing on his lips. “It wasn’t a different girl every night. Hell, even every week. I just happened to pick up the girls who were vocal about it. And one...” He blew out a long breath, stilling his hand. It was still buried in my hair, but his fingertips now rested against the back of my neck. “One was...visual.” I froze. “Visual,” I said quietly. He sighed heavily and grabbed our drinks. He handed me my wine and then sat right back. Despite the fact my eyes were fixed on him, he didn’t look at me. His focus was somewhere out beyond the palm trees and sand and sea foam. “I can’t pretend I didn’t agree. I don’t actually know if I did or not. There’s no proof I did, and we were both drunk. I can’t remember, even though it was only a year ago.” “Cut to the chase,” I whispered. “She videoed it. We videoed it. I don’t know.” He put the glass right back down without drinking from it and leaned forward. His formerly slick, tidy hair was mussed when he scrubbed his hands through it. “I didn’t know the next day and came home. One week later, we got blackmail demands. I didn’t even know her fucking name, and she was asking us for seventy-five thousand dollars or she’d make it public.” The lump in my throat was thick and almost painful, but I licked my lips and asked, “Why didn’t you go to the cops?” “She said that if we did, she’d publish her story and the tape. She brought in a lawyer that we also had to pay for. It took us three weeks to come to an agreement.” He clasped his hands behind his neck. He was bent right over now, staring at the floor. “We’d pay for her lawyer and seventy-five thousand on the proviso she destroyed every copy of the tape she had. She refused, so we paid for her lawyer and gave her a hundred grand for the destruction of every copy and handing over the original tape.” “So it still exists?” My mouth was dry. So were my lips. And my throat. Everything was dry. “It still exists. One copy. I don’t know why, but my father refused to destroy it. He still won’t do it even now. He maintains it’s a good reminder for me of how the choices I’ve made have affected everyone around me. It’s locked away safe, but he said that the moment he destroys it is the moment I get comfortable again.” “Did she delete them all?” He nodded, dropping his hands. “We drew up a contract. If the tape was ever put out publicly and ours was safe, she would be liable for breach of our contract. Not that it matters—she got everything she wanted. Money.” I didn’t want to ask my next question, but I had to know the answer. “So why didn’t you change?” “I did.” He lifted his head and looked out at the ocean again. “I spent more time at Hope Building. I redecorated the little apartments and all kinds of stuff. When people thought I was out drinking because I didn’t come home, I was sleeping on Sali’s sofa. I went from going out every night to once a week.” I looked down into my wine glass. The white liquid was still cold, but it was unappealing. I didn’t want to drink it, so I put it down on the table and sat back again. I don’t know what I expected him to tell me what his secret was, but it wasn’t this. Then again, was I surprised? I didn’t know. I didn’t think so. With all the things he’d admitted to, it was only a matter of time before something really crazy happened in his life. “That’s the thing you regret most?” My voice was quiet. He nodded. “Why?” One of his shoulders rose and fell with his half-hearted shrug. “Because. It’s like the lowest point—the moment where I realized how out of control I’d gotten, and now that I know it was for the stupidest reason.” He sighed. “It’s real evidence of all the stupid things I’ve done, and while I couldn’t care less, it

doesn’t stop the fact I embarrassed my entire family because of one stupid, drunken decision.” “That’s what you regret? Not that you did it but that it affected everyone else? “Mostly. Of course I regret doing it. If I could change it, I would.” I swung my feet off the sofa and scooted forward. His shirt was warm against my palm as I laid my hand on his upper arm. “Your dad really paid her all that money?” “No. I paid her. It was my mistake.” He was still staring forward. “Or I paid my dad back. Something like that. It was my responsibility to fix it.” “Does it not bother you that your dad keeps the tape?” “A little. I had to verify it was real once, but now, it’s never going to be watched and it’s probably never going to be removed from the safe unless it’s to be destroyed. There’s always the worry, but for the most part, it’s just something we live with.” “Until it’s brought up kind of randomly.” He shrugged again. “Aunt Bel does it to annoy me, because she can. Everyone else uses it to...I don’t know. Do their version of keeping me in line.” I stretched my legs out in front of me. “So after this happened, you started to clean up your act, but nobody knew about it.” “Pretty much.” “Why the hell don’t you tell anyone anything? No wonder everyone has this monstrous idea of you being a giant, careless, heartless asshole. You really don’t show them anything else, do you?” Brett slowly turned his face toward me and dragged his gaze up to meet mine. “That’s what you’re focusing on, not what I just told you?” I rubbed one hand down the side of my face. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “Why don’t you just be who you are and be honest with people about the things you do?” “Because,” he replied, his voice just as quiet as mine. “Nobody believes it’s real. If Sali hadn’t have told my family everything I do for the house, they probably wouldn’t believe me. They’d assume I do it just to look good.” “Maybe you think they’d assume that because you won’t give them a chance to prove otherwise. Not everybody thinks you’re a lost cause. They just don’t know you.” “Do you know me?” “Better than you know yourself, I think.” I pushed his messy hair away from his eyes and cupped the side of his face. “You’re so locked up in the things you did that you won’t let yourself focus on the things you do. Trust me, I know all that. When I came back, I was so focused on who I thought you were that I didn’t really let myself see who you are. You’re so wrapped up in all that stuff that happened, god, over a year ago.” “Why don’t you care about it?” “I didn’t say I don’t care about it.” I let my hand fall from his face. “But you have to understand something, Brett. For all the things you’ve done wrong, you’ve done so many more right. Hope House wouldn’t be open without you. Those kids wouldn’t get the happiness of a birthday present without you. Christmas wouldn’t exist for them. There wouldn’t be any hope in Hope Building if you didn’t take it with you every time you walked through its doors.” He didn’t move. I moved our glasses to the back of the table and perched on the edge of it. I stretched my legs out to the side as best I could thanks to the restrictive dress, but sitting here meant I could be closer to Brett. “Your mistakes don’t define you. What you do about them and how you right your wrongs does.” I touched my thumb to his jaw. “And anyone who decides to define who you are as a person based on the things you’ve done wrong isn’t somebody you want in your life.” “But the tape...”

“You weren’t the bad person.” I took his face in my hands, gently stroking my thumbs across his cheeks. “She was. Whether you agreed or not. She probably had it planned from the start and there was nothing you could do about that.” He looked into my eyes. I didn’t know if he was trying to line up what I was saying with what he’d made himself out to be inside his head or what, but if tonight had shown me anything, it was that the Brett Walker he portrayed was nothing at all like the man he really was. More to it—he cared. He cared about what other people thought of him. I leaned forward and kissed him. He rested his hands on my knees, slowly sliding them up my thighs as my hands dropped down to his bare chest. “You don’t need to make me fall in love with you,” I whispered. “I’m already there. But it’s not because of what you do. It’s because of who you are. Who you really are.” I opened my eyes and looked right into his. “The person I know you are. Who cares and tries and helps everyone he can. Who does good things and hides them because what he’s doing is more than the recognition he’d get. You’re not a bad person. Not at all.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX BRETT

I knew she was right, but that didn’t mean I was completely sure of it. Maybe my mistakes didn’t define me, but the person I put out into the world sure as shit did. My attitude, my deliberate actions, my words, all those things defined me because I allowed them to. I knew what I was doing. I knew I’d been a terrible person. Until she came back. She was the only person who cared enough to rip past all that bullshit and look for the guy I’d buried. The guy who loved her. “If I’m not a bad person,” I said, looking into her big, brown eyes, “Then what am I?” Her soft, red lips curved at the edges. “I think you’re just a little lost.” A small laugh escaped between my lips. My skin tingled as I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her face even closer to mine—so close that my forehead pressed against hers. “Then I’m really glad you found me.” Lani laughed, her fingertips trailing across my stomach. “You’re easy to find. You’re pretty loud.” “This from the screamer in bed.” “I didn’t scream, and it was against a door. It doesn’t count.” “Totally counts. There was screaming in there.” “You’ve perked up.” I grinned. “I have a really good view down your dress from here. Thank god you removed the tape, because now I can do this.” I released her and hooked a finger through each of the straps that sat on her shoulders. I pulled them down onto her upper arms, my fingers trailing against her skin. She shuddered. “What are you doing?” “Exactly what I promised I’d do earlier,” I said as the fabric strained against her breasts. “Getting you out of this dress.” I pulled the straps down far enough that the fabric finally rolled over her chest, freeing her tits. Her nipples were hard and pointed, and the simple sight of them sent blood rushing to my cock. Temptation rose inside me. I wanted to taste her, to take her hard, pink nipple in my mouth and see how easily I could turn her on. I wanted to explore her properly, learn the tender parts of her body and learn what drove her wild. I wanted to learn all the things that would make her lose control. So I did it. I dipped my head right forward and closed my mouth around her nipple. She gasped as I did it, lifting her arms out of the straps of her dress. I felt how the material pooled at her waist as I lifted my hand and cupped her firm breast. She had the most gorgeous fucking tits, and I wanted to kiss and feel and suck every inch of them until she begged me to stop. Hell, I’d probably fucking carry on even then. I’d keep going until I was done, until I felt like I knew her body, and she was exhausted. And I already wanted to do it all over again. I turned my attention to her other breast, and it didn’t take long for her breathing to pick up. She pressed one hand against the top of the table and leaned back as if she were trying to escape, but I flattened a hand against her back and held her closer to me. “What if someone comes in?” she breathed. I kissed my way up to her collarbone. “Our room for tonight.” “The other balconies?” “Empty.” I kissed the corner of her mouth and reached around her. After I moved the glasses, I pushed her down onto her back and kissed her properly.

