by Melissa Blue
Janet’s smile warmed before she took a swig of beer. “Yeah, that’s how it is.”
“What is?”
“Finding the man you’re going to marry.” She nodded to Ron. “He’s my second.”
Keri took in the woman. Well, she could believe that. Not by the woman’s appearance or demeanor, but the woman gave off the feeling of being around the block a few times. Then once more.
She pressed the cool glass to her throat and considered what the woman was offering—conversation. Well, that wasn’t scary as long as she kept the focus away from herself. “What happened with the first?”
Janet chuckled. “We were young and not willing to give when we needed to.” She pointed with her glass bottle. “But him, I was sure he’d last maybe a month.” She laughed. “I’m his second too.”
How nosy could she be? She wouldn’t know until she asked the wrong question. “What happened with him?”
“He cheated.”
Keri took in Ron this time. He didn’t give off the ladies’ man vibe. But the moment she saw Tristan she definitely hadn’t thought carpenter, much less con man. “And you trust him?”
“It is and isn’t logical. That’s faith. He wanted to be a better man. For himself first, and then we met.” She took a long pull on her drink. “And that was about fifteen years ago. So I feel safe in saying my gut was right.”
Keri sipped her beer and then closed her eyes. The bay smelled like fresh water, fish and sun. What did her gut say about Tristan? She couldn’t tell. So much of what she felt for him was wrapped up in lust. He confused the hell out of her, but she’d yet to feel like there was anything wrong with her. Yes, the knee-jerk insecurities hadn’t faded, but he didn’t make her feel like she was broken and needed fixing. Hell, she muttered questions during oral sex and he answered, not missing a damn step. He asked for nothing and she was starting to want to do something, anything, for him in return.
“Just a tip,” Janet said.
She opened her eyes. “Yeah?” She braced herself for more marital advice that she couldn’t use given she wasn’t really married.
“Take off your shoes.”
“Oh,” she said on a laugh, having not expected that. “I didn’t pack for this.”
Still she slipped out of her heels on a sigh. The strap had left an indentation across her pinkie toe.
Janet nodded. “Now you’re ready to have fun.”
The engine quieted and as best she could tell they’d “parked” in the middle of the bay. Looking out, she could see the same kind of boats not far from them. Some circled around the shores. Mostly, the others had stopped too. Their day was to lounge on the water, eat whatever Tristan had packed in the cooler and spend time with this seemingly nice couple. If not for the last part, the tension in her shoulders would have ebbed. She wondered about that and Tristan.
How many times had he had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t? What did that do to a man? Despite the obvious moral issue, what made him finally walk away? Questions she shouldn’t even ponder, but… She took another swig of beer and reminded herself the answers didn’t matter.
*****
Ron didn’t take much stock in letting someone get a word in. That was fine with Tristan. The less he had the say, the better. No more lies needed to be added to keep up the con. If that wasn’t proof enough, he needed to stay out of the game; he never once thought of whether his brother sailed too.
More telling, he would have been annoyed at Keri. She was green—not that the boat made her sick, but she couldn’t con to save her life. That probably had more to do with her not being a people person. The second beer had relaxed her, but that simply made her act like any person in the same situation.
Ron continued to jabber and point at buttons to ask what they did. In the past Tristan would have endured it, for hours on end, but he didn’t owe his brother that much. His endgame was to simply make sure these people liked them and didn’t stand in the way of the application getting approved.
He sent a glance over his shoulder to Keri and prayed she could read the plea on his face. “Aye,” he said, noting the sudden ebb in the litany of Ron’s words.
“I’ve been doing nothing but talking at you.”
He thought of his brother. “I’m a man of few words.” Since he’d turned off the engine he couldn’t even pretend like he needed to concentrate.
Just then the heavens opened. Keri rose from her seat and walked over to him. He sighed in relief. She must have toed off her heels earlier, because she came up to his chin, barely.
“Ah. I see,” Ron said. “I’ll excuse myself. Janet’s looking restless anyway.”
Keri didn’t curl into his embrace like he wanted, but she definitely warmed his left side. She smiled at him and his heart thudded. She kept her voice low and said, “You looked like you wanted to be shot so I came over.”
Best not to laugh, but he smiled back. “Was it the glazed eyes or the expression that screamed ’help me’? Either one should have cued you in fifteen minutes ago.”
Her shoulders shook and she sipped her beer for a second. “I did see the look fifteen minutes ago but you didn’t look like you wanted to bite me. Figured I should let you flounder.”
He grinned. Fifteen minutes ago Janet had probably asked some question Keri wouldn’t have known how to answer. “Did your boat partner want to know when we’d have babes of our own?”
She snorted. “I tried to think what my cousin would say and drew a blank.”
“My brother actually wants babes. Your cousin has done something to my brother that is irrevocable.”
Her gaze narrowed on his face. “You sound happy about it.”
“He’s my brother,” he said simply.
He worried many years his brother would be a dick, just like him. One of the many reasons he walked away from being a con man had everything to do with wanting to be a better example for his brother. If anyone had hope of finding happiness, it was Ian, which was like betting on the horse that had the least odds. But he’d been right.
