Hot Honey Kisses: 3:AM Kisses 17

by Addison Moore

  “Bitter Bridezilla”—Serena stares at the ceiling a moment—“Hannah!” she shouts as if it were the winning answer, and it just might be. “She’s the one that the pity party was in honor of that night.”

  “Hannah. Let’s for the fun of it say Johnson…” I let the search engine do its thing, and my jaw unhinges at what I see. “Holy shit,” I whisper, taking it all in.

  “What?” She spins the laptop her way and gasps. “That’s him! And that’s her! Barry and Hannah were a couple. Wow, she had poor taste in men. It’s not a wonder she was bitter—or more to the point, better off.”

  “Hey, if she pulled the trigger, the same could be said about him and women.”

  We graze through the engagement announcement together.

  Serena sets her tray onto the coffee table and scoots in close. The scent of fresh strawberries clings to her hair, and I wonder how she does it, how she makes the magic happen as I take in one lungful after the next.

  “Stop sniffing me. That’s just weird.” She plants her hip next to mine as we check out the article in depth. “So, Dirty Barry and Horrific Hannah were supposed to get hitched that day. One of them must have called off the wedding. I’m betting it was at least a week or so out because it gave Hannah’s friends all the time they needed to play dress up.”

  I nod at the idea. “And that explains what Barry was doing at the bar. I bet he was trying to keep an eye on his brand-new ex. Who knows? Maybe he had a change of heart and wanted her back?”

  Those large emerald doe eyes blink up at me in wonder. “Does that make Hannah our prime suspect?”

  I blow out a hard breath. “I guess it puts her at the top of the list for sure, but we can’t rule Shelby out. She wasn’t exactly too broken up over her brother’s death.”

  Serena nods, her eyes still pinned on mine, serious and sullen. “You know”—she closes the laptop and places it carefully onto the table—“I never did get to tell you how sorry I was about your sister’s passing.” Her lips burst with ruby color as she bites back her emotions. “I’m sorry, Shep. She was always so nice to me.” She shakes her head while wiping down the tears already flooding her eyes. “She once told me to ignore you, and that’s just what I’ve been trying to do all these years.”

  I inch back, stunned at the bizarre revelation. “She did? Under what pretense?”

  “Am I being cross-examined?”

  “Consider it so.” I wrap an arm around her, but only because it’s comfortable and—maybe I want to comfort her. She is crying, and it’s because of my sister. If she didn’t jar me just now, I might have been tempted to join her. “Why did she tell you to ignore me?” I whisper it into her ear as if singing a lullaby. I know for a fact if you want to lure the truth from someone you need to go slow and easy, make them feel like you’re on their side. I may not be officially interrogating Serena, but it doesn’t mean I’m not utilizing my best tactics to get the answers I want.

  Serena wraps her arms around me and looks up with those watery green eyes. “Because you did something horrible to me and she found me crying.”

  “I did?” Floored once again. I’m starting to wonder if the liquor is still holding strong in her veins. “What did I do, Serena? I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you.” But knowing how well we treated one another way back when, maybe I did—in a playful, yet decidedly spiteful manner.

  She gives a subtle nod. “It was my fourteenth birthday. Does that ring a bell?”

  “Fourteenth birthday?” I think on it a moment. I know I’ve got about nine years on her, so that puts me as just finishing up with my undergraduate work. “I don’t remember. Sorry.”

  She sniffles hard. “It was just before Axel and Lex had their big breakup. We were all together for dinner—my birthday dinner, and you and your sister happened to be there. I cornered you outside and asked for a kiss.”

  “Oh—that.” I tip my head back a moment. “I do remember. I was on the way to my car, and we had just thrown barbs at one another all night. When you asked for a kiss, I was certain you were going to whack me, open palmed, as soon as I leaned in, so I—took off.” My gut feels as if a rotary blade just spun through it. Crap. I hurt her. Wait. I hurt Serena? I didn’t think she was capable of caring enough to get her feelings bent out of shape, at least not by me.

  She nods once again. “You said, ‘good luck with that’ and took off. I watched the dust lift from your tires, and that’s when your sister found me.”

