You Own My Heart

by Juliana Stone

  She had a job. Simone. The beach house. Most importantly, for the first time in her life, she had stability, and that had to count for something.

  Honey glanced out at the water from her veranda, at the gentle lap of waves on the sand, and thought, yes, this is enough. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t looking ahead six months, plotting the next scam or working a job she hated, just to put food in her mouth. She didn’t have to take off her clothes in some seedy club, or cozy up to a new mark her mother had picked out. For the first time she could remember, Honey was in control of her destiny, and her destiny had brought her here to the Keys. She was settled, and in her own way, she was happy. As happy as she’d ever been. And that was saying something.

  A small curly haired terrier tore out of the house and jumped up and down, barking like a champ and running in circles. She stared at the animal and smiled. When had she become so damn domesticated? Tiny wouldn’t believe it. He’d think she’d been taken over by aliens.

  Her smile faded as her heart flipped over. She couldn’t think about Tiny, because thinking about Tiny led to thinking about other things. And those other things would only upset her. She swallowed hard and blinked away tears. She couldn’t think about any of them.

  The little dog barked and jumped up at her. Honey exhaled, and with one last look at the water, she patted the little head that bobbed repeated at her legs. “I know. We’re going to be late.”

  They both headed inside. Honey rinsed out her glass and set in on the counter, while the dog, Stinker, as she called her, drank heartily out of her bowl and then looked up at Honey with a look Honey knew all too well.

  “Nope. No way, Stinker. You’ve had your cup of food already. You have to wait until bedtime to get your treat.”

  She took one last look around the small bungalow she called home and scooped up her keys from the counter. She called the dog, cinched the leash to her purple leopard-print collar, and they headed out into the heat.

  The Salty Dog was barely a ten-minute walk from her place. Located in the heart of what was known as Old Town, it sat at the edge of the historical district, a quaint old building with a reputation for having the best fried fish and the coldest beer in town. The secret was in the batter, and the cook, Dane, wasn’t about to share. Not even Simone, who’d bought the place with money she’d saved over the last ten years, knew what it was. Not that Simone cared. As long as their tills were busy, she was more than happy to let Dane keep his secrets.

  It was nearly four in the afternoon by the time Honey reached her destination, and she was huffing from the effort and the heat. Once inside, though, a blast of cold air sent ripples of goose bumps across her heated skin. She gave a quick wave to several regulars already bellied up to the bar, worked her way through a large group of tourists gathered at the tables, and headed for the office. It was empty. She let Stinker off her leash, and the little dog jumped onto her bed under the window. With a grunt and a small whine, she licked at her paws and settled in for the night.

  Wondering where Simone was, Honey wiped at the sweat on her brow and tucked back an errant lock of hair curling against her neck. She glanced in the mirror on the wall beside the door. Her cheeks were flush, a little fuller than before, and the tan she’d all but abandoned in Crystal Lake was back. She’d applied gloss—luckily, it hadn’t melted off—and after a quick check of the armpits, grabbed her apron and headed back into the bar.

  The Salty Dog was always busy, and happy hour was well underway. There were six servers, two of them waiting on their drink orders, and Honey joined Nick, the bartender she’d be working with. A college dropout, he was a few months older than her and had been holding down the bar for a couple of years. She’d liked him the moment they met. His good humor coupled with his good looks—a cross of beach bum, biker, with a dash of bohemian—made him one of the most popular bartenders in the area. He was good for business, and after Honey came on board, sales spiked even more.

  They made a great team. He looked out for her, and she did the same. They were kindred spirits in a way. She knew that underneath his golden, easygoing manner, there was pain. She saw it in his eyes. And though he’d never shared his story with her, Nick had been a shoulder she needed and an ear to listen to her sad story. If not for him or Simone, she would have crumpled.

  “Hey,” Nick said with a smile as she sidled up alongside him. “Gonna be a busy one.”

