Honest Betrayal

by Girard, Dara

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s seeing his wife,” Brenna said annoyed.

  “Home wrecker,” Pauline teased.

  “They’re supposed to be getting a divorce.”

  Tima shrugged. “They’re trying to make the marriage work.”

  “They’re trying to save a sinking ship.”

  Pauline nodded. “Brenna’s right. I’ve met Fiona and her brother could do better.”

  Brenna flashed Tima a sly grin. “Actually, I’d love to pair you two.”

  Tima shook her head. “No way. I like my men fully grown.”

  “He’s twenty-five.”

  “So? Men mature slowly. They don’t even start ripening until they reach their mid-thirties.”

  “But you can teach younger men things,” Pauline said. “Things they’ll turn around and use on younger women. Forget it.”

  Brenna looked pensive. “If he were older would you be interested?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re my friend, so I’m not going to tell you.”

  “Fair enough.” Brenna sighed defeated. Stephen wasn’t interested in Tima or she in him. Perhaps her instincts were wrong.

  ***

  Stephen smiled to himself thinking of his mother’s phone call as he drove home. He wasn’t sure what Brenna was up to, but it seemed she’d managed to snag a man. Good for her. He wiped his brow, suddenly feeling the weight of his exhaustion. His last job had finished early and he’d helped a colleague move a large poster bedroom set up two flights of stairs. All he wanted to do was go home and shower. Then he’d go visit the Alandale Theater and see how the production was coming. He parked his truck and jumped out then caught a glimpse of the local stray—a gray and brown cat. He opened his lunch bag and tossed it some leftover chicken. The cat snatched it and ran off.

  “Hey sexy,” a female voice said.

  He spun around and smiled at Fiona. “Hey babe. Stay away I’m all sweaty. Let me change my shirt.” He turned and grabbed an extra one he had in his truck then pulled it on.

  “I came to have a little snack with you. I packed some food.” Fiona lifted a bag.

  “Good. Why don’t we eat it here? It’s a nice day.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “In the truck?”

  “It’s clean. Come on.” He grinned. “We’ve done a lot more than eat back here.”

  “All right.”

  Stephen lifted Fiona onto the flatbed then climbed in behind her. He watched her spread out the food, her long hair falling around her slender shoulders that always seemed to cower from the weight of the world. He felt fiercely protective of her, determined she would always feel safe with him. He grabbed a sandwich. “What is this?”

  “Turkey.”

  He looked at the other sandwich. “What’s that?”

  “Turkey.”

  He didn’t like turkey; she always forgot that. He took a bite anyway, appreciating the effort. “Hmm, delicious.”

  She smiled.

  Her smile erased the bland, rubbery taste of turkey in his mouth. Stephen leaned back against the cab feeling good. Fiona was like his truck—comfortable and reliable. She didn’t want anything more from him. He knew that in a few months he’d probably ask her to move back in with him. Getting a divorce would be a mistake. He couldn’t do better than Fiona. Her deep brown eyes and calm presence were nice to come home to. She was content with her life and her job as a clerk at The Bath Shop. It was his fault the marriage had hit rough spots. He hadn’t given it enough time. He hadn’t been there as a husband. He’d grown restless, but he wouldn’t this time.

  They ate in silence. Neither of them were great conversationalists. This trait had drawn them together as high school seniors. He remembered asking her out after months of practice and staring at her across the aisle in Chemistry class. She said yes, to his surprise and relief, and things progressed from there. At times he wished they had more to say to each other, but he didn’t want to bother her and it wasn’t really that important. Fiona was definitely someone he could see himself growing old with.

  He put his arm around her waist. “What are you doing after this?”

  “Visiting my mother. You?”

  “Nothing much.” It wasn’t true, but he hadn’t told her about the theater. Stephen didn’t want to let her know that for two seasons he had been sneaking back stage to watch the set being built and the lighting production. But perhaps keeping it a secret was keeping a part of him from her. If he wanted their relationship to be different he’d need to be different. This was something they could talk about. He cleared his throat. “Actually, I was thinking of going by the Alandale Theater. They’re going to start production on a new play.”

  Fiona reached for a pear. “So?”

  “So, they may need some help with the set design. I could perhaps help with the lighting.”

  She took a bite then held the pear out to him. He shook his head. “That theater has been having performances for over twenty years. I’m sure their lighting director knows what he’s doing. You wouldn’t want to upset him by telling him what you think he’s doing wrong.” Fiona took another bite, quickly wiping some pear juice flowing down her chin before it stained her blouse.

  Stephen felt his enthusiasm falter. “Yes, well I thought if I could help... Give them some new ideas.”

  “The director might hate them.” She set the pear aside. “You know how those artistic guys are. They like to run the show. Just stick to what you know.” She cupped his chin when she saw his face fall. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to discourage you. You have such a kind heart. I know you want to help, but think of something else. Something you’re good at.”

  “I’m good at lighting.”

  Her hand slid slowly up his thigh and her voice turned seductive. “I wasn’t thinking about that.” She began kissing him and pushed all thoughts of the theater away.