  “Serena.” I tick my head to the side, not daring to take my eyes off hers. “Did you really want a kiss from me?”

  “Yes. I was fourteen, for God’s sake. I would never have asked if I didn’t want one. That was a pretty gutsy move for a kid like me, you know. I didn’t exactly have the most stable home life.”

  And now I feel like shit. “Yes, I do realize you didn’t have the most stable home life. I’m sorry about your mom taking off, and I’m very sorry about your father.” Serena lost her father at an early age, too.

  She shrugs it off as if it didn’t matter, thick tears congealing in her eyes once again.

  I don’t say a word. Instead, I inch my way forward, and she does the same. My gaze is trapped in those sea green eyes, and I could get lost doing just this all day. But I lean in once again and brush my lips over hers, a barely-there pass that says, I’m so very sorry, I never meant to hurt you, and I pull away and we share a warm smile.

  Another hour swings by and Serena enjoys the rest of her breakfast. We talk about old times as if each memory were suddenly a good one. I drive her back to her dorm, and she doesn’t slam the car door on me in anger. Instead, she thanks me for breakfast and lets me know that I probably shouldn’t overcook the pancakes next time so that they’re not crunchy. I watch as she strides her way to her dormitory, confident, her fiery mane blowing in the afternoon breeze, and every last part of me feels as if it’s waking up from a very long slumber.

  All the way home I think about Serena Maxfield’s very soft lips.

  What in the hell is happening to me?

  Death by Hot Honey

  Serena

  The Black Bear is pumping this afternoon. I’m not actually working a shift. I’m swinging by to pick up a paycheck, which is the far better option of the two. It’s the Fourth of July, and everyone and their mother are drifting up the mountain to catch the fantastic firework display that they have at the baseball field right here in Hollow Brook.

  But I won’t be anywhere near that baseball field come sundown. I’ll be with the rest of Sunday’s wedding party at the overlook, watching from the mountaintop as the city below gives us the grandest show ever. I hear there’s nowhere as magical as the overlook to see the fiery wonders of the night, and I’m counting on it. That’s partly why I cheered on these red, white, and blue nuptials to begin with. Besides, I can’t think of anything more romantic than having your anniversary fall on such a celebratory occasion each and every year. And when I look back on this day, from this year forward, I’ll forever remember how beautiful it was to witness my sweet cousin marrying the love of her life—and how huge her baby belly was while doing it. I’ll admit, Sunday was the last person I suspected would be waddling down the aisle with a real live beach ball tucked under her white dress. Yet, as wrong as it seems, it sort of seems right. Seth really is the love of her life, and I just know this is going to be their forever we’re about to witness.

  Just as I’m about to head behind the bar to get my paycheck, someone grabs me by the elbow and hustles me into the dark hall that leads into the poolroom. I spin on my heels, fully expecting to find Shep at the other end of this clandestine meet and greet, or perhaps Harley ready and willing to fill me in on yet another episode on the unique shade of blue she’s capable of turning Tyson’s balls. Honestly, I could do without that level of entertainment. Low hanging fruit in general isn’t my favorite topic. But it’s neither of those two people. Instead, I find myself staring at the whites of a pair of angry eyes, a man with a he
avy frame, his breathing erratic with what seems to be rage.

  “Listen up, and listen to me good,” he seethes as I yank my arm free and take a few unsteady steps back until the light exposes him for who he is—that creep that was sitting with Dirty Boy the night he was killed. I’d run or scream, but I know Cole is just a few feet to my left and I’m far too curious to hear whatever it is this panting idiot has the nerve to spew my way. “I know you knew him. I saw the two of you go at it that night. I was standing right here, pretty lady.” He nods, and his words swirl around me, filling in the silence with no conclusion as to what they might mean.

  “So, what if I knew him?” I take a bold step forward. “What’s it to you?” That note comes to mind, and I gasp. “I bet he had something you were looking for, didn’t he?”

  He ticks his head to the side so far, he’s looking at me from slotted eyes. “Do you have something, little lady, that doesn’t belong to you?”

