You Own My Heart

by Juliana Stone

  “Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, desperate for some quiet.

  Regan pointed down a hallway on the other side of the room. “There’s a powder room on the right.”

  Honey hurried toward the peace and quiet she craved and quickly found the bathroom. She closed the door and leaned against it, hand on her chest as she tried to calm down. Why was she so afraid? Where the hell had her backbone gone? Why was she playing this game? Why not get it the hell over and move on? Simone was waiting for her. Honey had plans. Plans that didn’t include winter in Michigan. Plans that didn’t include the Blackwells or Nash Booker.

  Plans that didn’t include falling in love.

  Wait. What? Her eyes flew open. She caught sight of herself in the mirror above the sink, and her heart sank. She was dangerously close to losing it. To losing herself. How in hell had she let that happen?

  Honey ran to the sink and turned on the tap. She splashed ice-cold water on her face and worked hard to get her breathing back to normal. She remembered a time when she was four or five and their water had been turned off. She’d had to go to the neighbors to shower. To wash up or have a drink. Even as young as she was, the humiliation of her circumstance was a cross she’d had to bear. The looks from those in her community. The whispers behind her back.

  Poor little girl. Her mother’s a junkie. A whore.

  As Honey stared down at her hands, something bloomed in her chest. Something hot and fierce and angry. Calmly, she turned off the water and slipped out of the bathroom. She was about to join the others in the great room, but the door across from her was open, and a light illuminated what had to be John Blackwell’s office. She heard the game, the cheers and groans, and, with a furtive look over her shoulder, walked into the room.

  Furnished in deep cherry, with hardwood, plush chairs, and a big window overlooking the yard, the space looked every bit an executive’s office. The huge desk was sparsely covered, save for a desktop monitor, an old-school Rolodex, and a phone. The wall to the left held many plaques and awards—some for John’s philanthropy, some for business—and there were several with the boys’ names etched onto them, mainly sports and academics, though there were a few that acknowledged volunteer work. The Blackwell brothers were definitely well rounded in all the ways that mattered.

  Honey, on the other hand, had many talents. She could pick a pocket, cheat at cards, and hotwire a car like no one’s business. But they didn’t give out awards for those things, other than the back of a cop car and time in jail.

  She moved on, her hand trailing across the large desk as she walked toward a plethora of family pictures. They took up the entirety of the wall behind the desk, and as she studied them, she realized that John Blackwell wasn’t at all the man she thought he was. This was no coldhearted son of a bitch, but a kind, generous man who gave to his community and obviously loved his wife and boys.

  There were photos of a young John with a baby—Honey wasn’t sure which son—as well as many of him with the beautiful woman who was his wife. Angel Blackwell. He looked at the woman as if she were his reason for living, and it made Honey wonder how a man who looked at a woman like that could cheat on her. How could he break such a sacred vow and the trust that went along with it for a woman like her mother?

  “She was beautiful, don’t you think?”

  Startled, Honey turned and spied John standing a few feet from her. The old man winked. “But then you know that already, don’t you?”

  “I do?” She found her voice, which was a miracle because it felt as if her vocal cords were frozen.

  He frowned. “Yes. I showed you her picture in Hudson’s office.”

  Right.

  “I love all the pictures,” Honey replied, turning to gaze at them again. “It’s like a history of your family.”

  “The thing about photos is that a person has the power to display the ones that reflect the memories that person wishes the world to see. So all of this”—he waved at the wall behind her—“is what I like to remember. In many ways, it’s an accurate portrayal of my life. But in others…well, there are dark moments a person would never want documented, and that’s a sad thing, really. This wall of memories isn’t complete. It’s like a book that’s only been half read, and you skip to the end without ingesting the meaty part. A lot of times, those are the parts that matter the most, because those are the parts that make a person look inside at the imperfections that make him human. Even if those imperfections hurt.”

