Beautiful Deception

by Addison Moore

  “But really you didn’t. You took something from that experience, and it shaped whatever happened between you and that Elizabeth girl.” There is something charming, ever so disarming to hear Zoey call her that Elizabeth girl. The egotistical part of me cheers the thought of reducing Elizabeth to something menial, not even worthy enough for her name to stand on its own.

  “I guess it did. I guess in the back of my mind I always thought I might be replaced.” And I was. Then why the hell did I find it so shocking? So fucking offensive?

  I offer a tight smile Zoey’s way as the music seems to grow in both volume and intensity.

  “You want to change the subject.” Zoey shudders as the night breeze licks around her bare arms. “I understand.”

  Dinner comes and goes, and neither one of us puts a dent in our plates. I think both of our appetites have dwindled to nothing. So much for showing her what a true gentleman is like. I’m all but staring her down. She must think I’m giving her the finger for thrusting me into that hellhole—but in reality I’m thankful.

  I hold my hand out to her. “Let’s dance.”

  “Here?” She wrinkles her nose at the idea.

  “Yes, right here. We’ve already proven we’re good at it. We should do it.” I lift her out of her seat and navigate us as close to the railing that overlooks the inky black lake. The waves lap over the shore in the distance an incandescent shade of baby blue, and it gives the night the magical feel of a fantasy. My arms fold over her waist as I draw her in. Zoey smiles up at me with those glowing teeth, her eyes backlit like celadon beacons.

  “You’re just crazy enough for me to like you,” she whispers while grazing her teeth over her bottom lip. Zoey is a perpetual tease, her beauty her sharpest weapon. But she’s smart, cuttingly so, and that’s the part of her that’s stunned me tonight.

  “Like I said, we’re frighteningly alike.”

  She frowns at the idea a moment. “Thank you for this.” Her eyes flit to the table. “For showing me what a date with a true gentleman can and should be.”

  “You’re welcome.” My stomach pinches in fear it might be over. “But I’m planning a few more outings. You know, to make sure I drive home the point.” There. The smitten schoolboy in me can relax. I’m not cutting Zoey loose into the wild just yet.

  “If you truly want to drive the point home, you’ll end this date like a true gentleman would—with a proper kiss.” She bats those thick lashes up at me, trying to convince me of her innocent intentions, and I hold back a laugh.

  “A proper kiss from a true gentleman. It sounds like a dare.”

  “Are you biting?” Her brows hike as if awaiting an answer for themselves.

  “Nope, a true gentleman doesn’t bite on the first date.” Instead, I lean in, allowing my lids to grow heavy. Zoey’s mouth parts for me. Her face looks both shocked and delighted, and that alone is worth the price of admission. My lips touch over hers, soft as a feather. Zoey’s well-glossed juicy lips have been calling me, begging me to take just one taste ever since the moment I laid eyes on her a few weeks back.

  Soft. So fucking soft. A moan escapes me without meaning to, and she strums with a giggle as she feeds me her laughter. But my mouth lingers, harder, faster, with far more intensity any true gentleman might be willing to offer. Then, like a thief, I break in with my hungry tongue and roam freely in that hot, luscious mouth of hers, my hard-on already at the ready. This is not where this night was supposed to lead. Hell, it’s exactly where this night was supposed to lead.

  As much as I’d like to believe I’m in control, it’s Zoey who is running the show. She’s holding the mirror up and making me take a look at the dark shadow of my mind, the dysfunctional rusted inner workings of some old decrepit clock that technology has long since left behind. Zoey is the true woman showing me how a man should be treated. Her hungry, soulful kiss, the comingling of our tongues, of our unwitting souls has left me breathless and wanting far more from this woman than I could and should ever imagine.

  It’s a hard day when you discover you are not the potter. You are the clay.

  Zoey is molding me into her own creation, and there’s not a lot I can do to stop her. Little does she know my past cannot be contained, reshaped, or molded into anything that resembles normalcy, beauty. It’s far too hideous.

  I would never let her put her hands to it.

  And I’ll make sure she doesn’t.

