Confessing History
Freehope Book 2
Jenni M Rose
Copyright © 2018 by Jenni M Rose
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
for my guy and his unwavering love and support
1
“Are you the stripper?”
Some things that happen in life come completely out of left field. Serious things, like car wrecks or cancer. Even mundane things, like finding out your bartender is the son of your kindergarten teacher can send a person reeling.
Some people react well to the curveball, depending on its severity. Either they’re good with emergencies and are steady in a storm or they tend to the people that others turn to when they need a hand. These people would be the cops and firemen of the world—there when you need them and steadfast.
Some people freak out and totally lose their cool when the unexpected pops up, blocking their path. Maybe they get off track or hell, totally jump ship when it happens.
Beth Walker tended to be in the middle of the road, between the two extremes. She’d had some moments when she let the curveball sideline her entire life and some where she let it roll right off her back, staying strong in the face of adversity.
Moments like the one she was currently standing in, she could handle with a smile. The stakes were low and she didn’t stand to lose anything. She’d knocked on the door with nothing, basically holding her proverbial hat in her hands.
“Are you the stripper?” the man standing in front of her asked again.
When the question came a second time, she could do no more than nod her head yes.
There was a party going on, not one of those small classy ones where they play jazz and people talk softly about the benefits of solar panels. No, this was the kind of party where men beat their chests after seeing which one of them could do the longest keg stand.
It was a little immature for her tastes, but she wasn’t living in the subdued world of jazz just yet either.
All she knew was that this is where Logan Hallowell was staying and she wanted to see him. She needed to see him with her own eyes.
That was the story of how she found herself holed up in a bedroom in some house she’d never been to, changing into what she knew were Logan’s navy fatigues. She knew they were freshly laundered because she’d ripped them out of the plastic bags herself, the scent of detergent but not Logan wafting out of the bags. They were far too big for her, but she rolled them up as best she could.
If they wanted a show, she’d give them a damn show.
Thing was, there was no way Logan was expecting her. Their last meeting, over six months ago, at her sister Andy’s wedding, had ended on a sour note and they hadn’t spoken since.
Not once had he returned any of her phone calls or texts, as if they’d never even happened.
But they had happened, on more than one occasion, and their relationship, or whatever anyone wanted to call it, had been one of the most powerful things in her life. Logan was her brother-in-law’s best friend and the first time they’d met, Beth had felt like she’d been hit in the gut with a bag of sand. The air had rushed out of her lungs as she’d taken him in, her eyes wide as their chemistry nearly melted everything in the vicinity.
They’d burned up the sheets that weekend. Enough that Logan had started talking long-term. Beth knew that would never work, so, instead of telling him face-to-face that things weren’t going to work, she did the one thing she was good at.
She ran like hell. Turns out, it had been one of those things in life she couldn’t let roll off her back or take with a grain of salt. No, she’d let that tidal wave of feelings knock her back a decade or so, back to when she was no more than a kid who’d just lost her mom and was running away from home.
Not long after their first weekend together, when she’d been struck dumb with a heap of feeling she didn’t understand, Logan had been shipped overseas and the fear that ballooned inside her had been like nothing she’d ever felt. It was then that she realized just how much trouble she was really in with Logan Hallowell, how deep she’d fallen for him.
But not to worry, she’d screwed that up too by getting drunk, sleeping with some dude in a bar, and calling Logan in tears to confess.
He hadn’t taken it well.
After that, she went back to work on the cruise ship for a six-month stint and Logan went back to saving the world, or whatever it was he did out there. They spoke sporadically in that time, but it had been stilted and awkward. He’d been angry with her, and rightfully so. His words had turned short and closed off, but he’d never cut those ties with her. He’d always left a tether for her to grab onto, a life preserver to reach for if she needed him to pull her to safety.
But it was their last hookup that had hit them both the hardest and now he refused to speak with her. He greatly underestimated the lengths she was willing to go to get to him, just to see him.
There was a knock at the door and a handsome male face poked through the crack. “You done in here?”
“Well, if I wasn’t you’d have gotten a show early,” she complained. “It’s knock and wait, not knock and walk.”
Whoever he was, he smiled, and it was sickly adorable. Dimpled with a false air of boyish innocence, she got a sense that he loved to have a good time. She bet he got a lot of women with his smile, his humor, and charm filling the room around her.
“Sorry,” he apologized, still smiling. “Want me to start over?”
He was teasing her and it solidified her initial thought. She bet he got tons of women with that easy attitude. There was something to be said for easy, she admitted to herself.
“Please,” she agreed, crossing her arms over her chest and dipping her chin in his direction. “I’ll wait.”
He didn’t hesitate to shut the door and knock again. When she called out, he popped his head in.
“How’d I do? Did I pass muster?”
