Honeytrap (6 page)

“Well, stud.” She drilled a glare into Taggert but gestured toward Micah. “Looks like this boy beat you twice in one night—once during your race, and then again in being man enough to own up to this idiocy. He was smart enough to take responsibility, although I'm not sure if he's gonna carry through with his promises.”

“I will,” Micah said, but he seemed to be dwelling on a double meaning as his gaze flicked toward me, glinting in the moonlight.

He was thinking about carrying through with the bet while he was getting reamed out? What a braindead. Mom would kill me if she knew I was even in his vicinity. The cheerdevils would chide me to death. I should even kill me.

The dog trotted over to Micah, rubbing against his leg, and he smiled down at her. Taggert seemed like he wanted to have it out with Mrs. Holland, but Jimmy stepped up to him.

“Time for you to get,” he said, his fists bunched.

Taggert grunted at him while Mrs. Holland rolled her eyes and then gave her son a look that said she'd be talking to him later.

Darwin sidled up to her. “Ma'am, when Deacon and I heard about this nonsense, we hightailed it on over, trying to put a stop to it. Micah's still new around here and is learning the lay of the land. He truly won't be doing this again.”

“He's extremely reformable,” Deacon added.

Micah gave Mrs. Holland a forgive-me smile that was guaranteed to warm any woman's heart. Even an ex-Marine's. For a second, though, I thought she was going to ignore it.

But . . . nope. A reluctant smile crept over her mouth before she shook her head and sighed.

It was that Micah Wyatt Woman Voodoo.

She waved the boys off and went toward her pickup. “If I hear about any of this racing again, I'm going to the law.”

Jimmy slumped toward the truck, too. Faintly, I heard Mama's Boy explaining that he hadn't expected her back home tonight, and they got into her pickup, driving away.

Taggert started to slip into his Impala, but Micah stopped him.

“Nice race,” he said, “except for the part where you almost hit the dog. Good thing you swerved in time.”

“I should've just run over the bitch.”

The dog barked as Taggert pulled out, disappearing down the road in a blur of taillights.

No one—not Micah, Evie, the twins, or I—said anything for a moment. Not until the dog loped down the road, toward the Holland ranch, leaving us alone.

“Well,” Micah said. “That was some party.”

Deacon and Darwin began to walk toward the Camaro while Evie gestured at the starting line where my truck was before Micah could say anything to me.

Too late, because he murmured something to the twins about walking me and Evie to our ride. The twins both gave me the same
hmm
look that I'd seen from Darwin earlier in their shop, when I'd dropped off the mower. But this time I knew there was more behind that expression.

The bet.

I didn't make a big deal of it when the twins left and Micah followed me and Evie down the road. My pickup was the only vehicle left, and I thanked God that it hadn't been a deputy who'd come upon the drag race. Even at my age, I didn't want to get into hot water with Mom—it'd make for an even longer summer than the one that was already in front of me.

Micah ambled along behind us, and from the shivers that were shimmering up and down my back, I had the feeling his gaze was all over me, caressing, imagining . . .

I halted, waiting for him to catch up so I could put a stop to this. “I hear you have a bet with your cousins about me.”

Evie sucked in a breath and scampered ahead of us, but Micah only grinned and looked down at me again.

“Is that what this town is saying?” he asked. “As I told you before, Shelby, you listen to them too much.”

I ignored his misdirection, even though he was right. “Do I have it wrong?”

“No.”

His bluntness nearly made me blink, but I kept eye contact, right along with the space I was maintaining between us—him a few feet away, me another. Even then, I could still smell that laundry soap, his skin, that mysterious
something
.

“Jeez,” I said. “Seriously? You're actually admitting you made a bet about ‘nailing' me?”

“Why wouldn't I admit it?”

“Because if I know you're out to get me, you kind of lose the element of surprise.”

“I don't need surprise.”

Whoosh
—that was the air escaping me again. He had a bad habit of leaving me that way. And when he took me into his sights with those dazzling gray—or were they light blue or green?—eyes, I was really trapped.

He lowered his voice, although Evie could probably still hear us from ten feet away as she got closer to the pickup.

“You're gonna change your mind about me, Shelby, even if it takes all summer.”

“How about I save you some time and tell you it's not happening? There're a lot of other catches out there, like the bandana girl who started the race. Stalk
her
.”

“Amber? She likes any guy with a souped-up ride.”

“And you've slept with her, I imagine.” Did that really just come out of my mouth?

His silence shouted a clear “Yes, I did bang her.” For some dumb reason, that made my jaw clench.

Remember, Shelby
, I told myself,
you don't need to be needy.
Not like you were with Rex
.

