Honeytrap

by Crystal Green

  I’ll bet she asked him to nail Jadyn, just to force a breakup with Rex so she could get back together with him. Total manipulative bitch. Or maybe they’d say, Shelby and Micah deserve each other. Two sluts in a pod.

  Yup, everyone would accuse me of the worst.

  Micah’s gaze lingered on me again, and Evie looked from me to him and then back again. The lobby filled up with the sounds from the shop, along with a trace of an old heavy metal song echoing from the other room and into this one.

  The only thing that broke the moment was when someone stuck his head through the door. Late twenties, buzz cut, phoenix neck tattoo, startling blue eyes in a tanned face. Darwin Wyatt.

  “Mikey, what’s keeping you?”

  Micah nodded toward us, and Darwin smiled, giving us a wave.

  “Sorry,” he said. “The kid here is taking triple the time he usually does to play receptionist. You both back from smart people school?”

  Evie laughed. “Kicking and screaming all the way.”

  Darwin laughed, too, then turned his attention back to Micah. “When you’re done charming the ladies, how about giving me a hand with refurbishing that dishwasher?”

  “Done,” Micah said.

  Darwin raised his hand in good-bye and disappeared. Micah came from behind the counter and toward us. I stepped back, as if the closer he got, the more danger there was of being burned.

  With a low chuckle, he headed for the exit. “Let’s get that mower in here.”

  He opened the door, leaving it gaping for us, and as I passed him, my blood zinged through my veins, my breath catching in my lungs. It was like he had some kind of magic running over him, a crazy chemical voodoo that made me a little dizzy.

  I got past him as soon as I could. Probably like every girl in town should.

  Evie was still all Curious George, though. Behind me, she resurrected the conversation that Darwin had interrupted.

  “Just so you know, Rex moved up to second-string quarterback during the last couple of games after the first-stringer tore his ACL. You just watch—Rex should be starting by the end of his sophomore year.”

  Even Evie had some pride in the hometown boy.

  I heard the door clomp shut behind us as Micah said, “Good for Rex.”

  “Sounds like you couldn’t care less about football,” Evie said. “You sure you’re from Texas?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He was right behind me now, and I hitched in a breath, letting him pass me by. He was taller than I’d first thought, broader, his uniform emphasizing those shoulders, skimming his waist as it tapered into slim hips. Yum.

  And not yum. Bad yum.

  “I’m more into cars,” he said, approaching my pickup. “Racing. All that.”

  Evie raised her eyebrows at me. Fast machines for a fast guy.

  He stopped by my truck, gesturing toward the bed, silently asking if he could undo the tarp covering the back. I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest again. Humidity breathed over me, but I still had shivers lifting the hairs on my skin. As I watched him work with effortless grace, pulling back the cover, I wondered just how old he was. A couple of years more than me? But when I compared him with someone like Rex, he seemed a world ahead of us. Not in age, really, but in . . . well, experience. Rex still had a lot of boy in him. Sometimes it was like he was a video game–loving kid stuck in a big body that he was learning how to use to its maximum athletic efficiency. But this Micah?

  He was more like a man-guy than a boy-guy.

  After he got the tarp off, he touched the mower with his fingertips, and for some unfathomable reason, my belly clenched. And when he ran his hand down the machine like it was the streamlined body of a woman, I started to throb, the spot between my legs aching.

  I had to be pretty hard up to be reacting like this. It wasn’t like having sex had been my favorite part of being with Rex. In fact . . .

  My thoughts careened off track when Micah lifted the mower out of the bed, handling it like it weighed nothing, easily setting it on the ground and looking up at me in time to catch me watching him.

  Crap. I motioned at the mower. “Any idea when it’ll be ready?”

  “We’ll need a better look, but it shouldn’t be too long. I’m good with . . . machines.”

  He grinned, making me wonder if he was calling me one. I sure was acting like it. But who wouldn’t around a shit-stirrer?