So, he couldn’t be that far off in believing he had no chance. Ever. He sighed. He’d wasted a good portion of his life trying to find the answer to why a woman would walk away from her children. Why would she let anyone talk her out of staying? He’d blamed his mum for many things until he woke up and realized he’d made the choice to become a con man. Over and over, he hurt people and parted them from their money. He’d studied them like lab rats, not as people.
What did he finally learn? She was a shite mum. The beginning and end. That had nothing to do with him, but the cons were all his sins. He managed to make peace with the former, not the latter. That acceptance hurt like a bitch, but it was the truth.
Spending this time with Keri wasn’t…real. He could want the way she looked at him with awe and heat to last forever, but it never could. If he couldn’t accept his past, how could anyone else? Worries to be had when they didn’t have an audience.
Until then and because he wanted to, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her closer. She sighed and laid her head on his chest.
Huh. He’d never had this. He had sex. He dated long enough to tell a woman what he used to be and that usually ended the dating. Not since he’d gone straight had he ever experienced just holding a woman. This kind of intimacy led nowhere. Yet this seemed so natural for her. For him, with her.
The worry he’d break her settled in again. What made her want to seek comfort in his embrace? Sex? He rested his chin on the top of her head. She was soft and warm and he never wanted her to move.
His stomach had a weightless, nervous sensation. He wanted this to be real and knew it couldn’t possibly be. “Keri, how many beers have you had?”
“Enough that I’ll let you talk me out my panties when we get back to the hotel.”
He chuckled. “I don’t need beer for that.”
“No, but it makes me feel like I have a bit of control knowing you’d have to sweet talk me. Just
a little bit.”
He glanced at the other couple. They paid them no mind but that didn’t mean they weren’t doing their best to listen in. People were nosy by nature. “You have more control than you think.” The honesty in his reply stilled him.
As a con man he was used to being the fantasy and whatever that entailed. They weren’t just having sex or doing anything close to dating. That left him with no footing or game plan. He didn’t have a clue what parts of himself to reveal, so he was being himself, no matter how deviant, inappropriate or cheeky that was. At any time she could change her mind and end everything they did when prying eyes weren’t watching their every move. He sighed again. He hated this feeling.
She lifted her head at the sound, meeting his gaze. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
If this was what it was like to be vulnerable, he understood why no matter what he did, there was no redemption for him. “Nothing.”
She raised a brow in question. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Don’t worry about it. Take heart, we look like a married couple in love. You can relax.”
She frowned up at him. “You’re the one who looks like he needs to relax.” She ran her hand up his arm and he clenched his jaw.
She welcomed his embrace now. He’d take it, revel in it, but the first opportunity he had to walk away, he’d take that too. She didn’t want Tristan, former con man. She didn’t know that man. No one, not even sweet, nervous Keri, would want that man.
“I’m fine, Keri. Want me to teach you how to drive a boat?”
She finished her beer and put the empty in the cup holder near the gears. “I’d love that.”
“First, you need to know the name of everything.” He tightened his embrace. While he could hold her, he would. He’d enjoy this time with her without reservation and revel.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Somehow she’d survived the boat ride and the couple’s gentle probing into their fake personal life. Still, she exhaled when they entered the pub. The place smelled of yeast and wood. A player tumbled out of the white line on the flat-screen and a loud collective groan rose up. She smiled. The perfect place.
During breakfast she made plenty of excuses to get up from the table to get to the buffet. While there and to kill time, she’d asked several of the hotel’s staff where she could find a pub. They’d told her of the strong Irish ties on the south side of the city.
She’d never confess to Tristan she couldn’t tell the cultural difference between a Scot and an Irish if you discounted the haggis, bagpipes and kilts, but it was a pub, and they played rugby games on the big screens instead of American football.
Spreading out her hands, she grinned up at him. “A pub.”
He shook his head and snorted. “You sound proud.”
The excitement didn’t ebb from her voice. “Well, yeah, you can find a bar, but a pub?”
He laughed. “My father runs one. Excuse me if my panties don’t get moist.”
She punched his chest lightly. “I found you a pub, in America, that plays rugby. Moisten those panties, dammit.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders and directed her toward a table that sat right under a flat-screen. “I’m not that cheap of a date. You have to talk me into bed first.”
“Didn’t take much that first time.”
He chuckled and leaned forward. His breath caressed her ear. “Aye, but you haven’t gotten into my pants.”
Not that she hadn’t thought of that distinction. Her face heated, but she gave herself a purpose and hopped onto the high bar stool. He settled in across from her. He rolled up the sleeves of his crisp blue shirt and pressed his elbows against the scarred wood table.
She clasped her hands underneath the table so he wouldn’t see the nerves. She hadn’t thought past bringing him to the pub. In order to be cool she had to act cool. Pulling the peanuts closer to her, she grabbed a handful to do something other than wringing her hands. “So, tell me about this thing you have for rugby.”
“Like I said, my da owns a pub. It’s practically a year-round sport. One that practically plays year-round in his place. Spent enough time having to watch it that I played well enough for school and college.”
