Honeytrap

by Crystal Green

  “Ah.” He suppressed any and all smiles.

  “Girls do talk, you know.”

  “About . . .”

  “You, of course. How you ruined her and have me next on your list. And how you like married women, too.” The hairs on my arms were standing up, the skin on my legs goose bumping as he followed a branch pattern to within a half inch of my thigh again. “If you were a nice guy, you’d tell everyone that you came on too strong with her and accept responsibility for the seduction, and you’d leave committed women alone.”

  “I’ve said before—everyone I’m with makes their own decisions. They’re all adults.”

  “But you’re a power player. Just look at you, in my room, uninvited.”

  He traced the rest of the branch pattern, finally slipping his finger along the bottom of my thigh. I flinched away, and he laughed. But then he sobered.

  “The only married women I’ve been with have already had it in mind to end their relationships. I get more credit for destroying their wedded bliss than I deserve with them.”

  Hmm. “And with Jadyn?”

  “I didn’t know everyone would pile on her like they have. I knew she was with the Great Rex Alvarez, but . . .”

  “You’ve never been in a small town like Aidan Falls before and you had no idea how vicious people can be about protecting the ones they adore. I’m not buying it.”

  “Okay, you’re right about that,” he said. “I grew up in a smaller place but spent my teens in Dallas. They’re not so talky in the city.”

  I wanted to ask what he’d been doing in Dallas, who’d been taking care of him, where he’d started out before life in the big city and how he’d come out here to Aidan Falls as this fully formed country boy. But he didn’t want to talk about that obviously.

  No, he had lightly grabbed onto the bottom of the blanket he’d given me, like he meant to tug it away. A mist of sweat had settled on my skin—the blanket was a layer I didn’t need in the night’s warmth—and I loosened my grip on it. Maybe I could just cross my arms over myself again and cover up.

  But he didn’t tug. He kept me on edge, waiting for the moment he would expose me.

  My motormouth ran, fueled by my nerves. “As I was saying, Rex dropped by the Texaco. He was with all his cronies, drunk as skunks, and he had a few words for me and Jadyn. I think he was showing off to his buddies about what a big man he is by tearing into the women who wronged him.”

  “That’s a shock to you?”

  “Not these days.” Now Micah did start to pull lightly on the blanket, and I let go without making a big deal, hoping he wouldn’t remark on it. Smoothly, I covered myself with my crossed arms. “He sent me an e-mail yesterday, too, but I haven’t opened it.”

  Micah was definitely distracted now. Success.

  “When’re you going to read it?” he asked.

  “Some time or another.” I tightened my arms. “Rex is only playing games. I know that, because he sent this particular message to . . .” Did I want to bring up Lana Peyton? Oh, why not. I was already in the thick of explaining. “He contacted an old account. The one I was using to see if he was as faithless as I’d thought he was.”

  “Lana Peyton’s.”

  When I paused, Micah lifted a hand in casual acknowledgement. “I know all about it, Shelby. Who doesn’t?”

  Words came bursting out of me. “You also know that I’m not really her.”

  “Sure.”

  “Because that’s why I think you’re chasing me. You believe I’m that girl who puts out and will give you some of that, too. But I think you’re also pursuing me because you’ve got that thing about Rex, and you love to take away the one thing from him you can steal—his girls.”

  Wow, that’d been a bunch of gunpowder, all lit up and exploding. But if I’d expected to blast him out of my room, I’d misfired.

  He was still on my bed, giving me a look so earnest that my heart curled around the edges.

  “At first, the idea of you appealed in both of those ways,” he said with his characteristic bluntness. “But then I saw you in the shop, and . . .”

  He didn’t finish. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to.

  The TV droned in the background as we both just sat there, awkward as hell. But then, as if he couldn’t handle the tension, he shifted to his side again, grabbing both my legs and maneuvering me away from the wall so that I was somehow almost laid out straight on my bed, absolutely breathless. He moved over to my right as I rested both palms against his chest in a half-hearted attempt to keep him at a distance.

  Pulse, thudding. Body, pounding all over, aching for him again.

  “Forget all this talking,” he whispered, inches from my mouth.

  He coasted his fingers over my hair, but my ponytail was bunched beneath my head like a blond pillow, so he didn’t comb through it. Instead, he lowered his mouth until it brushed mine with a kiss so soft that exquisite agony bloomed from my center and outward, spreading all along my body.

  My fingers grasped his T-shirt, mindlessly bringing him closer.

  He kept kissing me, brutally slow, my mind breaking into blitzes of fervent color, showering down and down until I felt like a thrashing collection of scattered, electric parts. Unlike Rex, Micah didn’t push my limits. He kept the kiss romantic and endless, as if he could’ve spent all night sipping at me and petting my neck with his knuckles. When he finally came up for air, he nuzzled the sweet spot below my ear.

  “Is this still a bad idea?” he asked against me.

  “The worst.”

  He knew I was lying, and he laughed into my skin, making me wiggle as I pulled at his T-shirt again. I wanted to ask him about that mysterious scent that traced his skin, wanted to ask if he was always just pretending to tell the truth so that when he told a lie, I’d believe it.

