Honey and the Hitman

by Hannah Murray

  Ethan put his tools in the truck and turned back. “He didn’t.”

  “He tried. Even my ma can’t rein him in, and she’s usually the hammer.”

  Even as he chuckled, Ethan felt a little tug of envy. “It’s nice he’s so into it.”

  “Yeah.” David’s face softened. “Yeah, it is. But Abby’s going to throw a fit if he tries to set up a batting cage in the backyard again.”

  Ethan barked out a laugh and clapped him on the back. “You’ve got your hands full.”

  “Yeah, and I better get home to deal with it.”

  “I’ll see you there,” Ethan promised and climbed in the truck.

  The drive home was uneventful, as usual, and Aunt Winnie’s VW Bug was in the drive when he pulled in. He made sure to park next to her instead of behind so he wouldn’t block her in and headed into the house.

  “That you, Ethan?”

  “Who else would it be?” Ethan called back and bent to unlace his boots.

  “Well, it could be George Clooney, come to take me away from all this.”

  He set his boots in the front closet with a snort. “Sorry, it’s just me.”

  “You’re early.”

  Ethan heard her coming in but didn’t bother to look up as he peeled off his socks. He wiggled his toes in relief. “Got to a good stopping point, so Jacob called it early.”

  He straightened and turned, socks in hand, and his face broke into a boyish grin. “I see you have company.”

  Winnie lifted a brow and laid her hand on Milo’s head. “My boyfriend here comes over from time to time to keep me company when Honey’s got other plans.”

  Ethan was already hunkered down, setting his socks aside as Milo came lumbering over to say hello. “Hey, buddy.”

  Winnie planted her hands on her hips as man and dog exchanged greetings. “I didn’t know you and Milo knew each other.”

  “Sure.” Ethan dug his fingers behind Milos’s ears and scratched hard the way he knew the dog liked. The resulting canine rumbles of pleasure made him grin. “We met one day when I found him lying on the porch under the swing.”

  “That’s one of his spots,” Winnie informed him. “My porch, Alice Carver’s back deck, under the evergreens over at the Randall place.”

  “You’ve just got the run of the neighborhood, don’t you, bud?” With a last, lingering stroke, Ethan pushed to his feet. His brows rose as he got a good look at his aunt. “Well, don’t you look fancy?”

  Winnie smirked as she fluffed at her hair. “Got myself done up, makeup too.”

  “I see that. Any special reason?”

  “Jacob’s taking me out to dinner. It’s our anniversary.”

  “Yeah? How long you guys been dating?”

  “About a year and a half.”

  “About?” Ethan tilted his head. “Most people remember exact dates, especially if they’re calling it an anniversary.”

  “Different anniversary,” she told him and laughed like a loon when he flushed red.

  He waved both of his hands over his head, as though he could dispel the idea. “I don’t want to know. I’m just here to get a shower, then I’m headed back out.”

  “Well, well, well.” Winnie patted Milo’s head when he came trotting back to her. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a date, I just may faint from the shock.”

  “No date,” he told her. “Just a backyard cookout with some guys from the crew.”

  “At David’s house? I hear Abby’s going stir crazy having to sit with her feet up all day.”

  Ethan shook his head. “Do you know everything?”

  “Small towns, my boy. Small towns. Well, it’s nice you’re going out. It’ll be good for you, and I won’t have to worry you don’t have anything to eat.”

  “I could order a pizza, you know.”

  “And that’s just what I was going to suggest,” she told him with a wink. “Now I don’t have to. You’re taking something over to David’s. Don’t give me that look. If someone goes to the trouble to open their home to you, the least you can do is contribute to the meal.”

  He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he headed past her to the stairs, but it was a near thing. “I told him I’d pick up some beer.”

  She nodded. “That’ll be fine. There’s a case of my homemade down in the cellar. You can take that.”

  He froze with his foot on the bottom step to pin her with a look. “You told me we were out.”

  “I lied,” she said and laughed when his jaw dropped.

