The Honeymoon Trap

by Christina Hovland

  “I went first last time,” William pointed out, his voice staying low so his words were for Lucy alone.

  She paused, his presence intimidating. “You smell nice.”

  “I do?” he asked. “What do I smell like?”

  “I don’t know how to describe it. Just nice.”

  “How are things going?” Rebecca knelt beside them.

  “Lucy was just explaining how nice I smell.”

  “Oh, that’s good!” Rebecca settled in, apparently ready to stick around for a while. “What do you think of Lucy’s scent?”

  “I think she’s amazing. All of her.” He held Lucy’s stare. “I love her scent. Her eyes. Her kindness. The way she cares about people and wants everyone to be happy. Yeah, I think she’s pretty awesome.”

  Lucy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish tossed onto the banks of a lake.

  Rebecca laughed like wind chimes again. “Did you know that finding your partner’s scent appealing is an indicator that your genetics are compatible for children? Have you two discussed that? The things they can do in a test tube these days are pretty intense.”

  Much like this conversation.

  William squeezed Lucy’s hand and rubbed at the fleshy spot between her thumb and forefinger. “We’d like two.”

  “You guys are just butter on-a-roll,” Rebecca enunciated each syllable and bounced up. “I’ll check back in a bit.”

  Lucy pulled her hands away and scraped them over her face. “Yay.”

  “All right everyone.” Rebecca clapped her hands together. “Next up. I want you to tell your partner your deepest, darkest fear. If you’ve already shared this, great. If not, now’s the time. Get it all out there.”

  “I think we should discuss politics or religion,” Lucy said, deadpan.

  William chuckled and shifted so his knees were on either side of her hips. “Your deepest, darkest fear is water, right? That’s not so bad.”

  Lucy swallowed over her suddenly dry tongue and sandpaper throat. Large bodies of water weren’t her favorite by any stretch. The truth of it, though? In that moment, her biggest fear was William would remember the person she’d been—the high school kid with fake friends who pretended to like her when they needed something. The girl the football players tossed bologna at in the cafeteria while they barked, because their buddies thought it was oh-so-hysterical. The girl who spent a summer helping on a television set and crushed on the resident playboy, only to have him forget everything about her.

  If he remembered who she was, he’d never be able to see her for who she’d become.

  “Luce?” he asked, concerned.

  Right. He’d implied her fear was of water.

  “What’s yours, then?” she asked, deflecting the truth.

  “Failing.” He glanced to the purple yoga mat they sat on. “My deepest, darkest fear is of failure at Crestone. Failing my mom.”

  “You won’t.” Certainty filled her full up. William would succeed.

  He grinned. “I wish I had your rose-colored glasses.”

  Somehow, and she wasn’t quite sure how, they made it through the rest of the session. “What should we do now?” Lucy asked as they headed back to the cabin.

  “They’ve got a few groups going fishing. Or we can go hiking?” William suggested.

  “Fishing this morning, hiking this afternoon.”

  “Fishing involves water,” he replied.

  “No kidding?”

  “You okay being on the lake?”

  “It’s not like we’re going swimming. Besides, fear of water is ridiculous. You want to go fishing, and I really should face my fear. I promise not to freak, if you agree not to push.”

  “I can do that.”

  Last night’s barn freak-out was a prime example of how she’d been living her life. She wasn’t the same girl she’d once been. Of course she knew this. But sometimes, most times, she felt unworthy. When William had stepped back all her insecurities rose to the surface.

  Living a life always shrinking into the sidelines was no life to live. Somebody had probably said that once. If not, they should have.

  On her quest to be a new woman, she would start her journey by conquering the depths of Twin Lakes. It couldn’t be that bad. Not too awful. It’s not like people drowned frequently.

  Except when they did.

  No, she would slay her demons starting today. First, water, and then, well…she’d see what happened.