Lani pushed her hands into my hair. Her body flexed beneath mine, and her heavier than usual breathing meant her nipples brushed across my chest teasingly every time she breathed in. I knew her mouth. I knew how she kissed. Knew how she tasted. Knew what she liked. It was every other part of her I didn’t know. Every other part I wanted to know. I shrugged off my shirt at her wandering hands’ insistence, barely moving away from her. She looked at me with flushed cheeks. “Why am I lying on the table?” “I’ve got plans for you.” I flashed her a grin before I kissed my way down her neck. Once again, I teased my way across her breasts thanks to my tongue on her nipples. She breathed harder and harder. Her legs clenched and she squirmed, then whispered, “Brett.” I smiled and looked up her body, my tongue still circling her nipple. Her eyes were already glassy, her lips parted, cheeks flushed. She looked like she was seconds from an orgasm, but I knew better. I knew it would take more than just that to make her come properly. And when she did, I wanted to taste her. My lips kissed a heated trail down the center of her stomach. She squirmed in earnest when I gripped the sides of her dress and tugged. The material peeled away from her body easily. All I had to do was stand and move back to get it right down over her feet. “Oh god,” she moaned, throwing her arm over her eyes. I laughed, throwing the dress to the sofa. “Already? I haven’t even looked at your pussy yet, let alone tasted it.” She clamped her thighs together. Not on her life. I wrapped my fingers around her calves and parted them so I could sit down. Lani still kept her thighs pressed together, so I dotted kisses from her left hip to her right and back again. My thumbs probed against her skin in silent pleas to let me there, but when she didn’t part them, I got up, rested one knee against the top of the table, and leaned forward. “Open your legs,” I said against her lips, palming her breast. She arched her back, dragging her mouth from mine. It pushed her nipple further into my hand and also loosened the tightness of her thighs. “Lani,” I murmured, my other hand just able to slip above her knees. “Open your legs. Let me taste you.” She whispered, “Oh god,” when I flicked my tongue over her nipple. I was barely lying over her at this point, but the touch of my tongue against her other breast was just enough to make her part her legs. I wasted no time sliding my hand right up there and running my finger across her pussy. She was fucking wet, and I had no idea how she had managed to keep her legs so closed. Fuck, my cock was straining against my pants, and I wanted to skip this foreplay and bury myself inside her right now. But I couldn’t. I wanted her more. I wanted to see how long she could hold on before I shattered her with nothing more than my tongue. Lani trembled beneath my touch as my thumb found her clit. It was a sweet shudder, one that let me know for certain that I’d hit my mark. I rubbed the tender spot slowly as I moved back to kneel between her legs. As soon as my knees hit the ground, she clenched her leg muscles. I was quicker than she was though, and I clamped my hands down on the insides of her thighs. I was so fucking glad she hadn’t worn underwear tonight. I teased her with kisses up the inside of her thigh. Her legs were shaking as I held them apart, keeping her wet pussy completely exposed to me. I stared up at her as my mouth came within a breath of her clitoris. She had her arms thrown over her eyes, but her skin was flushed red from her breasts and right up her neck.

She wanted me to do this. I sure as hell wanted to do this. So I did it. I flicked the tip of my tongue against her swollen clit. She bucked her hips against my hold easily, and it took me everything I had not to do the same. My cock was painfully hard and throbbing against my zipper which I couldn’t undo. If I did, I’d be inside her within seconds. I applied more pressure to her clit, circling it slowly. She whimpered, the sound barely escaping through her closed lips, and it spurred me on. Spurred me on to taking her pussy completely in my mouth and teasing her opening with my tongue. It worked. She writhed beneath me as my tongue assaulted her. Because that’s what it was—it was a pure, relentless assault on the most tender place of her, the one that would bring her the most pleasure. And she knew it, because tiny sounds that were a little too high to be gasps were leaving her mouth. And I doubted she had any control over that at all. And I fucking loved it. I kept it up. I explored her with my tongue, licking and nibbling until her body tensed in quick spasms. Her tiny gasps became longer moans that were just as quiet, and she was almost incapable of sitting still. That didn’t stop her fanning her hand into my hair and tugging though. I pushed her legs further open with my hands and focused solely on her clit. I pushed and circled and flicked my tongue over it, sucked on it gently, kept toying with it until she finally gave over to the orgasm with a muffled cry. I pulled back from her, wiping my mouth with one hand and reaching for my belt with the other. I grabbed a condom from my pocket before I undid my pants and stepped out of them. Then I kicked them to the side and focused back on Lani. Her chest was heaving, and she had her legs crossed over as she recovered. She looked damn gorgeous lying there with her skin flushed, but I wasn’t done with her. With the condom on, I pulled her up from the table. “Lie back on the sofa,” I murmured against her lips, kissing her as I turned her around. She dropped back onto the sofa without any kind of elegance which made me laugh. She was glaring at me as I parted her legs and leaned over her, leaving my cock to brush against her slick pussy. I kissed her despite my amusement, and she responded all too enthusiastically. She flicked her tongue against my lips and deepened the kiss. Her arms were wrapped tightly around my neck and her own head lifted up off the sofa cushions as we kissed. I stroked her body, from her ass to her breasts and back down over her hips. My fingers brushed against the base of my cock as I slid one hand over the top of her thigh. “Now,” Lani whispered into our kiss. “Fuck me now.” You don’t need to ask twice. I guided myself inside her, easing in slowly, and then held it there. She shivered. I smiled. She held me tighter and lifted her legs, making them wider, angling her hips for me. The way she kissed me was slow and easy, so I fucked her the same way. Even though my heart was racing, I fucked her slowly and tenderly, so fucking gently I wasn’t even really fucking her. I was loving her. I was feeling her—feeling the rhythm with which her muscles spasmed, the depth with which she inhaled, the pleasure that shivered through her with each thrust. I paid attention to it all, and I’d never been more fucking turned on in my life. Nothing was sexier than the rampant beat of her heart and quickness of her breaths combined with the slowness of her hands trailing down my back. She made me shudder when she teased her nails down my back either side of my spine. She half-

giggled, half-moaned as I shivered out the tickle of her touch and moved inside her. Then she did it again. She trailed her nails up and down my back, from the sides of my neck right down to the top of my ass, completely content with each arch of her own back and kiss I pressed to her neck. I could have done this forever. Stayed inside her, thrusting almost lazily into her while we kissed and touched and felt everything the other did. But it didn’t work that way. Lani’s breathing picked up to a quicker speed, and her body tightened beneath mine more and more. I was feeling it too. Lazy lust morphed into a desperate desire. Pleasure tickled my senses, pounding through my veins. I wanted her to come. I wanted to hear her and feel her and see her come. I quickened my thrusting. She responded by wrapping her legs around my waist tightly and digging her nails into my back instead of tickling me. It fucking hurt, but not in a bad way. In a good damn way that made me move so fast I crossed back over from loving into fucking territory. Made me move so goddamn fast her orgasm hit her hard and quick, and the way her pussy clenched around my cock was the trigger for my own. Mine hit me just as hard as hers had. I knew it was coming, but I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of it. I felt it everywhere and all at the same fucking time. It was almost blinding. I groaned it out into Lani’s neck. I used what little strength I had left to stop myself from collapsing on top of her. She could barely breathe as it was. “Well,” she said after a moment. “I might have to find some way to keep that dress.” I laughed, the sound muffled by her hair. “I’ll buy it for you.” I kissed her neck and propped myself up to look down at her. “Does that work?” “If you can promise you’ll do that every time.” I dropped my head again to laugh. “I don’t need the dress for that. Give me twenty minutes and I can prove it.” Lani rolled her eyes. “Or we can shower and then sleep.” “What? You don’t want round two?” I sat up and, with a gentle hold on her legs, pulled myself out of her. “Jesus, Brett. Round two? What do you think this is, a romance novel? Real people don’t have round two twenty minutes later. They pass out in bed.” I helped her sit up. “You just had to shatter my dreams, didn’t you?” “Just keeping it real.” She patted my cheek with a grin and stood up. “Did you just pat my cheek?” She stopped, and then as if she was just realizing she was naked, crossed her legs and awkwardly rested her arm across her chest to cover her nipples. “Yes.” “You just patted my cheek. Like a child.” I stared at her. She bit her lip. “I should run, shouldn’t I?” “You can try.” I darted up off the sofa. Of course, she had the advantage being that she was already on her feet. She ran inside, giggling loudly, still holding her boobs. I chased her into the bathroom and grabbed her wrist just before she was out of my reach. She was still giggling as I spun her into me and smacked my hand across her ass. “Owwww!” She laughed, wriggling free. “That wasn’t fair.” I shrugged and held out my hands. “All’s fair in love and war, kitten.” And then the condom fell off my cock, landing on the floor with a slap. Lani froze. She looked between me and the condom in complete silence for the longest five seconds of my life before she burst into laughter and collapsed against the sink unit. Tears streamed down her cheeks the whole time I simply stood, staring at the rubber on the floor.

Somehow, it hadn’t made a mess. “And that,” she forced out through giggles, wiping her cheeks, “is reality keeping it real for you.” I bent down to retrieve it. “Shut up and turn the shower on.” She managed to stand up and do just that. “Wait,” she said, turning around. “What am I supposed to put on?” “There’s a bag in the closet.” “There is?” She sounded horrified. “Yeah...I asked your sister to bring it with her earlier.” Lani’s mouth formed a little “o”. “Well that makes sense.” I dropped the condom in the trash. “Now get in the shower. If you won’t let me fuck you again, at least let me grope you.” She shook her head and opened the door again. “What have I let myself in for?” “Orgasms on speed dial.” “Does it come with pizza too?” I tapped her backside. “It comes with a guy who’ll order it for you.” “Eh,” she said, stepping into the shower. “That’ll do.” I didn’t know how to reply to that, so I shook my head and joined her in the shower. Never mind what she’d let herself in for. What had I let myself in for?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN LANI

I flapped my hand over my shoulder in the direction of the mouth kissing the back of my neck. “Ouch!” Brett’s entire body jumped as my fingers made contact with his face. “Go ‘way,” I muttered, shuffling myself under the covers further. “That hurt.” He groaned deeply as he rolled back away from me. I pulled the covers over my head. “That’s what happens when you wake me up early.” The whole bed shook with his laughter. “It’s almost ten a.m., kitten. That’s not early.” “It’s seven a.m. in California,” I argued. Lamely. I’d been in Florida long enough that it was no issue, and he knew it. “If you’re still on California time, you need to start waking up earlier.” I yanked the covers down and moved onto my back. I huffed. I sounded like an angry teenager, but I didn’t care much. “Why are you being mean to me?” He turned his head to the side to look at me. “Because it’s ten a.m. and you just punched me in the face.” “I did not punch you in the face. I was trying to get a human octopus off me.” I faced him and met his eyes. “I kissed your shoulder. I wasn’t climbing on top of you.” “I’m sorry, I’ll remember to tell that to my subconscious in future.” He grinned. “That would be helpful, thanks.” I shook my head and stood up, throwing the sheets to the side. Brett launched himself at me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I squealed when he pulled me backwards and looked down at me. “Where are you going?” he asked. “To pee!” I squeaked, squeezing my legs together. “I need to pee!” “Good thing I wasn’t climbing on top of you,” he muttered, releasing me. Thank god. My bladder was bursting at its seams, and I needed to go so badly. I couldn’t cope with his grabbing before a morning pee. Or coffee. It should be a morning rule: No touching before peeing and no talking until coffee. Brett, it seemed, wasn’t good at either of those things. I flushed the toilet and grabbed one of the toothbrushes from the holder on the sink. “These toothbrushes are clean, right?” I yelled. “Yep,” he shouted right back. “Do you want breakfast?” I grabbed the brush and paste and opened the bathroom door. “Yeah, just get whatever. I want to call Connie and check on her.” I shoved the toothbrush into my mouth. Brett came into my line of sight wearing nothing but a pair of electric blue boxer briefs. I slowly brushed my teeth and cast my gaze over his toned body and inked arms. Hot damn, he was hot. “Is she all right?” “Hm?” I blinked and looked up, toothbrush stuck in my cheek. “Connie.” His smile was slow and lazy. “Is she all right? You said you were gonna check on her.” I walked back to the sink and spat. “Right.” “Well, is she all right?” “Goddamn it, Brett, put some freaking clothes on. I can’t concentrate when you flaunt yourself like that.” His laughter followed him out. “Flaunting myself.” He was. He couldn’t even see it. Men like that should be required to wear shirts to preserve our concentration.

