Connection (Temptation Series Standalones Book 2)

by K. M. Golland

  Carly saying the L-word, let alone acknowledging it exists, is a big thing. My love-is-bullshit best friend is, indeed, in love—it’s written all over her lovestruck face—so I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her off easy by pretending it isn’t so.

  Pressing my fingertip to my chin, I try a different tactic. “He said it, didn’t he? God knows you wouldn’t.”

  “Yes! All right,” she concedes. “We both said it. So what?”

  I hug her then childishly pat her on the head. “Carly has finally become a grown-up. Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

  “Seriously, Lib,” she says, unsuccessfully trying not to smile, “is there anything I can help you with? I’m swamped.”

  Picking up my phone, I quickly scroll through my newsfeed. “Nope, I’m—” My words cut short when I notice a breaking news post about the penthouse at City Towers, where Alexis and Bryce live.

  “Nope, you’re what?”

  I don’t answer, instead reading that there’s been an explosion and one person is reported dead.

  “Lib!”

  I look up, eyes wide. “Y-You might want to see this. It’s breaking news. I don’t know how true it is, but—”

  She snatches the phone, the colour of her skin draining as she reads. “Oh my God!” Her other hand shoots up to cover her mouth. “Oh no! No, no, no.”

  Tears pool in her eyes, so I place my hand on her shoulder to keep her composed. “Calm down, honey. Let’s ring Alexis.”

  She nods, hands back my phone, then fumbles for her own, her finger trembling as she taps Alexis’s profile in her contacts list.

  Pressing the phone to her ear, she impatiently bounces her foot. “She’s not answering. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go there now.” She shoots up from her seat, grabs her keys, and heads for the door.

  “Carly!” I call out. “I’m coming with you.”

  After driving to the City Towers precinct and being informed by one of Bryce’s employees that he and Alexis are fine and that Alexis has been taken to the Alfred hospital for treatment of smoke inhalation and shock, we head there instead.

  “If Bryce and Alexis are okay, and the kids are staying with Rick this week, then who died?” Carly says as we take the front steps, two at a time, and enter the hospital through sliding glass doors.

  I scurry behind her, trying to keep up. “Maybe no one died. Maybe the media got it wrong.”

  “I hope s—” She turns a corner and slams into a guy. “Sorry, I— Oh, hi.” Carly smiles with relief when she realises it’s Will she slammed into. I almost smile too but remember I’m supposed to despise him, so I groan, feigning anger instead.

  Carly glares at me then mumbles like a seasoned ventriloquist, “What’s your problem?”

  I match her skill and utter, “Nothing.”

  “Hey, Jaws,” he says to Carly before his eyes land on mine and light up like a Christmas tree.

  Jaws is a weird nickname, and not one I’ve heard her called before, so my what the fuck? expression is genuine.

  “And nice to see you again, Labia.” His lip curls seductively, eyebrows waggling.

  Oh no he didn’t.

  My glare is genuine too.

  “You don’t happen to know what room Lex is in, do you?” Carly asks. “It’ll save me the trouble of asking.”

  “I know what room they’re both in.” Will licks his lips, eyes glued to my chest.

  My nipples tingle, and I can’t help but fiddle with my hair.

  He winks, so I inconspicuously grit my teeth and shake my head at him.

  Carly looks between us as if we’re hiding something, which clearly we are, so I panic a little to try to throw her off her scent.

  “Yes, these are breasts, Will,” I hiss, shoving my hands on my hips. “They are two protruding glands and their purpose is to secrete milk after childbirth.”

  He licks his damn lips again. “They have more purpose than that, sweetheart.”

  Oh my God, I want to kill him, but I also want to take off my bra and let him prove what he’s saying.

  My thighs tremble and my tummy tightens, so I cross my arms over my chest and heighten my glare. “You’re a pig!”

  “Wait a minute.” Carly holds up her hand. “You just said both, as in plural.”

  He diverts his gaze to her. “Yeah, Alexis and Derek.”