So why was I all about need right now? Needing him to touch me so I could feel what it'd be like. Needing him to look at me again so I could revel in adrenaline and hormones and everything I'd been missing since I'd been banished to a she's-such-a-psycho hole.

“Don't mind my saying so,” he whispered so Evie couldn't hear, “but why would you care about Amber if I didn't have a chance with you?”

“I
don't
care.”

“Whatever you say.”

He kept smiling to himself, like everything was going exactly according to plan.

“Out of curiosity,” I said, “what did you bet your cousins? Money?”

“A stake in the shop.”

Now I did do a double take. Luckily, Evie was already at my pickup, her head down as she shut herself inside. The slam of the door consumed the night, silence all around us, just as heavy as the tension.

He laughed, low and smooth. “Pretty high stakes, huh? You should feel good about that.”

“That you want to make me into a notch on your bedpost? That's a weird way of looking at things.”

He leaned his head back, keeping his gaze on me. Somehow, that made him a different kind of intense, his smile all but disappearing.

“I suppose I do have a weird way about me,” he said, tucking his hands under his armpits, his stance of choice. “When you've been bounced around as much as I have, your perception becomes . . . altered from everyone else's. It becomes your very own. I don't see things through the eyes of Aidan Falls like most everyone else around here does. I don't see heroes in douchebags like Rex. I imagine I don't even see what you see.”

I absorbed that, but I still had my questions. “Did you have a bet about Jadyn Dandritch, too?”

“No.”

Once again, his quick honesty startled me. So did the rest of what he had to say.

“Jadyn and I innocently met at a kegger a couple weekends ago. We got along, and it went from there, even if she had a boyfriend.”

“Nice.”

“Shelby . . .” he said, like he regretted my reaction. Even worse, the way he said my name made me itch to go to him, to get closer so he could lower his voice to that molasses whisper and maybe say heart-stopping things into my ear that would erase all the hurt Rex had brought me.

So I moved away before that could happen, going for my pickup. “I'm telling you flat out—don't waste your time with me.”

“Sweetheart, I could get your attention—and get you to stay—in a heartbeat.”

Cocky again.

“Doubtful,” I said, still walking.

“What if I told you that I might know something about your dad?” he said.

Now he had my attention.

“What if,” he said, “I could help you find out who he is?”

I kept my back turned to Micah. Hell, he'd done his research on me. He obviously took his bets as seriously as I took my unidentified father.

“How would you know anything about him?” I asked, my voice cutting into the night.

“Even a newcomer hears things in Aidan Falls.”

He had to either be lying just to get my attention or . . . What if he did know? But who in this town would have such elusive information about my father, and why would they have kept it a secret for so long, only to tell Micah?

“I don't believe you,” I said, willing myself to ignore him and just leave. It wasn't that far to the pickup. Maybe ten steps.

“I'm here if you ever want to find out.”

“Bullshit.” As I eyed my pickup, I could see Evie inside, her hand braced on the dashboard, like she was ready to open my door so I could jump in and take off. I shot her a look that asked her to wait a minute, then turned back to Micah. “You're playing a game with me, and it's by a dirty set of rules.”

He'd casually hitched his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “All right. You go on thinking what you're comfortable thinking. But what if I do know something? Wouldn't you want me to tell you?”

“Actually, no.” What a lie, but I wasn't going to let this troublemaker toy with me or use me in any way—not for his jollies, not for a bet. “I've lived a long time with just me and Mom, and guess what? I'm not mentally scarred from having no dad around, even if I was ripped up and down about it when I was a kid. My mom gave me all the love I needed.” I wasn't about to let him know that, yeah, there'd been some terrible times when I'd wanted a dad, any dad, to be with me. “In fact, finding out who he is would probably be bad news, seeing as he didn't stick around long enough to care I was alive.”

“That's his mistake.”

He said it with such sincerity that I almost doubted him on that, as well. But when he meandered closer, my skin tingled, like the slight cooling of the night still had a thick layer of humidity and heaviness to it. Like I should just get the heck out of here.

“Forget the bet,” he said in a whisper. “Why don't we pretend like it never existed. Forget I said anything about your dad, too, since it's obvious you don't want to hear about him. I'm sorry for bringing it up.”

I laughed. “So now you want to press reset with me.”

He smiled, and I wondered if it was because he was amused by his own tricks. But there was an edge to that smile, something that made me think there was more regret there.

It didn't matter. “You've probably talked so many females into doing things your way that you aren't used to any resistance. You'll have better luck in other places, I imagine.”

“And I heard that you were a real docile girl who might be welcoming to a new guy, Shelby Carson. Imagine my surprise to have heard wrong.”

Maybe I'd been docile before I'd backed myself into a corner with Rex and needed to come out spitting fire. At any rate, it sounded like Micah was backing off now, thank God.

