Deceptions: A Collection (3 page)

“Morning.”

He grunted and turned, shoving his face into the back of the couch.

“I’ll make you some coffee,” she said.

By the time she returned, he was sitting up, his red hair mussed, dark blue eyes still clouded with sleep, but a smile kicked up the corners of his mouth. “Hmm. Heaven.”

“Flattery will get you coffee,” she said, setting it on the table before she went to head to her room.

He caught her wrist.

“Not so fast, Lizzie,” he said, his voice gruff. She tried to tug free, but the look in his eyes, on his face was pure Decker—he was like a stone. He wouldn’t budge and he wanted answers.

Sighing, she sat down on the table in front of him, tucking her sleepshirt around her legs. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to go crazy,” she said.

His eyes narrowed. “I can’t make that promise until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t tell you until you make the promise.” She glared at him.

“Fuck.” He dragged a hand down his face and looked away. “Did that sack of shit hurt you?”

She hesitated too long and he shoved upright, a growl rumbling in that big chest of his. “I’ll kill—”

“No.” She caught his arms, had to push against him to make him stop. “Decker, he didn’t hurt me…like that, okay? He just…”

She swallowed the knot in her throat, the humiliation a living, breathing thing inside her. Decker was trembling under her hands, a flush spreading up from his chest to stain his cheeks red as his fury grew. But he caught her up against him, his hands ever so gentle as he stroked a hand down her spine. “Easy, sweetheart. Easy…come on, sweet Lizzie…”

The words sent a shiver down her spine, memory burning in the back of her mind. She bit back a gasp, only because she couldn’t ever look at him with that memory burning in her mind.

“He wants…”

He cupped her face in his hands and lifted, until they were gazing at each other. His blue eyes, so dark and warm, watched her…watched, waited.

“He wants to
date
other people.”

Stunned, feeling a little lightheaded, Decker stared at Lizzie, almost afraid to believe it. “He…what, he broke up with you?”

She shook her head and the misery on her face only grew. “No. He wants an
open
relationship…where he sees other people. And me.”

The fury was back. Just like that. It grabbed him by the throat and squeezed until he saw red. But he was better, older, cooler than he’d been ten years ago and he fought the fury back down. “An open relationship,” he said, his voice flat.

“Yeah. It’s like where…”

“I know what it means. Please tell me you told him to kiss your ass.”

Her gaze fell away.

Sighing, he stroked his hands down her arms and stepped away. His frustration bubbled inside, threatened to boil over. She deserved so much better than that son of a bitch. Of course, he wasn’t exactly
better
but he loved her.

Had almost from the first. It was just…impossible.

“I told him I wanted to think about it.”

Think about it
? He wanted to rip his hair out.

As she moved away, he shoved the heels of his hands against his eyes. “What’s to think about, Lizzie? You deserve somebody who wants to be with
you
. And don’t tell me you’d ever be okay with this. I know you too well.”

“No.” She stood there, her head downcast, tumbled curls shielding her face. A soft sigh escaped her and she pushed her hair back before she shot him a quick him. “I wouldn’t be okay with it. I’m
not
okay with it. I want to scream and cry and I thought about hitting him. But…”

She stopped.

“But what?”

“He said we’d have to cool things off if I didn’t try it. Because he has
needs
.” Now her voice was thick, heavy with sarcasm.

“What about
you
?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” she whispered. “But I don’t want to lose him either.”

The raw misery in her voice made him want to break something—Noel’s head sounded good.

But that wouldn’t help her, and he knew it.

Unable to stand there, he moved toward her. Cupping her chin in his hand, he tipped her head back, brought her gaze to his. “Lizzie, if this is what he wants, is he even yours to
lose
?”

“Let him do it.”

Elizabeth gaped at Selah, unable to believe what she was hearing. She had brooded half the day about what Noel had done. He hadn’t even texted or called to check on her until nearly noon.

No calls to ask…hey, where were you this morning. No texts to ask are you okay? I missed seeing you…

That had made the void inside her widen.

Selah, of course, had noticed the misery inside her. Selah had noticed. Decker had noticed.

Noel seemed pretty oblivious. Once they’d left the restaurant, it had been like par for the course, nothing out of the ordinary. No, sir. Her friends, though…

“Okay. Give.”

The mid-afternoon lull had fallen and as one of their regulars headed out, leaving the coffee shop empty, Selah turned and stared at her.

“What?” Elizabeth asked, playing dumb. She couldn’t talk about this. It was too embarrassing. It just showed what a miserable, pathetic excuse she—

“Give,” Selah said again, planting her hands on the counter and staring her down. “Something happened last night and I want to know what it was. If you tell me you dropped that assbag, I’m going to call up my mama and have her make up some tacos and margaritas—we’ll have a party tonight to celebrate.”

A smile crept over Elizabeth’s face as the accent in Selah’s voice grew just a little heavier. “Selah, it’s
asshat
…and no, I didn’t break up with him.”