  She turned to walk back to the kitchen. “You wear something nice,” she called back. “And put on some aftershave.”

  “It’s a backyard cookout, for God’s sake,” he grumbled, and still irked about the beer, jogged up the steps.

  He let the body jets pound the tension out of his muscles and made a mental note to tell Jacob once again what a work of art that shower was. Out of the shower, he slung a towel around his hips and took a moment to smooth some aloe over his damp shoulders. After the first few days, he’d mostly remembered to apply sunscreen when he took his shirt off on the job, but he still forgot occasionally, and his shoulders held just a tinge of pink. Letting the sticky gel dry, he ran his fingers through his hair—longer now and curling just a bit over the tops of his ears—and called it good.

  He eyed the razor on the edge of the sink. He hadn’t picked it up since the day he’d arrived, and as a result, his jaw was no longer trendily stubbled but sported a full, dark beard. He rubbed a hand over it, considering. He didn’t mind it, though it could probably use a trim. He was starting to look a bit shaggy. He considered just shaving it off, and just as quickly rejected it. Considering the amount of sun he’d gotten in the last three weeks, if he took it off the lower half of his face would be a different color than the rest of him, and while he didn’t care much about his looks, he didn’t want to look ridiculous if he could help it.

  Digging through his toiletry bag, he found a small sample size bottle of beard oil. It had been part of the complimentary toiletries provided at a hotel in Dallas, he recalled, when he’d been in town for work—a local drug kingpin who’d wreaked havoc on a close-knit community, its schools and playgrounds, until it was no longer the kind of neighborhood where parents were comfortable letting their kids play outside alone. The kingpin had gone missing on a business trip and was missed by no one.

  He frowned as he shook a few drops of the oil into his hand, then rubbed his palms together and smoothed it through his beard. He’d been so caught up in his new routine of hammering nails and hauling toilets that it startled him a little to think of his old one. Researching targets, planning hits, laundering his money so it appeared to come from legitimate sources. The constant travel between the apartment he kept in Philadelphia, which had been more of a place to get his mail than a home, and wherever the next job took him.

  He didn’t miss it, he realized, and grinned at his reflection. He didn’t miss it at all.

  With a final stroke of his hands through the beard, he considered his grooming complete. He tossed the towel over the top of the shower door to dry and padded naked into the bedroom. Aunt Winnie had come up while he was in the shower, leaving a basket full of laundry, clean and folded on the bed. He shook his head. He’d told her time and again that she didn’t have to do it, but she seemed to take sincere and odd pleasure in doing his laundry. And since he couldn’t fault the execution, or how nice it was not to run out of clean underwear, his protests were more for form than anything else.

  He dug out a pair of grey boxer briefs and a clean pair of jeans and tugged them on before reaching for a t-shirt. He paused, his hand on a plain white one, as he recalled Aunt Winnie’s directive to ‘wear something nice and put on some aftershave.’ He couldn’t oblige her with the aftershave since he didn’t own any, but he could do better than a white t-shirt.

  He crossed to the closet and stood buttoning the fly on his jeans as he considered his options. It was too hot for long sleeves, so he sett
led on a short-sleeved Henley with a y-neck. He liked the strong and vibrant blue, a brighter color than he would normally wear, and knew the knit fabric was light enough to keep him comfortable in the heat. He tugged it over his head, and contemplating the issue of footwear, sincerely considered going barefoot. His boots were the first thing to go when he left the job site, and the idea of shoving his feet back into them, or other, equally constrictive footwear, was rejected soundly. He’d make do with his beach flip flops, he decided and trusted they wouldn’t be out of place in a backyard cookout.

  Dressed, he made his way back downstairs and headed straight to the basement to retrieve the case of beer. When he brought it back up, he found Winnie just coming down the stairs, fastening her earrings.

  He gave a low whistle that made her laugh. She twirled in a circle that made the full skirt of her dress flare out. “What do you think?”