  “Derek!” she shrieks. “Derek’s here? Why is he here?”

  “Calm your farm, Carly,” he says, touching her shoulder. “He mustn’t have had time to call you yet.”

  “Where is he? What happened?”

  “He was one of the first responders on the scene. He’s just in for routine observation—mild smoke inhalation.”

  “W-what? What room?”

  “Level 3, room 11.”

  She starts for the elevator. “Lib, do you mind waiting down here?”

  I’m about to say no when Will drapes his arm over my shoulders, pulls me to his side, and says, “She’ll be fine. I’ll take good care of her.”

  I push him away as the elevator doors open and she disappears inside. “Labia?” I gripe, sucking on my tooth. “Really?”

  He bursts into laughter. “You wanted a performance, so I gave you one.”

  Huffing, I step up to his chest and throw my arms over his shoulders, breathing him in. “Are you okay? What happened? How’s Bryce and Derek? You must’ve been so worried.”

  He rests his forehead against mine, and I’m acutely aware that someone we know might see us. I just don’t care right now. He seems fragile, and I want to know he’s okay.

  “Gareth blew up the apartment.”

  I rear back. “Who’s Gareth?”

  “Bryce’s cousin.”

  “His cousin! But why? Why would he do that? And how…?”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t know. Apparently, he wanted to kill Alexis.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “He’s a creepy fuck. Always has been.”

  A shiver runs the length of my spine. “Was anyone else hurt? The news report said someone died.”

  “Yeah. Gareth did.”

  Resting my head on his chest, I squeeze him tight, glad he wasn’t there when this unfolded. “How awful for Bryce.”

  “Dude’s a mess. I’ve never seen him like this.” Will presses his lips to my head and inhales. “I’ve missed you.”

  I smile. “It’s only been four days.”

  “Four days too long.”

  Not wanting to—because he’s warm and comforting and smells like fresh trees and clean dirt—I pry myself off him and step back before someone sees us.

  “Don’t do that.” He tugs me to him again. “There’s no one here.”

  Pushing against his chest, I argue, “Carly could come back at any second.”

  “Let her.”

  “Will.” I sigh.

  “What?”

  “Now’s not the time to announce we’re together.”

  “Then when is? It’s been months.”

  “I don’t know. Soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “Just… soon.”

  Turning on my heel, I storm off, not knowing where I’m going. The only public places a hospital has is a gift shop and café, and I need neither so steer myself outside, warm summer air spiralling around me and sweeping my hair off my shoulders as I head down the steps.

  “Elizabeth, where are you going?”

  “To wait in my car.”

  He follows, and when I click my key fob to unlock the doors, he gets in and takes a seat. I’m reluctant, but I do the same, and we sit in silence for a moment before he drums a beat on my dashboard.

  I cover my face with my hands and grumble. “Argh! You’re so frustrating.”

  “Pot calling kettle black.”

  I give him an “oh really?” look, but he ignores it. “Why do you desperately want everyone to know we’re a couple? What is it to anyone but us?”

  “It’s everything, sweetheart.”

>   “No, it’s not.”

  “It is. It makes us accountable.”

  He’s right. I know he is. And I feel stupid for fighting it. But I don’t have a choice, at least for now.

  Turning to face him, I drop my hands to my lap.

  He doesn’t look my way, instead keeps drumming his fingers on the dash. “Why do you desperately want to keep us a secret?”

  “I don’t,” I choke out.

  “Doesn’t seem that way, Lib. Seems like you’re ashamed, or scared, or… I don’t fuckin’ know.”

  The corners of my mouth rise a little at hearing him call me Lib. So casual. So comfortable. He’s always said Elizabeth or sweetheart, or Labia.

  Reaching out, I hold his hands still. “We can’t make us official until you know the real me.”

  His eyes finally meet mine. “The real you? What are you talking about?”

  “There’s so much you don’t know about me. Stuff you may not like, and stuff I don’t want you to know, because it might scare you away.”

  “What do you mean ‘scare me away’? Nothing about you will scare me away.”