I was totally objectifying him right now and I didn’t even care. He should wear a shirt if he didn’t want that when I’d just woken up. Ugh. I was one of those people. Then again, so was he. “And I don’t know,” I answered, joining him in the bedroom. I perched on the edge of the bed, still wearing the panties and strap top I’d slept in. “She left a little early last night. She said she wasn’t feeling well and didn’t call me back last night.” “Here.” Brett handed me my phone from the living room. “Thanks.” I hit the home button, but the screen didn’t turn on, so I held in the power button. Nothing. “Shit.” I dropped it on the bed. “You don’t have a charger, do you?” “Only if you have an iPhone.” “You have terrible taste in cellphones.” I sighed. “Crap. Skip breakfast. I’m gonna have to go home.” Brett held out his phone. “Or you could borrow mine.” I stared at the iPhone. “Can you call it for me? I don’t know how to use that thing.” He rolled his eyes and tapped at the screen. A few seconds later, he held it out to me. “Here.” “Thank you.” I pressed the phone to my ear and stared at the blank TV screen as the low hum of each ring echoed. It clicked off. “Hello?” Connie answered tiredly. “It’s Lani,” I said softly. “Are you okay?” “No. I’m sick. I’ve been throwing up since I woke up and my tummy hurts.” My skin prickled. “I’m going to come over, okay? Do you need anything?” “To stop being sick. Or someone to kill me.” “Drama queen. I’ll be there within an hour. I’ll stop at the drugstore and see if I can get you anything to help, okay?” “Sure. See you then. I’m going to sleep now. And by sleep now, I mean die now.” She hung up before I could say goodbye. I was not going to be in the labor room with her unless someone gave her strong drugs, that was for sure. “She all right?” Brett asked when I handed him his phone. I shook my head. “She’s sick. Sounds like a stomach bug or something. I need to go look after her.” “Where’s your mom?” I shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I haven’t seen her or spoken to her since Grandma’s funeral. She avoids me and it works.” “Your dad?” “On vacation still I think.” I grabbed the backpack my sister had packed for me the day before and pulled out some shorts, a bra, and a t-shirt. “Can you take me to get my car from your house?” “Of course.” Brett picked up his bag too and kissed the side of my head. “Shouldn’t you call her doctor?” “I don’t have the number.” I started changing. “She never gave me it and I didn’t think I’d need it. I can call when I get there.” “Do you want me to drive over there while you go to the store?” “She’s vomiting,” I said with my eyebrows raised. He shuddered. “Do you want me to go to the store for you? I can do that.” I smiled at his quick U-turn. “No, it’s okay. It won’t take me long. I think she’s going to try to sleep anyway. But thank you.”

“All right. There I was hoping to be a knight in shining armor and you shatter my dreams.” He said it so dramatically I couldn’t help but laugh at him. “She’s craving Twizzlers. I’m sure she’ll be thankful for those when she stops chucking up her guts.” I pulled my shirt over my head and paused. “Although that is her favorite candy, so I’m still out on the ‘craving’ part. It’s real convenient.” “I think it’s a rule,” he said slowly. “For pregnant ladies. They can have whatever they want and claim it as a craving.” “Please don’t say that around my sister.” He grinned. “Come on. Let’s go get your car.”



I let myself into my sister’s house, grocery bag tucked against my chest, and kicked the door shut behind me. At least she’d given me a spare key so I could get in without making her get out of bed. At least I hoped she was in bed. That was where she needed to be. “Lani?” “Yeah, it’s me.” I locked the front door, and still holding the shopping bag, went upstairs to her room. She wasn’t in there. “Con? Where are you?” “Bathro—” Retching interrupted her answer. I dumped my purse and the bag on the chair in her room and ran down the hall to her. She was bent right over the toilet, and by the looks of it, had made a half-assed attempt at tying her hair back. She retched again, and I sat on the edge of the bath so I could reach her. I swept the loose, sweaty locks of hair away from her face and held them back. Tears streamed down Connie’s pale face from her tightly-closed eyes, and I had to turn away from her as she vomited properly. “Thank god,” she whispered after a moment. “I thought I’d be coughing here forever.” I didn’t point out that she’d been doing a bit more than coughing before that one. “Better?” I asked, touching the backs of my fingers to her cheeks. “God, you’re boiling.” She blinked up at me blearily. “I am?” I nodded. “Really hot. Do you have a thermometer here?” “There’s one in the baby’s room.” She sat back against the wall and rested her head against it. “I need my toothbrush.” “I’m taking your temperature.” I got up and, after handing her her toothbrush, went into the baby’s room. It was barely done. The walls were a bright white, and there was no crib. In fact, there was nothing but a chest of drawers, a blind in the window, and several bags of baby stuff. There was what looked like a big plastic tub beneath the bags, so I pulled them off and found what I was looking for. My super-organized sister may not have had all the big things, but she had enough little, important things to stock a baby store. I decided there and then that when she was better, we were going shopping and I would buy her all the things I needed with the money William had paid me. I plucked the thermometer from the tub and went back into the bathroom. Connie had her eyes shut now, and her toothbrush was lying on the floor next to her. It took a moment of fiddling, but I finally wrestled the thermometer from its stupid-ass packaging and turned it on. “Just do my forehead,” she muttered so quietly it was as if all the words were mixed into one. I pressed the thingy against her forehead and watched the number climb. It beeped at one hundred and one point five degrees.

I grimaced. “Okay, back to bed.” I capped the thermometer and put it on the side of the bath before I helped her up. “I’m going to get you a cool cloth, get you changed, and then you’re going to try to sleep for a while so you can have some water.” And go search out her doctor’s phone number. I was only mildly reassured by the fact it was only a light fever. “Being sick sucks.” She was so exhausted she was leaning on me. “Being sick while pregnant feels like a sumo wrestler folded you into his rolls and started a winner-stays-on tournament before getting kicked in the stomach by a donkey.” I really wanted to call her a drama queen, but judging by the look on her face, she wasn’t lying. “If you get sick I’m not looking after you,” she warned me as I sat her on the edge of the bed. “Noted and understood.” I retrieved a cool, damp cloth from the bathroom and wiped off her face. She sighed as I literally undressed her the way you would a young child. I even made her change her underwear—a fact she was none too happy about, but she admitted she’d only had the strength to throw on an old concert t-shirt before she threw up this morning. I put her back into bed wearing her panties and a light tank top. It didn’t cling to her stomach at all, and when she rolled onto her side, she actually pulled the material up and let her belly breathe. Her stomach twitched—more accurately something poked her stomach, and I widened my eyes. She smiled. “You caught that?” “Is there an alien in there?” “Say hi to your niece.” “I’m just gonna cover you up now.” I pulled the light blanket from the edge of the bed and pulled it over her. That was the freakiest thing I’d ever seen, and I didn’t want to see it again. “No. Come here.” She rolled carefully onto her back and shoved the blanket away. “Give me your hand.” “What for?” I could feel my eyes getting wider and wider. She made a “gimme” motion with her fingers, and I had no choice. I put my hand in hers, and she guided my fingers toward her stomach. She paused before putting my hand flat on the side of her stomach and held it there with her own. Something rolled against my palm. I squirmed and tried to pull away, but Connie, still smiling, forced me to keep my hand there. With her other hand, she gently prodded the top of her stomach. Two seconds later, it felt as though the baby rammed its knee or something into where my hand was. “Holy shit,” I whispered. “She’s got a kick and a half.” “She’s got a head-butt and a half,” she replied dryly. “If she had her back where your hand is, you might be able to feel.” “I’m good.” I pulled my hand away when the baby wriggled against it. “Don’t make me do that again. It was weird.” She smiled tiredly and put her hand where mine just was, closing her eyes at the same time. “Try being on this side of it.” “I’m good on that too.” This time when I pulled the blanket over her, she left it. “I’m going to be downstairs, okay? Yell if you need me.” She nodded, turned her head away from me, and pulled the blanket up a little more. I grabbed my things and turned downstairs.



“Ah!” I dropped my phone as I scrambled off the sofa. “Lani!” I took the stairs two at a time to reach Connie’s bedroom. When I got there, she was lying on her side, doubled over, with her teeth clenched. “What’s wrong?” She dragged her eyes open and looked at me, pain etched into her features. “My tummy. It hurts.” “Do you feel sick? Do you need a bucket?” “No,” she whispered. “Not that hurt. It’s all tight and achy.” Oh. Shit. “Is it those things that Rachel had? In Friends? Hickey things?” “Braxton Hicks? Maybe.” She blew out a long breath. “They haven’t hurt before. That woke me up.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Sit up. That might help. Do you still feel sick?” She nodded as I helped her sit up. “A little.” “Will you be okay if I get you some water? Ice?” “Ice.” She shifted and grabbed her phone. “Please.” I kissed the top of her head and went downstairs to fetch it. “It says here,” she said as I walked back in, “to call your doctor if they hurt and are regular.” I put the ice water on her nightstand. “Are they regular?” She looked at me, her eyes wide with worry. “I don’t know. Oh god, Lani, I don’t know.” “It’s okay.” I grabbed her hand. “It’s probably just because you’re sick. Let’s just rest for an hour and see, okay? I can always call your doctor.” “Okay.” She reached for her water. “You’re gonna stay, aren’t you?” I squeezed her fingers and smiled. “I’m not going anywhere.”



One hour later, she’d had a few more painful ‘contractions’ and had thrown up again. I stole her phone and dialed her doctor’s number. Her obstetrician was busy, so they put me through to a nurse who could hopefully answer my questions. I explained the problem to her. “And you say the tightening comes with pain?” she asked. “Yes. Around every fifteen minutes. Kind of. Some are regular, but then she can go twenty minutes with nothing.” “All right. And she’s vomiting?” “Yes, ma’am.” “When was the last time she was able to keep fluids down?” “I’ve been with her for two hours, and she’s kept nothing down since I got here. From what she said, it’s been the same since seven this morning.” “All right...” She trailed off for a moment. “How soon after drinking water is it coming back up?” “Less than fifteen minutes.” “Okay, Ms. Montana, I’d bring your sister up to the hospital. It could be that her vomiting has brought on some Braxton Hicks contractions, which are completely safe and normal, or it could be an indication of early labor. Either way, we can admit her and put some IV fluids into her to keep her hydrated.” My lips were dry. Dry, dry, dry. “Early labor?” I asked quietly. “Does that mean...” “Not necessarily. Bring her to the ER and they’ll take you through to Labor and Delivery for monitoring. I’ll call through to let them know to expect you. How far away are you?” “Twenty minutes?”