“Oh.” Selah scowled. “Well, you should. And I think assbag sounds better—you can fit more ass in a bag than in a hat. Come on…tell me what hurts you.” Because this wouldn’t stop until she did, Elizabeth sighed and filled Selah in. Besides, maybe it would feel good to get a woman’s opinion.

But
let him do it
wasn’t what she’d expected to her.

“Are you
serious
?”

While Decker was the best friend she’d ever had, ever would have, Selah came in next. Without her, Elizabeth might have gone crazy during the years that Decker had been in prison.

She’d thought maybe Selah would offer a rational insight to this—maybe Decker was right. Maybe Noel
wasn’t
hers. She’d almost expected to hear Selah back Decker up.

But…
this
?

“Let him.” Now Selah leaned forward. “And that website?
Wanna Play
? What you do now—and I mean as soon as you get home—is sign yourself up for an account.”

Horrified, Elizabeth shook her head. “Are you
nuts
?
Me
? On that site? I’m like a cow next to those women.”

“Look, if he can do it, so can you. Honey, it’s a fet site. Those men? Plenty of those men are looking for women who have some curves on them.” Selah winked at her, her dark eyes flashing with something wicked and hot. “You are going to be
amazed
.”

At Elizabeth’s blank look, Selah sighed. “Fet—like
fetish
?”

“I know what
fet
is,” Elizabeth said, feeling blood creep up her cheeks.

“Good.” Selah rolled her eyes. “My mama might spank me if she heard me explaining that to you. She sees you and she wants to pat you on the head—always telling me to be good around you. Anyway, these people, some are into BDSM, some want to try a ménage…and some?”

While Selah let the words roll easily off her tongue, even listening to it made Elizabeth blush. Resisting the urge to hide her face, she played it cool—or tried to, while Selah continued. “Maybe some of them want to try a same sex experience…who knows?” She grinned, then wiggled her eyebrows. “And then there are the guys who are just looking for a woman that is…stacked. Trust me, with your tits and your ass, you will have men knocking down your door…well, trying to. If they can get your address.”

“You’re insane.” The bell over the door jangled and she shoved off the counter to go handle the group of teens that had come in. Selah moved to join her but once they had another lull, Selah turned on her again.

“I’m serious. I can do the pictures.” Selah wagged her eyebrows. “Let me do your make-up. I can make you look like a loose woman. Or better yet, we will just work with what you have—you’ll look like a sweet, sexy…
hungry
virgin. Boys will go loco for that.”

“But…” Elizabeth held up her hands, her head spinning at the very thought. “I don’t
want
to date. I don’t want boys going loco! I want him.”

“Oh, honey. I know, I know. But he’s so stupid. He cannot see what’s in front of him.” She gave a lazy shrug, palms up. “Noel, he wants to have his cake and eat it, too. He’s got a great girlfriend—you are always there for him, you listen to him bitch and moan—and he
does
bitch and moan. But he wants to play, too. So…let him. Just tell him you get to do the same. He probably isn’t counting on that. Let him know you’re all in…” Now she grinned and arched her brows, the ring in her right brow winking in the light. “Or all out.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue. Only to realize she didn’t really have a good argument. Other than
I don’t want an open relationship
. Or, well, the obvious.

She could walk.

But she had given him three years. That mattered to her. Didn’t it matter to him?

“And what if I try it and nobody is interested?”

“Trust me, Lizzie.” Selah shook her head. “I know men. And that’s
not
going to happen.”

Decker fought with the bolt, teeth clenched. It was rusted in place—rust was about the only thing holding the so-called
classic
the manager of the garage had recently bought. The idea was that they could fix it up and sell it.

Yeah. Right. When puppies turned into sparkly little unicorns.

This whole damn garage was going to go down in a fiery mess if somebody didn’t reign the current boss in. Hewey Pascal thought he knew cars, but he couldn’t figure out a V-8 from a four-banger even if somebody walked him through it.

Decker could give him a diagram and a roadmap and step by step instructions and he
still
wouldn’t get it.

Pascal also didn’t know a classic car from a classic piece of shit.

But until the owner of the garage hired an assistant to help cover things when his myriad health problems pulled him away, or this place went under, they were forced to deal with Hewey.

“Hey.”

A booted foot kicked his ankle. Recognizing the voice, he slid out from under the car and peered up at Pixie. Her real name was Patricia but she refused to answer to it. Pixie was the name she’d given them and the only reason he knew her real name was because he’d passed out the checks a time or two.

“Sugar-pie called.” Pixie fluttered her lashes at him.

He scowled.

“Lizzie. She called. I heard the phone ringing while I was in the break room so I grabbed it, answered it. She sounded blue. I told her I’d let you know she called.”

“Thanks.” He was torn between getting back to work and calling her, but a glance toward the office made up his mind. Hewey was in there.

