His amiable tone combined with that face was totally unfair. She hated the power he had over her. Hated that one look at him turned her into Chatty Cathy.
“I’m afraid of needles,” she relented. Her shoulders sagged.
“That’s a common fear,” he said without judgment. “Did something happen to trigger it?”
He stared at her and waited for more. Damn those irresistible eyes.
“When I was nine I had to give blood for some reason I can’t remember. The nurse couldn’t get my vein the first time so someone else came in. That person was worse. She had trouble too, and then panicked when I squirmed and she hit a nerve in my arm. I remember the pain shooting to my fingertips and I screamed. Ever since then I’ve been afraid of needles.”
He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Getting a tattoo is a lot different than giving blood.”
She admired his mouth and how it made everything better. “I know. But just the thought of it makes me sweat. I’d be mortified if I passed out while getting it done.”
“Have you passed out before?”
“No, but I always have to lie down for shots and my heart races and I can’t look and it’s really nerve racking.”
“I could go with you.” He dropped her arm and started to walk.
The bright, festive lights at Zane and Sophie’s house lit up the beach. Voices muffled a minute ago grew clearer. That’s where she needed to be. Surrounded by people and noise and more champagne. She needed distance before she drowned in Bryce’s attention. Plenty of guys were nice to her. But none had made her feel this way. And none had ever shared a secret this big with her before. So even though she wanted to toss his suggestion into the ocean where the fish could chew on it, she had to entertain his offer.
“Honor?”
“Maybe.”
“Fair enough.”
She forced a smile. There was absolutely nothing fair about the way her emotions had hijacked her rules for relationships. And her loyalty to her best friend.
“I never would have guessed Payton wanted a tattoo,” he added, the tease and warmth in his voice disappearing.
“I know. It is out of character for her, but she did keep some things private.”
“Even from you?”
“Even from me.”
…
Bryce slipped off his sunglasses and walked into the Happy Harpoon. No one stood at the check-in desk, but Midge passed by running her hands down her Happy apron.
“Hey there, handsome. Grab a seat anywhere you like.”
Bryce nodded at the silver-haired whirlwind and found a small booth that afforded him a view of the entrance. With time to spare before his lunch meeting with Cooper, he pulled out his cell to call Danny back and let him know no worries on not making it, but his phone chimed with a text message first.
Hey son, sorry it took me a few days to get back to you. Congrats on the new client. Proud of you.
Thanks, Dad. About to have lunch with my next new client, I hope.
The skateboarder?
Cooper Mitchell. Kid’s got it and I want it. Bryce looked up and said, “thanks” to the waitress for dropping off a menu.
I’ve no doubt you’ll get him then. Dinner soon?
Yeah. Tell Mom I said hi.
Call - don’t text - her and tell her yourself.
Bryce chuckled as he sat back and thought about his dad. As one of the best defense attorneys in Los Angeles, James Bishop played it heartless in the courtroom. But with Bryce and his younger sister the old guy was all heart. He pushed, sure, but only to the point he knew his kids could handle it. Bryce owed his strength of purpose to his dad.
“Bishop, you hanging around our town on a daily basis now?”
Blinking away his thoughts, Bryce focused on the ex-football player towering over the table. “Hey, Tango. Yeah, I’ve got a meeting with Cooper Mitchell.”
Tango nodded. “I’m thinking of making a comeback. Think you could handle me?”
Bryce chuckled. “As soon as they start the senior league, I’ll let you know.”
“Boy, I am never gonna be a senior and you’d best remember that.” He flexed his biceps, the muscles bulging underneath his short sleeves. Point taken. The guy could probably lift a truck over his head.
“You showing off for me, old man? Because I should tell you, it’s working.”
Tango threw his head back and laughed. “Too bad my lady friend looks to be getting impatient.” Bryce followed Tango’s line of sight to see a woman waving her hand. “I’m sure I could teach you a few things,” Tango added, eyebrows raised, before he moved on. Cooper took the seat across from Bryce two seconds later.
“Hey, Mr. Bishop. Sorry I’m a minute late.”
Bryce took note of Coop’s slight but safe rebellious look. No doubt he’d appeal to both guys and girls and bring a whole new set of fans to skateboarding. The good-looking gene definitely ran in the Mitchell family. “No worries. And call me Bryce. Mr. Bishop is my dad.”
Cooper blinked like he wasn’t sure he wanted to be that friendly. “Mind if I say something first?”
“Not at all.”
“I noticed something between you and my sister at the wedding and I want to remind you that my skateboarding and my family don’t mix.”
Bryce stiffened. He’d thought about Sunday night countless times. When he and Honor had fallen into the sand after the wedding and he’d finally gotten to lick inside her mouth, he had almost gone off. Then to talk like they had about Payton’s list, he knew getting closer was the wrong way to go if he wanted Coop as a client. He and Danny had worked too hard to restore their reputation for Bryce to blow it now.
But sometimes lines blurred. Made more muddy by a shared past with Honor he couldn’t ignore if he wanted to move forward.
“I hear you,” Bryce said. “Your sister and I were just being friendly. I dated Payton before she passed away.”