“I’ll call them now. And, Ms. Montana?” “Yes?” “Advise your sister we’re bringing her in for monitoring related to dehydration and to bring down her fever. It’s best for both her and baby that she doesn’t get any more stressed than she already is.” “No problem. Thank you.” I hung up and pressed the phone screen to my face. My stomach flipped and tied itself into knots. Connie wasn’t ready to have the baby. It couldn’t be early labor. I wouldn’t let it be. Like I had any control over it. I could control what happened now though. I put Connie’s phone down on the side and went back upstairs. “Con? We’re gonna go to the hospital, okay?” I said, pausing in the doorway. “What? Why? Is it bad?” “No, no.” The lie was bitter on my tongue. “The nurse said to take you in for monitoring because you’re dehydrated. They can fix this, okay?” “Okay.” She sat right up and swung her legs over the bed. I helped her into some sweats, flip flops, and draped a light sweater around her shoulders. She sat on the edge of the bed while I grabbed a few things. Thankfully, she didn’t notice when I ran into the baby’s room and grabbed some diapers and clothes. I doubted any would fit if we had the worst case scenario, but I felt better knowing they were at the bottom of the bag. “Why the bag?” Connie asked when I helped her stand. “Just in case you’re in overnight,” I explained, guiding her toward the stairs. She stopped at the top and took a deep breath in, touching her hand to her stomach. A few seconds later, she relaxed. But that didn’t stop her looking at me while she fought back tears. “Lani?” “Yeah?” “Everything is gonna be okay, isn’t it?” “Yeah, of course.” That tasted worse than bitter. She let go of a long breath. “You promise?” My heart sunk as I looked at her. I wanted to. I wanted to promise that to her so badly, but I couldn’t. So I didn’t. “Come on,” I said quietly. “Let’s get you to the hospital.” Her voice was barely a whisper when she replied, “Okay.”



One hour later, Connie had been admitted for thirty minutes and I heard the words I didn’t want to hear. Early labor. My sister was in labor. Twelve weeks early. “Can you stop it?” I asked her doctor. She’d changed her schedule to be here for my sister, and I was so grateful for that. “We can try.” Her answer was straight to the point. I was grateful for that too. She turned to Connie. “We’re going to give you a dose of Magnesium Sulphate in your IV. Now, this isn’t ideal, because it might cause you more nausea, but it might not be so bad since you’ve already had some anti-nausea. We’ll also give you some injections to help the baby’s lungs and brain mature just in case the IV doesn’t work.” She took Connie’s hand. “The good news is that your waters are still intact, and you’re only three centimeters dilated right now. You made the right choice calling when you did,” she added, turning to me. “You may

have kept your niece where she needs to be a little longer, and her fever has now gone.” “What if she doesn’t stay in there?” Connie asked, her voice breaking. “What if she comes now?” “She’s a good size,” Dr. Gordon told her, patting her hand. “The Corticosteriod injections will help her even more. The NICU here is very good. But I need you not to think about that, Connie. I need you to try to sleep and let the medicines do their work while we wait for the results of your urine and blood tests. Hopefully we’ll find out why you’re here.” Connie nodded slowly. “Okay. Thank you.” “Do you need to use the phone to call anyone?” Dr. Gordon said to me. “Your parents? Anyone?” “Thanks, but it’s okay. I can call our parents when we know exactly what’s happening. They’re not in town.” She nodded. “Just you still?” she asked Connie. “Just me.” My sister smiled. “And me.” I reached over and brushed my fingers across her bump. “Not just you.” Tears filled her eyes, and I kissed her hand. Dr. Gordon left us. Connie turned to me. “I have to tell you. About Emery’s dad.” I raised my eyebrows. “I haven’t told anybody because he doesn’t care,” she said quietly. “We met last summer. He was here with friends, and since he was studying in Orlando, he came to see me a few times. He stopped when I told him I was pregnant. He finished school last December, and when I texted him and told him she was a girl, he told me I had the wrong number.” “Could you have?” “No. It was the same number he’d called me on before.” She smiled sadly. “I was ashamed and that’s why I haven’t told anyone. Only Grandma knew, but she could get the origins of the universe out of a hunk of granite.” “That’s very true.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I was alone either way. It didn’t matter.” “You’re not alone now.” I moved and perched on the bed. “I’m staying, Con. I’m not leaving again.” “Really?” “Really. I promise. And when you’re out of here, you’re going to move into Grandma’s with me. There’s more than enough space. We’ll get Emery everything she needs and I promise it’ll all be fine.” This time, she didn’t fight her tears. She cried silently until she fell asleep. She found some peace while I faced the long wait to get her test results and see if her labor could be stopped.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT BRETT

“Hey, have you heard from Lani?” I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Camille looked over her shoulder, her hand stuffed into the cookie jar. “No. Why?” “Get off the cookies.” Aunt Bel yanked Cam’s hand out and replaced it with her own. I ignored her and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “Connie’s sick. She’s been there since this morning, but it’s almost six and I can’t get hold of her.” “Have you tried calling Connie?” Cam wrestled the cookie jar away from Aunt Bel the instant she let it go and snagged three. “Yeah. It rings and goes to her answering machine.” I rubbed my hand down my face. “I just wanted to make sure she was okay.” “She’s probably sleeping.” She bit into the cookie. “You said earlier Lani’s phone was dead. She probably hasn’t charged it and doesn’t have Connie’s phone. Stop worrying, you big fart.” Aunt Bel snickered. I shook my head. It was impossible to hold a real conversation with any of the women in my family except for my mom. Sue me for being worried. It was unlike either of them to not answer their phones, and since Lani said she was running home before going to Connie’s, I thought she might have grabbed her charger. “Why don’t you just drive past Connie’s house if you’re that worried?” Camille wiped crumbs off her hands into the sink. “Because if they’re there and they see him he’ll look like a little stalker.” Aunt Bel snickered again. She wasn’t helping. “Give it a rest,” I said tiredly. “I just have a bad feeling and I want to know they’re all right.” “Actually,” Cam said. “I feel like that too. Like something kinda bad is happening. Do you think it’s the baby?” I shrugged. “She was sick. But that’s normal, isn’t it?” “Nothing in pregnancy is normal.” Aunt Bel’s tone was very matter of fact. “For some women, it’s normal. For some, it ain’t.” “I gathered that when you said nothing in pregnancy was normal.” “One of these days, boy, I’m gonna hunt you down and beat you with a batter-coated spatula.” “Cam,” I said, looking at my sister. “Please hide the cookie jar. She’s had enough sugar.” “Had enough sugar!” Aunt Bel shrieked. She started after me, whacking her cane against the floor. “I’m not three years old!” “Then stop acting like it!” I rounded the table. This was pointless. She was never going to catch me, and she was never going to be quick enough to double back and— She doubled back and smacked me. I blinked at her. “Ouch,” I said flatly. “I think I need a doctor.” Camille snorted. “You...” She wriggled her finger at me. Dad appeared in the doorway. “Family meeting. Library. Now.” He turned away without another word, his strong gait carrying him down the hall toward the library with ease. “What are you waiting for?” Aunt Bel asked, tapping her hip. “The next Ice Age? Let’s go! I love a good family chitchat.” I shared a look with Camille. I guess we figured out where our mutual bad feeling was coming from.

“What’s going on?” I walked into the library. My parents were sitting on the corner sofa around the coffee table, and Aunt Bel was busying herself choosing where to sit. She checked three places before my mother sent her a look and she stayed put where she was. I didn’t even get a chance to sit down before my father handed me a sheet of paper. I took it and looked at it. It was a printed email from an anonymous Yahoo email address. Nothing about it gave any indication as to who the message was from, but it was pretty easy to figure it out by the content. After all—Whiskey Key was small, and there was only one newspaper in it. A newspaper who now apparently knew that I had a sex tape. Who knew I wanted that tape to remain hidden. And who wanted money to keep it quiet. “This is bullshit.” I looked up and dropped the sheet of paper. “We know exactly who’s sent this.” “Anton Reeves,” Dad answered. “His efforts to remain anonymous were thwarted by his mention of the newspaper.” “How the hell could he possibly know?” Camille asked, crossing her legs on the sofa. “That’s what I’d like to know.” Dad slid his gaze between her and me. I expected him to look at me accusingly. I expected him to be angry, to shout, to yell at me. But he didn’t. He was calm—almost too calm—and his tone couldn’t have been more matter-of-fact. “I already contacted her lawyer, and he confirmed she’s currently visiting Canada with family and wouldn’t breach the contract even if she wanted to. We locked her in good. So, somebody heard you, and I’d bet it was Anton Reeves.” I took a deep breath and sat on the back of the sofa. “I told Lani about the tape last night.” Dad nodded once. “We were on the balcony at the hotel. We checked and didn’t see anybody, so I figured it would be all right to talk out there. Clearly, I was wrong.” I shrugged a shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told her outside.” He still wasn’t angry. “What are you going to do about it?” I picked up the email from the floor and read it again. “I guess I have to figure it out within the next twenty-three hours.” Dad raised his eyebrows. “A little sooner would be appreciated.” I nodded once. “Got it.” “What if she told someone?” Aunt Bel tapped a finger against her lips. “What?” Mom frowned. “Lani,” she replied simply. “What if nobody overhead and Lani told her boss? I saw them talking last night.” I snapped my head around to her. “When?” “Before you danced.” “You were practically asleep in the chair. You’re losing your mind.” “Actually,” Cam said, grimacing. “I did see them talking in the hall.” “Ah, it was you.” Aunt Bel snapped her fingers. “I knew somebody saw them talking.” Cam ignored her. “It was after you stormed out but before you two left.” “No.” I said it firmly. So firmly I shocked myself. “She wouldn’t have done that.” My sister shrugged. “I don’t think she did either, but maybe she was getting even—” I stood and shook my head. “No, Camille. I’d deserve it, but no. She wouldn’t have done that.” Mom looked at me. “Has she answered her phone yet?” Aunt Bel asked me with a cocked brow.

