Don't Lie

by Violet Paige

  Cole stood motionless. “Go on.”

  “What if we go into this as fifty-fifty partners? We could update the motel and turn the rooms into condos, add a second story like mini apartments and sell them to the snowbird demographic Kaitlyn has started drawing here. We could make some big money on the real estate end and still keep the land rights for the management side of things.”

  I knew I was capable of speaking, but right then, I didn’t know how to make my mouth work. Aiden had completely shocked me.

  “Why are you offering this?” Cole questioned him.

  “It’s a better deal. We can make more money in the long term, along with the upfront cash.” He raised his eyebrows. “So, what do you say? Want to go into business together?”

  “You’ve got to have an angle.” Cole’s eyes were boring holes in Aiden’s head. The way his knuckles were turning white, I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t still punch him.

  Aiden shook his head side to side. “My angle is business. This is the best deal for all of us. No lawsuit. No demolition. No one loses his or her job. You can run the amenity and HOA side of things if you want, and Kaitlyn can still be in charge of marketing. She can get into a whole new realm of condo real estate. I don’t do much with day-to-day operations. I’ll be more like a silent partner.” He stroked the side of his jawline. I noticed the five o’clock shadow was back. “Or, if you want to do something else and want to be silent partners like me, we can hire someone to do the managing part and sit back and watch the money roll in.”

  “This is for real?” Cole stepped back to his chair and sat. I realized I no longer had to worry about him decking him.

  “One hundred percent.” Aiden looked nervous.

  “Kaitlyn and I need to talk about it.” It was Cole’s first response that wasn’t a question.

  Aiden stood to leave. “Understandable. Give me a call soon.” He opened the door and turned to face us. “By the way, I dropped the lawsuit this morning. So, whatever you decide, I want you to know that. I’m not playing an angle.” He adjusted his sunglasses and walked out the door, closing it tightly behind him.

  “Wait!” I jumped from my chair and chased after him, leaving Cole in the office.

  Aiden turned in front of his convertible. “What’s up, girl?”

  “Is this for real? You’re not trying to lure us into some kind of trap?”

  He slid his sunglasses off his face and I could see the pain in his eyes, combined with something else. Regret.

  “Kaitlyn, I told you why it was so important for me to tear down the Dunes, but I’ve decided that might not be the best thing for me. I know it’s not the best thing for you. It’s not a trap. I’m moving in a new direction.”

  “I-I heard what Lisa said to you at the reception.” I hadn’t planned on confessing. “I’m sorry, Aiden.”

  “What do you have to be sorry about?”

  “I’m sorry all this happened to you. Your parents obviously had a complicated relationship and they let it interfere with you. It’s not fair.” My hands slipped from my hips.

  “Sweetheart, I learned a long time ago that almost nothing in life is fair.” He put the shades back on his face. “Maybe this is my way of balancing some of that out.” He smiled and pulled open the car door.

  “You think the three of us could go into business together? You and Cole actually working together?” It sort of seemed absurd, especially after the way the last two months had played out.

  “I can do business with anyone.” He cranked the engine. “The rest is up to you and Cole. Besides, I’m the silent partner, remember? Think about it, then call me.” He threw the car in reverse and raced onto Gulf Boulevard.

  I walked back into the office, not entirely sure I had more answers than before I chased after Aiden. The only sound was the humming of the air conditioner in the window. Lately, it had started this thing where it would sputter every five minutes then resume its normal rhythm of blowing cool air into the office. I was waiting for it to give out on me one of these days. It couldn’t last forever.

  I pushed the door until it closed.

  I looked at Cole, wanting him to speak. I wanted him to say something. Anything. He could curse, yell, throw the paperweight. Anything that told me he was processing what had happened with Aiden.

  “What happened out there?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing really. I wanted Aiden to look me in the eye and tell me this isn’t some kind of scheme.”

  “And did he?”

  “I think so.” I leaned against the door.

  “What do you want to do, darlin’?” His eyes were calm and steady. He drifted toward me.

  “Me? The Dunes is yours. And Aiden is your—” I didn’t think uncle was the appropriate word right now even if it was the biological truth.

  He walked toward me and took my hands in his. His fingers were warm and rough as he threaded them through mine. I thought I could feel his pulse.

  “We are in this together now. Should I take the deal?” His crystal blue eyes darted back and forth. “Do you trust him enough to go into business with him?”

  Everything was happening so fast. I knew the deal was a good one, if Aiden could be trusted. Although, in the last few days, I felt like the tide was turning with him. Mary Ellen was convinced he wasn’t a bad guy. She was ready to commit to a relationship with him one hundred percent. We couldn’t ignore he had dropped the lawsuit this morning. That was a huge olive branch. Something about his demeanor outside was different. He was softer and more relaxed. I liked this side of Aiden.

  I took a deep breath. “I think you should do it.”

  “All right.”

  “That’s it?” I asked. Surely, there had to be more to this discussion. I knew Cole wasn’t a man of many words, but there was a lot to sort through. Such as our role at the Dunes, and those grad school plans we had just started discussing. Was he really going to answer all these questions with an ‘all right’?