“You were the guy she snuck off to see?”
“Yeah.” He’d never understood why she wanted to keep their relationship a secret and had been glad when she’d finally talked about bringing him to White Strand.
“You never came around when she was sick.”
“She broke things off before I knew.”
Cooper gave a small nod. “She pretty much broke things off with everyone except my sister.”
Huh. He hadn’t imagined Payton tuning out everyone. He leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “So you’re ready to go pro,” he said, steering the conversation to a much safer topic.
Coop’s expression went from guarded to psyched. “I am,” he said around a smile.
The waitress stopped at their table with another menu. Coop waved it off saying he knew what he wanted. They ordered, talked about the skateboarding world and what Bryce would do for Cooper and his career. An hour flew by in easy camaraderie.
Bryce knew the kid needed time to think about things. Knew that Jake Harrington, one of the best sports agents out there, and Bryce’s adversary on more than one occasion, wanted Cooper. But he offered representation anyway and said he’d wait for as long as it took for a decision. It wasn’t something he normally did, but Coop had Bryce’s gut clenching. Beyond skateboarding, Bryce sensed the kid had more of a story to share in the years to come. Coop’s abilities would undoubtedly improve, but his optimism after suffering an almost life altering accident earned him a special distinction.
Coop’s cell buzzed with a text message. “Sorry, man. It’s from my sister.” He read the small screen and rolled his eyes with brotherly love. “She’s got a problem.”
“She okay?” Bryce asked.
“It’s work.” Coop’s fingers flew over the screen to text back a message.
“The antique shop?” Bryce waved to the waitress and mouthed, “Check.”
“No. It’s this Valentine’s Day thing she’s in charge of for the mayor’s office. Her antique store is a total afterthought.”
; Bryce frowned. He didn’t think that true. “She seemed pretty stoked about it to me.”
Coop lifted his head and studied Bryce with watchful intensity. “Maybe she’ll keep working on it and buying things to sell, but she’ll probably never open it.”
“Why not?”
“She’s worried about it failing.” Panic creased his forehead. “I shouldn’t have told you that. She’d have my balls if she found out.”
“How does she know it will fail unless she tries?” Bryce took the check from the waitress and pulled out his wallet.
“That’s just it. She doesn’t follow through on stuff. She’s got a really short attention span.” He pressed his lips together. “Shouldn’t have said that either.”
But it’s on Payton’s list, Bryce thought. He had no idea what things Honor might have tried in the past, but he’d stake everything that this time it mattered.
“Thanks for lunch,” Coop said, easing out of the booth. “I’ll be in touch.” His phone buzzed again. He looked at it, let out an unhappy breath and texted something. “I hate this,” he muttered, pocketing his phone.
Bryce followed him outside. “Is there something I can do to help?” The offer flew out of his mouth before he could stop it.
“This was a good meeting, Mr. Bishop. But like I told you, my family, especially my sister, isn’t any of your concern.”
“I’m clear on that,” Bryce said. “I have a little time to kill and thought if I could help you out, I would.” Truth. After bonding the last hour with Cooper, he’d do anything to get on his good side and up his chances of getting him as a client.
“You know how to get a hundred and fifty pairs of roller skates by tomorrow?”
“Honor needs skates?”
They reached the sidewalk and stopped. Blue colored the sky, but scattered clouds played hide and seek with the sun. The cool breeze carried the scent of salty, fresh air.
“You know how they have Walk to School day? She came up with this idea to skate to work on Valentine’s Day. The mayor’s been trying to implement some healthy heart, wellness program without much success, I guess, so Honor thought it would be fun to”—he put his hands up and made air quotes—“‘Roll Into Work.’ All the city workplaces like the mayor’s office, fire and police station, library, local paper, are on board. Honor rented skates for them. Only they weren’t delivered today as promised. She’s freaking out and wanted me to help her figure something out.”
Bryce tried to picture Honor losing her patience and couldn’t see it. She’d be fired up, yeah, but she wouldn’t want anyone to notice this minor setback. That must be why she called her brother.
“I actually do know someone who could probably get her the skates.”
“Dude, seriously? That would be killer.” He shifted his weight and glanced at the sidewalk. “Would you mind going over to her office? I’ve got to be somewhere in five minutes.”
“Not a problem. She’s at City Hall?”
“Yeah.”
They shook hands, Cooper’s grip tighter than necessary. Bryce understood. Honor was off limits. He reminded himself of that over and over again as he headed down Main Street on foot. He’d been to City Hall once before during the film festival last summer and it wasn’t far.
He pushed through the double doors of the small building and stopped at the reception desk. The older woman grinned up at him. A badge on her shirt said Shirley. He smiled, remembering Honor’s mention of the woman.
“Hello,” Shirley said. “Can I help you?”
“How are you today, Shirley?”
“I’m well, thank you.”
“That’s a very nice blue streak. It goes with your blouse.”
Her smile widened, pink spread across her cheeks, and she patted the strip of blue in her short, straight brown hair. “Thank you. My granddaughter did it for me.”
“I’m here to see Honor Mitchell. Can you point me in the right direction?”