“I’m not even thinking about it any further. I’m going to try to figure this out. I’ll be in my room.” I crumpled the email in the palm of my hand and walked out of the room. I didn’t want to hear that. I knew Lani. I knew she wouldn’t have done that. Not after everything she said to me last night. She wasn’t cold or full of hatred. She wasn’t a bad person. I didn’t care if Camille saw her talking to her boss. Lani wasn’t answering her phone because she was looking after her sister. I wouldn’t believe she would do that. I couldn’t believe it.



“I’m sorry.” Camille stood in the doorway of my room. “Don’t you knock?” “Don’t need to. Technically, I’m outside.” I looked up from the email. I’d been staring at it for longer than thirty minutes and I’d gotten nowhere. Mostly because I’d called Lani five times and Connie three, all to no avail. Mostly because I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about the idea they’d put in my stupid head. Why was I even entertaining it? I knew in my heart she hadn’t done it. There was no reason for her not to talk to her boss. There was no reason for Lani to want to hurt me that way. Not now, anyway. We were past all of that. Past whatever had happened when we were kids. Their theory didn’t make any sense to me. “Why are you still here?” I ask her. I was tired. I was so done with everything, yet it was all my own fault. All the stupid decisions I’d ever made were culminating in right now. More money to bury my stupidest mistake or let everyone know just how much of an ass I really was. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I don’t know why I accused Lani. She’s my best friend. I know she wouldn’t do that.” I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. That doesn’t help me figure out what to do about it.” “Can I come in?” I waved the sheet of paper at her. I didn’t care either way. Cam walked in slowly, her hands in her back pockets. She climbed onto the edge of my bed and crossed her legs. “Can I read it?” Wordlessly, I handed it to her. I didn’t care about that either. It was such a damn tiny thing to care about given that the only thing I did care about was the reputation of my family. I didn’t want them being dragged down with me. That was the reason I’d given in to the blackmail in the first place when Sara had done it. “I don’t get it,” Cam said thoughtfully, setting the paper down on top of my covers. “What does Anton Reeves have against us? What did we ever do to him?” “We bought the building the paper runs out of,” I reminded her. “Yeah, but we saved him from having it repossessed.” “True.” I leaned back against the headboard and stretched my legs out in front of me. “And he pays less rent than others in our buildings in the center of town because Dad understands how important it is that we have a physical paper. He didn’t even implement restrictions on his reporting of our family.” “Your behavior, you mean.” “Fuck off.” She laughed. “He has published some right zingers about you. Didn’t Dad get free advertising as part of

that deal though?” I shook my head. “Twenty percent off. That was the agreement they came to, but Dad gets first pick. Why do you think there’s a full page ad for the bed and breakfast every summer when the tourists are here?” “Makes sense.” She propped her chin on her hand, her elbow pressing into her knee. “I still don’t get it.” “I know. His business literally exists because of Dad. He has no reason to do something like this.” “Maybe he wants the money to buy the building back,” Cam suggested. “Ridiculous. Dad would never sell it back to him now. He’ll be lucky if Dad isn’t already on the phone to his lawyer to see about terminating his lease.” Cam sighed and stretched herself out onto her side. She soon flopped back onto her back with another heavy sigh. “Next time you have sex with a random girl, triple check for cameras.” I snorted. “No more sex with random girls.” “What about when Lani leaves?” “I don’t think she is,” I answered slowly. “I think she’s staying.” “But she works for that turnip. What’s she going to do if Dad cancels his lease? She won’t have a job. Dad still owes her for the other half of the articles, bu—” “The articles are useless now,” I interrupted her. “They worked when this didn’t exist.” I smacked the sheet of paper. “Now they’re just a smokescreen for all the bullshit. He’ll pay her because he keeps to his word. And it’s when Dad cancels the lease. We both know he’ll find a way to break it no matter what happens.” “But she still won’t have a job. She didn’t get a degree to come home and do nothing whether she’s dating you or not.” “Stop giving me more things to worry about.” “I’m just saying.” She turned her head to the side and looked up at me from the other end of the bed. “You’re gonna have to deal with that sooner or later.” “Can we please make it later? I think I have enough of an issue right now.” “Because you can’t get hold of her?” I stared at her flatly. “You know what would be real helpful, Cam? If you fucked off. Right now.” She rolled her eyes as she sat up. “I’m trying to help.” “Yeah, except you’re doing a fucking terrible job of it. I appreciate the effort, but next time, raise your points to yourself in the mirror and see how you feel when you’re done.” My sister stopped in the doorway and looked at me over her shoulder. “You’re an asshole when you’re annoyed.” “You’re an asshole all the time.” “Whatever. Jerk.” She flipped me off before she slammed my bedroom door behind her. I rubbed my hand down my face and closed my eyes. “What the fuck do I do?” I asked the empty room as if it would have an answer for me. When the only sound was of me sighing out a breath, I said, “Yeah. I don’t know either.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE LANI

Two light knocks sounded at the door to the room Connie and I were in. She was fast asleep, so I quickly got up and ran to the door. I checked on her to make sure she wasn’t disturbed and opened it. “Is she asleep?” Dr. Gordon asked. “Yeah. She finally settled after the injections.” I pulled the door shut and hooked my thumbs through my belt loops. “I have her results here.” She waved the folder. “You’re listed as her next of kin, so if you’d like, I can share them with you now.” “Sure.” I was her next of kin? Dr. Gordon opened the door to the next room and motioned for me to step inside. I hesitated at the thought of leaving Connie completely alone, but the doctor’s gentle smile coaxed me inside. She shut the door and opened the file. “She has a kidney infection. I looked over her records, and aside from a regular UTI at the beginning of her pregnancy, she hasn’t shown symptoms, that I know of, or had any infections detected in her urine.” “Is that the reason she’s in labor already?” She rocked her head from side to side. “I can’t say definitively, of course, but it is a cause of premature labor. In this instance, I would have to say yes, as the infection is pretty bad. The good news is that we can treat it and hopefully, combined with today’s efforts, we can solve the problem.” “Is there anything else wrong with her?” “Her blood pressure is a little high, but that’s to be expected with the stress of the situation. We’ll keep checking it. Her bloods came back clear, so I’m fairly certain it’s just a matter of treating the infection and handling the immediate situation.” “Okay, thank you. What about when she leaves?” “Bed rest until the end, I’m afraid.” She smiled sadly. “If her labor starts again and it’s too early, we may not be able to stop it in time. She’s got a long couple of months ahead of her. Can you stay with her?” “She’s coming home with me.” I smiled back. “When will we know if she’s okay?” “A few more hours and we’ll be able to tell you if the treatments have worked. Hopefully, they have.”

CHAPTER THIRTY BRETT

The next morning rolled around too soon. I’d barely slept, and I hadn’t gotten any closer to figuring out how to handle this situation with Anton Reeves. My father, however, had. His lawyer was working on getting him out of the building because of the blackmail side of things. I didn’t know how he was doing it, and I didn’t ask. If I focused on that, I’d be focusing on the fact my actions had affected yet another person—Lani. It was just one more person I’d screwed over, except this time, it was the person I cared about more than anyone else. “Oh. You’re awake.” Aunt Bel sipped her coffee. “Have you moved in or something?” I asked, faltering at the sound of her voice. “You’re always here.” “No, but I might yet.” She shot me a wicked smile. “You’re fun to mess with.” “Great.” I pulled a mug down from the cupboard and reached for the coffee machine. The water tank was empty. Of course it was. I sighed and did my best to ignore the even wider grin of my elderly aunt as I turned toward the water dispenser in the fridge door. She snickered into her drink as I filled up the tank and put it back. Oh to be as easily amused as a child. Was that what awaited me in sixty years? Shit. I made my coffee without talking to her. Thankfully, she didn’t talk to me either. She’d only say something to annoy me, and as much as I respected her, I sometimes struggled to like her. My phone rang on the island. Aunt Bel snatched it up with ridiculously fast reflexes before I even had a chance to reach it. “Hello?” “Give me my phone.” I held out my hand. “Aunt Bel. Now.” “Fine. It’s a girl.” She put the phone in my hand and turned away. She hummed as she left the room. I shook my head and lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello?” “Hey.” Lani’s worried voice traveled down the line. “Why do I have eleventy billion missed calls from you and Camille?” I gripped the edge of the counter and shut my eyes. “Why haven’t you answered your phone?” “Long story,” she answered. “And the calls?” “Long story.” What? It was true. “Can you come over? It’s not really a conversation I want to have in person.” “I...er, okay. I need to grab some breakfast on the way. Can you give me half an hour?” “Sure. Just come in when you get here.” “Um, okay.” She paused. “Is everything okay?” No. “I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and put my phone down. How could I answer that question without getting drawn in to a full conversation? And fuck it—I didn’t want to tell her on the phone. My goddamn aunt and sister had buried the seed of doubt in my mind, and although I didn’t believe it, it was there. There was no way to uproot it. I would know the second she found out whether or not she was lying to me. She was a shit liar. Her eyes gave her away every time. “How are you feeling this morning?” Mom swept into the kitchen wearing a bright red onesie that had me double-taking when I turned around. Her response to my shock was a grin. “Lani will be here in thirty minutes,” I answered. “Perhaps something not originally designed for babies would be more appropriate.” She laughed, pulling some water from the fridge. “Got it. Does she know yet?” I shook my head. Mom walked from the kitchen. “Family meeting,” she hollered. “Library. Half an hour.”

A chorus of shouted acknowledgments followed. I bent forward and slumped down onto the counter. Awesome. Family meeting. Again. Just what this situation needed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE LANI

I got out of my car with a massive yawn. My fingers were clenched tight around my coffee cup, and I kicked the door shut behind me. There was not enough caffeine in the world to make me adult today. Hell, I couldn’t person, never mind adult. I could newborn baby, and that was about it. Connie may have slept peacefully all night after the hospital worked their magic and halted her labor, but I sure as hell didn’t. I only left this morning because she pulled the big sister card and told me to go get her bedroom ready so she could come boss me around. Apparently, my sister isn’t a fan of hospitals. Neither was I. Sleeping on granite would have been more comfortable than the bed they gave me. And now I was here at Walker House. I didn’t know what drama could possibly constitute fifty-four missed calls between Brett and Camille, but it had to be bad just judging by Brett’s tone on the phone. I was attempting to wake myself up enough to deal with it, but I wasn’t doing too well. I dragged myself up the steps to the front door. I knocked twice before I pushed it open and said, “Hello —ohhhh.” I finished on a yawn. “It’s Lani.” I pulled the door closed behind me and waited. Brett appeared seconds later. “Hey. Jesus, you look exhausted.” I blinked at him. “I might be sleepwalking right now.” “Why are you so tired?” “I—” I was interrupted by another yawn. Dear god, I was sick of yawning now. I lifted my coffee up to my mouth and tipped but nothing came out. “Crap. I need more coffee. Somebody already finished this.” He raised his eyebrows and took the empty cup from me. “I’m not sure coffee will fix you right now.” “Coffee fixes every...” yawn “everything. Yes it does.” “You might be delirious.” I smiled. “You’re being kind. I’m definitely delirious.” “Okay, but I need you to focus.” “Focusing.” I met his eyes and clamped my jaw shut so I didn’t yawn again. “This is focusing.” I yawned. Okay, so I was almost focusing. Close enough. His smile was genuine but it disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared. “Someone knows about the tape.” I stared at him. Someone knew about the tape? How was it possible? “Are you spacing out?” “No,” I answered him. “I’m trying to work out how someone could know.” “They heard us talking.” “Not possible,” I said, shaking my head. There was no way anyone could have heard us. “I checked. There was nobody within earshot of us.” He put his hands in his pockets the way he did whenever he was uncomfortable. “Someone must have come out. Whatever it was, they heard us.” “Do you know who it was? Wait, how do you know somebody knows? I feel like I’m missing almost all of this story.” I rubbed my hand across the back of my neck. “I’m so confused.” “Everyone’s in the library.” Brett turned and walked down the hall. “Why do I feel like you’re leading me to trial?” I muttered. Wait. I stopped right outside the library. “Do you think I did this?” “No.” He met my eyes. “I don’t.”