  “Good,” Honey replied, already focused on the customer holding up his empty mug. “I need the money.” She paused. “Do you know where Simone is?” Simone practically lived at the bar, and it wasn’t like her to be absent during one of their busiest times.

  Nick shook his head as he garnished four fancy cocktails and handed them off to one of the servers. “No clue.”

  After that, there was no time for conversation. Happy hour gave way to the evening crowd, which was a mix of regulars, tourists, and college-age kids looking for a good time. The atmosphere, great food, cold drinks, and the entertainment kept the place hopping. By the time Honey took a ten-minute break to let Stinker out for a pee, there were only a couple of hours left until closing. She stepped out into the humid air and enjoyed the quiet as Stinker went about her business. When the dog was done, she bounded over and barked once at the door, an expectant look on her face.

  They headed back inside, and Honey rubbed the small of her back while Stinker made a mess of her water bowl. She found the bag of biscuits in the top drawer of the desk and had just handed two to the dog when the office door flew open. Simone stood there, her coffee-colored skin glistening beneath the muted light from the lone lamp on the desk. She was breathing hard, as if she’d been running, and her amber eyes looked huge as she swept back a chunk of black corkscrew curls.

  “Are you okay?” Concerned, Honey stepped forward.

  ‘I’m…ah…shit.” Simone seemed to stumble over her words. She stepped into the office and slowly closed the door behind her.

  Uneasy, Honey stared at her friend. Stinker jumped up from her bed and bounded toward Simone, making a show of sniffing around the woman’s leather sandals and licking them as if they were the tastiest things on the planet. Simone reached down and scratched the little mutt behind the ears, and, traitor dog that she was, Stinker leaned into her and lapped it up like she was starving.

  Something was up. Simone was acting weird. Did Honey want to know what it was? Did she want to ruin her perfectly good evening by asking the question? Honey debated leaving it alone for all of two seconds, but then caved like she always did. “Where were you tonight?”

  Simone was quiet for a few moments, her expression pensive. When she straightened, she cleared her throat and wiped her hands over the tops of her jeans. Her eyes were fixed on the wall behind Honey, and she swallowed a few times. Like she was nervous. Like she was guilty.

  “Honey. Maybe you should sit down.”

  Alarm bells banged inside her. “Sit down?” What the hell was going on? Honey’s crap-meter had just gone into the red zone. She knew something was gonna hit, and judging from the look on her friend’s face, it was going to hit hard.

  “Please.” Simone met her gaze, and the blood drained from Honey’s face. She felt it slip away and fill her with a weakness she hadn’t felt in years. It was a weakness born from lack of control. Whatever the hell this was, it was coming at her fast, and she knew there was no way to stop it.

  “What did you do?” she managed to ask without sounding too much like a wimp. A girl did have her pride.

  Simone looked away, and, sensing the tension between the two adults, Stinker whimpered and took off for her bed, tail tucked between her legs. When Honey didn’t think she could stand the silence any longer, Simone spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. It was thick, full of emotion. Full of remorse.

  “I got a phone call last week. It was random. Out of the blue.” She sighed. “A man asking if I knew someone named Honey Harrison.”

  Oh God. Honey took a few steps
back and leaned against the desk because her legs were suddenly as limp as wet noodles, and her stomach was so upset, she thought she would be sick.

  Simone shrugged. “I panicked, for like five seconds. But then I got my shit together and assured the caller I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “Okay.” Cotton filled Honey’s mouth. “Did they say anything else?” Was it an old mark looking for payback? Shit. Hadn’t she made restitution to those she could? Was she going to pay for the sins of her family for the rest of her life? What more was this world going to ask of her?

  “No.” Simone slowly shook her head. “I didn’t give him a chance. I hung up and didn’t think about it again.”

  Relief flooded Honey, and she was glad for the desk because she would have been on her ass. “That’s good.” She frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you. You’ve been happy. Finally happy. I didn’t want to be the one to ruin it. Especially since I thought I’d nipped it in the bud, you know?” Simone worried her bottom lip, but she was unable to hide the quiver.

