Honey and the Hitman

by Hannah Murray

  “Nice.” Sadie reached over to tap her glass against Abby’s.

  “Yeah, except we can’t have sex for another month.” Abby scowled and drained her wine glass, then reached for the bottle.

  Sadie’s eyes were twinkling with amusement as she glanced back at Honey. “You were saying?”

  Honey shrugged. “Just that other than after that first time, when we agreed there should be more times, we haven’t really talked about it. He’s not much of a talker.”

  “I guess that’s true,” Abby said slowly. “I mean, he talks. Has conversations, asks questions, makes jokes. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about himself.”

  “You guys haven’t done the ghosts of relationships past?”

  “The what?”

  “You know.” Sadie huffed a breath when Honey just looked at her blankly. “It’s when you talk about your past relationships, why they didn’t work, the issues that caused you to break up. That stuff.”

  Honey just stared at her. “I’ve never done that. With anyone.”

  “Really?” Sadie blinked, then turned to look at Abby. “You?”

  Abby slathered brie on a chunk of bread and began to nibble. “Not once.”

  “Huh. Maybe it’s just me, then.” She shrugged and picked up her wine. “You’ve talked about yourselves, though, right?”

  “I guess.” Thoughtfully, she sipped her wine. “Although now that I think about it, most of the stuff I know about him? Just sort of came up. Like, he didn’t tell me that he hates pineapple on pizza, but I found out when I ordered it one night, and he wouldn’t go near it.”

  “Who doesn’t like pineapple on pizza?” Abby wondered.

  “Does he ever talk about his work, what he used to do before?”

  Honey shook her head at Sadie. “No.”

  “Never?”

  “No. But he stopped doing it because he hated it, so why would he talk about it?”

  “I stopped working at Dairy Queen in the tenth grade because I hated it, but you can bet your ass I talked about it.”

  Abby raised a hand. “I’ll vouch for that.”

  “See?” Sadie reached for the bottle to top off her champagne. “I think it’s weird that he never talks about his life before moving here.”

  “He does. Sure, he does.” Honey frowned. “You know, I had a point before this went off the rails.”

  “Oh, right. You said you put your foot in it today.”

  “Yes!” Honey pointed at Abby. “Thank you. I put my foot in it because I made some offhand comment about how if I wasn’t so busy with the lead up to school, I could go with him to New York. But we’ve never talked about the kind of relationship we’re having, so all of a sudden I was acting like a girlfriend, and I don’t even know if I am his girlfriend.”

  “Ouch.” Sadie winced. “What’d he say?”

  “That if it weren’t a business trip, he’d take me with him in a heartbeat.”

  “Well, that sounds okay,” Sadie said, brightening.

  “Then he said we needed to make time to talk.”

  Sadie winced again. “Damn.”

  “He laughed when I told him he can’t say stuff like that and said he knew. All smug and male, like he knew he was winding me up and he likes it.”

  Sadie opened her mouth, then closed it. “Is that good? I can’t tell.”

  “I think it’s...not bad?” Abby screwed up her face in a grimace.

  “Maybe he’s testing you.”

  Honey stared at Sadie. “Testing me?”

  “Yeah. Like, he wants to see if you’ll...” Sadie trailed off with a frown. “I lost my thought.”

  “Here.” Abby shoved the unopened second bottle towards her. “Keep drinking. Maybe you’ll find it.”

  Sadie shoved the bottle back. “Har.”

  “Meanwhile,” Abby continued, “I think he’s probably just as confused as you are.”

  “You think?”

  “Sure. Remember, you thought he didn’t like you at first, and he was trying to keep from jumping you.” Abby paused. “Did he ever tell you why?”

  “Not Really.” Honey frowned. “Or sort of. Something lame, like he didn’t want to want me, or didn’t expect to? And he didn’t handle it well.”

  “That is lame, but that’s a guy for you. And it proves my point.”

  “What was your point?”

  “That he’s just as confused as you are.” Abby gestured with her cheese knife. “Didn’t you say you were giving up on dating and guys and sex and the whole thing just before you met him?”

  “That’s right!” Sadie pointed at Honey. “At the cookout, you told me you didn’t want me fixing you up anymore.”

  “So, neither of you were looking for anything, and there you were, and now you have to deal with it.”

  “I don’t even know what that means,” Honey said, aggravated.

  “This is all very Dr. Phil,” Sadie observed.

  “It means,” Abby said as she booted Sadie under the table, “you should think about what kind of relationship you’re having, the kind you want to have, and if you want to have it with him. Then you should talk to him about it.”

  “How come I have to talk?”

  “Because he’s a guy.”

  Sadie nodded. “Yep. He is a guy. You’ll have to be the grown-up.”

  “Shit.” Honey drained her glass, then reached for the bottle. “Being the grown-up sucks.”

  Abby lifted her glass in a toast. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “I don’t mean to be a jerk or anything,” Sadie put in, “but I have a very important question for Honey.”

  Honey blinked her vision clear. “What?”

  Sadie leaned forward. “What’s he like in bed? Is he slow and sexy and intense, or is it all flash and fire and orgasms at the speed of light?”