“She’s just down the hall there. Last office on the right.” Shirley motioned over her shoulder. “Can I ask what your business is with her?”
Bryce admired the sweet concern in Shirley’s voice, but he didn’t think Honor would want him sharing. “Is it required before I pass go?”
Shirley’s posture slouched. “No.”
“How about we call it a friendly matter then,” he leaned his elbows on the desk, “and keep it between you and me?”
She grinned. He winked.
Black and white pictures of White Strand dating back decades lined the hallway as he passed several offices until he reached a small corner room not much bigger than the closet he had played kissing games with Honor in. One small wooden chair with a pale yellow seat cushion and a tall but thin bookshelf took up what little empty space remained. A painting of sunflowers hung on the wall. The pen atop her desk had a plastic pink flower attached to the end of it.
He knocked on the open door.
Honor looked up from the mess of papers on her tiny desk. Her pretty blue-gray eyes widened when she saw him. “Bryce?”
“Hi. I was having lunch with your brother and he told me what happened. We think I might be able to help.” He purposely said ‘we’ to keep her defenses down.
“With my brother,” she muttered, as if she didn’t like the two of them meeting. She dropped her head into her hand and rubbed her forehead. “Close the door?”
“Sure.” Once shut, he leaned against it.
“This is what I get for not following up before today. The rental company says they never got my order and there’s no way they can pull together over a hundred pairs of skates and have them here by tomorrow. I thought Coop might know someone he could call to help.”
Bryce stepped away from the door. “A friend of mine owns a skate shop in L.A. He’s the guy TV and film people go to when they need huge quantities of skates or boards. You need one-fifty?”
Honor blinked and nodded.
He pulled out his cell and made the call. His buddy got on the line and a minute later Bryce said, “Where do you want them delivered?”
Honor’s gorgeous lips parted, but no sound came out. She took a deep breath. The white sweater with rhinestone buttons clung to her perfectly round breasts, and he ran a hand down his pant leg to stop the itch in the tips of his fingers.
“Here,” she finally said and rattled off the address.
Just as he said goodbye, she jumped to her feet. “Wait. What’s the rental fee? When do they need payment? What about sizes? How long is the rental for?”
The cell phone on her desk rang. “It’s Coop.” She picked it up. “Hey,” she said with a raised voice before she pressed something on the screen and put the phone down. “I’ve got you on speaker.”
“Is Bryce there?”
“He’s here and just saved my ass.”
“Awesome. Thanks, bro. No way could I have pulled anything off this fast.”
“My pleasure.”
“H, you good then?”
“Always,” she said, rather unconvincingly to Bryce’s ears.
“Okay. See ya later.”
The second Coop clicked off, the air in the room changed, like time had slowed to keep him and Honor together for as long as they wanted. He sat in the chair and met her soft yet vivid gaze.
“I don’t know what to say,” she murmured.
“I was happy to help. And to answer your questions, the rental fee is taken care of, they know what sizes to send, and if you could return them by Monday, that would be great. They’ll be here in the morning, by the way.”
“What do you mean the rental fee is taken care of?”
“It’s a donation. It’s heart month, right?”
She rubbed the side of her neck. “No. I mean yes, but we can’t accept that. That’s… that’s…”
He stood, walked around her desk, and squeezed in behind her chair. “That’s how it is. So how about a, ‘Thank you, Bryce, I owe you one,’ and we’ll call it even.” He wrapped his ha
nds around her shoulders and started to massage. He’d been told, “I don’t need you to rescue me,” by a few ex-girlfriends, but he couldn’t change who he was. And maybe that was part of his problem. Maybe that’s what had kept Payton away. Maybe he knew his actions would ultimately push Honor away and that’s what got his feet to move behind her chair. He wanted to be close to her for as long as it lasted.
“What are you—”
“Shh. Just relax and let me work the tension out of your neck.”
Her chin dropped. “Owing you isn’t even.”
“Figured that out, did you? Well, I need a favor, too.” Through the thin material of her sweater the muscles under his fingers stiffened but he was helpless to stop the request on the tip of his tongue. “I want to pick your brain about Roseville pottery.”
She lifted her head. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”
“Let it—?” She meant the list. “I’m serious about the Roseville, nothing else. My mom is a big collector and her birthday is next month. I’d like to hire you to help me find a piece to give to her.”
Honor peeked over her shoulder at him. “Hire me?”
“You’re an antique dealer, aren’t you?”
Her eyes alighted with pleasure before she turned away and dropped her head again. His chest filled with a kind of contented energy he’d never felt before.
“Okay,” she whispered.
It took everything he had not to kiss her nape, move up to her earlobe, then around to her smooth cheek, her lush lips. Eye on the prize, dude. And it isn’t Honor.
“Does Saturday work for you?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He continued to massage her shoulders and neck until her body melted under his touch and she let out a hum that had the strain against his zipper jumping up a few degrees. If he didn’t walk out the door right now, he’d stop at nothing short of sitting her on her desk, lifting her skirt, and burying his face between her legs.
Not the tactic to win over her brother and put his agency back at the top of its game.
Chapter Six
Blame it on the Kiss Page 8