Beautiful Deception (Lake Loveless Book 4)

by Addison Moore

  “Paint, draw, unleash your imagination, and let loose.” He scoots my way and pats the space between us as if asking me to fill it, and I do. “Whatever your heart desires. This is your life, Zoey. I hate the cliché that this isn’t some dress rehearsal, but they’re right. You’re young, beautiful, and gifted. Don’t let old ghosts, past mistakes, bind you up and steal your joy, steal your future.” His head hitches back toward the sun, and his mouth opens as if he’s just had an epiphany of his own.

  “How does the medicine taste going down, Dr. McCarthy?” Not only had Abel morphed into a greeting card, but once he read the words for himself, he realized they were bullshit.

  “Not good.” The muscles in his jaw pop as if he were readying for a fight.

  “You know, we’re all born terminal with this human condition. You’re right about the past stealing my joy. I can tell you’re in the same boat.” A long spate of silence goes by as his eyes remain trained on the horizon.

  “It’s beautiful here,” he says as an afterthought.

  “Peaceful,” I counter. “But it’s too damn hot in the summer. Too damn cold in the winter.”

  “Where’s the happy medium?”

  “You have to find that in your heart.” I glance over to him, his lips pursed as if he didn’t care for my answer.

  “What are you running from?”

  “I’m not running from anything. I grew up here. Loveless is home. What are you running from?”

  “Myself.”

  “Sounds hard to do.”

  “It’s impossible,” he whispers. His shoulder bumps playfully against mine. “Back to the box. You can paint all the sunsets you like now.” His gaze is still set ahead as the sun melts her glory over his glowing face. He’s still pissed at the realization that his words were nothing but a waste of his vocal cords. Yes, this isn’t a dress rehearsal, we all need to find a happy medium in our hearts—both true in theory, but life isn’t tied to a string of simple platitudes. When you’re in the shitter, everything smells around you, even the words of a gorgeous, kind man.

  “One of my favorite things to do is sketch people.” I tap his foot with mine. “You forgot one thing in that box of plenty. I need a model with the face of an angel.” I groan a moment. “Okay. That’s a lie from the pit of hell. I’ve never sketched a single person’s face, never used a model, or so much as a prop. I sketch nameless, faceless crowds. Ballgames, and shopping malls, overpopulated beaches where a person would never want to be. Somewhere in that chaos of bodies I find relief. Maybe it’s the relief of knowing I’m not there swimming in a mass of humanity. That’s why I love the lake. That’s why I came back.” Wow. A moment of thick silence slogs by, and the sun reddens as if embarrassed by my bizarre confessional.

  I find relief? Abel is going to think I have a hatred for all of humanity, and at this point in my life I’m not too sure he’d be wrong.

  “What are you running away from?” Abel scoots in until our knees bump. It felt like a friendly tap.

  Everything about Abel feels friendly, and I’m not used to being friends with the opposite gender. For as far back as I can remember, men have either wanted me physically or have been emotionally cold. I know there are several girls who claim to get along better with boys than they do girls, but I never really believed them. I always understood that their penis would eventually get in the way. If you didn’t want to sleep with them, why waste your time? On second thought, maybe I was the problem. I usually am.

  A quiet laugh bounces from him. “You’re not going to answer me, are you?”

  “Are you kidding?” I balk at the idea. “I’m not even thinking about it. I tend to stay away from loaded guns.” Truth.

  The sun relinquishes her stronghold on the day and starts in on a dramatic descent.

  “There she goes,” he whispers. “Three, two, one—make a wish.”

  “I wish I had the ability to disappear.” I’m not sure why I said it. I mean it, though. The past comes back to me and all of its heartache, and suddenly I’m wishing other people would disappear instead. Some of them already have.

  “Is that what you’re doing in Loveless?” Abel extends his legs. His blue jeans glow cobalt in this ethereal light.

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing in Loveless?” I’ve got him there.

  Abel’s lips pinch into a dry smile. “I think we’ve established the fact we’ve both been burned. Let me ask you something, Zoey. How many serious relationships have you had in your life?”