  Honey sighed. “Yes.”

  “Yes?” Sadie blinked. “Does that mean both? Holy crap.”

  Abby scowled. “If we’re going to talk about sex when I’m not having any, I’m going to need more alcohol.”

  “Then pop the cork, girl.” Sadie grinned. “I think it’s just about to get good.”

  * * *

  “It’s such a nice night. Look at all those stars.”

  Ethan took his eyes briefly off the road to smile at his aunt. “Glad I talked you into putting the top down?”

  Winnie let out what could only be called a girlish giggle. “My hair is going to be tangled to hell and gone, but it’s worth it. I’m glad you talked me into going out for ice cream.”

  He chuckled. “I was going to take you out to dinner, but you went and made fried chicken.”

  “I try not to make it when Jacob’s around, he has a hard enough time sticking to that heart-healthy diet. But I’ve had a craving for it lately.”

  “And thank you for indulging it,” he said with heartfelt sincerity and made her laugh.

  “I haven’t seen you much lately.”

  “I guess not.” The twinge of guilt nearly made him wince. “We’ve both been pretty busy.”

  “Hmmm. Are you ready to thank me for pushing you into the job?”

  His lips wanted to twitch. “I’m enjoying it more than I thought I would.”

  He caught her smirk out of the corner of his eye. “I knew you would, once you settled into it. You’ve made some friends, too.”

  “I guess I have,” he replied, thinking of Seth and David.

  “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Honey, too.”

  He downshifted into a turn and made a sound in his throat that he hoped she’d interpret as an I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it noise and let it go.

  No such luck.

  “You didn’t cancel plans with her tonight to spend time with me, did you?”

  He shook his head. “She’s gearing up for school to start, meetings and lesson plans. Setting up her classroom. She was going to be pretty late with all that tonight, so we made plans for tomorrow.”

 
He glanced over and saw her smiling at him. “What?”

  “I just like seeing you happy.”

  He shook his head as he pulled into the parking lot of the local ice cream shop. “You’ve seen me happy before.”

  “Not like this,” she countered. “And not in a long time. You haven’t been happy, Ethan.”

  “No,” he said slowly and switched off the ignition. “I guess I haven’t been.”

  He glanced down as she laid a hand on his forearm. “She makes you happy.”

  His lips twitched despite himself. “She’s one of the things.”

  “A good woman, work you enjoy.” Her smile was decidedly smug. “I’ll only take credit for the job, though if I were the kind of person to say I told you so, I might point out that I thought from the beginning that Honey would be good for you.”

  “Good thing you’re not that kind of person,” he told her with a chuckle as he climbed out of the car.

  They walked up to the window and ordered hot fudge sundaes from the pimply-faced teenager manning the register, then took their treats to one of the picnic tables set up on the edge of the parking lot. Kids milled around, clustered together in packs. Girls giggled and eyed the boys, while the boys shoved each other around and tried to show off for the girls.

  “So.” Winnie dipped her spoon into her sundae. “You want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

  He glanced up, startled. “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head and scooped up another bite. “You’ve been so relaxed lately, and now you’re not. Something happened.”

  He shrugged. “Nothing important.”

  “Ethan.”

  He wanted to cringe at the censure in her voice. “It’s not a big deal. One of my former clients is having an issue, and I need to get it straightened out.”

  He scooped up some ice cream. “I may have to fly to New York if I can’t get it handled.”

  “You don’t want to go.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he answered her anyway. “No, I don’t.”

  She reached out to pat his hand. “Because you don’t want to leave Honey?”

  “Not really. That’s part of it,” he admitted when she narrowed her eyes. “I just don’t want to have to go back there.”

  She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “You don’t have to, darling. You have to handle your responsibilities, of course. But then you can put it behind you and come home again.”

  She didn’t understand; how could she? She thought he was talking about stock portfolios and retirement plans. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her the truth, but he choked it back. It might make him feel better, but it would only make her feel worse.

  So, he bit his tongue and smiled. “Home, huh?”

  She sniffed. “This is your home, and we both know it. Don’t even try to pretend you don’t.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her.

  “As I see it,” she went on blithely, “the only question is if you’ve realized yet that your home is with Honey?”

  He ignored the little clutch in his belly and pointed his spoon at her. “Don’t push it.”

  She merely grinned at him. “I’ll save the I-told-you-so for when you’re ready to admit that.”

  He shook his head. “I love you, Aunt Winnie.”

  “I love you too, baby.” She winked at him. “I love you, too.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Honey poked a stick into the fire and looked across the leaping flames at Ethan. He was perched on a log that had been put into service as makeshift seating and was using a rather wicked looking pocket-knife to hone the ends of two sticks into sharp points. Milo sprawled in front of him on the sand, waiting for the food to emerge.

  “Sorry I forgot to pick up roasting forks,” she said, and he looked up. “I forgot the ones I’d had were so rusty, I threw them away at the end of last summer.”

  “It’s no problem,” he said with a quick smile. He held up the green stick he was sharpening. “These’ll work in a pinch.”

  She figured with the way he was sharpening them they’d work if they needed to take down a wild boar, and the idea made her giggle out loud.