She looked down at herself in Logan’s military clothes and wanted to laugh. This was going to go one of two ways. He was either going to be furious with her and throw her out, or he was going to be happy to see her.
It was a crapshoot, especially with the way they’d left things last time.
“Nice work,” she told him, sticking the cap on her head. “What are my orders?”
The man came in and leaned against the dresser, his dark brown eyes narrowing as he gave her a once-over. “Where did you find those clothes? I thought you’d bring your own costume.”
“I found them in here,” she said, playing the conversation by ear. “I just assumed they were for me to wear.”
“Not sure my cousin will appreciate you going through his stuff.”
Her sister Andy had told her Logan was staying with some cousins in Connecticut. He’d never mentioned them to her, though their conversations hadn’t ever been very deep, had they?
“Why? He have boundary issues or something?” Beth asked, wasting time until she had to do her thing.
Acting was kind of fun in the right scenario. It was just another mask she got to wear, another person to be, when you didn’t want to be yourself. She could be stripper Beth for this guy and not bat an eye at the deception.
“He’s just going through a rough patch. It could go either way on if he likes it or not.”
“Well, I don’t plan on wearing it long so there’s that.” She smiled sarcastically.
“There is that,” he murmured in agreement, pu
shing his shiny brown hair off to the side.
“What’s this rough patch? Divorce? It’s always divorce.” Speaking of hair, she turned to check herself in the mirror, making sure her red hair hung artfully out of the camo hat on her head. She pulled a few strands out on the sides to frame her face.
“Not divorce,” he said firmly. “He’s got some other stuff going on.”
“He’s not going to like, Hulk out on me or anything, right?” she asked, knowing Logan well enough to know that he was far too self-contained for that. Not that he didn’t know how to let himself go and have some fun, but he was a level-headed guy. He thought things out and looked at things from every angle. It was one of the things she…liked a lot…about him.
He laughed again, distracting her from saying those words, even in her own head, that she was in love with Logan. Had been from the very beginning. “No, he’s cool.” He took a few steps and held his hand out to her, which she shook. “I’m Cole.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
His dark eyes sparkled and he let out a laugh. “And you are?”
“Who do you want me to be?”
Both of his eyebrows shot up. “Is that how it is?”
“Isn’t that how this works?” His eyes narrowed. “Quite a party you’re having,” she commented, before he could call her out for being a fake, which she totally was. “What’s the occasion?”
“Just celebrating that we’re all still here.”
She began idly folding her own clothes and putting them on the bed.
“So, a party just for party’s sake?” she asked, knowing it wasn’t the truth.
“Something like that.” He shrugged. “But we mostly called you here to cheer up our cousin.”
“Ah,” she said with an understanding nod. “When’s my big moment?” she asked. “How do you want me to make my grand entrance?”
“You have some music or something?”
She shook her head. “You can play whatever you want. I can dance to anything.”
That was the truth. She’d taken dance classes for years and had even taken a few pole-dancing classes. She was like, ninety percent sure she could wing a strip routine.
“No requests?” He stood from resting on the dresser.
“I’m good,” she told him. “I’ll come out when I hear the music.”
“Just come straight into the living room. He’s camped out on the couch.”
“Waiting for me?” She smiled in question.
“He has no idea.” Cole returned her smile. “It’ll be a surprise.”
Cole had no idea how much of a surprise it was going to be.
“Follow the music and dance for the man on the couch. Got it.” She saluted, though she was sure she screwed it up.
“It’ll be a couple minutes, okay.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
Cole left with a laugh and suddenly, Beth felt her grip start slipping.
What in the holy hell did she think she was doing? She wasn’t a stripper. She wasn’t Logan’s any damn thing. What made her think he’d want her here in the first place?
In a panic, she grabbed her phone and dialed her sister.
When Andy answered, she went off. “I’m about to do something either really stupid or epically stupid. Either way, this is going to be the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”
“Well, that sounds promising.”
That was not her sister Andy. It was her sister Alexa, Andy’s twin.
“I called Andy,” Beth complained. “And I still got you. Why does this always happen to me? I just need to vent to someone who will give me good advice.”
“I give advice,” Alexa defended herself.
“Good advice,” Beth clarified. “I need someone to talk reason to me and you’re never it. Where’s Andy?”
“She and Owen are out to dinner. She took my cell phone by mistake.”
“How does that happen?” Beth asked, annoyed.
“We have the same phone and bought the same cell phone case by accident. It could happen to anyone.”
“It could, but it doesn’t,” Beth pointed out. “Only you two would do something like that.”
“Back to your dilemma,” Alexa said, ignoring Beth. “Let’s talk about this ridiculously stupid thing you’re about to do.”
“I’m about to impersonate a stripper.”
Her statement was met with nothing but silence.