  I examine him for a moment, this deity with thick black hair that looks delicious enough for me to want to run my fingers through—to knot my hands in and rain down kisses over. But it’s that three-day five o’clock shadow—the seventy-two hour shadow—that has every cell in my body begging for just one kiss. I don’t ever remember craving Warren that way. Maybe because Warren was all too willing to give me what I wanted.

  “One.” There. I may not have given his question any thought, but I sure as hell answered it. “Why?” Gone is any sweetness from my tone. My body tenses, and suddenly all of those cells that were telling me to kiss him are now shouting for me to run.

  “I get that it hurts.” He looks to the lake, to the darkest corner of the water when he says it as if reliving his own pain. “But you’re too young. Too beautiful and sweet to hole up in a boathouse. Gavin says you’ve been here over a year.”

  “It’s my life.”

  “What kind of life? Why did you leave school?”

  My heart thumps straight into my mouth, and I can taste blood. “Why all the questions?” I spit it out, caustic, and his features harden as if I’ve disappointed him on some level. “Look, you’re not my counselor, my big brother, or my daddy. I’m a big girl, and I don’t see why it would irritate you so much if I’ve decided to spend the rest of my days rotting in that boathouse. It’s my life.”

  “Not much of one. And you’re right. I’m not any of those things. I’m a friend. I’m not here to force you into making some decision you don’t want to make. I just hate seeing you sequester yourself from society because of one idiot. Get back out there. You can conquer the world, Zoey. Put a steel cage around your heart and move on.”

  A dull laugh dies in my chest before it ever gets started. I’m so incensed I can’t see straight, can’t catch my next breath. “Why don’t you go back to work, Abel? Go back to that shiny high-rise where you keep an office and put a steel cage over your own heart. I’d hate to see you rot in that boathouse. And don’t you lie to me and tell me you don’t wish you could hide out in Loveless for a year. Is that what this is about? When Gavin spilled that magic number at your feet you felt a twinge of jealousy? Wow, she must have torn your beating heart straight out of your throat and made you eat it for breakfast. And believe me, I’m sorry to hear it, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me to get back out there while you’re sitting on your bruised ego and most definitely your laurels. I haven’t exactly seen you hitting the keyboard. I bet you made that whole book thing up as a cover. It’s a lousy cover, by the way.”

  He tips his head back and rumbles out a short-lived laugh. “Do you feel better?”

  “Oddly, yes. But I’m still pissed. You don’t get to judge me while doing the same thing.”

  “Duly noted.” He glances down, and his lashes seem to elongate forever. I’ve never understood why nature insists on giving men unbelievably long lashes. It’s both a crime and a waste. “I’ve got a capital idea.”

  “If it actually requires capital, I’m out. My bank account is running on fumes. It’s true. I have burned through my meager trust fund. My entire life is going to end in a spectacular crash just like my parents. I know it, and Gavin knows it, too.”

  “Hey.” Abel reaches over and picks up my hand, giving my fingers a quick squeeze. It feels good as if he’s pumping life right back into me. “I’m sorry to hear that, but your life isn’t going to end in some spectacular crash. No crash is spectacular, by the way. What you need i
s a serious infusion of self-confidence. You can’t let what happened to you define you—or shape your destiny. You have a broken heart, Zoey,” His voice softens, and his lids hang low. It’s the exact tone and heavily lidded look most men get before they— “I’ve changed my mind about your proposition.”

  Knew it. A twinge of disappointment drips down inside of me, heavy as lead. Abel is just like the rest of them. Men want one thing from me and not much else. There are the Demis of the world, the Kennedys, the Reeses, who are polished to shine forever from the gift of true love. I’m just not one of them. I’m the other woman, the girl you extract things that are far naughtier than a few simple kisses in the night.

  I glide my leg between his and run my fingers achingly slow up the soft underbelly of his arm. “You ready to dirty up the nights with yours truly?” I may be disappointed in him, but I’m not about to let the prospect of putting something better than booze inside me.