  “I think Jacob’s going to swallow his tongue,” he replied. The full-skirted sundress in peony pink left strong shoulders bare and set off the warm glow of her summer tan. She’d painted her lips the same deep pink, and the pearls circling her throat and dangling from her ears added just a touch of elegance.

  On her feet were high-heeled sandals that showed off toes painted the same bright pink as her lips. “Wow. Some shoes.”

  “You like? They’re new.” She turned her foot this way and that, tilting her head to judge the effect. “I thought they made my feet look sexy.”

  The wince was automatic. “I don’t want to think about it.”

  She shot him a look that was both exasperated and amused. “You’re such a prude, Ethan.”

  He had nothing to say to that and decided to get out before she made him blush. He hefted the case of beer, shifting it to the side so he could plant a smacking kiss on her cheek. “I’m heading out.”

  “Have fun,” she told him. “You make sure you get a ride home if you drink too much.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “Take it easy on Jacob with those sexy feet.”

  “If you get home and there’s a dishtowel on the doorknob, you can just sleep in the truck,” she told him, and her laughter followed him out of the house.

  He stashed the beer in the passenger seat of his convertible, securing it in place with the seatbelt, then climbed behind the wheel. He put the top down and slipped on his sunglasses before putting the car into gear and heading for Dover street.

  He took the long way around, enjoying the wind in his hair and the muscled purr of the engine. Winnie’s old Chevy was much more practical for work, and he didn’t mind driving it, but he’d missed the sports car. Sitting low to the ground, hugging the turns, the throaty hum of the engine, and the joys of a convertible in summer could not be overstated.

  He took his time winding through town, and by the time he’d arrived at the tidy little two-story brick house on Dover, he was feeling relaxed and ready for a beer. He kept the sunglasses on, lifted the case of beer onto his shoulder, and followed the sounds of laughter and music around to the backyard.

  And walked straight into Honey.

  Chapter Seven

  She let out a little squeak and stumbled back. “God!” Brown eyes wide, blonde hair tousled, she stared at him, one hand pressed to her chest.

  He’d grabbed her with the hand that wasn’t full of beer, his fingers closing on her upper arm to keep her steady when it looked like she’d lose her footing. Soft skin covered the surprisingly firm muscle under his hand, warmed from the sun. A blush stained her cheeks, and he wondered if the tremor he could feel running through her was due to the startle he’d given her or something else. He could smell her, something warm and spicy and female, the scent rising from her skin and weaving through his senses. He saw her eyes go even wider, then darken, as drawn in by scent and feel, he leaned in.

  Then he gave himself a mental kick in the ass and let her go. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Her breath rushed out. “You just startled me, that’s all.

  He nodded and tried not to notice the awareness still darkening her eyes, the flush on her cheeks. “What’re you doing here?”

  Now her eyes went cool and flat. “I was invited.”

  “I didn’t know you knew David.”

  “I worked with Abby on a fundraiser last year for the community center, and I know his mom. She teaches English at the middle school.”

  He ignored the trickle of regret that wanted to settle in his gut at the formal crispness of her tone. “Nice. I haven’t met Abby yet. David’s crazy about her.”

  “Yes, he is.” Her eyes softened ever so slightly. “They’re crazy about each other.”

  He just nodded again. “Okay to go on back?”

  She blinked. “I’m sure it’s fine. I’m just…I have to get something out of my car.”

  That trickle of regret wanted to turn to a flood as she edged to the side and walked past him, careful not to brush against him as she went. He ignored his better instincts and watched her go, all long legs in tidy blue shorts and a white sleeveless shirt, the lush grass playing peekaboo with bare toes painted a bright, candy red.

  Sexy feet, he thought, and mentally kicked his own ass again as he turned to go into the back yard.

  Seth spotted him as he rounded the corner, a genial grin on his boyishly handsome face. “You made it! Awesome. Want some help with that?”

  Ethan shifted the case of beer off his shoulder and handed it off to Seth. “Thanks. Jesus, is the whole town here?”

  Seth grunted under the weight of the beer. “Looks like it, huh? Abby’s friends with damn near everybody, and David’s related to everyone else. Come on, let’s get this on ice and I’ll introduce you around.”