“Ah-ha!” Aunt Bel pushed up off the sofa and wiggled one finger in my direction. “Guilty!” “Wait, what?” I looked at everyone in the library and then back to Brett. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” “Dad got an email last night,” he answered before Aunt Bel could. “Anonymous email address. It said they knew about the tapes and they detailed the lengths we’d gone through to hide it. It was pretty much word for word for our conversation. We have until tonight to pay the sender of the email twenty thousand dollars or they’re going to print it.” “Print it? Print it where?” “Whiskey Key Daily,” William answered, balancing a hot mug on his knee. “Which gives away the sender as Anton Reeves.” “But what do I have to do with this?” Everything, Lani, you dick. Everything. This time, Aunt Bel piped up before anyone could stop her. “Because you were talking to him after dinner!” She was wiggling her finger at me again. “Plotting! Conspiring! You planned the whole thing with your boss!” I blinked at her for a moment. My first thought was that she really needed to lay off the dramas on TV, but my second was more alarming. Brett didn’t think I was involved—but that didn’t mean anyone else agreed. “You think I’m responsible for this?” I asked her. “Just because you saw me talking to my old boss?” “Your old boss?” Brett looked at me. My throat went dry. I had to be completely honest. I put my phone and keys down on the desk next to me and folded my arms. “The second time I met Mr. Reeves, he told me there was a family secret. He wanted me to find out what it was so he could run it as a story.” Brett’s expression darkened. “That’s all this was?” “Let me finish.” I wasn’t asking him, I was telling him to let me finish. He had to let me. “Then your dad hired me,” I said in a quieter voice. “So yes, at first, it was. I was hurt. I hated you. I wanted to hurt you the way you had me, but I promised myself that if the secret would hurt your family, I wouldn’t tell him anything if I ever found it out.” I looked down at the floor. It was completely silent, and even though I was focused on my feet, I knew all eyes were on me. “But I forgot. Nobody ever mentioned it, so I figured he was imagining things that weren’t there. I stopped caring about what he wanted me to do and started caring about what you were doing.” I peered up at Brett. “And then you took me to the shelter and everything changed. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.” “So the other night?” he asked, his voice hoarse. I turned to Aunt Bel. “The conversation you saw was me resigning. And the only reason the conversation happened in the first place was because he overheard you bringing it up before Brett walked out.” Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. “Then where were you last night? Why could nobody get hold of you?” Aunt Bel asked through her embarrassment. “At the hospital,” I answered flatly. “Why were you at the hospital?” “Because my sick sister has a kidney infection that apparently sent her into early labor.” This time, I snapped it. The accusation wasn’t unfounded, I knew that, but I was tired and worried about Connie. Now I was worried about Brett and how this would affect everyone and I didn’t need the third degree. “I didn’t have either of our phones while I was by her side all night while they tried to stop it so her baby would be okay.” “Oh.” Aunt Bel’s voice was small now. “Well, that settles that.”

I ran my fingers through my hair. “I was there since two-thirty yesterday afternoon. This morning, I literally got home, took a shower, then turned on my phone and called Brett when I saw the missed calls. Is that convincing enough for you?” She had the grace to look sheepish. Not a trait she usually exhibited. “It wasn’t, Lani,” she announced. That was as close to an apology as I was going to get. “Did they stop her labor?” Mae asked me, leaning forward. Concern shone in her eyes. I nodded and let out a long breath. “Yeah. As long as she sticks to her bed rest, she should go to term.” I didn’t want to look at Brett. He hadn’t moved or said a word for several minutes now. I didn’t know what he was thinking or how he was feeling, but I didn’t regret it. Lying had gotten us nowhere good before, and even if the tables now turned, I knew I’d been honest with him. “Can you give us a minute?” he asked quietly. “Mom, Dad? Everyone?” I swallowed and looked down. Everybody murmured an agreement and slowly filtered out of the library. Camille caught my eye as she walked past us and smiled, but I couldn’t return it. Not when I couldn’t mean it, no matter how much I appreciated the gesture. The door closed, leaving us in silence. It was thick and heavy, and the whispers of tension that hung between us felt like brick walls. Until he did the one thing I didn’t think he’d do. He walked toward me and pulled me against his body. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and buried his nose in my hair, holding me tightly. I unfolded my arms and hugged his waist, turning my face into his neck. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. “What for?” he whispered back into my ear. “You didn’t do anything. If you’d revealed what I’d done before, I would have deserved it. All I want to know is that you meant what you said to me that night.” “If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t have said it. I don’t know why I agreed to do what he wanted in the first place.” No, I did know. He’d all but pressured me into agreeing. No matter that at times I’d wanted to do it. “It doesn’t matter.” Brett pulled back and slid his arms down so he was cupping my jaw with his strong hands. His gray-blue eyes held no hint of anger or malice as he looked into my eyes. “He’s an asshole and I can probably guess. I know you didn’t do this, Lani. I doubt you ever would have been able to go through with it anyway.” “You’re probably right,” I agreed. “But the thought of doing it made you bearable sometimes.” His lips tugged up. “Bearable enough for you to fall in love with.” “I’m also debating visiting a doctor to get my head checked.” “Why? Did you hit it on your way up from Hell?” “I thought that was going to be really corny, but I’m actually a little impressed.” He laughed and hugged me again. “It almost was corny.” “I didn’t say it wasn’t corny,” I said, my voice muffled by his t-shirt. “I just said I was impressed.” Brett dipped his head down and kissed the edge of my mouth. “Can we come in now you’ve made up?” Camille yelled from behind the door. “Hold on!” Brett grabbed my ass cheek and pulled my hips right to him before planting a huge kiss properly on my mouth. I laughed into the kiss, and the force of his grip on me had me moving up onto my tiptoes. “Put me down, you fool.” “All right, all right,” he muttered. “Fine, come back in,” he yelled to the door. I rubbed my butt cheek when he released me. Lord, he had a grip and a half. “So,” Camille said, bouncing back into the library. “What are we doing about Anton Reeves? Except sending a hit squad of rats into his house.”

“I told you no on the rats, Cam,” Mae said. “But they’d be fun.” “No, Camille.” “I think you should just let him post it.” Everyone turned to look at me when I said that. “Oops.” I winced. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” “No,” William said, holding up his hand. “Why should we let him?” “Because then you still win.” I shrugged a shoulder and looked at Brett. “If you pay him off, someone else will just do the same thing. And it doesn’t stop him telling anyone, and he may have done it already. If you let him post it, he doesn’t get the money or the satisfaction that he’s hurting you.” I hopped up onto the desk. “It makes a lot of sense,” William said to Brett. He shook his head. “No. It’ll hurt you guys.” “I don’t care,” Camille added quietly. “If it means you can’t be hurt by this in the future, I don’t care.” Judging by the nodding of the family, they all agreed with her. “Okay,” Brett said, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. “We tell him to print it. Then what?” I swung my legs and grinned. “Leave that to me.”



I was pretty much typing in a blur. My fingers were moving faster than my brain for once, and I had no idea if the little black letters appearing on my screen made any sense whatsoever. At this point, I was simply hoping that the words in my brain were translating to the words on my screen. “What’s that word?” Brett leaned over my shoulder and pointed at the screen. I paused in my typing and looked at it. “This might need a proofread. I have no idea.” “You done? You’ve been in here almost two hours.” “Shit.” I looked around at him. “I told Connie I’d be back to the hospital soon. I haven’t got her room done yet.” “Camille’s already gone up to be with her,” he answered with a smile. “She said she’ll stay until she’s either discharged or you get there.” “What if she’s discharged first?” “Then she’ll take her to her house and stay with her until you get there. Don’t worry. We’ve got it covered.” “She needs to be at my house.” “Lani.” Brett sat next to me. He moved my laptop off my knees and onto the coffee table and turned my face toward his. “We have movers to handle it. You have your grandma’s stuff to get rid of, so they’ll deal with that and move Connie in.” I blinked at him. “Movers.” “And she rents her house from us, so she can go whenever. Dad isn’t going to hold her to the thirtydays’ notice.” “You own her house.” “We own her house.” I blinked some more. I was in an exhausted haze, and the only thing that was keeping me running right now was the barest fizzle of adrenaline from some deep, dark vein somewhere in my toe or something. “Right,” I said slowly. His lips tugged to one side. “The movers will start tonight at your house if you’re good with that.”