  ***

  “Let me understand this,” Miles said as he and Hunter sat at their desks. “You’re going to meet her mother?”

  Hunter tapped his chin. “It does sound a little absurd.”

  “Sounds brave.”

  “It’s my part of the bargain. I meet her mother and she meets—”

  “The entire Randolph company and their family and friends.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  Miles leaned forward. “And your grandfather.”

  “I’ll handle him.”

  “Does she know how big this event is?”

  “Won’t matter.” Hunter clasped his hands behind his head. “I’m thinking of seducing her.”

  “Can she be seduced?”

  “Any woman can be seduced.”

  “You’ll get in trouble with an attitude like that.”

  Hunter lifted a brow. “That’s good. I can handle trouble.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Two days later, Brenna and Hunter chose Whalton Park for their crash course lunch meeting. Brenna sat on a bench and stared at her list, too absorbed to hear the squeal of children at the playground or the zip of bicyclists passing by. Everything had to work out or the whole plan would fail.

  “I see you brought your cane,” Hunter said, glancing at the object that took up most of the bench. “Do you usually allow it to have its own seat?”

  “It keeps me from getting hit on.”

  “Do you whack potential suitors with it?”

  Brenna glanced up then frowned at the picnic basket in his hand. “We’re here to work.”

  “Yes, I realize that. Come on. I know a spot that will suit us.”

  “Where?”

  He pointed. “Over that hill.”

  She sighed. “Great. Go ahead and I’ll follow you.”

  He glanced at her cane. “You can’t make it?”

  “I can if you promise not to watch me.”

  He squatted in front of her. “Get on my back then.”

  Brenna stared at him. “What?”


  Hunter glanced at her over his shoulder. “You heard me.”

  She looked around. “You can’t do this.”

  “You don’t know unless you try.”

  Her curiosity overrode any doubts. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He easily rose to his feet and began to walk.

  “You’ve never done piggyback before,” he said after a few steps.

  “No. Why?”

  “You usually don’t try to strangle your carrier.”

  Brenna loosened her grip. “Oh, sorry.”

  “Thank you. Now I can breathe.”

  She rested her chin on his shoulder. It was dangerous being this close to him. Close to his scent, his warmth, his vitality. She could feel the inherent strength of his back muscles. He was so strong, yet he didn’t use it as a method of intimidation. She felt safe with him.

  Hunter stopped under a large maple tree. In the distance, a pond glimmered with the light of the sun. Brenna jumped down stumbling a bit but quickly regaining her balance.

  She watched him spread out the blanket a blue cotton/linen mix. “May I help?”

  “No.”

  She glanced towards the pond, watching people feeding the swans. Not since she was a girl had she sat in a park to relax. She usually walked through it to get somewhere. Not to enjoy it as she did now, sitting with someone else. Not talking, just being. Strange that he’d be someone she felt comfortable with. He was too patient and very cunning. She should feel cautious, instead she felt at ease.

  He handed her a plate piled with potato salad, grilled fish and green beans. “So what should I know about you so I can impress your Mom?”

  “First of all, you and I met in a greeting card shop. You were shopping for your mother.” Brenna took a bite of the fish.

  “Impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know where she is.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t be. My stepmother did a wonderful job.”

  “Okay, so you were picking up a card for your stepmother and asked me for my opinion. We started talking then you asked me out. Our first date was at the Thai restaurant on the corner of Mistleton Road. Our next few dates were scattered because of your hectic schedule. That’s why you’re only meeting her now. Do you think you can remember that?” She asked as Hunter finished his first helping of potato salad and went for a second.

  Hunter leaned against the tree. A piece of bark fell on his shoulder. He picked it up and stared at it. “I’m sure you have it all written down for me.”

  “For the sake of consistency we will use the same story for your banquet.”

  He threw the bark aside. “All right.”

  “Now about me. I have a BA in Sociology, I’ve never married, I don’t smoke, I am thirty and—”

  Hunter held up a hand. “That won’t work. You’re not filling out one of your questionnaires. I need to know something personal.”

  “I floss my teeth every evening.”

  He scowled.

  “We’ve only dated a few times. I wouldn’t have told you any dark secrets.”

  “No, but I would know more than what you’d put on a survey. For example, you could tell me about your childhood. The name of your best friend or your first kiss. What do you plan to do in five years? Do you want to get married?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  He looked surprised. “You’re not sure?”

  “I’m not sure I’m suited for it.”

  “If the right man comes along you’ll—”

  “He won’t,” Brenna said with a certainty that made her heart ache. She brushed the feelings aside. “My childhood was painful and my first kiss was unremarkable. Now that you know something about me—”

  Hunter set his plate aside. He drew up a leg and rested his arm on it. “Your answer’s too vague. What’s the real reason?”

  “Tell me something about yourself.”

  Hunter lowered his voice. “Was it a college sweetheart that made you unsure?”

  “That topic is closed.”

  “But it’s so interesting.”

  Brenna looked at a passing runner.

  “Someone will change your mind,” he said certain.