  “You don’t know that, and that’s why I don’t want to change what we’ve got going on right now.”

  He lifts his hand to the nape of his neck and narrows his eyes at me. “Let me get this straight. You don’t want to move forward, and you don’t want to go back.”

  “Yes. No.” I huff. “Kinda.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Will throws his body against the seat and scrubs his face with his hands.

  “No, it’s not. It’s logical.”

  “Fuck logical, Elizabeth.”

  “Will, please—”

  “Tell me what you’re hiding.”

  “I… I can’t,” I plead. “Not yet. Please just give me more time.”

  Drawing in a deep breath through his nostrils, he then puffs it out, opens the passenger side door, and gets out.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to work.”

  “Will!”

  “Call me when you want to show me the ‘real’ you. I’ll be waiting and ready.”

  He closes the door and walks away, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping his hair. My shoulders slump, and tears pool in my eyes. And for the first time in a very long time, I hate the cards I’ve been dealt.

  Damn it!

  Chapter Sixteen

  I don’t see him for a couple of weeks, and it’s as if a part of me died. I miss him, like a kick-to-the-stomach miss him. Painful, lonely, almost debilitating. I miss his eyes and his lips, and the way his beard tickles my neck when we cuddle in front of the TV. I miss Molly and Casper, Princess Fiona, Shrek, and the fish. I even miss Romeo and Juliet, although I miss them the least. I miss the way he consumes all the space in a room but never lets you feel crowded, and how he tastes when we kiss goodnight. But most of all, I miss the sound of his voice and how his hand feels holding mine.

  He’s my Prince Charming, and I want my fairy tale back.

  “So how many fucklets are going to be at this birthday party?” Carly asks as Derek pulls his truck into Albert Park.

  It’s Lucy’s son, Alexander’s, first birthday party, and Bryce has thrown a big shindig for his nephew. Massive marquee, jumping castles, ball pits, and slides. Anyone who is anyone is going to be there, except for Will.

  When Carly begged me to attend with her, she mentioned Will had a family thing on, thinking him being there might deter me in saying yes. Unbeknown to her, it wouldn’t have, because I want to see him. I need to see him.

  His absence has made me realise I’m ready to show him the real me, consequences be dammed. He’s either going to embrace it, which terrifies me, or run for the hills, which will shatter my heart. Either way, he deserves to know what truly being with me entails.

  “You can’t call children fucklets,” I say as I unlatch my seatbelt.

  “I can. And they are.” She does the same, and we all get out of the car.

  The sun instantly scalds my freckled, sun-hating skin, so I hurry along, grateful the marquee is enclosed and air-conditioned. I’m wearing navy linen shorts, a white cami, and sandals, and my hair has grown so much I can now fit all of it into a decent ponytail.

  As we step inside the marquee, a man dressed as a train conductor hands us a lollypop. I hold my hand up and decline, as does Derek, but Carly snatches all three. I roll my eyes and shake my head at her. She’s either going to be the best or worst mother one day, and I honestly can’t wait.

  Glancing around the makeshift play centre and the never-ending stream of parents and kids, my heart squeezes a little. The giggling, the squealing, the innocence—it’s all music to my ears.

  “I stuck,” a little girl cries out as she tries to pedal her trike between two gym mats.

  “Hang on a second, sweetie.” I rush over, squat down, and set her free, smiling when she says, “Fank you” before pedalling off.

  “I would’ve left her there,” Carly mumbles.

  She helps me up but then laughs because she’s joking. At least I think she’s joking.

  “You would not—”

  “Yo.”

  I startle at the sound of Will’s voice, heat crawling over my skin like a colony of fire ants as he steps up beside us, beer in hand, a lazy grin on his face. He’s wearing a black polo shirt—collar up—grey shorts, and sunglasses on his head. He looks neat but delectably rugged all at once, and I have to bite my lip to prevent myself from biting him.