  Bitter Hearts

  Zoey

  There is nothing as majestic and wholly spiritual as Lake Loveless on a clear summer afternoon. The evergreens create a dramatic backdrop as the cobalt blue waters shimmer with every kiss from the sun. The tourists haven’t quite infiltrated the area with their hustle and bustle, those agonizing mothers that chase screaming children with sunscreen. But the onslaught is steadily growing. Soon enough it’ll be elbow-to-elbow bodies along the shoreline.

  Kennedy invited Brylee, Reese, and me over to discuss the benefit. I think it’s noble of anyone to take on any kind of charity, but Kennedy in particular is a pit bull and Tuesday’s Child is lucky as hell to have her.

  We chitchat about the fundamentals of the upcoming event while seated out on her expansive porch that overlooks the lake. The event itself isn’t set for another month and a half, but in the world of event planning that’s essentially tomorrow.

  “I’m having it catered by two different companies. There will be a taco bar and a sushi chef on hand.”

  “What?” Reese looks like she can gag. “How about cuisine that actually compliments one another?”

  Brylee lifts a finger as she downs the remainder of her mimosa. “I think what Reese means to say is throw something in there that the other foodies might enjoy, like a food truck.”

  “Food trucks!” Kennedy tosses her arms in the air as if she’s waited all her life to hear those words. “Of course. That’s a brilliant idea. God, I should have come to you first, Brylee. You always have the best ideas.”

  My eyes avert at the thought. Brylee is full of many things, but good ideas aren’t one of them. Brylee Peters is a walking bad idea—and that’s simply public opinion.

  “I am full of good ideas.” She cuts a glance my way and holds me there with her heavy gaze. “That’s why I’ve set my eyes on your neighbor,” she sings as if trying to defuse the awkwardness that phrase just landed us in.

  A sharp laugh evicts from my throat before I can stop it. Abel is so coiled up, so knotted up in pain I doubt he has the will or time to defuse the bomb that is Brylee Peters.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Brylee slips a loose curl behind her ear and leans in as if she’s genuinely surprised. Both Kennedy and Reese raise a brow as if just as interested.

  “He’s busy. He’s writing his book.” My own lips can’t believe I didn’t cut to the quick with the truth. And that truth is that I think I want Abel McCarthy all for myself. Something in me heats at the idea. Of course, I want him sexually. I’ve never been one to turn down a beautiful man. Hell, I’m usually the one enticing him to the mattress, but there’s something else to the equation I can’t quite put my finger on.

  “What kind of a book?” Brylee plants a hand over her chest as if I were about to fill her in on some twisted porn thriller he’s penning. Please. There are a lot of innocent people in this world, and Brylee Peters isn’t one of them.

  “Something intellectual filled with three-dollar words. Maybe when it hits the shelves, you can ask Reese to translate for you.”

  “Zoey!” Reese laughs while tossing a crumpled napkin my way. “Would you behave?”

  Brylee offers Kennedy a brief glance. “Told you the little slut had her sights on him. Ten bucks says she’s already sucked him off and bagged him.”

  “You are disgusting.” I take a sip of my drink and feel the citrusy burn on my tongue. “Abel and I aren’t there—yet.” I offer a sly smile her way. There. It was either that or telling her to step off my man. I’m sort of regretting I didn’t empl
oy the latter.

  All eyes are locked on me, but I choose to focus on the lone sparrow darting through the branches of the pine that loom over our heads like a canopy.

  “So you are interested.” Brylee shakes her head with a look on her face that says I’m so sorry for you. “He’s a gorgeous man—of noble lineage.”

  “Questionably noble.” Reese tips her champagne flute our way before wincing at Kennedy and mouthing the word sorry.

  “He’s an attorney.” Brylee stretches out the word while glowering at me.

  My entire body inches back as if her words had morphed into a slap, and they had. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Brylee bucks, shaking with a silent laugh. “It means, he’s interested in a certain caliber of a woman.”

  Both Kennedy and Reese groan at her lunacy.

