Honey (Full Throttle Series)

by Hazel Parker

  “That was uncalled for,” he muttered, his tone gruff.

  “You kissed me back,” I said.

  “You’re a beautiful woman. Of course I’d kiss you back. But I’m not interested in this.”

  The words were blunt, piercing my heart before I could brace myself. It hurt.

  But I faced him head on, something ugly rearing out of me. “So that hard cock meant not interested?”

  It was crude. It was spontaneous. I realized my mistake when I saw his face hardening. “It means I’m a man. And I was once married because of urges like this, and it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

  I inwardly gasped and stared at him. He was married?

  “Are you still married?” I asked, and I could hear the horror in my voice.

  He shook his head. “Not anymore. Been divorced for months now. But I don’t want you that way. I’m sorry.”

  I looked down, trying to keep myself calm.

  “I’ll be waiting in the car. Thanks for patching me up. Come down when you’re ready,” he said. His voice had turned gentle now, almost like he wanted to comfort me.

  And that was the worst thing of all.

  I waited for his footsteps to recede before looking back up, the realization sinking inside me like a heavy stone.

  I wanted him. I wanted him so bad that I hadn’t bothered to check his past—and now it and my actions were slapping me in the face.

  And this time, there was no one to blame but myself.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  GAVIN

  “Do we really need to attend this charity ball?”

  “Yes, we really need to attend this charity ball.”

  The response I got was one I didn’t like, but it wasn’t like I had any choice in the matter. Honey had been invited, after all—and because it was a big event and she needed all the protection she could get, of course I had to be there, too. We were all dressed up for it, anyway, and it took only one look at Honey to realize that there was no keeping her in her apartment looking like…that.

  She was a vision in her shimmering black dress, one that was so simple that it should have looked ordinary. But Honey’s curves were never meant to look ordinary—and if anything, the black dress only emphasized the diamonds winking on her ears and the red hair that fell in soft, elegant waves behind her. It reminded me of when I first saw her stepping out of the pool—all that gorgeousness wrapped up in a curvy frame, meant to make any man stop in their tracks.

  Meant to make their blood roar and rush places they shouldn’t be rushing.

  I pushed down the reaction and gave her a blank look. She shot me a cheerful one as we walked towards the hotel lobby where the ball venue was located, and I could tell she was excited. She’d always been big on donating, though most of them were done anonymously.

  “How did the interview go?” I asked as we got to the elevator. She’d kept her interview schedule with the reporter despite my protest, and I’d been asked to stay out of the room as they had a one-on-one. It irked me, and I’d been glaring daggers at the cameraman from the outside booth the whole time.

  Honey shrugged. “It was okay. They asked the questions I thought they’d be asking, and I gave them the truth.”

  “The truth?”

  Her eyes met mine. “That I did have a sex video, it was one I’d been told was deleted, and the involved man said the uploading had been an accident.”

  “Bullshit. He was lying through his teeth.”

  “We don’t have proof of that, do we?”

  “Honey…”

  “And I don’t want to confront him,” she said firmly. “That’ll give him more publicity and attention. I’d rather ignore him to death. He’ll be so pissed when the reporters get tired of bringing it up.”

  It was a good strategy, but it didn’t stop the frustration and my itch to punch someone I didn’t even know. Honey must have read my mind before she tugged on my sleeve and opened the door to the party hall, ushering me inside. Maybe she thought it would distract me—and it did, for a little bit.

  I’d attended big parties before, but nothing like this, where everything was decorated to the nines and everyone was tailored to perfection. I saw a sprinkle of familiar athletes, some small-time movie stars, and a couple of city models. No reporters. Good.

  Because Honey was a star in her own right and garnering most of the latest buzz, it didn’t take long for people to flock to her right away. The first one to approach her was a middle-aged woman who introduced herself as a businesswoman interested in sports lines, and it was pretty obvious she thought Honey would be a good endorser for her future products. Honey took the flattery in stride, a mixture of politeness and charm that made her endearing and had me watching her every move. She didn’t say yes, but she lightly agreed to a lunch meeting at some future date before the businesswoman scurried off.

  Some male race car driver newbies gathered around her, obviously star struck, and asked for her autograph. She gave it to them, at the same time asking them about their own racing journey. By the time the conversation was done, the guys were obviously smitten, and one even had the courage to ask her out. But she politely declined and said she wanted to concentrate on racing for now, and I didn’t realize until that moment that I’d been holding my breath at the chance that she’d actually say yes to him.

  It’s none of your business, I reminded myself.

  After all, wasn’t I the one who stopped the kiss from going anywhere further?

  The feel of her lips against mine, the taste of her, passed through my mind before I squashed it down and told myself to forget it. I followed Honey as she did her best to mingle, not being too try-hard but not ignoring anyone, either.

  It was obvious, though, that there were a lot of people who steered clear of her. Some even openly snubbed her, and I could hear a few whispers here and there that weren’t so nice. It made me feel protective of her and wanting to defend her. It would just further embarrass Honey, who was trying to keep a straight face and make everyone see she wasn’t the least bit affected.

