by JB Salsbury
“Yes, ma’am.” I nod to the other plate. “And fresh fruit—oh! I forgot.” I reach back into the fridge for the tall glass I poured earlier and put it next to her plate. “Milk. You can’t have a PB and J without a glass of milk.”
Her face turns red, and she purses her mouth before her loud burst of laughter lights the room. It’s like church bells and stripper music all wrapped into one, making me feel soothed and horny all at the same time. My lungs fill with air, my fingers tingle with the desire to touch her, and I grip the countertop and let the sound wash over me.
“I have to say this is not what I was expecting.” She clears the laughter from her voice, but it still tinges her words.
“You don’t like it?” I pull out my own plate with sandwiches and a bowl of vegetables, and grab my protein shake.
“Soldiers from World War II are responsible for popularizing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It was a staple in their G.I. rations.” She picks the sandwich up, and a drop of jelly slides down the side of her middle finger. In an instant, I know what’s about to happen as it plays out in slow motion right in front of me. She spreads her fingers wide and licks, from base to tip, one . . . long . . . delicate finger. And just when I think it can’t get any hotter, she moans and licks her lips. “Apricot’s my favorite.”
A growl escapes me before I’m aware enough to suck it back in. She stares at me wide-eyed, and she dips her chin with a mumbled, “Sorry. Old habit.”
“What—?” My voice cracks like I’m some pubescent with a hard-on. “What is?”
“When I’m nervous, I spew useless war facts.” She blushes and, with both elbows on the table, takes a big bite of her sandwich. I do my best to avoid watching her eat and do the same. “My granddaddy filled my head growing up.”
I swallow a bite and pick up a piece of raw broccoli. “He was a character.” Rumor has it he lost his mind in Vietnam, but I would never say that out loud in front of Honor. “I remember him as a kid, walking the beach with a metal detector.”
“Yeah, he was always looking for lost confederate gold.” She stabs at a piece of apple with a shrug. “It made sense to me, but no one else in town really understood him.”
“You lived with him your whole life?”
“Long as I can remember. He wasn’t able to teach me much about what it meant to be a woman, but I can block my thoughts from communist spies with aluminum foil and Vaseline if I ever find myself in need.” She chuckles, but the sound is sad. “He had war fatigue. He’d have nightmares. I can see why everyone called him crazy.”
I lean back and gulp from my shake. “Sounds like an interesting guy.”
She smiles softly. “That’s one way to put it. He’d teach me the weirdest things like . . . Did you know during the Civil War that the horses alone peed enough to fill more than twelve swimming pools every day?”
I cringe at the thought. “Is that true?”
“According to my granddad.”
“What else?”
“Pick a war.”
“World War II.”
“Hmm . . .” She rakes her teeth along her lower lip, thinking. “Hitler’s cousin William served in the US Navy during the Second World War.”
“No shit? How ’bout The Revolutionary War.”
She bites and chews her sandwich, swallowing before speaking. “US didn’t have a Navy yet, so they hired pirates to fight for them.”
“Captain Jack Sparrow as a Revolutionary War hero, huh? Never would’ve guessed that.” I lean in, hoping to finally stump her. “Korean War.”
Her eyes flash with a mischievous glint. “The actor Michael Caine fought in the Korean War. Infantry division.”
“Shit, woman!” I set down my empty cup. “That’s impressive.”
“I could play this all night.”
“You know I’m going to have to check your facts though, right? You could just be making shit up.”
“Check ’em.” She stands and reaches for my plate.
“Whoa . . . no.” I take the dishes from her hands. “No cleaning. I’ll do it later.” I set them in the sink. “Hey, is Moe’s still around?”
“Oh yeah, Moe sold it to his kids, who kept it mostly the same, except one of them added vegan options.”
I cringe, imagining ice cream made without cream and eggs. “How about you and I head to Moe’s for a double scoop?”
Her gaze shifts around as if she’s trying to figure out how to answer.