  Then a thought hit me . . . A lot of people thought I was a shit-stirrer, too. Micah Wyatt was one of the few in Aidan Falls who was in no position to judge me. I had a teammate.

  It was actually a nice thought before it faded away.

  Jerking his chin at me, he asked, “You’ll be picking it up?”

  My voice was quiet. “Probably.”

  “Great.”

  Bump-da-dump, went my whole body.

  He went to the passenger door and opened it for Evie. She and I just stood there, confused. He had . . . manners?

  When he swept his hand toward the cab, gesturing that she could get in, she did. He closed the door behind her, then went around to my side.

  How much of a crank would I be if I told him that the whole door-opening thing wouldn’t win me or Evie over? So I played along, thanking him after he opened my door and I got in.

  Much to my surprise, he didn’t say another word. He just went back to the mower and started to wheel it toward the shop, leaving me and Evie to watch him go. I didn’t know if her own pulse was beating against her in a sweet and low rhythm, too, but damn if Micah didn’t have that effect on me.

  Especially as he ambled off, inviting me to watch his tight butt in that uniform . . .

  After he took the machine around to the side of the building, I put the keys in the ignition, ready to hightail out of the lot and never see Micah again, except when I had to pick up the mower. Maybe I could arrange to be here when he had a day off.

  “Not so fast,” Evie said in a flat voice.

  I didn’t want to look at her because I knew she’d seen the reluctant interest in my eyes. “What a poser, right?” I asked.

  “Nah. I actually thought he was very honest about wanting to jump you.”

  “Please.”

  I began to start the truck, but Evie grabbed my wrist.

  “Can you say ‘got it for blondie’? Because it was written all over him, babe, even if he sets your teeth on edge.”

  Was I too young for a hot flash? Because one sure struck me like a flame licking at my skin.

  I shrugged. “You said he’s got it for everyone.”

  “He does spread the flirt around, but he had it turned up to extra high for you. He wasn’t looking at me all rumpy-pumpy like.” She glanced back at the building. “So you don’t think he’s delicious in a sexy, bad-boy white-trash way?”

  “Evie!”

  “I don’t think he’d deny it. He’s the kind of guy who is what he is, and he’s real comfortable with it.”

  I couldn’t argue, but I also couldn’t afford to be impressed.

  “He’s so into you,” Evie said matter-of-factly.

  “And he was into Jadyn when he shouldn’t have been. Literally. I’m not about to forget that. Also, Mom would kill me if I gave a guy like that a second look.”

  Evie tilted her head. “What I think you mean is that she’d kill you because she wants you to leave the past behind, and you wouldn’t be doing that with the guy who’s in the thick of this mess with Rex and Jadyn.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’ve got a good point.”

  I didn’t add that I’d vowed to avoid embarrassing Mom by not getting involved in any more scandals. I was here to shed my sin, to put my nose to the grindstone and forget about my mistakes and think about how to carry on. And if I could find myself again in the process, that would be a bonus. No. T
hat would be perfect. If Evie wanted me to stand up for myself, I had to know who myself even was.

  This time, Evie let me start the truck, and as I pulled to the road, pausing to look both ways before revving onto it, I glanced in the rearview mirror.

  My pulse stuttered when I saw Micah leaning against the frame of the opened doorway, one work boot crossed over his ankle, one hand stuffed into a pocket. He was wearing that heart-throttling smile again, his beautifully lethal gaze connecting with mine in the mirror like he could actually see me.

  I peeled onto the road with a squeal of tires, kicking up dust, obliterating the tempting image as I got as far away from him—and trouble—as I could.

  One Day After the First ParlorFly Contact, Private Chat

  T-Rex Alvarez: Knock, knock . . .

  8:00pm

  Lana Peyton: Who’s in my chat room?

  8:22pm

  T-Rex Alvarez: Someone who missed biology today & needs notes. Im sending u a chat message cos ur in that class rite?

  8:23pm

  Lana Peyton: Never said I was. Sorry but you’re SOL.