  “No, please, do go on.” I bite down on an impending naughty grin, but deep down, Brylee has cut me off at the knees. I don’t see why the hell I should care. Am I really expecting something that lasts with that sweet broken man? My heart wrenches as if dying to answer, but my head refuses to listen. I know all about love and its misgivings.

  “Trust me”—Brylee stretches her legs over the side of the chair with the ease of a lazy house cat—“he’s looking for someone on par with him. I don’t know. He just doesn’t strike me as a one-night-stand kind of a person.” She shrugs it off as if she didn’t just casually scratch my eye out in the process.

  “And I am—a one-night-stand kind of a person.” An instant rage funnels through me. I know what it’s like to be judged. I’ve been dismissed my entire life based on merely a glance. There are some things people expect from me and some things they don’t. Often the things they expect are not of a noble stature. I frown over at this ditz of a girl. I’ve known Brylee as long as I’ve known anyone sitting at the table. I’m only a few years younger, but in Loveless that might as well equate to decades.

  Reese leans over and clasps her cool hand over mine. “That’s not what she meant.”

  “Of course, it is.” I snatch my hand back. “And the fact that no one at this table is bothering to defend me lets me know that you all feel the same.”

  Kennedy grunts into her mimosa, “You do have a track record.”

  It’s true. In this case actions very much speak louder than words. “Look, I’m not perfect, and yes, I’ve slept with a few men, but just a few. Now that’s the truth whether or not you care to believe it.” I needle Brylee with a hard look. “And if you don’t, you can fashion it into one of those dildos you love so much and shove it up your ass.”

  The three of them groan in unison as if I had just delivered the lowest blow possible.

  Reese taps her glass over the table as if calling court to order. “So you’re both interested in Abel. It’s not a terrible thing.”

  Kennedy scowls over at her stepsister. “You’re right. It’s a very terrible thing. If they’re both equally invested, one might just end up with a broken heart.”

  I scoff at the idea. “Nobody is breaking my heart ever again.”

  The three of them freeze as they take me in, and I cringe over the fact I included those last two very damning words.

  “What happened?” Kennedy blinks just once with all of the drama of a haunted doll. And something about that quirky maneuver, the deeply concerned tone in her voice, lets me know that she truly does care.

  I snap back from my momentary trance and glance to Brylee who looks all but disinterested in the fact I had my beating heart ripped out of my ass.

  “It’s not important.” I run my finger over the rim of my glass over and over. “What is important is that no one, for sure not Abel, is going to break my heart.” I nod to Brylee. For sure not that little slut either.

  Her angry little eyes narrow over mine. “So you’re okay with me chasing his tail?”

  “His tops, his tail, whatever you think might work.” My brows rise involuntarily, and I don’t really give a shit what she might decipher it to mean.

  Reese checks her phone before collecting her things. “We need to get down the hill.” She looks to Brylee who scampers to her feet. “We have an appointment with our counselors back at school. Just something quick to get clearance to register for next semester. Senior year!” They share a quick high five.

  “It’s been real, bitches.” Brylee blows me a kiss as they make their way down the chain of stairs. I can’t help but notice the way the sun kisses her hair and makes it shine like gold—fool’s gold. Her cute, strappy, gladiator sandals lace all the way to her knees, and I’m suddenly envious of them, of her.

  “Brylee is a beautiful bitch, I’ll give her that.”

  Ken hacks out a laugh in that dark—I’m so with you on this one. Kennedy and I have always been close. There’s always been something familiar about her, a kindred spirit. You would think I would have found that with Reese since we’ve both lost our mothers, but Kennedy has that undertone of wickedness that I’ve always secretly thrived on.

  “Are you sleeping with him?” She pulls Reese’s drink close and knocks it back in one giant gulp.

  “No. But I will be. And I don’t need that little witch coming around, flaunting her tramp stamp for all to see.”

  “You mean for him to see. Brylee is stiff competition, all right, but you have something she doesn’t.”

  “What’s that?” If I’m anything, I’m forever thirsty for one more hit of attention, affection. A good solid compliment is my drug of choice.

  “Geez.” Ken closes her eyes and groans at my seeming stupidity. “You must be blind if you don’t see it.”