“So does this mean you're throwing in the towel? No more bet?”

He peered up at the sky, like there were answers there, then looked at me again. Every time he did that, one more piece of my willpower flew off, like I had a runaway train inside of myself that was falling apart mile by mile.

“I would hate to waste my time on you,” he said. “We never know how much we have in the first place.”

“How philosophical.”

“And I didn't even need to go to college to get that way.”

Down the road, an engine roared. Deacon and Darwin getting restless.

“I think your cousins are calling,” I said, but that perverse side of me didn't want him to go yet. He brought something to the air that wasn't usually there—the sound of his voice, the trilling awareness riding my skin. Physical tremors that were getting more addictive by the second.

“They're trying to c—” He stopped himself, grinning. “
Block
me from winning the bet that they think is still happening.”

He'd almost said “cockblocked.” Again, the word “manners” popped into my head. Hah, right. So he didn't get vulgar in front of women? Congratulations. Still, I kind of liked that he was handling me with his own type of kid gloves. It
was
a little flattering, just like that bet had been.

“Well,” he said. “There it is then.”

“Yeah, there it is.”

“I hope you had some fun tonight and aren't too insulted by me.”

“I'm not . . . insulted. And at least the people here treated me better than most lately.” Heck, no one had seemed to care what'd happened with Rex. No one had even commented on how Micah had ambled right up to me after he'd roared up in his Camaro, like he'd had me marked for him.

How tweaked would Rex's friends have been if they'd seen me with Micah? Then again, why should their opinion mean anything?

I hated that they still mattered.

He dropped his hands from his pockets. “Glad to hear everyone welcomed you. You know, it could be that someone told everyone he knows in this town to have some respect for you. But that might be just another rumor.”

Was he saying that he'd asked Jefferson, Jimmy, Reese, and all the rest not to quiz me about Rex as a favor to him? No way.

He went on. “Or maybe you're not used to hanging out with decent types like these people.”

“Or like you?” That'd just popped out.

“I've already suggested being with me,” he said. “But you've made it pretty clear that I can't have a thing to do with you.”

“That's because . . .” God, might as well come out with it. “First of all, you're not my type.” Before he could refute that, I added the the real truth. “Also, I can't afford to have everyone thinking that I've . . . I don't know. Allied with you or something. That I put you up to messing with Jadyn because I was being a vindictive bitch to Rex.”

But I had been. I'd turned into one at college, surprising even myself.

“Then it's settled.” He started to walk backward, away from me. “Never the twains shall meet with us. Or however they say it. You stay on your side of town and I'll stay on mine.”

“I still have to get my mom's lawn mower from your shop.”

“You get one free pass, then that's it, Carson.” He smiled.

I melted.

Then he turned around and walked away, leaving me with a prime view of that tight butt in those jeans, those wide shoulders and back with a T-shirt that stretched over well-worked muscles.

Could it really be that easy to get rid of him? And now that I had, why did I feel like I'd dropped something along the way here and couldn't find it?

I went to my pickup before I could get any more curious about Micah and what he did to me.

Curious was a luxury I didn't have.

***

The next morning, I needed to pump out some of the steam Micah had put into me last night. The sooner the better, too.

I would've swum laps in the backyard pool if it'd had water, but instead, I hopped on the elliptical that had been banished to my room, putting on my earbuds and hooking up to my iPhone to crank out some music. Pharrell, Lorde, Eminem, and a bunch of other one-name wonders pushed me on that exercise machine, and by the time I was done, I was a ball of sweat in dire need of some breakfast.

Mom and the live-in ladies—Frannie, Rainey, and Juanita—had dirtied up the kitchen last night; I was pretty sure that, after they'd gone over the books at work, they'd made good use of the cheap wine Mom had on hand when they'd gotten home from the café and, by the time I'd tiptoed to my room, they'd already been in bed. Luckily, I'd texted Mom on my way back from the party, so there was no major speech from her when I got home—not that she would've given her college girl much grief about staying out late, anyway. And she didn't even have to know there'd been a keg at the party.

As I tossed a couple of emptied wine bottles into the recycling bin, I found a stickie note from Mom among the crumbs from cheese and crackers.

Milk!

Crap.
I was a cereal fiend—it's all I ever ate for breakfast—and I should've picked up milk earlier if I wanted it. Casa de Carson was basically a fend-for-yourself operation.

Stomach grumbling, I took a quick shower, smacked on mascara and lipstick, then flew out the door and got into my pickup. The air was already getting humid, so I cranked up the A/C and drove to Kroger. As I pulled into a prime parking space at the curb of the store, I caught a flash of gray to my left and, cutting the ignition, looked over to find Jadyn Dandritch rushing into the coffeehouse next door.