  “And if it isn’t my favourite redheaded walking vagina.” Mischief crinkles his eyes as he lifts my hand and kisses the back of it, and I don’t know what to do or say, because I’ve missed his lips and what he does with them.

  Desperate to caress his cheek, I swallow, my fingers stiff. But when he winks and lets my hand go, his eyes tell me our ruse is still in full swing, that’s he’s giving me the time I asked for, even though I don’t want it anymore.

  Blinking, I switch on my inner actress and scrunch my nose before wiping the back of my hand down the front of his top. One last performance, then it’s out with the truth.

  “Carly, a word. Now!”

  She practically shrivels on the spot, and so she should. She lied, on purpose. And now I have to pretend to be mad.

  I pivot and head for an empty table in one of the corners of the marquee, Carly following behind. And when we’re out of everyone’s earshot, I blast her with my icy damnation.

  “You little liar! You said he wasn’t coming. This is a new low, even for you.”

  “Don’t get your labia in a knot.” She sticks her tongue out and clamps it between her teeth.

  I point to my face. “I’m not laughing. Is my face laughing?”

  “No, but then again, it doesn’t laugh often. You need to laugh more, starting with now. Laugh, this really is quite funny,” she goads.

  I agree; it is funny, but not for the reasons she thinks.

  “Oh, I’ll be laughing,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her. “Mark my words. I’ll be laughing like a hyena when I get my revenge.”

  She takes a seat and stares at Derek as he talks with Lucy, Will, and some other people, Alexander desperately trying to lunge out of a woman’s arms and into Derek’s.

  “I don’t like hyenas,” she says solemnly. “They’re ugly-looking, kind of like the by-product of a dog and clown.”

  I sink into the seat next to her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Am I forgiven already?”

  “No. Your time will come. In the meantime, tell me why you look so deflated and no longer want to be here.”

  She nods toward Lucy. “I don’t trust her.”

  “Why? I thought the two of you got along well.”

  “We do. She’s lovely. I just don’t trust her.”

  “There’s got to be a reason why, Carls.”

  “Not really.” She shrugs. “I just feel as if I’m missing something. Call it a sixth sense.”
r />   “What could you be missing?”

  “I think Lucy and Derek dated before she turned lezzie. They have a history. That much is obvious.”

  “So? History is the operative word here. In the past. Yesteryear.”

  Carly looks down at her fingers and fiddles with her aunt’s ring, twisting it back and forth. “I get that. I just don’t think it’s entirely in the past.”

  I rest my chin on my hand. “What makes you say that?”

  “God, I don’t know,” she snaps.

  “Hey! I’m just trying to help.” I push up from the table. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want one?”

  She recoils and gives me a sorry face. “No.”

  “Fairy bread?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Smiling, I know what she’ll like, because she’s a sucker for all things mini. “I saw some mini-pizzas and hot dogs. How ‘bout those?”

  Her pout morphs into a grin. “You had me at mini.”

  “Thought as much. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I make my way toward the buffet at the opposite corner of the marquee and am about to get our drinks when a hand slides onto my hip.

  “Don’t hate me, sweetheart,” Will murmurs into my ear.

  The hairs on the back of my neck dance, and I momentarily close my eyes. “I don’t,” I breath out.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for walking away from you that day. I’m sorry for not ringing, and I’m sorry for calling you a redheaded walking vagina.”

  Laughter bursts from my chest. “Yes, well, you’re not forgiven for that.”

  “But I’m forgiven for everything else?”

  “Yes, of course.” I turn into him. “It’s me who needs to ask you for forgiveness.”

  Will rears back a little, brows pinched.

  “No, I do. I’m sorry for holding us back. I’m sorry for not being completely honest with you, and I’m sorry for not trusting you with the real me.”

  He cups my cheek. “Lib—”

  “Don’t touch me!” Carly shouts.

  We snap our heads to where she’s standing a few metres away.

  “Don’t ever touch me again.” She wrenches her arm from Derek and storms past us on her way out of the marquee.

  “Carly!” I call after her just as Derek stops next to us.