  Not that I cared so much about that right now.

  He rose up on an elbow, looking down at me. “We were interrupted at the movies.”

  “Thank God.”

  Another smile from him, lighting its way through me, intensifying my pained cravings.

  “Where did we leave off?” he asked.

  I remembered—with his hand under my sweater, his fingers inside my blouse, bringing me to repressed excitement. And he clearly needed no reminder, because he carelessly started working at the top button on my camisole.

  Should I tell him to get out of here, for real now?

  No, my hormones screamed. Just a few minutes more. Just a little more and then . . .

  He undid that button, then another, and before I could get a hold of my senses, he had my top all the way open. Air from the fan whooshed over me, offering its own caresses. But it was the languid heat of his gaze that made me rest an arm over my head, made my eyelids heavy as I gave him a lowered, anticipating look.

  From what I saw on his face, I knew I’d never been appreciated this way before. With Rex, everything had been quick, urgent, and he’d never taken the time to just . . . look. So many times, I’d been eager to please him, but I didn’t have to do a damned thing with Micah now. Making him smile seemed natural.

  He gently stroked his fingertips over one bare breast, tracing the swell of it, paying such erotic attention that I couldn’t look away from him.

  “Dammit, Shelby,” he whispered. “You’re killing me.”

  Ur killing me Lana.

  Rex’s online words to Lana Peyton—the other woman—jarred something in me, and I turned my face away from Micah, reaching for my gaped top and fumbling it closed as I sat up.

  He slowly got up, too, but I didn’t stop long enough to see his face and what he might be thinking.

  Cockblocked. That’s what was probably running through his mind. I couldn’t believe I’d gone this far again.

  “I can’t do this,” I said.

  He didn’t re
spond, only sat on the edge of the bed, running his hands over his hair. He was staring at the floor.

  Once more, words got the better of me, gushing in desperation. “I think I have ulterior motives—I could be trying to inflict more damage on Rex by letting you . . . do what you do.” I couldn’t even say “seduce me,” because it was looking more and more like this thing with Micah was as warped as my lingering, toxic relationship with Rex. Maybe I was even using Micah to move on from my ex, knowing a player was as temporary as they came.

  But at least he wasn’t like Rex in one other way: I wouldn’t ever have needed to honeytrap Micah because he was so open about being a man-whore. At least he was Mr. Right in that respect.

  Micah rose from the bed, his expression unreadable. Tin-can laughter from the TV provided an ironic soundtrack as he moved to the sliding glass door.

  But before he left, he turned to me, as serious as I’d ever seen him.

  “You’re gonna fall for me one day, Shelby,” he said.

  And with that, he disappeared, slipping away as easily as he’d arrived, leaving me at loose ends once again.

  ***

  I seemed to sit there forever, my head fuzzy, fumes of thought curving every which way.

  Had he really said what I thought he’d said? Could Micah Wyatt really be that thick, thinking I was going to fall for him emotionally? And why had I gotten the heart-stopping impression that he’d truly meant it?

  The TV went from late show to late movie, and at some point, my phone dinged with a text.

  I glanced at my alarm clock—it was after one. Mom still wasn’t home but, then again, that didn’t mean she was late. She and the girls would be hanging at the Angel’s Seat, probably celebrating tonight’s receipts.

  When I got my phone, my nerves seized.

  Rex

  U up?

  Shit. I was pretty sure he was checking to see if I’d finally read yesterday’s message to Lana Peyton’s account. It looked like it was time to peek at it. But, honestly, I did need something to get my mind off tonight’s adventures with Micah.

  I was ready for this now.

  So I went to my computer and waited for it to boot up. Yup, if I busied myself with Rex, I wouldn’t think of what’d happened today and tonight.

  You’re gonna fall for me one day . . .

  After I was able to sign on to Lana’s account, I went straight to her e-mails. It’s like tearing off a bandage, I thought, as I read the message Rex had sent yesterday.

  March 15, 12:02pm

  Subject: ()

  U still her?

  And that’s all there was to it. I wasn’t sure if Rex had misspelled the “her” and had meant “here.” I would’ve preferred the second interpretation, because the “her” would’ve meant he was asking if I was still Lana.

  Who did he want me to be? Or was this his way of opening up some kind of apology?

  Based on how he’d acted this afternoon, I wasn’t so sure about him feeling any kind of sorry. And if he was trying to make amends, did I even want to get square with him?

  What was he after?

  It wasn’t like I was going to get any sleep tonight, anyway, so I grabbed my phone to text him. No way would I communicate through Lana anymore.

  Shelby

  I’m up.

  Then I waited. An answer didn’t take long.

  Rex

  U pissed about today?

  No, I loved being the butt of jokes. My thumbs got busy.

  Shelby

  You didn’t impress anyone except for your drunk friends.

  BTW, you’re still using Jason’s e-mail to contact Lana?

  Rex

  Hah u didnt shut down her account.

  Wow, so he was keeping tabs on me. I didn’t take his bait and tell him about why Lana’s account was still open; instead, I focused on him.

  Shelby

  Why are you still using Jason’s ParlorFly e-mail?