Small town, small world.

I took out my keys and fiddled with them, wondering if I should say something to her. Heck, I shopped at her store—it was the only full-sized market in Aidan Falls—so I was bound to run into her again at some point. Should I get the awkwardness over with?

Sucking it up, I got out of the truck and went to the coffeehouse, finding hardly anyone inside, except for Mr. Hernandez, the owner. He was at the counter with Jadyn, who was ordering a bagel and a coffee with cinnamon.

Should I just stroll right up to her? And what would I say?

Hey! Haven't seen you since you dashed away from me yesterday like you were an Olympic avoider. What's with the cold shoulder?

Instead, I sank into a chair at one of the wooden tables with fiesta-colored paint streaks, surrounded by the roasted smell of coffee, along with old Loretta Lynn playing on the radio. What
did
someone say to an ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend slash fellow pariah?

I didn't have long to think about it, because after Mr. Hernandez saw me, he nodded and said, “Shelby.”

It was a greeting that could've gone either way—
Shelby, you slut or, Hello, Shelby, welcome to my establishment.

After I said hi back, Jadyn's spine stiffened. She kept herself turned away from me, and all I could see of her was the gray jeans and cotton shirt she was wearing, along with the dark curls of her hair trailing down her back. Her cocoa-and-milk arms seemed to pale a little, even though I knew that was just in my imagination.

I couldn't stand this anymore. “Hi, Jadyn.”

Her shoulders lowered, like she was letting out a strained breath, then she turned to me, her smile forced. “Hi, Shelby.”

It struck me how beautiful she was, now that she wasn't running away from me. Her skin was smooth, the tone of it bringing out her hazel eyes. She had a heart-shaped face, killer cheekbones, and a dimple in her chin. But that gray clothing made her look like she was in half-mourning.

I nudged the chair opposite me with my sandaled foot, and she just stared at it for a moment. Maybe I should make the invitation to sit clearer?

Mr. Hernandez slid a paper coffee cup and a plated bagel onto the counter, and she turned around to claim it. I could tell she didn't know how to tell me to go to hell or the polite equivalent, and she walked carefully to my table, lowering herself to the seat, arranging her food and drink.

“You eat breakfast here a lot?” I asked. Excellent opener. Not awkward at all.

“Only when the nurse who takes care of my uncle tells me to get out of the house and enjoy some coffee before I work.”

She fidgeted in her chair. I fidgeted.

Then she busted out with, “Okay. You might as well just say whatever you want to say.”

She didn't sound angry, only resigned, and my heart squeezed into itself, recognizing how she must be feeling.

“Jadyn,” I said, “I didn't ask you to sit down to be mean to you.”

“That hasn't stopped anyone else.”

Mr. Hernandez disappeared from behind the counter, but I was sure he'd be trying to listen in from the back. His son, Jesse, was an offensive lineman for the Rebels, and they both adored their ex-quarterback Rex.

I sat back in my chair. “I'm not surprised you're getting attitude from the town, too—all the disgusted looks, the awful comments . . .”

Jadyn looked at her beverage, cupping a hand around it. “And the coffee that's served way too hot. Then again, maybe that's how Mr. Hernandez makes it now.”

“I've only just gotten back to town, so I haven't tried his coffee lately. Luckily, sweet tea is more my thing.”

She trained her gaze on me, assessing, waiting for a load to drop.

So much for the small talk. “I only wanted to let you know that I understand what you're going through. But yesterday, you took off before I could say anything. You have to know that I . . .” Was what? On her side?

I didn't want there to be sides. And, more and more, I was wondering why I'd actually sat down with Jadyn, because I sure didn't want to compare notes with her about Rex. No, there was another guy who kept butting into my head.
Micah
.

At the thought of his name, that steam built up again, shifting and rustling through me.

Jadyn took off the plastic lid on her coffee, steam rising like it was mocking me. She blew on the liquid, then said, “I wasn't ready to talk to you yesterday. I'm not even sure if I am now. Part of me doesn't like you for how you treated Rex. It was really unfair.”

Her, too?
But I'd sit here and take it since it was a well-deserved punishment.

“Then again,” she said, giving me some hope that this meeting would improve, “part of me understands why you handled Rex like you did. When I started dating him, I always had the feeling his attentions wouldn't last all that long—I saw it happen often enough in high school, when he'd go from one cheerleader to another until he made his way through the whole squad, then continued with junior varsity. When he came back here for spring vacation, after your breakup, I guess I forgot about how he treated women. I was floored that he noticed me, a girl who'd stayed behind to go to community college, the farthest thing from a cheerleader there is.”