  She continued to the cabin while William set out to deal with the rental situation and ask some strategic questions there. She gave herself a pep talk while she re-set the cameras in the room. Her phone rang. Katie’s name appeared on the display.

  “Hey,” Lucy answered.

  “You haven’t returned my calls,” Katie accused.

  “Things have happened. Lots of things. I’m in the mountains. An exposé at a resort…” Lucy paused and bit at her lower lip. She decided to go all in. “With William.”

  “You’re what?” Katie’s screech could’ve burst a thousand eardrums.

  Lucy cringed.

  While Lucy told her nearly everything, Katie remained silent, listening. When Lucy finished, her friend took a deep breath before speaking. “Do you remember the first time you told me about him?”

  Of course she did. That conversation had occurred a year after the whole Florida thing. “I remember,” she replied.

  “Then you’ll remember telling me about his trail of women. I remember the tears you cried over a douchebag guy without a clue. Am I the only one who remembers this? Geez, Lulu, you weren’t even a couple, and he broke your heart. He’ll do it again, and from everything you’ve said, this time will be worse.”

  Katie had a point.

  Lucy sat cross-legged on the bed. “Things are different. He grew up. I grew up.”

  “You also changed your appearance. Now he’s all about getting into your pants? As your friend, I don’t like that at all.”

  Lucy pressed a pillow against her chest.

  “This guy. This whole situation is messy. He’s a colleague. You and I both know it can’t go further.”

  A colleague? Sheesh, it was so much more complicated because he was about to become her boss. Lucy had promised William she wouldn’t say a word about his real relationship with Crestone, so she kept that tidbit to herself.

  “I’m afraid it’s already gone past the colleague thing. He kissed me.”

  The kiss to end all kisses.

  “Holy hell, Lulu. Did you kiss him back?”

  “Um…yes?”

  “Lulu!” Katie shrieked. Lucy held the phone away from her ear, catching only snippets of Katie’s fuming objections.

  “Could you calm down? It only happened the one time.”

  The line was silent for a moment before Katie spoke. “People don’t change,” she said carefully. “I get that you’re confused, but with a guy like him, you’ve got to be straight. Tell him you’re flattered, but he’s not your type. Clean break.”

  “Katie, if I had a type, he’d be it.”

  Unfortunately.

  It’s not like Lucy never dated. She did. But after she put in the blood, sweat, and tears to transform herself, the guys who asked her out started to change…and not always for the better. Dating had never led to much because it wasn’t worth it to open herself up to anyone.

  But, as Katie pointed out, William had hurt her once. Her friend was right. This couldn’t go further. “I’ll talk to him,” Lucy promised.

  Katie went in for the kill. “William is a right-now kind of guy. He’s not about the future, but he is about the past. Don’t go back, Lulu. Don’t do that to yourself. You’ve done too much to change and put that girl behind you.”

  Crap, but she was right. They ended the conversation. Lucy flopped on the bed and flung her arm over her face.

  She pushed herself up when William trudged through the door and dropped an armful of tackle gear by the bed.

  “The cameras are set.
Did you get a boat?” She twisted her hair up and pinned it in place.

  “Uh-huh. It’s ready.” He didn’t glance up as he separated two tackle boxes and sorted hooks.

  Sheesh. How much stuff did it take to catch a fish?

  He finally glanced at her, and his eyebrows shot up. Perhaps she should have evaluated her fishing attire more carefully before settling on the green bikini top and cut-off shorts. His eyes flamed. The way he stared did not bode well—like she was the catch of the day, and he had her on his hook.

  “This one’s yours.” He held up one of the fishing poles and handed it to her. His hand brushed hers briefly when she took it. One tiny brush of his fingertips and her body went wired. This had to stop.

  “Nervous about the boat?” he asked.

  “Maybe.” She inspected the pole and turned the reel thing. Then she clicked a button to release the tension. Easy enough.

  “How nervous?”

  She glanced up at him. “A little.”