“Tonight. My house.” “For someone so good at writing words, you aren’t doing too hot on the speaking them, are you?” I shook my head and slapped his thigh. “Stop it. I’m tired.” “Just how much sleep did you get last night?” I scratched my nose. “I’m not entirely sure. All I know is that I’m running on not a whole lot right now.” He stroked my hair back from my face. I’d come over with my hair still wet from my shower, so it was a little on the puffy side of smooth right now. “Why don’t you go to bed for an hour? Take a deep breath, have a glass of water, and sleep for a while.” “I have to finish this and—” Brett stood up. He bent over and yanked me right up with them, and then he picked me up. It wasn’t quite over his shoulder, but it was close enough. Regardless, he had one hand clamped around my upper thighs, literally right below my ass, and the other was splayed across my lower back. “Put me down!” I squealed, wiggling in his hold. “Nope. You’re going to sleep.” “Put. Me. Down!” He ignored my protests and carried me right through the house. By the time he reached the stairs, I gave up. He wasn’t going to listen to me, and all I was doing was making myself even more tired. Brett carried me into his room where he finally set me down onto my feet. “No more fighting?” I shrugged. “Were you gonna put me down?” “No.” He grinned playfully. “Now take off your shoes and get into bed.” “You want me to sleep in my clothes?” “I don’t want you to do anything in clothes. Ever.” “That isn’t what I was asking.” “Yes,” he answered, contradicting what he just said. “Because if you sleep in your underwear, I’m not going to be able to leave this room until I’ve fucked you and you need to sleep.” “Or you could exercise a little thing called self-control.” “I could, but I don’t want to.” “So I have to do it for you?” “Lani?” “Yes?” He stared at me, but he was smiling. “Stop arguing and get into bed.” I shoved his covers to the side. “Yes, sir.” He laughed and came over when I tucked myself in. His hand slid across my face, and he touched his lips to mine softly. “Sleep,” he murmured against my mouth. I yawned and saluted him. He didn’t need to tell me again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO BRETT

I sat in front of Lani’s laptop at the desk in the library. I’d tried to pass some of the time while she slept by doing some work, but it was almost impossible. Camille was still at the hospital with Connie. Mom was overlooking the removal of the things Connie had stated needed to go from what was now their house—things that included the sofa—and Dad had finally given in to my pleas and was taking Aunt Bel home. I didn’t know what Lani was planning, but obviously it was some kind of article. I didn’t know how many she’d agreed to with my father, and truth be told, I hadn’t ever cared to ask. A part of me still thought it was all ridiculous. Articles weren’t going to change the way people thought about me. That didn’t change the fact that I was torn between looking at what she was writing or waiting until she was done. This was the first one I’d cared about. Would she pin the blame solely on me? Would she keep my family out of it? Protect them? Defend them? I didn’t care what she wrote about me. I never had. It was all in my family. My phone buzzed next to her laptop and I picked it up.

Lani: I’m awake. Me: Good morning. Lani: I slept forever.

Six hours, to be exact.

Lani: Is Connie home yet? Me: No. I need to text Camille. I spoke to her an hour ago and they said they wanted her to keep another meal down before they’d be happy to discharge her. Lani: I bet she’s a fucking delight. Can you bring me my laptop so I can finish what I was doing? Me: Only if I can read it. Lani: When it’s done. PS: I’m in my underwear.

It was like fucking magic those words. I grabbed her laptop and charge cord and carried it upstairs. I didn’t even intend to fuck her, but I’d had a glimpse of her black bra and, well. I wasn’t gonna pass up a damn opportunity to see that, was I? I reached the top of the stairs and opened my bedroom door. She was lying on her side looking at her phone and she glanced up when I quietly said, “Hey.” “Hey.” She smiled, put her phone down, and stretched out. “Thanks. I feel like I can focus on this now.” “Why? Because I was right?” I had a smug grin on my face and I knew it. I didn’t give a shit either. “You know full well I’m not going to answer that question, Brett Walker.” She sat up. “If I say yes, I’m never going to live it down.” “You not answering tells me I was right.” “Shut up and give me my laptop.” She reached forward for it and in the process, the covers fell away from her chest. The black lace bra hugged her round, firm tits perfectly. Desire tingled across my skin, and my gaze hovered on her cleavage when I handed her the laptop. “Can you shut your bedroom door? I’m comfortable around your family, but not working in your bed in my bra comfortable.” I laughed and did as she asked. “When can I read it?”

“When I’m done,” she huffed. “Now please be quiet.” I held up my hands and sat on the other side of the bed. I grabbed the TV remote from the nightstand and turned on the TV, but I couldn’t help but flick my attention over to her laptop. And her tits. I couldn’t help it. “Stop staring.” She gave me the order without looking up from her screen. “Jesus Christ, don’t let me write tired again.” “Why? What did you write?” I leaned over and craned my neck. She elbowed me. “Get lost.” “At least kiss me if you’re going to beat me.” “I never realized how needy you are.” “You mixed ‘needy’ up with ‘greedy.’“ She side-eyed me. “No, no. I meant needy.” Her lips curved up and I knew she was teasing me. “Can I read it now?” “No. Is this going to be like road-tripping with kids?” She hit two keys on her keyboard and looked right at me. “Are you going to ask me every two seconds if you can read it yet?” “Yes,” I answered honestly. “Ugh.” She groaned and leaned her head back. “Fine. Let me finish reading it. Ten minutes. Can you survive that long?” “Just about. It might be torture though.” Lani held up a finger. “If you keep bugging me, I’m going to put my shirt back on.” I mimed zipping my lips. She was playing dirty with that, but hey. She won. Well... “Can you at least lie on your front so I can stare at your ass?” “I’m putting my shirt on.” She moved the laptop to the end of the bed and bent over. “No!” I grabbed her and pulled her back against me. “Come on, that’s mean.” She leaned back into me, shifting so she could tilt her head back and meet my eyes. “You’re annoying me, Brett.” “You’re the one wearing your underwear in my bed. I warned you what would happen if you did that.” “Yes, you did. Except you told me you’d fuck me and not let me sleep, not annoy the shit out of me when I’m trying to work.” “Right. But if you lie on your stomach and let me stare at your ass while you work, I’ll let you work.” She wrinkled her face up. “I’m dating a pig.” “Even worse? You’re in love with me.” She sighed. “You’re right. I must have done something terrible in a past life.” “You did. You didn’t let your boyfriend stare at your ass while you worked.” She stared at me for a few seconds before she started laughing. Her entire body trembled with her giggles, and she pushed right up and kissed my jaw. “You’re crazy. And don’t say it now either.” “I’m crazy for your ass.” “Sneak.” I grinned. “Fine, let me go.” I did as she asked, and she did as I’d asked. She straightened the covers, then she flipped over onto her stomach to work. And she was wearing a black thong to match her bra. I felt like punching the air. Five minutes later, I said, “Lani?” “No, we’re not having sex just because you made me lie like this.” She said it without looking over her shoulder. “Will you just have some patience, please?”

“Can’t.” I got up and smacked her ass. “Come down when you’re done.” “Asshole,” she muttered, reaching back to rub her ass cheek. I smirked.



“He’s published it.” Camille’s words cut through the silence of the living room. Lani and I both stilled and looked up at her. “I thought it was being printed in the paper?” Lani questioned. “It is,” Camille answered, jumping into the armchair. “But Dad just got an email notification. He published it on the Whiskey Key Daily website almost as soon as Dad told him to go ahead and do it.” “He was going to do it anyway,” I said slowly. “He didn’t care about the money or whatever.” “What does he have against you?” Lani looked at me. “He never told me and I can’t make sense of it.” “Neither can we. I guess it’s just one of those things. He heard a rumor and wouldn’t let it rest.” “Exactly,” Cam agreed. “I don’t think it’s that he has anything against us, per se. He just likes gossip. I don’t think he cares who he hurts as long as he can make money, even if he has to lie to make it.” “Lying. It’s not exactly a journalist’s best trait,” Lani muttered. “Oh, shut up. You never would have told him that and you know it. You said it yourself—if it would hurt us, you wouldn’t do it.” She tilted her head. “True. It was kind of a pipeline dream. Hurt the guy who hurt you.” “For the record, all you have to do to hurt me is work in your underwear.” I tugged on a lock of her hair and slipped my hand between her thighs. It was warm and comfy there. “I’m still upset.” Lani rolled her eyes. “Settle down, Casanova. You asked me to do that. And it doesn’t matter, because I’m about to save your bacon.” “Oh yeah. With the article you said I could read but I haven’t read yet.” “You sound like a grumpy child.” “Only because you make me feel like one.” Camille looked between us. “You two sound like an old married couple. How’re the grandchildren?” I flipped her the bird. Lani laughed while she sat up and swung her legs around. She pulled her laptop onto her lap and started it up. “Are you publishing it now?” Camille asked, getting up and sitting on the other side of her. She nodded. “On your dad’s website.” “Dad’s website?” I asked. “Why not yours?” “Nobody here knows my website,” she replied simply, typing in her password. “Plus I kinda...sorta...work for him now,” she muttered. I leaned back and looked at her. “What? When?” “I spoke to him earlier. When you were avoiding everyone because you had a hard-on.” Camille shuddered. “He read the article and offered me a job.” Lani shrugged. “I couldn’t say no because, well, I don’t have one.” “Were you going to tell me about this?” “I hear the grumpy child,” Camille said, nodding. “Right there.” “Why are you still here?” I asked her. Lani mimed breaking us up as her browser loaded. “Of course I was going to tell you, but it just happened an hour ago. He’s evicting Anton Reeves from the newspaper building tomorrow, and he’s

going to lease it to me. He doesn’t think Anton will hang around much longer when my article goes out, which leaves the Key without a newspaper. I get to start another one.” “That’s all very convenient for you,” I teased her. “Isn’t it? I planned it all along, can’t you tell?” “Went off without a hitch.” I snorted and cupped the back of her neck. “So what exactly are you doing for Dad?” “Well, for one, I have to hire your cousin as the photographer. He graduates this summer, right?” She looked to me for confirmation and continued when I nodded. “Right. So I’m giving him work experience until then, and when he’s graduated, we’ll hire him full time.” “We?” Camille asked. “Oh. Right. Your dad will own the paper. Well, mostly. I’ll own some.” She worked her way into the blog of our business’ website and pulled up a post. “So that’s how I technically work for your dad. It’s complicated. But I’ll also do the press releases for your businesses and blog on the website. I told you it was complicated.” “I think I have a headache,” I groaned. “But you’re staying, right?” Camille asked. “That means you’re going nowhere?” Lani laughed. “Like Connie would let me go. But yeah, I’m staying. Right, here you go.” She handed me the laptop. “Read this.” “Did you publish it?” “Yes.” “Why am I always the last to read things about myself?” She shrugged. “It’s more fun this way. Plus you can’t make me change things.” I side-eyed her, but she grinned. The smile reached her eyes, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about the one that formed on my face right back to her. She leaned her head against my shoulder and I turned my attention to the article she’d aptly titled “Mistakes.”