  “What?”

  She glanced up to find him watching her and shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Hmmm.” He narrowed his eyes as he pushed to his feet, setting the stick aside and slipping the knife into the pocket of his jeans as he came around the fire. He held out a hand, drawing her to her feet when she placed her hand in his. “I missed you last night.”

  “Me too,” she admitted. “Even with all the champagne, I had a hard time falling asleep.”

  “Champagne?” His brows shot up, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Were you celebrating something?”

  She laughed and reached up to loop her arms around his neck. “No. Abby and Sadie came by. We had a girl’s night.”

  “Naked pillow fights?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Girl’s night doesn’t include naked pillow fights unless it’s porn,” she informed him.

  “Why would you ruin it for me? What did it hurt?” He laughed when she pinched him. “What do you do if you’re not naked pillow fighting?”

  “Talk about men,” she replied.

  “Did you talk about me?”

  “Sure,” she said easily and giggled again when he sent her a mock glower. “They wanted to know if you’re any good in bed.”

  He blinked, nonplussed. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. I believe the exact question was, ‘is he slow and sexy or is it all flash and fire and orgasms at the speed of light?’”

  “What’d you tell them?”

  “The truth, of course.” She managed to look offended. “I wouldn’t lie to my friends.”

  “Exactly how much detail are we talking about here?”

  “General terms only,” she assured him. “Anything more would be unseemly.”

  “Good to know you’ve got standards,” he grumbled, and she grinned.

  “I made you look really good.”

  “Well, I’ll have to see if I can live up to the press,” he murmured as he lowered his head.

  “You’re doing just fine,” she sighed when his lips left hers to nibble at her ear.

  “Did you bring a blanket?” he asked as his hands roamed her back.

  “Yeah,” she breathed. “But I’m warning you now, we’re not having sex on this beach.”

  “Oh, yeah?” His grin was dark and not a little wicked.

  She shivered as his hands came up to her breasts, barely skimming along the stiff peaks that stood out against the soft cotton of her t-shirt. “Yeah. I’m not risking sand in my crevices.”

  “I’m not worth a little sand in your butt crack?”

  “Not the crevice I’m worried about,” she told him, and he laughed.

  “So, when you said ‘make-out date,’ you meant it literally.”

  “Yep.” She stepped back to dig the blanket out of the canvas bag she’d brought. She spread it out on the sand with a snap, close enough to enjoy the warmth of the fire without risking burns and plopped down in the middle. She patted the spot beside her in invitation.

  He dropped down, stretching out to lay full length on his back. He folded his hands behind his head and smiled. “You know, the blanket should keep most of the sand away.”

  She merely arched a brow at the invitation in his eyes. “No.”

  His lips twitched as he reached out a hand to tug at her hair. “Spoilsport.”

  “If you’re set on a beach sex experience, feel free to jerk off with a handful of sand,” she told him and had to swallow a laugh when he grimaced.

  “On second thought, maybe we should have that talk.”

  “Right.” Honey had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could continue. “You said something about that yesterday.”

  He made a rough sound of agreement deep in his throat, his eyes bright on hers as he shifted to lay on his sid
e. He patted the blanket beside him. “You going to come down here, or do I have to fetch you?”

  She shifted to stretch out beside him, her movements stiff and a little uncoordinated. She propped her head on her hand, mirroring his pose, and tried to ignore the tension that had invaded her body.

  “Jesus, you’re tense,” he muttered, and she gave up trying to appear relaxed. “What do you think I’m going to say?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, “but no conversation that started with ‘we should talk’ ever ended well.”

  “Ever?”

  She shrugged, her eyes drifting over to focus on the wisps of hair that curled around his ears. “Not in my experience.”

  “Well, I guess this could end badly. That would be up to you.”

  “What?” Her gaze shot up, eyes locking with his again. The cool watchfulness she found there didn’t do anything to soothe the butterflies in her stomach.

  He laid a hand on her hip. “I like you, Honey. I want to be with you.”

  She relaxed slightly. “You are with me.”

  His mouth twitched into a smile, though the intensity in his gaze didn’t falter. “We didn’t start this relationship on the best foot.”

  “I guess not,” she said slowly. He’d said ‘relationship,’ and that one word had her heart tripping in her chest.

  “You thought I didn’t like you.”

  Her eyes narrowed at the humor in his tone. “You certainly gave that impression.”

  He grinned at her, his teeth a white slash against the dark beard. “I was trying to stay away from you.”

  “Why was that again?”

  “Let’s just say I thought we’d both be better off.” He chuckled at her snort. “Will it make you feel better if I admit that I was wrong?”

  “Marginally,” she allowed.

  “Hardass,” he admonished and pinched her hip.

  “Ouch.” She sent him a mock pout.

  “Suck it up,” he advised, laying a finger on her lips when she opened her mouth to retort. “And hush up. Let me say what I’ve got to say, then you can have your turn.”

  “Fine,” she muttered, and though it was tempting, didn’t bite his finger.

  The gleam in his eye told her he knew just what she was thinking.

  “I thought we’d both be better off,” he began, “because I didn’t think I was in any position to start a relationship.”