  She rolled her eyes. “How like a man. I bet you think all women dream of having a husband and lots of children.”

  “No, I don’t. My mother left me to pursue her career. I don’t blame her for her choice. She was miserable as a wife and mother.” He glanced up at the sky then her face. “I know first hand that not all women are made for a domestic life, but you are. You’re giving, compassionate and you believe in marriage or you would not have opened Love by Design.”

  Brenna shifted feeling awkward. She hated how right he was. “I saw a money making opportunity.”

  “You can’t convince me of that. You’re not greedy enough.” Hunter lifted his plate. “Now let’s talk about me. I’m thirty-four.”

  She waited. “And...?”

  “You fill in the rest.”

  “I’m not as presumptuous as you are.”

  “Of course you are. After meeting me for one hour, you already thought you had found my perfect match. Why is that? I hadn’t filled out anything. You didn’t know what I did, if I’d been married before or not. I revealed little about my tastes, yet you thought you knew who would make a good match.”

  “You gave me plenty of clues. Janice was my first. She gave me an idea of your taste in women. Second, because you carefully selected her, I guessed it would be your first marriage.”

  “I’m divorced.”

  She paused. “Oh.”

  “I was twenty at the time and thought I was in love so I married her. Unfortunately, we were too young. However, we were clever enough to discover that before we had kids. After my divorce, I enacted The Plan.”

  Brenna furrowed her brows. “The plan?”

  “The schedule I live by. It’s served me well until recently. Unfortunately, it doesn’t incorporate irrational human behavior.”

  “What was she like?” Brenna asked, wondering what kind of woman would convince Hunter he was in love.

  “Who?”

  “Your first wife.”

  He grabbed a blade of grass and twirled it. “I don’t remember.”

  “You’re lying.”

  He tossed the blade away. “No, I’m sitting.”

  “Hunter.”

  “Yes, I’m lying.”

  “Was she like Sara?”

  He glanced towards the pond. “Who?”

  “The woman you said was too sweet.”

  He shrugged. “Wouldn’t know.” He sent Brenna a mischievous glance. “I’ve never met her or the others. I lied because I didn’t want anyone else but you.”

  She scowled. “I should be furious.”

  Hunter lifted her chin, his fingers warm and smooth as they grazed her jaw. “Try being flattered instead.”

  She swallowed. “Okay so you were married before and wish to remarry to promote yourself.”

  “Plus I’d like to have some kids.”

  Brenna’s heart sank. Of course he’d want kids. “That’s nice.” She looked at him. For the first time she could read his eyes clearly. She saw his attraction burning, mirroring her own. “I can’t do this,” she said.

  “Don’t worry I can.”

  Like a bird of prey, his lips swooped down to capture hers. Leaving no time to retreat or think. After a few moments she didn’t want to—she couldn’t. The feel of his gentle lips on hers persuaded her to push away all apprehension. She wrapped her arms around him as though he were an anchor against the very storm of emotions he created inside her.

  Hunter’s feelings were even more tempestuous. He’d wanted to kiss her briefly, sweetly, but there was nothing sweet about her mouth right now. It was intoxicating and he loved it. His hands trailed a sensuous path up her arm.

  She abruptly pulled away and began packing the basket.

  “You’re angry with me,
” he said surprised.

  “No, I’m angry with myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m giving you the wrong impression of me. You’ll think I’m attracted to you.”

  He grabbed her chin forcing her to look at him. “And you’re not?”

  Brenna slapped his hand away. “I’m presently experiencing a strong emotional response.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “I have no desire to marry. This isn’t real, remember? We have a bargain that’s all. You will not convince me to marry you even if I do fit all of your qualifications.”

  His eyes brightened with humor. “A challenge. I love a challenge.”

  “No, it’s a warning.”

  Hunter opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when a familiar voice called out his name. He turned and gritted his teeth as he watched Daron climb up the hill towards them.

  “I thought it was you,” Daron said, stopping in front of them. His eyes darted between them, his smile grew. “My, my having a lover’s quarrel all ready?”

  Hunter kept his voice level. “Brenna, this is my cousin Daron.”

  She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Daron gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Likewise. I just hope you two can last until the banquet. Sometimes little arguments turn into big ones.”

  “We like the big arguments,” Brenna said.

  “Why?”

  She slipped an arm around Hunter’s waist. He did the same to her, his grip both possessive and reassuring. “Because making up is so much fun.”

  Hunter drew Brenna closer. “So if you’ll excuse us...” He let his sentence trail off as a polite dismissal.

  Daron hesitated, unsure if he should believe what he saw. Eventually, he nodded and left.

  Brenna let out a breath. “I’m glad that’s over. You can let go now.”

  When he didn’t, she looked at him.

  Hunter stared back. The intensity of his gaze weakening her resolve, tearing at the wall that kept her heart safe. Yet a delicate thread tied her to him, preventing any urge to look away. She didn’t even realize he’d picked up a buttercup until she felt its tender petals against her cheek, against the curve of her neck. He brushed it against her forehead; her nose then pressed it against his lips before setting it against hers. The gentle act made her entire body tingle.