Mistakes. We all make them. Sometimes they’re little ones. We forget a doctor appointment. We don’t put the empty shampoo bottle in the trash and so forget to buy another bottle. We don’t wash our socks and can’t find a matching pair. Sometimes they’re big ones. We accidentally turn the fridge off before leaving for a two-week vacation. We leave the flat iron on—and not on a heatproof mat. We say things that could hurt other people. Some people are more prone to mistakes than others. The reasons why are nobody’s business but the people who make the mistakes, but there is one thing almost all these people believe: A person is not defined by their mistakes. They’re judged, sure. They’re ridiculed or belittled and perhaps even disregarded as bad people. But are they? No. They’re far from it. In fact, the people who make the biggest mistakes are generally the best kind of people. Because they’re the ones who admit to it, even if it takes a while. By now you’ve probably read an article from the Whiskey Key Daily that details an eavesdropped conversation regarding a mistake Brett Walker made some twelve or so months ago. What you didn’t read in that article is that the author of it was told to press publish. That’s right. Told to. By Brett Walker. You see, it’s no big scandal. You’ll never see the tape that was made. The author of the article never

saw the tape. In fact, until this moment, it was never confirmed that such a thing even existed. Why am I confirming it? Because I can. Because I know the facts. Because I know how he made this mistake. And I love him anyway, just like so many other people do. You can believe what you want about what you’ve been told by the Whiskey Key Daily. The article was embellished and wildly exaggerated. Six figures for a sex tape? He’s not a Hollywood superstar. He’s a Whiskey Key heir—one he has to split two ways, no less. Why would he pay such an extortionate figure to somebody for something nobody outside this town would care about? Before you judge and point the fingers, remember what he does for the town. Remember how your child could be benefiting from a vegetable garden at school because he paid for it. Remember how your child may also get pleasure from the new gym equipment being installed for the new school year. Remember that your daughter, friend, sister, mother, or even the people who serve you coffee or sit behind you in church may have their lives saved because of the charity he supports and almost singlehandedly funds. Remember the children who go into the shelter he loves without hope and leave with more hope than some adults struggle to conjure up on a morning. Remember that this tape, this mistake, this accident, doesn’t define his character. The things I just mentioned do. They define him as a strong, capable person with a big heart, willing to help whoever needs it. Ignore the stories. Brush away the rumors. Take a minute and look beyond what you believe a person to be and realize that nobody is who they seem. Everybody has a secret. Everybody has something they’d rather not admit to. Brett Walker chose to admit to his mistake. He chose to take responsibility for it. To own it. To accept it. To live with it. Just like thousands of people do every day. Instead of judging people for making mistakes, perhaps we should celebrate them for admitting to them instead. After all, you’re not a bad cook just because you burned your Thanksgiving turkey last year, are you?

I slowly turned my face to look at her. “But we did pay six figures to her for the tape.” Lani blinked up at me, smiling. “What can I say? Lying. It’s a journalist’s worst trait, but it’s our most useful weapon. I just happen to use mine for good.” “How is that using it for good?” Her smile widened. “He printed the six figures—and he exaggerated the figure you told me.” I raised my eyebrows. “Did you just play him at his own game?” “No,” she answered, her smile turning cocky. “I beat him at it.” I cupped her chin and pulled her face close to mine. “Have I told you that I love you today?” “No. You’re slacking.” I laughed and kissed her. “Well, I love you.” “Love you too.” She grinned against my mouth. “Ugh,” Camille said, getting up. “You two make me sick.”

EPILOGUE LANI

Three weeks later

“Let me get this straight,” Raven said, her hand stuck inside a glass as she dried it with a cloth. “Nothing has happened. Literally nobody cared, and he’s still wondering why.” “Pretty much,” I answered. “Honestly, I think his ego got a little big.” “A little?” Camille snorted. “His ego was bigger than Texas. Of course he thought somebody would care.” “To be fair,” I said, “We all thought it would be a bigger deal than it was.” Raven put the glass down in front of me. “I think it was somewhat overshadowed by Anton’s sketchy tactics. You should have heard the conversations in here the day after you published your article. Nobody could begin to believe that he’d been so sneaky in his methods of finding out.” I frowned. “But I didn’t say anything about how he found out.” Camille scratched beneath her ear. “Camille,” I said slowly. She threw up her hands. “What was I gonna do? The guy screwed over my brother. Brett might be a giant pain in my ass, but he’s still my brother. We shared a womb, for Chrissakes.” Raven grinned conspiratorially. “Did you tell everyone he eavesdropped on a private conversation?” “Kind of.” “Kind of?” “I may or may not have commented on his website article anonymously.” I spun on the bar stool. “Camille!” I lightly pushed her. “What did you say?” “That I’d heard he recorded it,” she murmured. My jaw dropped. Oh my god. “That was you?” “Hey,” she said, jabbing a finger in my direction. “Journalists aren’t the only ones prone to lying.” “I don’t lie,” I protested, whacking her finger away. “I embellish. Tweak. Fiddle.” “That sounds like you’re reading some fucked-up erotica out loud,” Raven told me, grabbing a cocktail shaker. “But I’m so fucking impressed, I’m pouring some lunch time drinks. Then I’m going to make you look over my prospective menu.” “Menu?” Camille asked. I nudged her. “Yeah. For the food. Don’t you listen?” She looked at me. “As a rule, no.” I rolled my eyes. Raven did too. “Whatever. I need you to help me because I can’t find a goddamn chef. It’s driving me crazy.” “Maybe your menu is too complicated,” Camille suggested. “Nope.” Brett walked out of the back room, looking at a notebook. “This is all basic shit. Burgers, chicken wings, fries...Salads and all that healthy shit girls eat.” “You ate a salad last night,” I said, whipping the notebook out of his hands when he joined us at the bar. I scanned her proposed menu. “There’s nothing wrong with this.” “Good,” Raven said. “Because if the guy I’m interviewing tomorrow is no good, then I’m gonna have to swallow some pride and ask my brother.” “Why would that be swallowing your pride? Isn’t your brother a good chef?” Camille asked. “Yeah,” Raven said. “But he’s already working in Key West for the summer. He brought his best friend home, who I happen to hate. Think Lani coming home kinda hate.”

“Oooh,” I replied. “Let me guess. His best friend is a chef?” “Yes.” She gritted her teeth. “And I don’t want to ask him.” “Well, that sucks,” Brett said, pulling me off the stool. “But we’ve gotta run.” I did a double-take. “We do? Where? Why? What?” He pulled me right out of the cocktail bar and into the hot lunchtime sun. Stepping into the sticky humidity was like walking into a brick wall, and I instantly fanned myself with my hand. “Why did you just drag me out of air-conditioned heaven into this hell?” I demanded. “Because your sister just called. She’s hungry and is craving grilled cheese and tomato soup from the cafe and that’s your job.” He grinned and unlocked his car. “You know that isn’t a craving,” I said dryly. “That’s a wanting. They’re wildly different.” “Whatever. You didn’t have to go to Wal-Mart at three a.m. two nights ago for red hot Cheetos.” “No, you’re right. I would have gone into the cupboard in the kitchen where there are four bags of those Cheetos waiting for her three a.m. cravings.” I paused before I got in the car. “And for future reference, the heartburn things are in the drawer just above that cupboard for convenience.” “Great. Now you tell me,” he muttered, getting into the car before I did. “All you had to do was ask!” “Kitten, the last time I tried to wake you up, you slapped me in the face.” He glanced at me and started the car. I shook my head. “I didn’t slap you. Your face was in the way of my hand, I already told you that.” “You can’t spin it just because you slapped me.” “Do you want to give yourself a blow job?” He laughed. “No, I want you on your knees giving me a blow job.” “Then sssh. Your face was in the way.” He shook his head, smiling. “Did I ever tell you that I’m glad you came home and decided to stay?” “No, but your cock tells me regularly.” “Feed your sister and it can tell you again.” I raised an eyebrow. “Is that a promise?” “Every day.” He grinned at me as he pulled up in front of the cafe. He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me in close. His lips brushed over mine lightly before he leaned right in for a full, firm kiss. “Every damn day.” I returned his smile and tapped my finger against his nose. “Okay, now go in and buy her food. I want grilled cheese and soup too.” “Wait, no. That wasn’t the fucking deal.” He pulled back. “We didn’t make a deal,” I pointed out. “Why can’t you buy it?” I glanced out of the window into the cafe. “There are people in there. I don’t want to people today.” “As evidenced by the fact you were just in a cocktail bar.” “An empty, closed cocktail bar.” Brett sighed, running his hand through his dark hair. “If you go in there I’ll give you two blow jobs,” I bargained. He slid his gaze toward me. “Two?” “Two.” He paused for a moment before he said, “All right, you got a deal. I’ll buy lunch.” I laughed and leaned over the car, grabbing him by the shirt. He dove his hand into my hair as I tugged him toward me and kissed him deeply. “I love you, Casanova.” He pulled back and winked. “Love you too, kitten. Now do some jaw exercises. You’re gonna be busy this afternoon.”

I gasped through laughter as he darted out of the car before I could respond to him...Or hit him. I heard his laughter until the cafe door shut behind him. It had taken a lot of heartbreak, a lot of traveling, and a lot of secrets to get to where I was right now. Home. Not necessarily Whiskey Key—although physically, it was my home, my real home wasn’t a place. It was a person. He wasn’t perfect. He’d given me the worst nickname known to man, and he was cockier than any one man should have been. He also had a kind heart and an even sweeter soul. And he was mine. He always had been. And I’d always been his.

COMING SOON! MIXED UP, Raven’s story, releases April 18th. Sign up for Emma Alerts for more information. http://bit.ly/EmmaAlerts

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty novels and has been translated into several different languages. She first put fingers to keys at the age of eighteen after her husband told her she read too much and should write her own. Four years later, she's still figuring out what he meant when he said she 'read too much.' She prides herself on writing smart smut that's filled with dry wit, snappy, sarcastic comebacks, but lots of heart... And sex. Sometimes, she kills people. (Disclaimer: In books. But if you bug her, she'll use your name for the victims.) You can find her online at: www.emmahart.org www.facebook.com/emmahartbooks www.instagram.com/EmmaHartAuthor www.pinterest.com/authoremmhart Alternatively, you can join her reader group at http://bit.ly/EmmaHartsHartbreakers. You can also get all things Emma to your email inbox by signing up for Emma Alerts*. http://bit.ly/EmmaAlerts *Emails sent for sales, new releases, pre-order availability, and cover reveals. Each cover reveal contains an exclusive excerpt.

BOOKS BY EMMA HART Standalones: Blind Date Being Brooke Casanova Catching Carly (Coming March 7th) Mixed Up (Coming April 18th) The Experiment Duet: The Hook-Up Experiment (Coming June 13th) The Dating Experiment (Coming July 18th) Stripped series: Stripped Bare Stripped Down The Burke Brothers: Dirty Secret Dirty Past Dirty Lies Dirty Tricks Dirty Little Rendezvous The Holly Woods Files: Twisted Bond Tangled Bond Tethered Bond Tied Bond Twirled Bond Burning Bond Twined Bond By His Game series: Blindsided Sidelined Intercepted Call series: Late Call Final Call His Call Wild series: Wild Attraction Wild Temptation Wild Addiction Wild: The Complete Series The Game series: The Love Game Playing for Keeps The Right Moves Worth the Risk Memories series: Never Forget Always Remember