  Rex

  I tell u if u tell me.

  Now I was sure he’d e-mailed just to dangle a carrot in front of me, wanting to know why I was clinging to Lana in exchange for information about him. But, hey, thanks to Micah, I was getting used to lures.

  Shelby

  It is clear that you only want to taunt me. Goodnight.

  Rex

  Wait. Im sorry about today.

  He didn’t go on, but for Rex, this was huge. He was the cock of the walk around his friends, but behind closed doors, he wasn’t necessarily a full-time jerk, and that part of him was finally coming out again. He was being the guy I’d seen at the lake, when he’d given me that look I couldn’t figure out, like he really was sorry.

  Since this was the first sincere, calm communication we’d had since the breakup, I let it run on.

  Rex

  U doing ok?

  Shelby

  I’m great. Lots to keep me busy.

  Before I sent that one, I erased the last sentence. It might open a door for him to say something crappy about Micah. I retyped.

  Shelby

  I’m great. Café keeping me busy.

  Rex

  Im working out and training lots . . . mostly with beer. LOL.

  My, was he friendly tonight, almost like he did miss me.

  I turned that thought over in my head. Maybe, not long ago, I would’ve wanted him to miss me in that weirded-up little world I’d been living in, but now missing me just seemed messy, like a bunch of covers on a bed that’d been rumpled by . . .

  I glanced over at my mattress. Micah.

  My phone dinged, and I dragged my gaze away from the bed and back to the phone, my belly butterflying.

  Rex

  U fall asleep?

  Shelby

  Not yet but I’m tired. Need to say goodnight.

  Rex

  Ok. C u around?

  Was he kidding?

  Shelby

  Night, Rex.

  Then I killed the sound on my phone, even though he didn’t send a text in return. When I went to my bed, I hesitated before getting into it, looking at the disturbed cherry blossom patterns Micah had traced on the cover.

  As it started to rain again, I turned off the lights and climbed under the sheets, the chatter of my TV chasing me into a restless sleep.

  11

  When I woke up, I could’ve sworn I was hungover, even if I’d never been that way before. But this was how I imagined it’d make me feel—cotton-headed, sluggish, and slow to rise.

  Micah’s fault, I thought as I tumbled out of bed. It was like I’d taken in too much of him yesterday and he’d made my system crash.

  God, I couldn’t wait until I got over this first-blush addiction to what he did to me and got back to being my old boring self—normal, logical, future-minded. There was no future with a guy like him, and that was a fact.

  I threw a long T-shirt over my camisole and shorts, grabbing my phone out of habit, then padded out of the pool house and entered the main one through the back. I headed to the kitchen, where women’s voices wove in and out of one another like the buzz of bees in a garden. I’d overslept long enough for even the winos to wake up before I did.

  I was fixing my ponytail out of its bedhead slump when I trudged in, raising my hand in a yawning hello and going straight to the fridge for orange juice and milk. Frannie, Rainey, Juanita, and Mom were gathered around the island counter, pots and pans hanging over their heads as they dined on grapefruit and pancakes, which weren’t my thing.

  Frannie laughed at me, her apple cheeks glowing. “Witness what too much late-night TV does to this generation.”

  Juanita also looked well put-together for a wino, her thick, dark hair waving over one shoulder. “I think someone’s been watching too much Walking Dead.”

  More laughter ensued, and I chortled along with them, grabbing a glass from the cu
pboard, along with a bowl and oat cereal. “Young people need more sleep than old ones,” I said.

  “Smart-ass.” That was Rainey, whose nose had gotten sunburned from her outside work yesterday, even in spite of the humongo straw hat she’d been sporting.

  I poured the oats into the bowl. “Y’all are chipper this morning.”

  Mom beamed. “Based on what I calculated last night, this was an even better week for the café than I thought. Yesterday really put us in the black—Juanita had that one table that kept ordering the San Saba hill country reserve pinot. Their bill came to four hundred, and that was before they bought some bottles to take with them!”

  High fives all around. I even joined in, because if we could get more wine-loving tables, we’d be in some real business.

  “Know what?” I asked, splashing some milk in my bowl. “What if the Angel’s Seat got a reputation for its local wine list? And how about carrying more craft beers? You could have nearby wineries and breweries put on tastings to draw people and pair the lists with the food. Mom, I could get on that this summer, revamping the website and getting you up and running on social media. This could be huge if you set yourself to doing those lists.”

  Frannie tapped her forehead. “Always thinking, this one.”

  “That’s why I like to have her around.” Mom smiled at me, then stood, taking her empty plate to the sink and rinsing it. “So, Shel, what do you have going on today besides the café later?”

  “I was going to weed the gardens, then maybe hit Evie’s pool with her. Why?”

  “The mower’s ready to be picked up from the shop.”

  Suddenly, the only sound in the kitchen was the water swishing out of the faucet. The women exchanged glances, then surveyed me.

  The name “Micah Wyatt” hung above us like a piñata, ready to be swatted. But maybe Mom was the only one who’d be up for doing that, seeing as Frannie was grinning at me and the other two were very, very busy wiping their mouths with their cotton napkins.