  He gives a slight nod. His eyes bear hard into mine. “I’m ready to do something with you.”

  Something about his gaze cuts dangerously close to the quick. I’m so close to bleeding out. Abel has no idea the kind of fire he’s playing with.

  That tone he evoked lets me know there is something other than carnal expectations hiding on the outskirts of his mind. “What exactly is it that you plan on doing to me?”

  “I’m going to heal you, Zoey.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  Abel leans in as the lavender sky swallows him in deep hues of purple. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Zoey. I believe in the impossible and so should you.” He clears his throat just enough. “Now, you owe me a secret.”

  “I have a secret, but you won’t like it.” I’m not about to spill all of my heartache, vomit up my felonies, my lies, my dark hellish past here on this magical night where the stars hang low enough to touch with your finger, so I opt for another truth. “I’m impossible to heal.”

  The moon blinks to life from behind a small sheath of dark clouds, glowing like a communion wafer in the sky as if offering me absolution, forgiveness. But deep down, I know neither of those will come.

  They can’t.

  I’m too far damned for redemption.

  Abel

  I’m going to heal you. My own words resonate in my mind like a bell you can’t unring. I’m no more than ready and willing to heal her than I am myself, but it came with good intentions from the right place—my dusty, sooted heart.

  The moon has replaced the sun as the night turns thick as navy velvet. Zoey and I are still seated hip to hip taking in the breathless grandeur that Loveless has to offer. The stars sink in as close to that bottomless lake without falling in. Loveless has always held a magical air about it. Something dreamlike, fairytale-like, and that fictional-inspired nonsense is what I blame my most recent bout of madness on. The only thing I’ll accomplish if I try to suture Zoey’s heart is watching her bleed out.

  My fingers intertwine with hers, and it feels nice. Zoey is cool to the touch, soft. There is something so fundamentally feminine about her that it makes my bones ache, for exactly what I don’t know.

  “What are the rules to your little game?” She sucks in her bottom lip as if to stave off a laugh and looks sharply gorgeous. Zoey has the face that could launch a thousand ad campaigns in the right direction. She’s a textbook bombshell beauty. The face of an angel, the body of a vixen. I don’t believe I have ever been so close to such sheer physical perfection. It makes me wonder if she knows she’s beautiful, and if that’s somehow brought on the trauma that ensued in her life. And just as quick as the thought comes, it dissolves. Zoey doesn’t know she’s beautiful. She doesn’t know how much power she’s capable of wielding. If she did, she wouldn’t be putting her life on hold to nurse a broken soul. Some jackass stomped on her heart, and that’s exactly what I would love to remedy.

  “No game—no rules. I simply want to show you how a gentleman should treat a woman. I want you to know that whatever it is that’s happened to you isn’t the norm. It’s the rotten exception. I think you need to be reminded of your worth. I want you to feel like the smart and beautiful woman you are.” There. That is the truth. Zoey needs an infusion of reality to help her forget the trauma that asshole inflicted. He was lucky to have her, not the other way around.

  A laugh bubbles from her as the breeze picks up and blows back her vanilla waves. “You think I just need a quick reminder, huh?” Her pearl white teeth graze hard over her bottom lip, and my boxers blink to life.

  Down, boy. Not this one. Definitely not tonight. Lake Loveless will be just that for me, empty and celibate, a time to reflect, not a time to engage in a wild fucking spree.

  “I’ll bite.” She gives an exaggerated wink. “I’ll let you wine me and dine me, but I do have one rule, and yes, if you want to pass go, you’ll need to play the game my way.”

  I tick back a notch, amused. “What’s that?”

  “You’re going to sleep with me, Abel.” The words come out stoic, catatonic. She holds up a finger before I can properly protest. “You want to.” She nods into the idea. “It will happen.” Her eyes widen as if casting a spell. “And when you do, you’ll want to do it again, and again, and again.” Her knees part and come together with the deftness and elegance of a ballerina. “I’ve been told I’m a bit addictive.” She gives a sly wink.