  “How much is a little?” he asked as though she meant more to him than only a producer.

  “Less than a lot,” she replied.

  “Lucy.” His expression turned serious. “We’ll catch some fish. You’ll conquer your fear.”

  Uncertain, she nodded. “I haven’t been on a boat in over a decade.”

  The anxiety she was experiencing at the moment didn’t paralyze her, so she had definitely made progress. Yes, a fishing trip to the lake was a step toward her future, a move she found herself ready to make.

  “We don’t have to do this.”

  Why did he have to be so nice? Couldn’t he be a little bit of a jerk so it’d be easier to stay away?

  “I want to.” She did. Really, she did. This whole excursion illustrated her commitment to forward momentum. She smiled tentatively.

  He reached out to her and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before the damn dimples dented into his cheeks.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cameras set, cabin secured, Lucy and William evacuated to the lake like the normal honeymooners they were not.

  The fish weren’t biting at Twin Lakes, but Lucy had gotten into a boat and hadn’t had a panic attack. That was huge.

  The last time she’d been on a boat was at her tenth birthday party. Her father had rented a large yacht for the day. It would be a year before her parents started the on-again, off-again nonsense that had punctuated her adolescence.

  Lucy was a fourth grader wearing the clothes of a middle schooler. The other kids were cruel. They called her “Fat Caterpillar” because, to start, she was large. More than that, though, her thick eyebrows looked a little like caterpillars. Her mother refused to let her tweeze them into submission. Brooke Shields and Audrey Hepburn had eyebrows like Lucy’s—that’s what her mother insisted. Lucy would bet a tub of hot wax that Brooke and Audrey never got called Caterpillar because of them.

  Lucy hated everything. The eyebrows. Her size. The nickname.

  But nothing could mar her birthday because she wore a gorgeous dress and, for once, the world revolved around her. As the children arrived with armloads of gifts, she could feel, absolutely feel, her luck change.

  The birthday song was sung, cake distributed, and Lucy sat at the head of the table with Italian buttercream icing smudged on her lips, her feet swinging. The chaperones disappeared to do whatever it was adults did. To her left sat Robbie McFarland with freckles and light brown hair.

  He scarfed his own slice of cake.

  Then he ruined everything.

  “Caterpillar, don’t you think you’ve had enough? You’ll be even bigger if you keep eating,” he taunted.

  Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. Tears stung her eyes.

  At the end of the day, as the kids disembarked on the pier, her parents packed up all the party things. Robbie and his crew of boys waited for their parents. Her mother insisted Lucy stay with them, as a good hostess should.

  “Caterpillar, climb down that ladder. Betcha can’t touch the water.” Mischief clouded Evan Powell’s eyes when he spoke.

  “Can, too,” she replied.

  “Let’s see it then,” he challenged.

  Lucy gripped the pier and, still in her party dress, climbed down the four rungs to the edge of the water.

  “Dip your toe in,” Even commanded.

  Lucy dipped the edge of her ballet flat to the surface of the ocean. Then she moved her foot back to the rung, but it snagged the hem of her skirt. Holding on with one arm, she moved her other hand to push the fabric away. Her foot slipped, and she fell backward into the salty darkness. She kicked to the surface, but her leg tangled in some wire and she couldn’t reach.

  The water overwhelmed her. Her lungs burned as she held her breath for what felt like forever.

  One of the workers on the dock pulled her free. Her parents were livid. The ruined dress clung to her while her father ranted.

  “Stupid Fat Caterpillar,” Evan had murmured as he walked away.

  Stupid Fat Caterpillar reverberated through time and burst into the present, encroaching on this latest excursion.

  Lucy’s reflection from Twin Lakes reassured her the hair and the weight were long gone. The emotional scars? They remained.

  Her stomach pitched a little when the wave from a speedboat rocked the small canoe she shared with William.

  The muscles in his arms working as he rowed were the highlight of the trip. Her massive neon orange life jacket suffocated her skin, and the dang thing chafed. A lot.