  “What?” I squawk so loud I pray it was believable. “Why would I have something that belonged to that dirty rascal? You listen up. That grease pit bumped into me, and I had to shower twice a day for the next two weeks. And now that I’ve bumped into you, I’m going to need to boil myself nightly just to get the grime off! You’d better scat before I scream so loud not only will the sheriff come rolling out with guns blazing, but Barry himself will crawl out of the grave to witness it!”

  “Okay, okay!” He holds his hands up and walks backward toward the exit. “I can see now you’re just a saucy little vixen who bumped into the wrong guy.” He wipes his face down with marked frustration. “Sorry ’bout that.” He storms off ten times angrier than he started.

  I lean up against the wall and try to catch my breath. Oh my God, he was after it. The combination to the safe, the number to his favorite sushi restaurant—whatever those numbers mean, that man wanted them bad, and that look in his eyes let me know he was ready and willing to do whatever it took to get it.

  Holy everything. Maybe it is time to surrender that paper to the police.

  I glance to the exit, and I swear good money I see Barry’s ghost shaking his head my way, telling me not to.

  The overlook is a grand spectacle any time of the year, but on this evening, as the sun gets ready to set, the entire mountain is bathed in tangerine and gold.

  Sunday stands with her siblings, Nolan and Rush, as Marlin, Lex, and I head over. We’ve been one big family for so long I view the three of them as my own siblings as much as I do Lex and Marlin.

  “You look beautiful.” I press my lips together to stave off tears. Sunday is resplendent in her billowy white dress. Of course, her makeup is on point, and she even has her friend, Trixie, volunteering to livestream the event for her multitude of followers. Sunday’s beauty vlog has morphed into a maternity vlog, and she’s gained about a million more followers than she had before. Some might say it’s not fair that she gets beauty, brains, and fame—but I say if anyone deserves it all it’s Sunday Knight—soon-to-be Baker.

  Rush lands a careful kiss over his sister’s cheek. “I second that. You look amazing.” Rush was WB’s resident playboy until Trixie snagged him for herself. It’s a well-known fact Rush is forever off the market to the coeds at Briggs. And I’m happy for him, too. Rush has a big heart and a heart for people. Not to mention the fact he’s always carried around the guilt of his mother’s death. It was him she was coming to pick up from practice the day she got in the accident. Of course, it wasn’t his fault, but as humans do, we tend to blame ourselves. Just like the way I blame myself for losing my mother. Sure, she took off—she didn’t die, but I’ll never forget those cryptic words she said to me just before she left. “Take care of yourself, Serena. There’s not a soul on the planet who will ever do it for you.” It’s as if she cursed me to walk the planet alone. It’s part of the reason I have such a gruff exterior. You need to bristle yourself against the world lest you soften up and let it spear you with its ugliness. I couldn’t take another sleepless night. I toughened up and never looked back. It’s as if it was the last gift my mother gave me, a backbone made of steel—and perhaps people repellant, too.

  “Hey, you.” Sunday pulls me from the crowd as Nolan and Misty regale everyone with a story about one of their recent vacations. Nolan looks every bit the older version of Rush. And Misty looks ever so slightly like a girl version of Seth, Sunday’s betrothed. I figure if Seth and Sunday have a daughter she’ll look a lot like Misty with a dash of Sunday tossed in for good measure. Girls always seem to look like their daddies. Lex and I sure look like ours.

  Sunday takes up my hands, and I take her in like this, perfectly framed by the arch of garden roses that Lex and I ordered for the occasion.

  “Seth Baker better count his lucky stars. He’s lucky a goddess like you even glanced in his direction.” I give a sly wink. Seth isn’t so bad on the eyes himself.

  “We’re both lucky.” She ticks her head his way and pauses a moment to note that he’s deep in a discussion with Marlin. I think we both know my brother is most likely scolding him on what will happen if he breaks Sunday’s heart. I’m sure Rush and Nolan have already made things clear with Seth, but Marlin always likes to get the last threat in. “I know it’s a little late to ask, but would you stand up for me today?”

  “What? Of course! I’m honored you asked. You could have yanked me next to you once you strutted down the aisle and I still would have been humbled.”