  8:24pm

  T-Rex Alvarez: Damn. Guess Ill have to hit up all my other friends.

  8:24pm

  Lana Peyton: Toodles then.

  8:25pm

  T-Rex Alvarez: Hold up.

  8:25pm

  Lana Peyton: ?

  8:25pm

  T-Rex Alvarez: What r u up to?

  8:25pm

  T-Rex Alvarez: Hello?

  8:27pm

  Lana Peyton: I’m here. My roomie was talking to me.

  8:28pm

  T-Rex Alvarez: Good. Thought u were ignoring me.

  8:28pm

  Lana Peyton: Maybe I should. Don’t you have a girlfriend?

  8:29pm

  T-Rex Alvarez: Yeah but she doesn’t mind me talking 2 other girls. Especially mysterious ones who hang around my page on and off 4 a month. And ones who r named after my fave QB of all time.

  8:30pm

  Lana Peyton: I came with this last name.

  8:30pm

  T-Rex Alvarez: Really . . . What else do u come with?

  8:31pm

  T-Rex Alvarez: . . . ?

  8:33pm

  T-Rex Alvarez: 2 soon?

  8:34pm

  Lana Peyton: No. Just my roommate again . . . So tell me . . . What are you suggesting I come with? You?

  8:35pm

  3

  I dropped off Evie at her family’s house a mile over from where I lived, then drove to my own place, where I showered off the sunscreen from the lake and changed into sneakers, capris, and a T-shirt with my mom’s Angel’s Seat Café logo written across the front.

  I went back to the carport that shaded my truck in the driveway of our home, hopping back into my rattrap. Talk about a mismatch—my bucket of bolts against the two-story, rosebush-lined, French-designed house that my grandpa, bless him, had left Mom after he’d died. The place actually allowed us to masquerade as one of the affluent minority in Aidan Falls, even though we were far from it. Sure, Mom had planted the gardens in back, and she’d kept the lawn green and manicured, but she’d been working like a dog for a long time to open the café. If it weren’t for the rest of Grandpa’s money, even after he’d spent most of it on health care at the end of his life, we probably would’ve lived in the apartments on the ’neckier side of town.

  Grandpa, who’d raised Mom on his own after Grandma had died shortly after childbirth, had been pretty judgy on Mom about her pregnancy. But after I’d been born, he’d loved me to death to make up for it, even though Mom had been smarting from his disapproval. She’d stubbornly insisted on making life work on her own, dropping out of high school later in her pregnancy, getting her GED plus a job with a family friend across town who owned a diner. When Grandpa had gotten ill three years ago, she’d moved in the house to take care of him and they’d made up for lost time with each other.

  Forgiveness. It wasn’t as easy as some people said, but it was possible. I just had to remember that.

  I got to the café during the dead time between lunch and dinner when only a few loyal locals usually stuck around for a cup of coffee and listened to the music Mom liked to play. Today it was Neko Case. Overhead fans circled over the rows of benches and tables, which were set up community style. A coffee bar, built from wood repurposed from a train car, lined a brick wall, and she’d put one of those raised observation seats from a caboose—an angel’s seat—on a platform near a potbelly stove. A wood floor and chalkboards with the ever-changing menus gave everything a homey feel, too.

  Truthfully, Mom should’ve been born over in Austin, where life is way more her. She would’ve been at home in such an artsy, hipper place that’s accepting of a restaurant like the Angel’s Seat. Aidan Falls still liked their straightforward slabs of beef and fried foods, and that was probably why this healthy café was always struggling. Well, that and Mom’s whole “whore” reputation. Things like that never went over well in this town, and my experience with Rex wasn’t exactly bringing in the business, either.

  But Mom had always gone against the grain, and she heartily believed that Aidan Falls would come around to her one day. I couldn’t help loving her more for that kind of tenacity.

