A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2)

by Q. T. Ruby

  “Just put it on,” I mimic with a huff. They continue to laugh during the three seconds it takes to put on this costume. “Did you buy this at a sex shop or something?” I ask, struggling to zip the back of the corset. Bridget comes around to help.

  “No,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s lying.

  I look at my feet. “What kind of shoes am I going to wear with this? I don’t have anything that will go.”

  “Camille, can you go in my room and get the big pink box that’s at the bottom of my closet?” Camille goes to get it.

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “What is it?”

  “You’ll see.” Bridget’s got that devilish grin.

  Camille returns and places the box on the bed before lifting the cover to reveal white, knee-high boots with heels so high my feet shriek in horror. If this outfit is a nine on the Slut-O-Meter then the boots boosted it to a fifteen. “Ooh, pretty!” Camille says.

  “Oh my God,” I say in disbelief.

  “They’re perfect!” Bridget says, taking them out of the box. She checks her phone. “Do you want to see your boyfriend tonight? Because I’m sure he’s dying to see you, and you’re wasting time here.”

  I groan. “Of course I do.”

  Bridget grabs me by the shoulders. “Stand tall, woman. You’re hot in that. Plus, you’ve worn less, like your itty-bitty bikini, remember?”

  “But that was swimwear, and I was on a beach!”

  “Tomayto, tomahto,” Bridget says with a snort. I make a move toward the mirror, but she stops me. “Nope! Not yet. Once you get it all on and we do your hair you can look.”

  I sit on the bed and begin putting on the boots.

  “Dan’s going to lose his shit when he sees you,” Camille says. I consider that a moment. “He won’t know what to do with himself, which is kinda the point, don’t you think?”

  I nod, warming to the idea. “Yeah, I suppose.”

  Once the boots are on, Bridget quickly styles my hair, placing the gold crown on my head. “Look, it even came with wrist cuffs.” She snaps them on each wrist.

  “Okay, now look,” Camille says with a wide smile.

  “Wonder-Slut,” Bridget says quietly, beaming with pride.

  I take a look.

  The good news is I do resemble Wonder Woman—a slightly porno version—but the bad news is I’m going to wear this in public, and I sort of want to die at the thought. “I’m wearing a coat. It’s freezing out there.”

  Bridget’s face lights up. “Yeah! Wear your long winter one.”

  I pull on the long coat. “Oh my God, I’m a flasher.”

  “Wonder-Slut, the flasher—I love it!” Bridget says, giggling madly. “Wait! I have one more thing.” Bridget leaves the room and comes back a moment later with a looped up golden lasso. She clips it onto my side. “Seriously, he’s going to want you to wear this every day.”

  “We have handcuffs and a lasso . . . we’re well on the way to owning a BDSM club,” Camille says, laughing.

  We arrive at the bar minimally late, but it’s already pretty jammed.

  “What are the guys wearing?” I ask Bridget.

  “I’m not even sure. I offered to get them something, but they said they’d just get some masks.”

  A mask to cover Dan’s staggering good looks? No! But then I realize that it’ll probably make his night a little easier.

  Bridget makes a mini-show of sliding her coat off her shoulders, and there is no shortage of jaws dropping, watching her. She’s extraordinarily sexy, she’s fun, and she owns it. It’s inspiring, really. If only she could bottle it, she’d be filthy rich. Camille does the same, but more in the I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass way. She’s fierce and strong, but every bit feminine. They hand their coats to the coat check attendant, and I stand there, clutching mine closed. Camille and Bridget wait for me, but I’m feeling naked. Exposed. I can’t possibly take it off!

  “Come on, Claire,” Bridget says, nudging me.

  I start to move into the crowd with her.

  “Coat, Claire,” Bridget says, pointing at the coat check and rolling her eyes.

  “I can’t. I’m naked.”

  “You’re not naked. Take off your coat.” Bridget’s hands are on her hips.

  I frown at her and shake my head, but she comes at the buttons, undoing them for me. I try to swat her hands away, but then Camille starts tugging at the coat, too.