  “See what?” I’m about to lunge over the table and shake whatever it is she sees right out of her.

  Ken lays those serious eyes over mine, her pert nose turned up with self-righteous pride because whatever it is she’s keeping from me, she wholly believes it.

  “You already have him, Zoey.” She rolls her eyes for affect. “That boy’s balls are aching to have you. He’s a house of cards just begging to be knocked over with one tiny flick of your tongue. Now get out of here and get licking. And report to me every dirty detail.”

  “Kennedy! He’s your brother-in-law!”

  “Yes, and I’m your friend. Trust me, with a man that hot, you’ll want to vent, brag, and shout his accolades to the first woman you see. These are the right McCarthys we’re dealing with.” She leans in, and that laughter veiled in her eyes turns on a dime as her demeanor grows serious. “These men are gold, Zoey—sublime works of celestial art meant to be worshipped. If—no, when you sleep with Abel, just know that it isn’t some one-night stand you’re entertaining. This is something real you’re up against. I don’t care what line of bullshit he’s fed you about his past.” She shakes her head. “You’re the only woman that exists when he looks at you.”

  My spirit soars when Kennedy calls me a woman, and that one female-oriented pat on the back sends my heart racing faster than it already is. I’m stunned to see that she believes Abel and I could ever be. More than that, she believes Abel is taken with me, that I’ve already crested that next level. My relationships usually come with glass ceilings that I’ve never been able to conquer, and with Abel I’ve already crashed right through it. The best part is, I know she’s right. I’ve known it from that first night we went to the Blue Crab. His eyes connected with mine, and it was as if the universe molded his soul over mine. I felt it. He must have, too.

  Kennedy and I wrap up our tête-à-tête, and I walk on air as I head on down to the shoreline.

  Now that Abel and I have gleaned Kennedy’s nod of approval, there is work to be done.

  Abel McCarthy is mine. I can feel it right down to my marrow.

  And just like that, my past flashes before me, and I’m terrified of the prospect of ever opening my heart up again.

  Brylee Peters is known for playing dirty. She’s an animal, a downright skank. She’s no one I ever thought I’d be up against. Not that I suddenly feel
as if I’m competing with her. In all honesty, I think I could melt Abel to the mattress with my night moves. She’s more of a bend-over-and-take-it-kind of a whore. I have no interest in befriending her, pretending to like her after she all but declared war on my vagina. Isn’t there some kind of a girl code she’s breaking? Personally, I’m shocked that neither Reese nor Kennedy told her to step the hell off. It’s as if they were amused at watching the two of us war over Abel as if he were the last ovary popper on earth.

  Instead of taking the long way home, I stride right by Gavin and Demi’s cabin, my old childhood home. I like it here. Their car is gone, so I take the opportunity to traipse up the steps and run my hand along the old oak door my father handcrafted himself. My eyes close involuntarily. This old place has always had the power to cast a spell on me. It’s as if my parents never left. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still hear my mother calling out my name for dinner.

  No sooner do I come to than a car slows down and pulls into the driveway, inspiring me to cringe. I turn around to find a cheery Demi waving from the passenger’s seat as she and my brother get out of the truck.

  “Just in time!” Gavin jogs up and wraps his strong arms around me. I have always felt safe and protected in my big brother’s arms. “Dem and I just picked up a pizza. We’ve got a slice with your name on it.”

  “I couldn’t. I just had brunch.”

  Demi comes up from behind and offers me a quick hug, and my face instinctually turns away. I can’t bear to look at her face, her belly filling out. I know how ridiculously sad that sounds, but everything in me begs to run.

  “Of course, you’re coming in.” She presses a light kiss to my cheek as my brother opens the door, and just like that, a thousand memories of who my family used to be come flooding back. My feet set into that tiny cabin like a pair of traitors.

  The first thing my eyes snag on is a pile of miniature clothes neatly folded on the sofa, and I gravitate toward them, plucking up the tiny white romper set on top. A breath hitches in my throat. I can’t move or think or feel. It’s so small and precious, so unimaginably fragile—a thing of beauty all on its own, and tears instantly blur my vision.