  After sniffing the aroma of a rich enchilada sauce—damn, Mom could cook—I said hi to Frannie, one of the women in my mom’s “community,” and definitely a candidate for Austin, too. She was one of three single artistic women who lived in our main house as payment for their work. They were all “soul sisters” and considered what my mom was doing “edible art,” and I said more power to them.

  I made my way to the back, where Mom was doing prep work at a counter. I had no idea why Micah Wyatt had called the food here “fancy.” It was Tex-Mex based and downhome, made with ingredients from a nearby small farm and the gardens Mom and her friends kept at the house and café. Then again, why did his opinion mean anything? He didn’t know me, I didn’t know him, and . . .

  Odd, but shouldn’t I know more about him with the gossip mill in this town? Why did he seem like a bit of a mystery?

  As I came into the kitchen, Mom didn’t look up at first—she was too immersed in cutting those vegetables quickly and efficiently—so I didn’t bother her. I just took in her flushed cheeks, her short and perky platinum blond hair, her petite figure under her white, sauce-splotched apron. She was only sixteen years older than I was, but I swear, I had days when I felt older than she looked.

  She set down her knife, wiped her forehead against her shoulder, and squeezed her eyes shut as she blew out a breath. A headache? It seemed like she’d had one every day since I’d been back, and I didn’t know if it was because of the stir I’d caused with Rex or because she worried so much about keeping the café open. Along with everything else, sustainable food was expensive to use, thanks to low profit margins.

  “Hi,” I said, not wanting to startle her.

  I did anyway, and she raised her free hand to her chest as she stepped back. Then she smiled, her headache apparently gone. “Reporting for duty?”

  “As soon as I wash my hands and get my apron on.”

  “Good. First I’ll have you stock the mason jars on the tables with silverware and napkins—”

  Before she could go on pretending like she hadn’t been headaching, I asked, “You okay?”

  “Me? Sure. Just a long day. Lunch was a bear, but that’s more money in the bank.”

  “You should’ve called me. I would’ve been here to give you a hand.” I gestured toward the office. “Let me get you an aspirin and water.”

  “No, no, I’m fine. Besides, I think I’m out of aspirin. And I’ll be damned if I have you working day and night in this place, Shel. You’ve put in enough hours during the first couple of days here already. This is your summer v
acation.”

  “When do you get a vacation?”

  “This is just like one, sweetie. It’s my dream, remember?”

  Some dream, making her head hurt. Looked more like reality. “Evie said she’d love to come in and help, you know. She worked at a coffee joint at her college, and she would wait tables here for tips only—and a reference letter.” Also, she’d be comfortable in the front of the house, unlike me. I was satisfied with being part of the support stuff, bussing when I had to, prepping, cooking, and running around behind the scenes.

  Mom took up her knife again, preparing to chop more green peppers. “I might take Evie up on that. Did you two have fun at the lake?”

  Ugh. “It was nice to waste a few hours doing nothing. Thanks for the time off so I could work on my lovely golden bake.”

  Mom was no fool. “You’re lying through your teeth.”

  When I didn’t answer, she started chopping again, slower this time. “It’s all over your face, Shel.”

  “Okay. There were some smart-ass kids around, but I knew what I had in store for me when I decided to come back here for the summer. I could’ve handled the snarking, though. It only got intolerable when . . . well, Rex showed up.”

  Her knife paused in mid-air. “He did?”

  I picked at the hem of my café shirt. “I should’ve known he’d be there. He and his friends camped out there every summer, so why should it be any different after high school?”

  She brought the knife down hard in the pepper and sliced. “Rex. If I saw that kid, I’d—”

  “Not add to the drama. Right?”

  I’d been going for some levity, but my voice cracked on that last word, and I pressed my lips together. I’d tried my best all day not to think about Rex, but after seeing him, it was like he was fixed into my chest, pinning my heart right in the center so it wouldn’t completely fall out of me. The problem was that I could feel him slipping away, the sharpness of him tearing that heart in half.

  So screwed up. And the only time today I’d been able to forget him was when Micah Wyatt had been flirting with me, but that pretty much made matters worse, not better.