  It took a bit, but when the words registered in her brain, Honey didn’t know if she should run or hide or…ignore it all and hope for the best.

  “You thought you…” Adrenaline pumped through Honey, and she stepped forward. “Where were you tonight?”

  Simone looked at her, eyes heavy with tears of shame? Guilt? “He showed up here. And I…we went somewhere to talk.”

  “Why?” The word was strangled from Honey.

  “Because I had to know if he was genuine. If what he wanted was real.” She let out a shaky breath. “I had to know for myself that he wouldn’t hurt you. I told him that…I told him…” She was stumbling over her words, and Honey had a hard time understanding. “I told him this wasn’t a guarantee. That if you weren’t into it, he’d have to leave and not come back. He said he’d honor that and brought this to give you, in case you refused to meet him.”

  Honey was cold. So damn cold. She wrapped her arms around her body and stared down the one friend she thought she could count on. The one person who knew all her secrets. Simone held out a plain white envelope, and she knew who it was before she asked the question. She recognized his handwriting.

  “Who is it?” she whispered.

  Simone met her gaze full on. “Nash.”

  Honey’s mouth fell open. She literally could catch bees if she felt like it. She felt betrayed. Angry. Confused.

  “Nash?” she whispered. “How could you?” Nash was here? What the hell? Why? What did he want? Hadn’t he hurt her enough already?

  Pain twisted her insides, and she whirled around, palms on the desk as she gulped in air. It was hard to breathe. Her vision blurred, and after a few moments, her chest loosened, her lungs relaxed, and her eyes cleared. She’d envisioned this. Of course, she had. But not like this. He would hate her more than he already did.

  She looked down at the gentle swell of her belly—felt the kick of life nestled deep inside—and somehow managed to speak.

  “I need to get out of here. I need to…” Panicked, she didn’t know what she needed to do. Her thoughts were chaotic. Her body numb.

  “Oh, Simone.” Her voice broke. “Why?” she cried as she turned around. She saw the anguish in Simone’s eyes. Her friend’s voice shook when she spoke.

  “I think you should talk to him. You’ll regret it if you don’t. And there’s almost nothing worse to live with than regret.”

  John Blackwell had said the same thing.

  It took a bit, but Honey managed to get her emotions in check. She knew her friend wouldn’t do something like this unless there was a reason. Just like she knew that if Nash had gone to all this trouble to find her after everything she’d done, the least she could do was give him five minutes.

  “Where is he?”

  A few moments passed, and then Simone answered quietly. “Outside.”

  24

  Nash was so damn nervous, he wanted to puke.

  Which was ironic considering he was the guy who scaled mountains in Tibet. Rode the big waves in Australia. Went deep-sea fishing off the coast of Africa and scaled sheer rock walls in Arizona. In each of his dangerous adventures, he’d known the outcome. He would win. Get to the finish line. Collect the prize and move on to the next adventure.

  Hell, not even his first big game at Texas A&M had made his gut clench the way it was right now. And that had been a big deal for a young kid from Michigan. But this was different in a way he found hard to articulate. This was as real as it got. He was either going to make things right and have a chance to live a life with the only person he would ever love, really love, or he was about to fail epically and return to Michigan with nothing to show but a truckload of regret.

  Honey Harrison was a different game altogether, because she wasn’t a game. She wasn’t a prize or an obstacle to hurdle. She was his life, and he’d screwed up big-time. He’d hurt her more than he’d ever hurt another person, and he wouldn’t blame her one bit if she didn’t want to see him.

  But hell, he’d park his butt at the bar and settle in for the evening if he had to. Which, considering he’d been waiting nearly ten minutes already, was a possibility. And this bar boasted a guy who glared at him as if he was the biggest piece of shit in Florida. When he’d walked in with Simone, the bartender, Nick, had looked Nash up and down with an expression pretty close to disgust. It was obvious he knew who Nash was, and that made Nash wonder. Honey didn’t trust people, so if she’d shared their history with this guy, what did that mean?