  “Thank you,” she mouths, her eyes sparkling with fresh tears. “You know I wasn’t expecting any of this. And all these people...” She waves at the dozens of white ladder-back chairs filled to the brim with our friends from WB. The peach tulle and roses that line the aisles transform this place into a magical fairy-tale land. Lex and Nolan pitched in to have a food truck ready and waiting at the picnic grounds so that once we’re through we can have a real feast to chow down on. Of course, Roxy, Cole’s better half, and Cole himself are here with a boatload of cupcakes, and the installment they put together under a spreading oak is to die for. Peach cupcakes with baby blue interspaced and trimmings of gold make for a divine display.

  “You deserve all of it and more. And, believe me, there are a few surprises in store for you today.”

  “Serena!” she scolds, laughing, but my attention is momentarily hijacked.

  “Oh my God,” I can’t help but whisper, and Serena follows my gaze to where a tall, dark-haired, handsome, and obnoxious as the devil himself, Shep Collins strides on over. He’s wearing a crisp dark suit. His hair is glossy in the residual sunlight, and those blue high beams that allow him to navigate through this world are shining bright for all to see. He flashes that megawatt smile this way before Axel and Lex accost him.

  Sunday bumps her shoulder to mine. “Oh my God is right. You’re into him.”

  “Into who?” I shake my head, my entire body still numb from the shock of seeing Shep stride up, majestic, like Poseidon rising from his watery throne.

  “You know who.” She steps in front of me, momentarily blocking my view, and I make a meager attempt at craning my neck.

  “Him, that’s who. Serena, he’s your professor!”

  “Yeah, well, it turns out he’s one naughty professor. There’s not one nice thing about that boy.”

  “He’s a man, Serena.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” I spit the words out as if it were a vile fact, and a part of me is convinced it is.

  Shep breaks free from their stronghold and makes his way over.

  An entire gaggle of choking noises emit from my throat. “He’s coming this way,” I hiss in the event Sunday wants to laud his manly attributes for all to hear. “Keep it down. The last thing Shep Collins needs is a stroke to his ego.”

  She gives a sly glance over her shoulder. “He’s going to get stroked, all right. A man like Shep won’t make it too far into the singles’ scene looking like that.”

  My stomach drops, heavy as a bowling ball. Sunday is right. Shep Collins is fa
r too hot for his own custom Italian britches. That boy looks as if he’s about to get lucky tonight. Heck, he doesn’t just look the part. It’s etched onto him like fire over stone. About ten girls just sighed in his direction. And if you listen closely enough, you’ll hear every ovary popping in all forty-eight contiguous states. He flashes a smile, bright as lightning, and, oh hell, there go Alaska and Hawaii.

  “Sunday.” Shep pulls her into a quick embrace. The scent of his spiced cologne hits me like a drug. Instantly, I’m intoxicated. I hate what a hypnotic effect cologne has on me. Sure, it depends on the host as to how viscerally I respond, but I refuse to believe that this hormonal imbalance I’m suddenly experiencing is anything other than my love for the woodsy scent. “You look stunning as usual.” He offers a quick peck to her cheek just as Trixie and Rush call her over.

  “Thank you.” She does a little curtsy. “If you’ll excuse me.” She shoots me the stink eye, and I know what that look means. She thinks she’s right. She really does think I’m into him. Ha! It will be my pleasure to prove her wrong. So what if Shep and I swapped a little spit? He’s still as ornery and off-putting as ever. I am certainly not into Shepherd Collins.

  “Aren’t you looking dapper today?” I suppose it would kill him to throw a compliment my way, so that makes me the bigger person.

  Shep’s chest expands wide as an ocean. His eyes rake over me, doing that broken elevator thing as he takes me in. “I don’t think there are enough words in the English language to describe how you look, Serena. You are aware you’re not supposed to outshine the bride.”

  My body spikes with heat, and a nervous giggle bubbles out of me for a solid minute straight. How quickly I’ve morphed into a vapid schoolgirl who just had the cute boy notice her. God, can I get any more annoying? He most likely felt compelled to say those things because he sensed how tense I was.