  The program started, followed by dinner that included tiny portions of food and big portions of alcohol. I excused myself after to get some actual food from the bar on the other side of the hotel, leaving Honey alone as I got a hamburger. When I came back, I slipped her a bar of chocolate, which she ate in secret as we eyed the crowd. People still steered clear of her, and it irked me enough that I decided I didn’t want her to be standing alone on the sidelines the whole night.

  “Dance with me.”

  My statement had her gaping, and I shot her a look.

  “What?”

  “I said dance with me,” I repeated.

  “You don’t dance,” she blurted out.

  I smirked. “You don’t know that yet.”

  To prove I could, I took her to the middle of the dance floor, where plenty of couples and acquaintances were already dancing. Then we got into position and swayed all over, and the look of astonishment on her face was priceless. She gave me a delighted smile despite being nervous at first as some eyes strayed in our direction. But she eventually forgot about them and relaxed bit by bit, and I pulled her closer and felt content.

  Questions ran in her eyes, though she hesitated. I nudged her gently with my elbow. “What?”

  “Why did you get divorced?”

  The question surprised me, but I couldn’t hear any judgment in her tone—only curiosity. I never really opened up about Tanya with anyone, finding it easier to just keep my mouth shut.

  “She cheated on me.”

  Honey’s eyes widened, then softened. “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

  There was no pity in her voice, which comforted me. “But it wasn’t just that. We just…came out of lust. We wanted each other so much that nothing else mattered.”

  “Until it mattered?”

  “Until it mattered,” I agreed. “Reality came crashing in, and we tried to make it work. But the lust eventually fizzle
d, and we realized that we had nothing in common other than sex. So we started resenting each other.”

  Her hands tightened on my shoulders, and she leaned closer. “How long ago was the divorce?”

  “Seven, eight months ago. But we’ve been disconnected for longer. It was the best decision for both of us.”

  She nodded. We continued dancing. “Are you happy now?” she asked.

  “I’m getting there.”

  Our eyes met. Stayed. Looking at her honey gaze felt like getting lost, then getting found—mesmerizing, distracting, welcoming. My hands tightened on her waist, and the world vanished as we just looked at each other. The words I said after our kiss played in my mind.

  I not interested in this.

  It was the biggest lie in the world, and it was a miracle she hadn’t seen through it. Honey was often too perceptive for her own good, especially when it came to me.

  And she didn’t need to know that I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anyone in a long, long time.

  It was a want that was going to be my downfall in the end. I was smart enough to understand that, and cautious enough not to get on that path ever again. It happened with Tanya. It shouldn’t happen with any other woman ever again, not when the consequences would be bad—and not just to me.

  It would cause another scandal for Honey, then how would she ever rise up when the first one barely left her?

  When it felt like we’d been dancing for too long, I gently pulled back from her and looked down, expecting the same disappointment I saw back when we kissed. But there was none, and instead, her face was open and friendly. She gave me a smile that took my breath away, and I had to school my own reaction so as not to give anything away.

  The ball ended pretty early, and we drove home while chatting about tomorrow’s schedule. Honey teased me for removing my jacket the second we left the building, and I complained that events like that just weren’t my style.

  When we got to the apartment building, the night had turned pleasant and late, and the smell of rain about to fall filled the air. When we got in our floor’s hallway, we faced each other. There was an open glass window at the end of the hallway, and a few seconds later, the pitter-patter of rain splashed against it.

  “Want to go out again and play in the rain?” she asked.

  “I’d rather stay in bed.”

  “Lame.”

  I raised a brow. “I’m practical.”

  “No, you’re just boring,” she teased.

  “So are we going to sleep or are we going out in the rain? You’re the boss, after all,” I intoned, keeping a straight face.

  Amusement slid in when I saw Honey burst out in laughter. She shook her head. Then she stepped forward and leaned in, and for one stunned moment, I thought she was going to kiss me again. My stomach jolted, and my cock stirred. But then I felt something soft press against my cheek and realized it wasn’t the kind of kiss I anticipated.

  Honey stepped back and beamed. “I had fun tonight.”

  I cleared my suddenly dry throat. “Me too.”

  “Goodnight, Gavin.”

  “Goodnight, Honey.”

  I watched her head in. I watched her door close, then stood there for a few more seconds, the warmth of her mouth still lingering on my face.

  Then I sighed and went inside my own place before I did something I would regret.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  HONEY

  Getting a letter from my family back home was like getting a superpower—the world would be long gone before it happened, and you shouldn’t really get your hopes up.

  Which was why I had to read the letter very slowly when I got it in the mail, and read it two more times after.

  It was short. It wasn’t sweet. It was basically an order more than anything to return home as soon as I could, because there were family discussions that I needed to be a part of and wouldn’t proceed without me. Family discussions meant meetings for the future, and I’ve never really been invited to any—no, not since I decided that car racing was going to be my thing and not some debutante who would uphold the family name and marry some wealthy politician back home.