  Universal fit. Not even.

  Finally, she’d had enough of the thing. She unlatched the clasp and tugged the keyhole opening over her head, breathing a sigh of relief as cool air hit the sweaty skin trapped under the polyester-covered foam.

  Heaven.

  William sat at one end of the boat, his legs sprawled while he twitched his rod every so often. Lucy stayed at the other end, ignoring her line completely.

  “Does anyone actually enjoy this?” she asked.

  He glanced from the lake to her. “It’s peaceful. Don’t think. Relax.”

  That’s what he’d said at the barn dance, too. That didn’t end so well.

  “I can’t relax,” she muttered.

  “What’s on your mind then?” He set his fishing pole against his leg and focused on her. “How are you liking Confluence?”

  “It’s okay.” She shrugged. “You know how it is in this business. Don’t get too comfortable anywhere because the next opportunity is always going to move you away.”

  “You’re not staying in Confluence?” he asked seriously.

  “Not forever.” She shook her head. Broadcast journalism was an inherently fickle industry. He had been in the business long enough to know how things worked at this level.

  He scowled, rummaging through the tackle box near his feet. “I don’t know why everyone wants to leave Confluence. You’re an excellent producer, and Parker’s happy with the way you’re handling the assignment editing. Maybe you should consider sticking around. You could easily make news director in a year.”

  No. Confluence was her opportunity to be in front of the camera, not commit to a career behind it.

  “What’s your end game then?” He twitched his rod again.

  For the briefest of moments, she had forgotten she talked to an exceptional reporter with a specialty for digging out information. She didn’t want to share more than absolutely necessary so she dodged his question with one of her own. “Why do you do that? The twitching-your-rod thing.”

  The edges of his lips tugged up. “Twitching my rod?”

  “Yeah, the whole jiggling your pole bit.”

  His shoulders began to shake with laughter. “Jiggling my pole?”

  “Oh my God, seriously, Will?”

  He began chuckling uncontrollably. “Have you ever seen a man’s rod? Every time we talk about mine, your cheeks turn red.”

  He could not be for real.

  “For your information, yes, I’ve seen
one,” she huffed. “Tons of them.”

  He laughed so hard he held his side. “Tons, huh?”

  The blood rushed to her ears. “I’ve seen…enough. I don’t need to see yours, and could we please stop talking about it?”

  He pulled himself together. “You’re the best wife ever, Lucy. I want you to know that. I haven’t laughed this hard since I was a kid.”

  “Best pretend wife. Seriously, though, what’s with the flicking thing?”

  “Well, Luce, I flick my thing so the fish will think the worm is alive. Try it.”

  She mimicked what he did. Nothing happened. The story of this fishing trip was summed up in those two words—nothing happened.

  Light played across the ripples of the water, and the boat swayed slightly. They’d been drifting for a while when the tip of her fishing rod jerked. She held tight to the pole and glanced at him. He saw it, too, and moved carefully toward her.

  “Put a little pressure on it,” he said quietly.

  She tugged. The line tightened.

  William beamed, pride radiating from his eyes. “Set the hook and reel him in.”

  She swung the rod up like he’d shown her before. Um. The line really strained now, and whatever was under the water wrenched harder. It took everything in her not to drop the stupid thing.

  “Crank the reel,” he yelled.

  “You do it.” She tried to hand off the pole.

  “Your catch. You reel.” He grinned confidently toward her. “You’ve got this.”

  She turned the knob thingy frantically. The tight line stiffened further as the pole bent to the pressure. She turned more. The line ended when a massive fish broke the surface of the water. She shrieked, flinging the pole to William. The fish sailed through the air and landed in her lap. She jumped, pushing it off, her mouth open in a silent scream while it flipped and flopped maniacally in front of her. William yelled something she didn’t grasp. She leaped back to get away from the flailing fish and lost her balance. The boat rocked.