  “No. No, no, no, no, no,” I mumble, but I’m losing this fight. They’re giggling now. Hell, we’re all giggling. The next thing I know, Bridget’s handing over my coat to the attendant, and I’m living the nightmare of being naked in public. I want to cover up, but my two hands won’t get me far. “You two suck.”

  “You’re fine,” Bridget says, swatting my ass. “And it’s not like the whole bar just saw us wrestle the coat off you . . . oh wait, yes they did.” She laughs.

  I glance around, and there are more heads turned my way than I expected. They may not even be looking at me, but it feels like everyone is. “I need a drink.”

  “Now that’s a sensible idea,” Camille says, hooking her arm through mine and leading us to the bar through the already thick crowd; Bridget’s following behind. I’m looking around for Dan although I have no idea what he’s dressed as.

  “Aren’t they supposed to be here?” I crane my neck around, taking in the scene. Gosh, it’s loud.

  “Yes,” Camille says, sipping her drink and looking around, too.

  “Hello, Wonder Woman,” I hear behind me, cutting through the noise in the bar.

  I turn to see a Jason mask, so I throw my arms around his neck. “Hi!” We pull back and he rests his hands on my hips, stroking my side with his thumb. “I can’t kiss you with that mask on.”

  “Let me fix that.” He lifts it and—it isn’t Dan, but Ian Glammer. I jump back, horrified. Chills erupt on my skin, and I turn to leave. “Oh, no, come back here.” He tries to grab my waist again.

  There’s little room for me to back up with the heavy crowd around, but I try. I put my hands up to push him away. “What the fuck?”

  He lets go, laughing and licking his lips. “You look incredible.” He eyes me up and down with a smarmy grin. “I have no idea why you date such a loser when you should be with me, beautiful. I can show you things.”

  Eww. I turn to snake through the thick group, but it’s not so easy.

  He grabs my wrist. “Let me buy you a drink at least. Fuck, I need you in my life, Wonder Woman.”

  “Get the fuck away!” I pry his hand off.

  “What the hell?” I hear Camille say over my shoulder. She steps between Ian and I.

  Ian smirks, clearly amused by our disgust. “No need to get jealous, Hot Cop. I know how to satisfy more than one woman at a time; it’s like my forte.” He winks at her. “Those handcuffs’ll come in handy, too.” He reaches for Camille’s waist, and she slaps his hand away.

  “Get the fuck away from her—us.”

  Ian, still smiling, puts his hands up. “All right, all right. Can’t handle all I got, huh?” He motions to his body. “Prepare yourself, because someday, Claire, it’ll happen. I promise.” Wishful thinking. He walks away, through the crowd, hopefully not to be seen again.

  I exhale with a shudder.

  “What the hell? Or rather, who the hell was that?” Camille asks.

  “Ugh. That was Ian Glammer. He—”

  “Ian Glammer, the actor?”

  “Yeah.” I shake my hands out. “I met him in Mexico when I visited Dan, but he’s one hell of a creepy asshole.” I fill her in on Ian. “I should have punched him just now, but I was so caught off-guard. I thought it was Dan! Where the hell is Dan?” I stretch to my right and to my left when a Spongebob mask stops right in my face. I wait, bracing m
yself.

  “Happy Halloween,” Spongebob says, and although I detect an English accent, I’m still leery.

  “Dan? Is that you?”

  “Yep, it’s Spongebob!” He says, trying to mimic Spongebob’s voice. He raises the mask, resting it on the top of his head. It is Dan! I throw my arms around him. “Yeah, it’s me. Why? You okay? You look scared or something.”

  I let go of him and sigh. “Ian Glammer’s here.”

  Dan’s entire demeanor shifts from playful to pissed off. With a clenched jaw and a harsh voice, he asks, “What?”

  “He just came up to Camille and me and . . . hit on me—”

  “He tried to kiss her, Dan,” Camille says, and I want to smack her.

  Dan’s eyes bulge, and he turns to leave, no doubt to find Ian to kick his ass.

  I grab his arm. “No. Stay here.”