  So why was I being called now?

  Because my questions would be left unanswered and my own and my curiosity was bound to kill me, I realized that there was no other choice in the matter. I had a week’s worth break before I participated in my next race. With this thought, I was booking tickets and packing my bags as soon as I could.

  And of course, easing Gavin in on the idea a few days before the flight.

  “I can’t believe Sara wants me coming with you to your family affairs,” Gavin muttered when we were on the plane. I shot him a look as the plane took off, then settled back comfortably in my seat.

  “There might be reporters there? I dunno.”

  “I thought this was a private matter and no one knows you’re going.”

  I replied in my most teasing tone. “You never know, right? You know how they jump on me when I least expect it. Talk to Sara. Ultimately she pays the bill and it’s her choice.”

  He shot me a look, which I ignored as I tried to stifle a grin. Then I sobered up. The truth was I needed as much support as I could get.

  And Gavin was the first person that came to mind.

  We arrived in what felt like no time and it was just the same as it looked before—full of those huge houses, lawns and culture that screamed the Deep South. It was a very charming place, and a part of my heart squeezed tight at not having returned in so long.

  Soon enough, the taxi we rode in entered a huge iron gate that led to a pathway with a line of oak trees on each side. It was beautiful and haunting at the same time, and I watched in the corner of my eye as Gavin looked on in interest. Then the mansion came into view, and we got out of the taxi and stood at the front.

  “I didn’t realize you were…” Gavin trailed off.

  “My family, not me,” I corrected, already knowing where he was getting at. “I did a waitressing job, remember?”

  “They didn’t support you?”

  “Long story short, you could say that.”

  There was no point in dilly-dallying, so I immediately knocked and had the delight of watching my favorite housekeeper, Mrs. Thompson, open it. Her eyes lit up in surprise when she saw me, but then she beamed. I beamed back and stepped forward to hug her, something I’d been doing since I was a kid up until I left to pursue my career. I opened my mouth to ask her how things were going.

  But a voice interrupted me before I could.

  “Honey, glad you could make it. Come now. You’re late.”

  My mother’s deep Southern accent was thick and beautiful, and I eyed her as she came over to me and air-kissed me on the cheeks. The urge to hug her was strong, but Carol York had never been a hugger to begin with.

  She eyed Gavin curiously, impatience simmering as I introduced him quietly. Then she dismissed him almost immediately and asked Mrs. Thompson to take him to the living room for tea—to distract him, most probably. It was said in such a polite tone, too, and I knew that was manners talking.

  I followed her down the hall, noting down the changes in the house and all the old things that had nostalgia rising up. Then we reached the back of the house, where my father’s office was located and most so-called discussions were held.

  We stepped in. My eyes zoned in on my father instantly: George York, who was sitting at the only desk as the relatives gathered with chairs around him. My aunts and uncles were there, and so was my younger sister, Winnie York, who looked very pretty in a yellow summer dress that showed off her milky skin. She glanced at me with a small, formal smile, and I forced myself to smile back.

  My dad stood up, eyeing me. Then he nodded his head and indicated for us to sit down, and I realized that was the only welcome I was going to get.

  Apparently, my dad was planning to retire from the textile business, and he needed to divide his assets and rearrange the authority system along with his
brothers, who were co-owners. There was some talk about the will and testament, talk that I understood from a young age when it was thought I would be entering into this business in the future with my political husband. I almost sighed in relief when most questions were directed at Winnie. She answered them all gracefully and without a hitch, and some mention of a wedding made me startle as I realized she just got engaged and I wasn’t informed.

  I tried meeting her eyes, but it was like she was purposely avoiding looking in my direction.

  It got boring, to the point where I had to blink my eyes a couple of times to keep myself focused. I still kept wondering what I was doing here when my father began naming off the rearrangement, and everyone listened in and either argued their share or approved it. My name was never brought in, giving me the idea that I was pretty much cut out from my share in the family money. Since I’d long ago accepted it, I kept quiet until the meeting was over and everyone filed out except my parents and Winnie.

  I gave them a tentative smile. Only Winnie returned it.

  My dad eyed me again, while my mom kept looking at him. Then she turned to me reluctantly. “Have you had your lunch?”

  I nodded, trying to be pleasant. “Yes, we were served lunch on the plane. Thank you for offering Gavin tea.”

  “Hmm.”

  Dad finally looked down at his papers, then back at me. “You’re probably wondering why we called you here, Honey. With your grandmother gone, Winnie’s upcoming wedding and me retiring from the business, there are some power shifts that need to be addressed.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “As you probably already deduced earlier, you will no longer receive your inheritance. I suppose you’re already earning enough from your…racing thing?”

  I nodded. “I’m doing just fine.”

  “Then that was the best decision.” He shifted the papers, then re-shifted them. Then he nodded his head. “We also want to ask you one thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Please pack your bags. And please consider this your last visit here.”