  I searched his eyes for doubts, but I didn’t see any. He was staring at me with the kind of certainty that rocked me to the core. For a moment, I couldn’t find my breath.

  “I told you this the other night. As long as you are happy and you’re here, I’m happy. I can’t do any of it without you. I don’t want to. We are in this together. I love you, Kaitlyn.” My name rolled off his tongue and I threw my arms around his neck.

  “Together.” I smiled before he kissed me. His lips moved across mine with sweet pressure, lingering as I breathed in. “I love you too, Cole.”

  “If it’s too much, you tell me. You don’t have to do any of it. I’m not asking you to work with Aiden.”

  “I know you aren’t, but I don’t know how I feel about letting someone else run the office. I kind of love it.” The thought of handing over all the books to someone else was nauseating. I didn’t know the first thing about running a condo association, but I could learn. I would learn.

  He laughed. “I know what you mean. It’s a pain in the ass, but it’s home.”

  “Exactly.”

  He had said the words that I had been defining ever since I drove that truck over the Padre bridge. “Cole?” I looked into his piercing eyes.

  “Yeah, baby.” He tugged me closer, his thumbs hooking through my belt loops.

  “This is home. I want you to know I want our baby to grow up here. I want our family to live here.”

  He lifted me around his waist, and I wrapped myself around him, letting my ankles lock against his lower back. His lips met mine and I kissed him soft and slowly, reveling in how we were meant to fit this way. This is what together meant. We had moved past summer, past the awkward adjustments, past injuries, past the jealousies, past the doubts, past the questions. All I knew as Cole’s kisses took me under with heat and passion was that all my tomorrows were going to be his tomorrows. We were building a life. A family.

  Cole was home.

  **Keep reading for another Violet Paige novel**


  Dirty Game

  Copyright © 2016 by Violet Paige

  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.

  Prologue

  This was the last place I should be. The absolute last place. I’d woken up this morning in hot and dusty Dallas, and now here I was standing outside of the Dock House while boats rocked in their slips.

  My heel made a hollow sound as it hit the parking lot pavement. I slammed the car door behind me and inhaled, taking in this place and all the memories we had made.

  The wind whipped through my hair. I hesitated. This was all wrong. I shouldn’t be here, but I had to know. I had to see him again.

  I pushed open the door, my heart in my throat, my palms dewy with perspiration, my breath fevered.

  Was any of it real, or had it all just been a flash of summer heat?

  1

  Blake

  I had been called a brooder, and at times much worse. I liked beer, an occasional dip, and I loved to fuck. At twenty-six, I valued my time and space more than the warmth of someone sharing my pillow. I didn’t have time for relationships.

  And what quarterback did? I didn’t need a girl to get in my head or under my skin. One climbing into my bed was an entirely different story.

  I closed the locker under where Wiley was engraved into the wood.

  “You headed out?”

  I turned to see one of the conditioning trainers behind me.

  “Yeah.”

  He shook his head. “You’re the only guy on the team who isn’t going to Cabo or Rio. You know that, right?”

  “Fuck.” I laughed. “I don’t need that shit. I get enough of it during the season. The last thing I want is the fucking press following me around.”

  “Going to your fishing hole?”

  That’s what the guys around here called it anyway. They didn’t know shit about where I was from. I was ok with that. I kept my personal life personal. I never took them. Never even invited them.

  “Something like that.” I pressed my lips together.

  Jones strolled through the locker room. “Dude, you’re not going to Cabo with us?”

  “Not this time.”

  I got enough of these fuckers during the season. I only had one break a year. And I wasn’t going to waste it in the spotlight.

  “Too bad. The girls are hot as fuck down there.”

  “So I hear,” I answered.

  “We’ll miss you.” Jones slapped me on the back.

  The trainer bumped my fist. “Keep up the stretching and don’t tweak that knee.”

  It had been giving me problems since spring training. One twist the wrong way and I had been on the ground gripping my leg. The last thing I wanted was for any of the guys to see me down. There was no room for weakness on the field.

  I had put off having surgery, but I was working through a vicious therapy regimen.

  “Got it.” I lifted my bag to my shoulder. “See you guys way too soon.”

  I walked out of the locker room ready for my time off to start.

  It was only a month until practice resumed. It wasn’t like I had months to travel the world and party my ass off like these other mother fuckers.

  My job required meetings. Strategy. Planning. While they were drinking their asses onto the floor I was watching tape. I was writing plays and studying the competition. I dealt with the Sports Now speculation. I had to meet with rookies. QBs never slept.

  So I took my month off. And I made sure nothing interfered with it. Nothing.

  I carried my 6’5” frame with confident strides across the sandy parking lot, and threw a six-pack of beer into a cooler. Beads of perspiration started a slow trickle down my forehead. If I didn’t get on the water soon, the fish would be running from the sun just like I was. Damn it. This Fourth of July was hotter than hell.