  John looked embarrassed. “Listen to me. An old fool boring a young woman he barely knows. I think it’s a by-product of getting to a point in your life where you only see the end. It gets harder to see the past. To remember the past when the one big event left in your existence is death.”

  Honey stared at him, uncertain and more than a little overwhelmed by the heaviness of their conversation.

  “Bah. Don’t mind me. I’ve been macabre of late. I don’t mean to traumatize a beautiful young girl like you.”

  “Do you have regrets?” she asked, not realizing she’d vocalized the question until his eyebrow shot up and he leaned on one of the deep-brown leather chairs for support.

  “There’s not a soul alive who doesn’t have regrets. Sadly, I have more than my fair share. More than most, if you want the truth. And some of them, well, it’s too late to make amends, and that is my cross to bear.”

  “What’s your biggest regret?” she found herself asking.

  John was silent for a time as if considering his words. “My biggest regret is a selfish one if you want to know the truth. I wish with all my heart I’d taken my Angel for lunch the day she died. We’d argued the night before, you see, and I was to take her lunch to make up for my boorish behavior.” He sighed, a great big down-from-his-toes kind of sigh. “I had a meeting that ran late, and my life was forever changed. The lives of my boys were changed because of me.”

  Honey saw his pain, because the old man did nothing to hide it. In that moment, he looked old and tired and sad. In spite of herself, she wanted to comfort him. This man who’d changed more lives than he knew.

  “Are you close with your family?” he asked, surprising her with his directness.

  “Oh.” She stumbled over her words. “I don’t…”

  Tell him! Do it now!

  Her mind screamed, and she tried like hell to keep it together. “My mom passed away last year.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” John said, taking a step toward her. “Truly sorry. Do you have siblings?”

  Yes.

  “No. It’s just me.”

  “What about your father?” John asked.

  Honey stared at the man so long, her vision blurred. Eyes that looked so much like the man standing a few feet away. Couldn’t he see what was in front of him?

  “I…never met him.”

  John stared at her in silence, and she shuffled her feet, suddenly uncomfortable and afraid and confused as hell.

  “I was wondering where you were.” Hudson walked into the room and turned to Honey. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared. The man’s demeanor changed—and not for the better. “What are you doing in my father’s office?”

  “I was just…” God, her tongue was like cotton, and she could barely catch her breath. “We, that is…”

  John frowned and gave his son a look of reproach. “Honey and I were just about to leave. We were discussing the finer points of fly fishing.”

  “Fly fishing.” Hudson looked at them both before settling his gaze on Honey. “That’s not a subject you hear every day. You ever been?” His tone was smooth, his eyes anything but.

  “No. I…” She exhaled and attempted a smile. “I haven’t.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  John interrupted the exchange and grabbed Honey’s arm. “Would you mind helping this old fart back to his chair?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  Once in the great room, Nash slid up beside her. He kissed the side of her neck and pulled h
er down beside him. For one blissful moment, she felt warm and safe—like nothing bad could touch her ever again. But then Hudson walked into the room, his eyes dark and intense, his expression unreadable.

  He was thinking things, and that made her nervous.

  Honey couldn’t help but ask herself, what the hell had she gotten herself into? Maybe she should bail before things got too complicated. But then hadn’t they already? As Nash nuzzled the side of her neck…as she welcomed his touch and melted into his embrace, she asked herself one more question.

  Was she going to survive this?

  18

  January and February flew by. Normally, this was the time of year when Nash was itching to get out of Crystal Lake and do something. Something big and exciting, like the time he’d gone deep-sea fishing in the Caribbean or scuba diving in Belize or exploring caves in Thailand. But for the first time in years, he was content to stay put, enjoy life, and maybe set down more permanent roots.

  There were several reasons for that, but the main one, the one that mattered most, was about five foot eight, sexy as hell, with a laugh that made his heart sing. Honey Harrison had come out of nowhere and had this confirmed bachelor thinking things he’d never thought before. Things that could change everything.