“You’re allowed a break, man,” Pixie said softly.

“I’m good. I’m only on another couple hours.” He shoved back under the car. She came around to crouch by his head.

“That son of a bitch isn’t going to fire one of the best mechanics—I don’t care what stick he has up his ass.”

“It’s not a stick,” Decker said. He wasn’t even that irritated. “I am an ex-con. He doesn’t like ex-cons. I don’t like kiss-ass idiots who don’t know an engine from an armpit. We’re even.”

She choked back a laugh. “I just hate to see you let him push you around.”

He just lay there a moment, then he went back to work. The nut was almost free. “It’s not about him pushing me around. It’s about not wanting to mess with him. He’s not worth my time, or my temper. All he wants is a reason to talk Rowland into firing me. I’m not giving him that.”

“Okay, dude. But man, you know Rowland isn’t going to fire you. He can’t afford to lose you.” She poked him in the biceps. “Listen, we’re playing tonight if you want to come by. Maybe bring Lizzie. She needs to have some fun. That limpdick she’s with wouldn’t know a good time if it bit him on the ass.”

“Maybe.” He was already mentally shrugging the idea off. Lizzie wasn’t going to be up to that kind of thing tonight.

But as he lay under the battered wreck of a car, he started to think. Wonder.

Why the hell not? It wasn’t like they didn’t hang out, right?

He’d buy her a beer or two, talk some sense into her—surely she had to see that this fuck she’d been wasting her life on was just no good. The shit Noel had come up with last night was just proof of it.

“I think I’m going to try it.”

Those were the absolute
last
words he’d expected to hear from her as they wound their way into the tightly packed bar where Pixie played with a band a couple nights a month.

The words shocked him so much Decker just came to a halt in the middle of the crowded floor while people flowed and ebbed around them. Somebody caught him in the back with an elbow and he ignored it. “What did you say?”

“I said I think I’m going to—
hey
!” Lizzie’s eyes flared wide and her face went red as she went to glare behind her. Decker shot out his arm—at six foot five, he had a damn long reach and although the leering fool saw him coming, he didn’t move fast enough.

“Deck, don’t…” her words trailed away.

He dragged the man up and growled. “Apologize.”

“Hey, hey, hey…I just bumped into her!”

“Your hand didn’t bump into my ass, you moron!” Lizzie said, only to snap her jaw shut when Decker shot her a look.

Lowering his head, he said in a low voice, too low for Lizzie to hear over the music, “You can either apologize and walk out, or say anything else…and you’ll be carried out. Your choice.”

The squawked-out apology was barely audible as the band started their warm up, but as long as the fuck kept away from Lizzie, he didn’t care. Focusing his eyes on her, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Insult still darkened her eyes, but she gave him a faint smile. “You realize my ass isn’t a matter of national security…you didn’t have to threaten him like that.”

“Your ass is more valuable to me than national security.” The words slipped out before he realized just how she might take that. “Ah…well, you are. Anyway, the bastard shouldn’t have put a hand on you. Maybe next time he’ll think twice.”

“Or he’ll just make sure it’s a woman without a guy near her.” Her shoulders slumped and he tucked her up against him.

“Come on. Pix has a friend holding a table for us. We’ll sit down. Have a beer—I think I need four or five just to listen to whatever you were trying to say before numbnuts back there interfered.” Four or five beers, a battering ram to the head. He might get through this.

“You’re absolutely serious.”

Decker hadn’t taken the seat across from her the way she’d expected him to.

No, he’d slid right in next to her and when she had given him a look, he said, “I want to know what’s going on, and I’m not having you shout it across the table.”

She’d let it go and now he was slumped in the seat, long powerful body tense, his legs stretched out in front of him, his chin all but touching his chest while he absorbed what she’d told him.

Half twisted in the seat, she stared at the stage while she thought through the best way to respond. The band had gathered at the back, talking. Pixie had seen her and waved. She’d smiled and waved back, although she didn’t feel the smile.

At all.

“Lizzie?”

Dragging her gaze away from the stage, she looked at Decker. He’d shifted his body around until he all but caged her in. And now he was looking at her, blocking out everything but him. “Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this? You don’t want this.”

“I don’t want to lose him,” she said, her voice rusty.
I can’t…
She didn’t want to voice the fears inside her. Nobody had ever really valued her before Noel. Well, Decker had but he was her friend. She needed—
wanted
—to belong to somebody.

Her father had tossed her out and even the news that he’d been dying hadn’t made him willing to try and mend the rift between them.

Her mother had abandoned her.

She’d had friends in high school, but so many of them had fallen away after the trial.

The few who had remained were Selah…and Decker.

She’d made friends since then, but a friend wasn’t the same. It didn’t ease that ache of loneliness. It didn’t chase away the chill in the night. Although now, the chill was far, far worse.

But maybe Noel would get it. Maybe he’d understand. Maybe—