“That’s what I thought,” Beth muttered.
“No.” Alexa coughed. “Keep going. You just caught me off guard with that one.”
“I’m about to see Logan for the first time since Andy’s wedding, and I’m impersonating a stripper that they hired to entertain him at some ridiculous keg party they’re having.”
Alexa let out a laugh.
“It’s not funny,” Beth whined. “What the hell did I get myself into?”
“Oh, Beth,” Alexa said. “Just back out.”
“I can’t back out now!”
“Well, you could,” Alexa pointed out.
“In some ways, I think it might be good. Break the ice, you know?”
“You think taking off your clothes and flashing Logan’s friends and family is a good way to break the ice? Beth, I know you and I don’t always see eye to eye, but girl. No.”
The strains of a terrible eighties metal song bled through the closed door.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “They just started the music.”
“Is that your cue? What’s your stripper name, by the way? Little Red? Oh, it could be like Little Red Riding Hood. This could be fun—”
“Shut up,” she whispered and then gave herself a little pep talk. “I can do this.”
“Then what the hell did you call me for?”
“To listen to a voice of reason?” She immediately argued against her own comment. “When have I ever done that?” Beth joked.
“Not even once, little sister. Not even once.”
And wasn’t that the truth? Beth had spent her entire adult life avoiding talking to her sisters about real-life problems; pretending the problems couldn’t touch her was far easier. Listening to the advice of others was not her strong suit.
“Well,” she said. “Seems silly to start now.”
“Good luck out there, Red,” Alexa said, her voice serious. “Break a leg and make sure to call and check in once in a while. We love your pig-headed ass.”
The insult nearly made her cry.
“I love you, too, you bossy bitch.”
Alexa disconnected and despite their insults, Beth felt closer to her sister than she had in years.
Logan loved the hell out of his cousins but they had something up their sleeves; he just didn’t know what it was.
Cole and Tucker were conspiring about something, whispering behind their hands and eyeing him. Not much different than the last two months, but somehow more suspicious that before.
Whatever they were planning, it had to do with the cheesy eighties music they’d been blaring for the last few minutes. He was about ready to turn in for the night—the party they’d planned a nice gesture—but not something he was enjoying at the moment.
Elliot, Cole and Tucker’s older brother, was clearly not in on the plan as he was sitting in the kitchen, scowling at nearly every person in the room, his eerie gray eyes piercing in their intensity. That was usually Elliot’s default expression, a cross of something that fell between angry and furious. It didn’t necessarily mean he was feeling either emotion, it was just how he looked most of the time.
Elliot had been adopted into the family as a child, and Logan knew his life before adoption had not been kind. He’d taken to his new family much like a mother bear takes to her cubs. He was protective and fierce and right now, Logan was one of his cubs. Elliot had been hovering for months, not in an overbearing way, but enough that everyone knew he was there.
Logan didn’t need a watchdog. He wasn’t sure what the hell he needed, but a watchdog wasn’t it.
A smile spread across Cole’s face and Logan’s eyes narrowed.
What the hell was his little cousin up to?
The music got louder and the partygoers behind him let out a raucous applause. When the wolf whistles started, Logan suddenly got the distinct feeling he knew exactly what was going on.
Cole’s face was pure mischief, his brother Tucker a mirror image as laughter and cheers exploded out of them.
“No,” Logan said quietly, glaring at them. “You didn’t.”
They couldn’t hear him, but they both read his lips easily enough. They nodded and cheered, and Logan knew, any minute, some woman would be standing in front of them all, ready to take her clothes off.
He wasn’t against naked women. On the contrary, he’d seen many and had loved it every damn time. Tall, short, big, small, he liked them all.
He just wasn’t in the mood, hence the party they were throwing him. They just didn’t get where he was mentally. They were just trying to help him get out of the funk he was in.
Hell, they’d let him come stay with them for months and hadn’t batted an eye. The least he could do was let them throw a naked woman at him. So, he pasted a half-assed smile on his face to play along.
The cheers got louder, the men he could see all riveted at her approach. He idly wondered how scantily clad she was to hold their attention so closely.
When she rounded the couch and into his sights, he knew why they’d watched her so damn intently.
It was because she was one of the most stunning sights he’d seen in all his life. He’d seen the landscapes of countless countries, by land and sea. He’d seen priceless paintings in museums around the world. He’d seen women, in all shapes and forms.
None of them held a candle to Beth Walker and somehow, she was standing in front of him at his cousin’s house, wearing his fatigues and slowly swaying to a terribly out-of-date song, ready to take her clothes off.
“Take it off,” someone yelled from the kitchen behind them.
Beth’s blight blue eyes flicked up, but came right back to his, a million emotions playing out across her face.
Confessing History (Freehope Book 3) Page 1