  He smiled at the thought and parked the last sled in Hudson’s heated shop. There were at least ten snowmobiles parked there, a testament to what had been an amazing day. It was Friday, but there’d been no school, and with Honey’s organization, a bunch of them had hosted kids who frequented the drop-in center to a day out in the bush surrounding Hudson’s resort. They’d enjoyed snowmobile rides and a sugar shack. It was early March, and the weather had cooperated, meaning the red maples had been tapped early and the maple syrup was flowing. It brought back memories, and he realized how much this life, one he’d been so damn eager to run from for years, had to offer.

  Nash Booker had a love for Michigan, for these mountains and lakes, that ran deep. He was a four-season kind of man, and now it seemed he was willing to sit still and enjoy it. He glanced up at the sky, noting early evening was creeping in. He was chilled, but that was okay since he had plans later that would be guaranteed to warm him up.

  “Uncle Nash. I don’t want to go.” He turned and was immediately hit by his firecracker of a nephew. Tink wrapped his little arms around Nash’s legs and stamped his feet. “I don’t want to go with Mommy. I want to stay here with you.”

  The poor kid wasn’t handling the move back to Crystal Lake all that well, and Nash felt for him. Hell, he felt for all of them. His sister and his former brother-in-law. The man might have got it wrong—cheating was never the right answer—but after a heart-to-heart one night with the guy, Nash understood that not all love was forever. At the moment, his sister and brother-in-law were taking a break and Nash hoped that one day they’d find their way back to each other.

  Life was a crapshoot, and a smart man grabbed what was right and good and held on as long as he could. If that man was lucky, it was forever.

  “Uncle Nash?” Tink’s tearstained face looked up at him. His nose was running, and Nash hunted through his parka until he found some tissue. He bent down and helped the kid blow his nose.

  “You got to go, kiddo. Your mom is waiting.”

  “But I don’t want to go with her. I want to stay with you.”

  Nash took a moment to consider his words. Tink was young enough to pick up on the tension and upheaval in his young life. He was focused on Nash because his dad was living out of state until the family home could be sold. He got it. But the kid had to understand that a mother’s word was law.

  “We had a good day, bud. We’ll do it again. But in the meantime, it’s getting late, and your mom probably wants to get you home to eat.”

  “I’m full of maple of syrup. I don’t want to eat supper. I don’t want to go home. I want to come back to your house for a tubby.” Nash had had the little guy out a few times for hockey and a hot tub, but it wasn’t happening tonight. Nash decided to try a different approach.

  “Are you missing your dad?”

  Tink was silent for a few moments and then slowly shrugged. “He doesn’t love me anymore.”

  Nash’s heart nearly collapsed in on itself. He knelt down until his face was level to Tink’s. “Your dad loves you, bud. Don’t ever think he doesn’t. Your parents are going through some adult stuff, and sometimes that adult stuff takes time to work itself out. Sometimes it means your dad won’t be living with you, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about you every day or miss you as much as you miss him. It means when you guys are together, you gotta make every minute count. Just like when you’re with your mom. She drove all the way out here to pick you up and take you home with her. She’s probably been looking forward to seeing your face all day. Don’t you think?”

  Tink scuffed his boot on the floor. “I guess so. Adult stuff sucks.” Tink sniffled and grabbed for another tissue.

  “It does,” Nash said. He hugged the kid close and stood. “But it’s Friday, right? Isn’t that pizza night?”

  Tink nodded and wiped at his nose. “Yes.” His brow furrowed. “I think Mommy said Joe could come over.”

  “Who’s Joe?” Nash asked as he got to his feet.

  “Just my friend.”

  “Yeah? He’s a cool guy?”

  Tink shook his head and laughed. “He’s not a guy. Joe’s a girl.”

  “Wow.” Nash laughed and looked up. His sister, Honey, and Brooke all watched them from the shop door, and he gently herded Tink back to his mother. Melody mouthed thank you and dropped a kiss to the top of her son’s head. With a wave of her hand, she disappeared.