  I didn’t practice in fucking heat like this. That’s why we had an air conditioned facility. But I wasn’t in Orlando. I was back home for most of the summer. If there was one place that didn’t give a fuck that I was an A-rated American Football Association QB, it was this island. This tiny piece of land where I grew up.

  I guided my truck under the water oaks, keeping the shoreline in sight. The road seemed to follow the curvature of the small coastline where years of ebbing and tiding had crept up on the pavement. I couldn’t tell you a spot on the island where you couldn’t see the water. As far as I was concerned, if it did exist, it wasn’t worth mentioning.

  This was my place. The only town on this planet that didn’t bother me for pictures or autographs. I could do exactly what I was doing today—go fucking fishing with my cousin without worrying about a mob of fans.

  I slowed the truck to turn onto the grassy path leading to my boat.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her. I’d recognize those legs anywhere. I wasn’t sure if it was the lips, the blond hair, or that attitude of hers I wanted to break. I’d always wanted to break. Fuck.

  She was the kind of girl who thought she was too good for the island. The kind that only cruised with champagne in her hand, and nothing was ever good enough. But she might just be the sexiest woman I’d ever known.

  When had Sierra Emory got back in town? And why was she here this summer? And why the fuck was she leaning over the bridge?

  In the meantime, Cole was probably revving the boat impatiently and already a few beers ahead. We had a full day of fishing ahead of us.

  My cousin sat on the bow with a goofy grin and a beer in hand. “Let’s go, man. Where in the hell have you been? I’ve been sitting out here thinkin’ you weren’t going to show.”

  “You know I’m not going to bail on you.” I smiled and popped the top of my first beer. “I had a lot of shit to get done today. I’m ready now.”

  I loaded the cooler, a box of tackle, and a bag of sandwiches I had picked up from the Seaside Café into the toolbox at the stern of the boat.

  She still didn’t have a name. I knew it was bad luck not to name my boat, but I wasn’t superstitious. For now, she was nameless, but I trusted her. I had handpicked every limb of her frame and driven every nail into her seams. My father had tried to help, but I’d refused the free pair of hands when I had them.

  I felt the back of my throat clutch at the thought.

  “Can you believe it’s already the Fourth? Man, this summer is flying by.” I positioned myself behind the steering wheel. “I have to report to fucking camp soon.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. I loved this place, as much as I loved football. And right now, I didn’t know which one I needed more.

  “Hey, did you know Sierra Emory was on the island?” I asked.

  Cole shook his head. “No. Hadn’t heard that.”

  I didn’t want to make a fucking big deal about it. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Yeah, we better steer clear of the cape today. It’ll be full of those damn ski boats, scaring off the fish,” Cole agreed.

  Cole loosened the sailor’s knots and tossed the ropes up on the dock. With one hard shove, we started drifting in the creek, and I cranked the engine. The creek was alive with jumping mullets. I steered us under the bridge and headed east.

  2

  Sierra

  From the small peak at the top of the bridge, the island didn’t look like much. In fact, it really wasn’t much at all. It never had been. No coffee shops. No yoga classes. There wasn’t even a gym. I didn’t know how I was going to manage the rest of the summer here.

  It always felt like time travel when I came home. Home. It was a weird word to associate with this place.

  I might as well have jumped in a time machine. I gripped the bridge’s railing. Damn, this island was hot. I shielded my eyes from the reflection and tried to focus on the two fading figures laughing and
sipping from koozies.

  The island wasn’t more than two miles wide and five miles long. When I was a kid I’d known every square inch of it. That seemed like a million years ago now. Exploring this place was the last thing I wanted to do anymore. That girl no longer existed.

  I shouldn’t be here. Leave it to Aunt Lindy to pass her estate to me in the heat of the summer.

  The boat was on the horizon now. I probably had known those guys in my past life. There’d been a time when I’d known all the island guys. They wore T-shirts, deck shoes and most of them walked around with a cigarette.

  Sweat trickled down my neck, and I piled my hair on my head, hoping a breeze would find me. I had wandered a little farther than I’d planned. My mission had been to jog to the store and pick up some ice for the cooler, but once I’d reached the market, I’d kept running. Maybe I was trying to outrun the heat or just outrun this feeling that I was going crazy.

  I didn’t know if I could handle opening one more drawer only to find it was stuffed to the top with moth balls.

  I turned from the bridge and wondered why I had ventured this far without a car. I still had to stop by the store and walk home with a bag of ice. The ice maker was broken and nowhere among the piles of Tupperware and casserole dishes had I found any ice trays.

  A gust of cold air hit me as I pushed open the door to the market. Immediately, the smell of turpentine, fishing tackle, and candy bars hit my nose. It was such an odd combination to my senses. The hardwood floors had been worn from years of fishermen and islanders waiting in line at the counter for their handwritten receipts. As far as I knew, this was the last place in the world that didn’t electronically print receipts.

  I smiled at the old timers huddled in the corner near the magazine rack. They tipped their hats and refocused their attention on the smooth pieces of wood they were whittling. Their rocking chairs gently rolled on curly-cued pieces of new wood shavings.