She knew a carpenter would go to college but that was his honest work after retiring. “A con man needs college?”
“This one did.” He reached over and stole one of her peanuts. His jaw tightened for a second, but then he smiled. “I’m older than Ian by four years. Couldn’t tell him to go while I conned for a living.”
He was pretty honest about his past, but not once had he shared details. She didn’t think that was accidental. “I didn’t play any sports,” she told him.
He grinned at her. “I have a feeling you won a lot of science fairs.”
She sniffed. “That’s a stereotype and I’m offended.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong.”
Since she couldn’t, she pushed more peanuts his way. “So, what was the appeal?”
He laughed. “Everything. The rules and stretching them. Being on a team. They were my family. Well, my third family.” He’d littered his side of the table with open peanut shells. Finally, having opened all of them, he ate the nuts one by one.
Such a small thing to notice and smile about. She shook her head. “One I’m guessing was Ian and your da?”
“The gang I was in was the second.”
Her mind screeched to a halt. “Gang?”
He nodded. “Nothing like Americans or rebel forces, but three other boys, men really, who got together to commit crimes.”
She shook her head, still not believing what she was hearing. “You’re a gangster?”
The gray in his eyes hardened. “No, but being an outlaw isn’t glamorous, Keri. Don’t get the wrong idea about me.”
“I’m not. It’s just shocking.”
She tilted her head, trying to pinpoint if what she felt in her gut was horror or something else. She should have been checking her purse for missing items. She tried to see him as a hardened criminal. Even when his gaze darkened, he just looked like a man who’d seen and done too much in his short life.
“Did you snatch purses? Hold people at gunpoint and rob them?”
He rolled his neck. “Keri.”
“No. You opened the door and now I want to know. You’re telling me I should be scared of you. Do you still do those things?”
He sighed. “I don’t want you to be scared. I just…I was the kind of criminal that talked you into handing over your purse. No gun necessary.”
She clasped her hands together. “So not a violent criminal, but the scum-of-the-earth kind?”
“Aye. The scummiest.”
He was being open about his shitty past and she honestly didn’t know how to handle that just yet. If there was a good way to handle it, well, she was likely failing that. “And then one day you decided to not be the scum of the earth anymore? Or you ended up in jail?”
He fisted his hands on the table. “I wanted to quit but didn’t know how. So like most criminals, I got sloppy and let myself get caught. Ian kept me from jail.”
She connected the dots from what he said during their first meeting. “And that’s how you owe him?”
“Aye.”
She thought about that for a second. “What kind of brother asks you to go back to your life of crime?”
“For an afternoon.”
“Still,” she said with vehemence, suddenly angry at Ian.
He chuckled. “You sound angry on my behalf. Don’t be. By no means is this hard-core. Different story if he wanted me to get him some diamonds. We were just supposed to show up and be likable.”
She blinked. He was good enough to get diamonds? Capable. Yeah. She could believe that. She didn’t doubt he probably used to be the scum of the earth, just that the man she’d witnessed didn’t come across as a criminal. Or rather that the world owed him for some slight in his childhood and he was going to make up for whatever perceived loss
.
Still, he didn’t let an opportunity pass him by and she couldn’t say if that was because of his past or because of who he was at the core. Her mind wanted to latch on to insecurities and it couldn’t be helped. The one man who made her feel whole and not broken was a former gangster and retired con man.
“And me?” she asked before biting her tongue on the question.
He pushed aside the shells and placed his hands over hers. She’d been wringing them. “I was only supposed to look at you like you were my wife.” He ran his thumb along her right wrist. “I’m not a con anymore. I can never be a truly honest citizen. There are…some reparations that would never be enough. I’m not here with you now as part of the con. Just don’t get the wrong idea about me. I’m not a good man.”
What ideas was she having? One was definitely getting him into bed and having the real kind of sex. Not the unending foreplay they’d had so far.
A whoop went around the pub and jolted her back into the surroundings. Well, bringing him here was to get them out of the hotel and away from the association. They weren’t heading toward a happy-ever-after. He’d teased her, pushed her, comforted her, but that was normal. Nothing to build a foundation on, much less picket fences.
“I know what we are.” She pulled her hands from beneath his. “And I also know we need beer. Where’s the waitress in this joint?”
His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
He’d taken the subject change and she let the tension in her shoulders ebb. “Not if you’re going to throw yourself on a pyre for past misdeeds after a few rounds. I’m here to watch men in short shorts get muddy.”
“Keri,” he said, “I could drink you under the table.”
“Doesn’t mean you won’t be a sad and depressing drunk first.”
He laughed and it lightened his gaze. No, she didn’t feel a sense of relief or a small bit of triumph. She didn’t wonder, not a bit, how many people he must have hurt that shame, not just guilt, ate away at him still.
If this was real, whatever they were, she’d have asked him why he’d done what he’d done. No one turned to a life of crime without a reason. And why had he wanted to get caught and change? Asking meant too much. It held too much hope that he was a man who wouldn’t be out of her life in a few days.