  Simone ignored the attitude, asked the guy where Honey was, and he’d told them she was in the back with Stinker. Nash wasn’t sure who or what Stinker was, and Nick sure as hell wasn’t offering up any information.

  He craned his neck to see over the crowd gathered near the bar, anxious to get on with things, and then he saw her. She appeared out of nowhere, clutching something white in her arms, hair in a high ponytail, eyes huge as she scanned the room. When she found him, he felt her as if she were standing next to him, her hands on his skin, her scent in his lungs.

  His heart took off as she whispered something to Nick, and his dislike for the man tripled when he saw the way she touched his arm. Was he too late? Had he already lost? She came around the bar and headed his way. She wore a large cardigan that fell almost to her knees, and kept her eyes averted. She didn’t stop as she passed by, but he heard her words.

  “We’re not doing this here.”

  Honey headed for the exit without missing a beat. The entire exchange lasted all of five seconds. It was over and done with, and she was gone. Nash stared after her with a hunger that clawed at him and made him weak. He inhaled a shaky breath and dragged his hands across the stubble on his jaw.

  “Can I get you anything, sugar?” An attractive blonde holding a tray looked at him expectantly, but Nash gave a quick shake of his head and jogged past her, following in Honey’s footsteps.

  She was ahead of him, walking briskly with the small dog trotting along at her side. It didn’t take him long to catch up.

  “Honey, can we—”

  “Not here,” she said. Her voice was thick and the set of her shoulders tense. Nash knew enough to give her some space and kept a few feet behind as they wove their way through the crowded streets of Key West. It was ten at night, and the air was still thick with a humidity that made it hard to breathe. A lingering scent of honeysuckle and other fragrant flowers colored the air. It was warm and hazy and sensual, and his gaze never moved from Honey. She was bundled up as it were February in Michigan; he hoped she wasn’t sick.

  He wasn’t sure how much time passed—five minutes? Ten? But eventually, he found himself standing in front of a cute bungalow bathed in moonlight and shadows. She was already in—the front door slammed shut—and a light came on, shining from a large bay window. It illuminated a cascade of gardens along an interlocking brick walkway. There was a white picket fence that ran the length of the ho
use, with honeysuckle and clematis climbing up its edges. He smiled, a bittersweet sort of thing, when he remembered how she’d made fun of his parents’ postcard home with its fence. This place was a surprise.

  Nash made his way up the walkway and let himself inside. The dog gave a low growl and bared its teeth, but the tail waving like mad told a different story. He bent forward and let the little animal sniff his fingers. The purple-and-pink collar told him it was a girl, and once the dog was satisfied he was no threat, she licked his palm and ran to a bowl, where she lapped up water enthusiastically and made a mess of things.

  He glanced around the small bungalow, surprised to see how much it looked like a home—he couldn’t help but think how unlike Honey that was. She hadn’t vaulted over to the dark side or anything—there weren’t family photos or anything like that. But small things like the multicolored throw blanket across the cream-colored sofa or the large vase of hydrangeas on the kitchen table did the trick.

  The patio doors to the back were open—billowing clouds of gauzy material caused by a breeze off the water told him so—and without hesitation, he headed out back. Here again, he was surprised. A small garden to his left was lit up with several solar lights that created a cozy ambiance around a table for four. Surrounded by potted palm trees and huge hibiscus, it was warm and inviting. Beyond that was more foliage and then the beach.

  “Say what you came to say and then leave.”

  The voice came at him from the shadows that crept along the edge of the yard. She was there, standing among some palm trees. He watched her for a few moments, unnerved because he was finally here and the rest of his life was hanging on a thin thread.

  “Can I see you?” he asked quietly, eyes on the shadows. Large palm trees swayed in the breeze, and he was sure she’d ignore him, but then Honey stepped forward. Shadows still clung to her, but he could see her features. The face that had haunted him for months. The eyes that were seared into his brain. The mouth that trembled and gave a hint of the emotion inside her.