  My boxers rouse to life, this time in no uncertain words. I’ve never had a woman come on so strong, with such carnal intent without offering me an out. A dull laugh huffs through me, and just as I’m about to make the obligatory protest, my lips seal shut.

  “Okay.” I can’t believe the word as it sails from my lips, and her eyes widen, as she can’t believe it either. Holy hell, what have I gotten myself into? I’ve gone from healing to taking advantage of her in a single bound. So much for a cold, empty, reflective existence up at the lake. It turns out, I was more into the wild fucking spree after all, and I can’t help but be a little disappointed in myself. But my flesh is cheering. My dick is all but panting like a dog at the gate just waiting to be let out for a quick sprint. Although if and when I’m with Zoey, I can guarantee there will be nothing quick about it. My body has been thirsty, hungry for her since the first time I laid eyes on her. She may have been watching me before we ever formally met, but I was watching her as well.

  Her eyes narrow in on mine as if calling my bluff, and suddenly I’m feeling like a jackass.

  “It wasn’t my intent. I’m not here trying to land you horizontal, Zoey.”

  “I know you’re not.” She blinks out at the lake. “Believe me, I know. I’ve thrown myself at my fair share of men, and it’s either hell yes or a hard no, but I’ve never had a latent maybe, and that’s what I figure you are. So what makes you hesitate?” Her bare foot glides over my leg, and something about that smooth touch sends a shiver through me. “You don’t think you’re ready to move on? How long has it been since she’s torn you a new one? Did this just happen last week?”

  “Months.” I pinch my eyes shut a moment, trying to hold Elizabeth under the surface. Whenever she corks up for air, all of the pain, all of the devastation, the wreckage of who we were cuts me all over again. “It’s getting better, though.” She’s moved on. That was the issue, but I’m starting to think maybe it was the solution to a greater problem I wasn’t yet aware of. “She’s getting back on her feet. I want that for her.”

  A dark laugh comes from her. “No, you don’t. Please—nobody wants their ex totally thrilled to be moving on. Does she have someone else?”

  I glance up at the dark well of the lake as his face bounces through my mind.

  “She does.” Zoey picks up my slack in the conversation. “Trust me, it’s her loss. You’re Abel McCarthy of the Mount Olympus McCarthys. In the event you haven’t noticed, I’ve had a slight obsession with your family for some time now. And why not? You’re gorgeous. Educated. There’s a family fortune in there somewhere. And let’s pause
the train right here—I’m no gold digger. I’m just looking to have a little fun.” Her demeanor darkens as she picks at the grass between her legs.

  “Fun.” The smile slides right off my face. “You free tomorrow night?”

  Zoey clicks her tongue as if to contest the idea. “Do I look like I’m running a tight schedule?”

  “Good. Dinner, Blue Crab at five. Dress your best.”

  Zoey’s eyes linger over mine, and a smile swims over her lips. “My best, huh? If we back it up an hour, we might get in on the early bird special.”

  “I know it’s early.” My thumb circles over her palm without meaning to. “But I’ve other plans for us the rest of the evening.”

  “Now you’re speaking my language.” Zoey leans in, her knee dives in between mine as she takes in my scent straight off my neck. Her face so close, all I need to do is turn my head and she’ll have that kiss she’s gunning for.

  “We’re not in a relationship, Zoey. I don’t want our wires to get crossed. I’m simply going to show you how you deserve to be treated—in every good way.”

  That dark laugh brews in her chest like a storm. “I know exactly how I should be treated. And it’s not in any good way.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I touch my finger to the tip of her nose, and our eyes linger a moment. “I’m here to prove you wrong.”

  I hope.

  The next morning, I’m up with the roosters—or more to the point, the rowers. I find Ace Waterman gliding over the lake as quick as a snake just as the sun crests the horizon, so I finally take him up on his offer and join him. Suffice it to say, there’s a reason Ace is a major part of the Yates Rowing Team and I’m not. The guy is Olympic level good. After an hour of trying to keep up with the lightning bolt he’s morphed into, I paddle to where I began and roll my ass onto the sand, lying there like a corpse that’s washed up on shore.