“Come on. You can’t say no to Moe’s. Let me grab the keys to the truck.” I rummage through a few drawers until I hear the jingling of keys behind me.
Honor has them pinched between two fingers. “They were here. On the hook.”
I snag them with one hand and take her hand with the other. “Sweet! Now let’s go see if we can give you a mean case of brain freeze.”
~*~
Honor
“Is this a rental?” I ask as we’re cruising toward town in a top-of-the-line Dodge Ram pickup.
“Dealership is loaning it to me while I’m here.” Caleb stares out the front window as he navigates the winding mountain roads.
“Perks of being famous, I guess.” I run my hands along the leather seats and soak in that new-car smell. “This thing has all the bells and whistles.”
“It’s just a way to get from point A to point B.”
Easy for him to say. I’ll never own anything this nice.
The dark roads give way to the illuminated streets of town. It’s still early, and although we’re coming into fall, it’s still warm and balmy enough for people to fill the streets with outdoor activity.
“Moe’s hasn’t changed a bit.” He pulls the truck into a spot at the back of the lot, probably the only space this monster would fit.
Once the engine is off, I move to hop out, but he stills me with a warm palm on my forearm. “Stay put. Let me.”
I don’t get a chance to respond as he is out of the truck and bounding around the hood to my side. He opens the door and offers me a hand.
“Wow. This is a first.” I take his hand and jump down to the asphalt. “Thanks.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand and shuts the door before arming the alarm. “You’re welcome. And I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear you say no man has ever opened a door for you.”
The open air feels good against my heated cheeks. “Not that I have a ton of experience, but it’s true. I don’t mind. Believe it or not, just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I don’t know how to open my own door.” Shut up, Honor! A simple thank you would’ve been enough.
He looks at me like I’m nuts then swings the door to the ice cream shop wide, allowing me to head in before him. “I don’t open your doors because I think you don’t know how to do it. It’s just my way of saying I’m taking care of you tonight.” He winks at me as he leads the way to the glass freezers that display rows and rows of ice cream flavors.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt taken care of by anyone.
My mouth waters as I peruse my options, and every time I catch Caleb’s eye, I notice he’s watching me with an awkward fascination.
The cheery voice of the young woman who works here asks if I’m ready to order.
“So?” Caleb rocks into my side. “Did you decide?”
“Yeah.”
The woman behind the counter seems slightly off-put by Caleb. Maybe it’s his size or the fact that he’s freakishly handsome. Either way, I totally feel for her. He’s unnervingly attractive.
“I’ll have a double scoop of Rocky Road, please.”
“Nice choice,” Caleb mumbles in my ear, and I swear I feel it in my toes.
“And for you . . . um . . . sir?”
“None for me, thanks.”
“What? You’re not getting one?”
“Nah . . . I can’t. From here on out, it’s clean eating for me.”
“Oh.” I stare at the heaping pile of chocolate, marshmallow, and nutty goodness on a cone handed
to me from over the counter. “I feel bad eating this in front of you.” The side starts to drip, so I lick around it to clean it up.
Caleb’s eyes flare as he watches me, just as they did earlier with the jelly. He blinks and seems to shake himself out of a daze. “No, don’t feel bad. I think watching you eat will bring me more pleasure than eating it myself.” His smile is sexy and flirtatious, helping me to understand the meaning behind his words.
A warm fist slowly tightens in my lower belly, and to avoid him knowing what his attention and smile do to me, I find a table by the window and sit down.
He pays and quickly joins me, which doesn’t give me much time to pull myself together.
“Thank you for this. For dinner. Everything.”
He leans forward, the tiny table dwarfed under his big arms. “Thank you for letting me take you out on a date.”
Everything behind my ribs flutters. “This is a date?”
“It is. Not the most impressive date, but . . .” He looks around then leans in closer, those honey-colored eyes zeroing in on mine. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot. More than I should. If I get a chance to spend any time with you, I’m takin’ it.”