  “That motherfucker tried to kiss you, and I’m not supposed to do anything? Are you fucking kidding me?” He snaps his head left, right, left, looking for him. “What’s he wearing?”

  “Look at me.” I grab his chin. “It’s crowded, and so far no one’s recognized you with that mask on. If you do anything, it’ll make the news, so just stay here. I want you right here. I’ve missed you.” I kiss him until I feel him relax. “Now focus on my costume.”

  Although his face is still tense, he obliges, and when he finally realizes who I’m dressed as, he lets out a, “Fuckingmotherbollockingfuck. Wonder Woman? Jesus, Claire. We’re in public!” There’s that brilliant smile that makes my heart leap. His grip around my waist tightens.

  I laugh and rub against him. “Another corset. I wonder if you can manage it this time.”

  “Are there secret strings?” He turns me a bit to check the back.

  “Nope. Just a single zipper stands between on and off.” He nods, staring at my heaving boobs. “Figured we didn’t have an extra fifteen minutes to spare, you know?”

  He shakes his head, laughing out loud until his attention is caught behind me. “Shane—”

  Huh? I turn to see Bridget flirting her heart out with a guy taller than Dan who has a strong jaw and short, dark hair. Seems they just build them beautiful in England. Dan leans toward my ear. “Did Shane and Bridget already meet? They’re talking together there.”

  “That’s Shane? Wow—they’re almost kissing! Go Bridget.”

  Dan grabs my hand, leading us over to them. “Bridget. Bridget. Bridget. Hi! Hi, Bridget,” Dan says obnoxiously, sticking his face between Shane and Bridget, destroying their moment.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Getting her back for all her interruptions.”

  I laugh. Bridget turns, throwing Dan a curled lip.

  “I see you’ve met my friend, Shane. Shane, this is master slut—I mean, Bridget,” Dan says. Bridget slaps his arm as he laughs. “I’m just joking. This is Bridget, one of Claire’s roommates. And this is Claire.”

  Shane barely tears his eyes away from Bridget to give me a polite nod and to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, Claire. I’ve heard about you girls, and thought maybe Dan was exaggerating, but he’s not.”

  “Exaggerating about what?” Camille asks, coming up from behind him.

  “Usually there’s one hyena in a pack of gazelles, but not with you three,” Shane says, staring at Bridget.

  I nod, unsure if that’s a compliment or not. “Oh.”

  “He means that you’re all really attractive.” Dan leans into my ear. “Except you. You are exponentially hotter than pretty much everyone.” I blush and shake my head. “Especially dressed as Wonder Woman. Then you’re on fire.” He waggles his eyebrows at me, and I burst into an embarrassing fit of giggles.

  Bridget pokes at Dan’s shoulder. “Um, you’re welcome.”

  “What?” he asks.

  “Your girlfriend’s outfit. That was my idea. So the next time you want to interrupt me with your sass, just remember that she wanted to dress as a library marm—tweed skirt and uptight shirt. Just saying.”

  Dan examines me from head to toe before turning back to Bridget. “Have I told you how much I love you, Bridget?”

  With a justified laugh, she says, “Yeah, I thought so.”

  The lights in the bar dim, which means it’s time for Colin’s band. The five of us make our way toward the stage just as they start, and as expected, they rock—the lights, the music, and the intensity of the crowd—the show is incredible. Except . . . I spot a Jason mask on the opposite side of the room and it seems aimed in my direction. Like a spider crawling on my neck, I just know it’s Ian and I turn away. Toward the end of Colin’s set, I risk another glance to be sure. My heart plummets—it’s Ian with the mask resting on the top of his head, his face exposed. He’s staring at me then gives me a nod and a smile. He takes a sip of his beer then licks his lips suggestively. I turn away as a chill runs straight through me.

  “What’s the matter?” Dan whispers into my ear. “You’re all tense and white. You feeling okay? Not going to vomit, are you?”

  “No, I’m fine. Just cold.”

  He immediately shifts to stand behind me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and across my collarbone, holding me against him. He kisses my cheek. “I noticed you have a lasso and Camille has handcuffs. I’m not sure I want to know what Bridget has, but I have a feeling Shane’s in trouble.”