  Seth led the way to a corner of the deck where an old metal tub sat full of ice and drinks. He set down the case of beer and started pulling them out, tucking them one by one into the tub. Ethan bent down to help, then moved back quickly when a pretty, sloe-eyed brunette walked up to Seth and punched him in the shoulder. “That,” she informed him in a voice that made Ethan think of magnolias and verandas, “is for leaving me alone with your mother.”

  “Jeez.” Scowling, Seth stood, rubbing his shoulder. “What’s the deal? You like my mother.”

  “I don’t like her when she’s trying to convince me to wear her wedding gown.” The brunette blew her bangs out of her eyes and pinned Seth with a look that Ethan figured was making the other man’s balls shrivel. He felt a twinge in his own, and that killer glare wasn’t aimed at him.

  Seth winced and hung his head contritely, though Ethan saw the gleam of humor in his eyes before he lowered them. “Sorry, babe. I had to help Ethan with the beer.”

  “Humph.” The brunette shifted her attention to Ethan, and even as he steeled himself for the ball shriveling glare, she smiled at him. “Well, Ethan. It’s about time you came around so we could get a look at you.”

  Seth chimed in, apparently eager to redirect her attention. “Ethan, this is my girl, Sadie. Sadie, Ethan Sullivan.”

  “You’re a handsome one, aren’t you?” she said with the flirtatious lilt that only southern women seem to be able to pull off. Her eyes, a bold and vibrant green, looked him over head to toe in such a blatantly assessing manner he couldn’t help but grin. “And there is a lot of you.”

  “Good to meet you, Sadie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Her dark brows winged upward, and she slid a speculative glance at Seth. “All good, I hope.”

  “Mostly, anyway.” Ethan’s grin widened as Seth’s eyes flared in alarm.

  “Is that right?” She hooked her arm through his as she shot her fiancé a piqued look before beaming up at Ethan. “Why don’t you come on with me, and we’ll get you something to eat while you tell me just what it is you’ve heard.”

  Ethan took one last look at Seth’s pale and panicked face as she led him away.

  “Now then,” Sadie said as she led him to the other side of the deck where a middle-aged man with thinning ha
ir and a comfortable paunch stood draped in a bright red apron. He faced the grill with a spatula in one hand and barbeque tongs in the other. “We’ve got burgers, hot dogs, some skinless, boneless chicken breasts for the health-conscious and some baby back ribs for anybody who doesn’t mind getting messy. What’s your pleasure?”

  He’d been planning on a burger, but he could get a burger anytime. “You had me at ribs,” he told her, and she laughed.

  “Ribs it is. D.S., I brought you a hungry man.”

  The man at the grill smiled, cheer radiating from him like a sunbeam. “Well, step right up. What can I get you, young man?”

  “The ribs smell amazing.”

  “They taste even better.”

  “D.S., this is Ethan. He’s the one’s been working with David and Seth this summer. Ethan, this is David’s daddy, David Senior. We all call him D.S. for short, to cut down on the confusion.”

  “My wife told me if I wanted the boy to have my name, I was going to have to stomach being called something else because she wasn’t going to shout for one of us and have the other answer.”

  Ethan had to grin as D.S. shook his hand. “Sounds like a sensible woman.”

  “She thought I’d hate the idea, and she’d get to name him Cameron.” D.S. winked. “Showed her. She’s still trying to get back at me, thirty years later.”

  “How’s she doing with that?”

  “So far the score is sixty-five to sixty-four in my favor, but it could change anytime.” D.S. grabbed a thick paper plate and loaded it up with ribs, slathered them with sauce, and added an ear of corn that dripped with butter. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  Sadie led him over to a trio of folding tables that had been set up on the lawn. Plastic tablecloths fluttered in the breeze, held in place by loaded down plates and bottles of beer. “Have a seat,” she told him. “I’ll snag you a beer.”

  He sat down, his mouth watering, then glanced up when David sat across from him.