When his gaze drops to my lips, I realize my mouth is hanging open like I’m some kind of overheated dog. I close it and attempt to control my embarrassing breathing.
Caleb Dean, UFL fighter, VIP, has been thinking about me? I always assumed he was just like Roy. Like Perry and Jordan, self-inflated walking dickbags who use women like me. Find an opportunity to take advantage and then conquer and destroy. How can I be sure Caleb isn’t like that?
“I’m afra—”
A fist bangs on the glass by my head.
We both turn to see a group of men and women paused on the sidewalk and staring at Caleb.
“I knew it was him! I told you guys!” One guy shoves another guy, and they’re both grinning wide.
“It is him.” One of the women squints and presses a palm to the glass. “You’re the Destroyer!”
“Shit,” Caleb mumbles under his breath.
“Do you know them?” My stomach twists with nerves as the noise from outside catches the attention of some of the people inside Moe’s.
“They’re UFL fans.” His eyes go from my ice cream to the people outside as if he’s trying to figure out if I have time to cram it down before we’re descended upon. “Hey, yeah, it’s me. Hi.” He waves, but it’s all fake, and I have to try hard not to laugh at how his usual carefree smile is now all teeth.
“Let’s go inside,” one of the guys says before looking at Caleb. “Hold on. We’re coming in.” They scurry around the corner.
“I’m sorry, Honor, but, um . . . would it kill this date if I asked you to finish that in the truck?” I’m surprised he seems embarrassed. I’d think it would be awesome to be recognized wherever you go. To have people you’ve never met know you on sight. I’d guess Caleb has never once in his life felt small, insignificant, and invisible.
“I’m fine if you want to talk to them. They’re fans, right? Don’t you want to, I don’t know, sign an autograph or whatever?”
“I’m on a date with you. You’re my priority.”
Oh wow. My entire body just melted like my ice cream. “I’m fine. I’ll just sit here and enjoy the show.”
The group closes in on us, picking up a few more people from the store as they move.
He seems conflicted but finally agrees. “Okay, but I’ll make it quick.” He stands and positions himself between his fans and me. It seems to be a protective stance, as if he’s barring them from me, but at the same time my insecurities roar. Is he ashamed to be seen or photographed out with me?
“I got tickets for your fight!”
“Your posters were all over Atlanta. I never thought you’d be here in Hope Town.”
“Did you hear about Graham’s threats?”
“What was it like training in England?”
Caleb answers all the questions with a polite yet terse response. He signs autographs and takes photos, and I follow what’s going on through the reflection in the glass since I can’t see much from my seated position with the wall of man in front of me. Enough time passes that I’ve finished my ice cream and a few new people have shown up. I wonder if I’ll be stuck here in this chair all night—a flash of light from outside blinds me.
“Oh wow.” I dig my fists into my eye sockets.
“What the fuck?” Caleb’s hand goes to my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah, it was just a photo flash, but it was really close. Caught me off guard that’s all.”
He moves his hand around to my elbow and encourages me to stand. “It’s been nice, but we’ve got to go. Thanks for the support, and I look forward to seeing you guys at the fight.” His fans don’t easily let him go, continuing to bark out questions and comments as we move, but Caleb ignores it all.
He guides me through the shop until I swat at his hand. “I’m good. I can walk on my own.”
Rather than letting me go, he tucks me under his arm and pulls me to his side. “I know you can.” He leans down so his breath skates along my ear. “But what’s the fun in that?”
As we walk to the truck, the parking lot seems fuller than it was when we arrived. A few flashes of cameras go off, and with each one, I feel Caleb’s body tighten. He practically lifts me into the truck and then jogs around to his side.
“I’m sorry about all this. I really didn’t think it would get that bad out here. Vegas, sure. Even Atlanta. I thought Hope Town would be quieter.”
“Stop apologizing. It’s fine.”