  I laugh.

  The rest of the night passes without incident, and I never mention Ian’s gestures to Dan. My time with Dan is always too short, so I want nothing tainting it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Somehow the holiday season sneaks up on me, which is surprising given the fact that my teacher life was measured by holidays. Nonetheless, this Thanksgiving I’m extra thankful, for an obvious reason: Dan. Not only in having him in my life, but the fact that he’s willingly, and dare I say excitedly, coming to my family’s Thanksgiving dinner despite the fact that my brothers threatened to break his legs last time.

  So, here we are on the front steps of my parents’ house, ready to go in, and I’m stalling. Being in a little bubble with Dan before the onslaught of my family is necessary, plus gawking at Dan’s strong jaw, smooth skin, and bright green eyes never ceases to bewitch me. And he’s holding flowers for my mother this time. “Not only are you a momma’s boy, but you’re also a kiss ass,” I tease, nodding to the flowers.

  He laughs, holding up a finger. “For one, I am not a momma’s boy. Two, do I really need to point out that right beyond that door is a massive, home-cooked feast that I need access to? Hence the flowers. And three, you must stop your obvious gawking and panting—I know you can’t help yourself, but really, keep it in your pants. I’ll satisfy you later. Now, let’s get in there and feed me.”

  I burst into laughter. “Oh my God!” I swat at him, and he turns away, laughing and trying to protect the flowers.

  Just then the door opens. My mother is standing there. “Claire! What are you doing?” Her face is tight.

  We straighten up, but can’t stop giggling. “Oh! Hi, Mom.”

  She seems to relax a bit, but her lips remain pursed. “I heard loud laughing and didn’t know who it could be out here.” Not surprising.

  “These are for you, Mrs. Parelli. Thank you for having me, and Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Kiss ass.

  We enter and say hello to everyone with hugs, kisses, and handshakes—but no threats of violence—yet, anyway—although I give my brothers the evil eye just in case. Soon enough it’s time to sit down to the massive spread my mom prefers to whip up on her own. We’re all asked to “just come with an appetite.”

  Once again, Dan and I are seated near my parents, which naturally makes it easier for my mom to be obnoxious to him. Good thing the wine’s smooth.

  Grace is said, and
my mouth waters as we pass platters of warm, juicy turkey, bowls of gravy, homemade cranberry sauce, stuffing, mashed potatoes, roasted veggies, and bread. I glance at Dan, whose eyes are wide and wild, his plate hardly able to contain the mini-mountains of each item. If the house went up in flames, he’d probably go right on eating.

  It’s quiet as we all dig in, but soon enough, conversations pop up around the table. As expected, my mom strikes one up with Dan, who’s busy chewing.

  “So, Dan, what kind of . . . acting job do you have now?” She resumes the same posture and expression she had the last time—light on the interest, heavy on the distaste.

  “Well, I’ve just finished some reshoots for the upcoming Sushman movie—”

  “Sushman?” my brother John asks. “He’s an incredible filmmaker.”

  Dan smiles and seems a little relieved in a way. “Yes, he really is—a little crazy, too—but really good at what he does.”

  “I’ve heard he can be really demanding,” John says before taking a bite of turkey.

  “How do you know about Sushman, John?” I ask.

  “What? I’ve gotten more interested in movies the past couple of years.”

  I’m surprised to say the least. “I had no idea,” I say.

  “Anyway, Sushman is one of those enigmatic directors who doesn’t give interviews, and only films a select few movies here and there. It’s pretty impressive that you’re working with him. He’s really quirky, right?”

  “Thank you. It was an honor—and yes, he is quirky. Lots of rules and parameters around what we do on set,” Dan says.

  I shake my head at John’s wife, Shannon, who seems as perplexed as I am.

  “When does it come out?” John asks.

  “Not sure, but probably whenever Sushman wants it to—he’s got a ton of pull.”

  John nods like he knows this stuff.

  “What about the one with that beautiful Sophie Miller?” my mom asks.

  I can’t help but roll my eyes. Must you bring up Sophie every time? I gulp down my wine.