  Honey smiled up at him. “You have the magic touch.”

  “Kids like me.”

  “Huh.”

  He moved closer. “Adults too.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Especially the ladies.”

  “Gross.” Brooke looked at the both of them as if they had two heads. “Get a room. Geez.”

  Honey laughed and gave him a look that would start a fire in any sane man’s pants. “I’m taking Brooke back to town and then swinging by my place to pack a bag.”

  “Yeah?” This was different. “I thought we were heading back to the Coach House for dinner and—”

  “No.”

  “No?” He was confused. He hadn’t slept in his bed in weeks. Hell, he was pretty damn sure the spider plant in the kitchen was dead.

  “I thought we could spend the night at your place.”

  Nash played it cool. Hell, on the outside, he was Mr. Freeze. He’d given up asking her to come to his place because she always said no or avoided the question. For Honey, his place was the last frontier of whatever it was they were doing. So this meant something, her wanting to spend the night.

  It meant something big.

  He didn’t reply. He leaned in and kissed her hard. A full-on, knock-your-socks-off, spread-the-fire-in-your-gut kind of kiss.

  “Guys. Again. Ew.” Brooke rolled her eyes and groaned.

  Honey broke the kiss. Her cheeks were pink, and she worked to catch her breath. “I’ll see you in a bit,” she said before heading toward her car. Nash watched her go. How could he not? She had the nicest ass he’d ever seen, and he was going to kiss every damn inch of it—and more—in a couple of hours.

  “You guys seem pretty hot and heavy.” Hudson walked up beside him, his son bundled in winter wear, cradled in his arms. The guy had been cool toward Honey for a while now, and Nash couldn’t figure it out. Just last week, he’d called him out on it, but Hudson had told Nash he was imagining things that weren’t there.

  “She’s from Missouri, right?” Hudson sounded conversational, but Nash wasn’t fooled. His friend was fishing.

  “Louisiana, I believe.”

  “Huh.” Hudson rearranged his son and pulled down on the baby’s hat. Now that the sun was setting, the chill in the air was intense. “Could have sworn she told
Dad she was from Missouri. You know she was up there, right? At the house? Visiting him the other day?”

  Nash hadn’t known, but what the hell did that have to do with anything? John was helping out the support center, and she was heavily involved. So what if she went to see him?

  “What are you getting at, Hudsy?” He frowned and turned to his friend.

  “I’m just saying we don’t know much about her.”

  Incredulous, he opened his mouth to say something and then closed it. What the hell? “I know enough, trust me.”

  “Is this serious?” Hudson was dogged and looked equally pissed as he faced Nash. “You and her?”

  “Define serious.” Nash was in no mood to play games, and anger thrummed in his chest.

  “Serious is more than just a fuck.”

  Nash saw red. Absolute crimson. If it weren’t for the baby in Hudson’s arms, he would have taken a run at the guy.

  “I’m going to forget you said that, because I’ve known you my whole life and you’ve always had my back. Just like I’ve had yours.” Nash wasn’t just angry as hell, he was confused by Hudson’s behavior. This didn’t feel right.

  “I don’t know what your problem is, but I need you to understand something. Honey has always been more than that. I don’t what the hell is up your ass, but get used to her. After the gala tomorrow night, I plan on making things permanent.”

  “You don’t know anything about her, Nash. I’m just trying to look out for you. It’s what we do for each other.”

  “Do you know something I don’t?” The air was charged between the two men, and Nash took an aggressive step forward. The baby, sensing turmoil, let out a big yelp and started to cry. “Dammit, Hudsy. Where the hell are you going with this?” Nash was pissed. Pissed at Hudson. Pissed at himself. And maybe, if he were totally honest, pissed at Honey. In many ways, Hudson was right. He didn’t know much, only what she shared and that was on the lean side.