On the way home, he changes the subject to music. We talk about our mutual love for country and our shared distaste for techno. By the time we pull up to his place, we’re back to being comfortable. He parks the truck and turns off the ignition, but makes no move to get out.
My granddad taught me never to overstay my welcome, so I take my cue to go. “Tonight was fun. Thank you for—”
“Don’t say goodnight.” His hands grip the steering wheel. “Come inside.”
I stare out the window at the huge home, the one I’ve cleaned every inch of, dusted every piece of furniture in, scrubbed every toilet, multiple times. It’s a beautiful home, but it’s never felt homey to me. To me, it’s more like a prison. Inside those walls, I feel like the help. And tonight, for the first time in a long time, I felt like a woman on a date with a man. I’d like to go home feeling that way.
“Not tonight. I’m just gonna head on home.”
He nods and his hands drop to his lap. “May I walk you to your door, Honor Cartwright?”
My lips twitch as I fight a grin. “Well, aren’t you well-mannered.”
“I can be. So? You’ll let me walk ya home?”
I nod and he jumps out and circles the truck to help me out. He holds my hand as we move in silence across the street, through the trees to my front doorstep. Go figure. Now that we’re here, I’m not ready to let him go.
Five
Caleb
My pulse is pounding like a motherfucker as I walk up the few steps that lead to Honor’s front door.
Her hand in mine, the sweet scent of her hair that carries on the breeze going straight to my head . . . it’s all too much, and yet, it’s nothing at all.
Just like all those years ago, her in that damn Tweety Bird shirt, something so innocent masking something so undeniably sexy, it’s a combination I can’t resist.
Once to her door, I keep her hand in mine and turn to her, leaning a shoulder on the old wood frame. “Listen. You really don’t need to keep cooking my meals for me.”
She steps back, but I don’t let her go and give her a tug to pull her closer. I sift my fingers through her hair. “Your food kicks ass, babe. But now that I’ve taken you out on a date, and I liked it, I want to do it again. I want to do it a lot. You don’t need to work for me.”
“But Roy—”
“I’ll handle Roy.”
&nbs
p; Her gaze moves from my face to my chest and stays there. “What if . . . I like cookin’ for you?”
Dammit to death, this woman and her sweet fucking heart. “Yeah?”
She tries to duck and turn away, but I don’t miss the way her face reddens.
“Come here.” I pull her in and wrap her up in a hug, nuzzling my nose into her hair and nearly blowing it at the soft sweet smell. “You’re incredible. You know that, right?”
She doesn’t answer.
Of course she doesn’t know it. Seems she’s been treated as less than for as long as she’s been alive. That shit is ending tonight.
“Honor?”
“Yeah?” Her chin tips up so she can see my face.
“I’d like to kiss you goodnight.”
“You’re asking me if you can kiss me?”
My jaw locks down painfully that she’d need clarification, like no one has ever asked permission before they took from her. “I am.”
“Okay.”
I slide my hands through her hair at her nape and dip down to press a kiss to her lips. I’d swear to a priest my intentions were good. I was just going to kiss her softly and sweetly one time and then walk away, but I’ll be damned if I’ve ever been all that good at self-control. The moment the heat of her mouth hits mine, the moisture of her slightly parted lips bleeds into me, and I’m a dying man fighting for my next breath.
My grip on her hair tightens, and I tilt my head, opening my mouth a little more, inviting her inside. She pushes up on her toes, tilting her head, and our tongues glide together in a slow dance that is erotic as hell. She tastes of sweet chocolate, and I could lick at her mouth all night.
Her toes can’t hold her up for long, so she stumbles forward, and the softness of her full breasts press against my ribs, stringing me tighter, building my need for more. Short nails dig into my sides as she holds on, using me as an anchor as she loses herself in this kiss. My pulse pounds in my neck, my chest, and behind my zipper as the blood in my body seems to war against what’s more important, staying conscious or dipping inside the woman in my arms.