Honeytrap (9 page)

I really should've left. I mean, what good would come of my staying?

No good.

Because as I kept sitting there, pretending to be engrossed in the onscreen flirting, Micah decided he'd test me some more.

I didn't even realize he had changed position until I felt his arm on the back of my chair . . . and his other hand beneath my sweater. He rested his palm on my belly so lightly that it was as if I was only imagining he could be
this
bold.

In spite of myself, I squirmed in my seat, getting wetter and wetter as my . . . well, my clit pressed painfully against my shorts, causing friction.

Clit. That was what Lana would've called it with no shame whatsoever. I hadn't been able to think that way when I was with Rex in person, though. I'd been too aware of everything he would do to turn me on, hoping that when he'd push himself into me, it would feel good.

But Micah was making me forget about all that as he walked his fingertips across my belly. A sexual jolt made me jump and bury my face against his neck, my lips pressing against his skin as I held back an aroused whimper.

Micah murmured, “No one would ever know, Shelby. Not even my cousins.”

“Bullshit,” I whispered against him, turning my head away, wrestling with this awful need that was overwhelming me.

“Trust me,” he whispered.

And with the ballsiest move of all, he smoothed his hand down, nestling it between my legs so unexpectedly that I gasped as he pushed up, against the seam of my shorts, rubbing once, twice, making me nearly surge out of my seat. A bolt of pressure steamed through me, and I throbbed harder than ever, the sensation nearly splitting me in half.

Micah's mouth was against my ear as he kept his hand against me. My sweater wasn't hiding any of what he was doing anymore.

“It's not a bad thing to have secrets.” He nipped at my earlobe, and I bucked again. “Everyone has them. Don't you want one?”

I'd already had a big one, and it hadn't been a good thing. Even so, he was stroking up my belly, over my ribs. He palmed one of my breasts, using his thumb to rub over my blouse. I bit my lip hard, almost out of control.

“Dammit, Shelby,” he said roughly. “Just say yes.”

My brain said “no,” but somehow, it wasn't coming out. Instead, I let him slide into the cup of my summer top. He took my bare nipple between two fingers, stroking it.

I'd never had a Big O before, so I wasn't sure what it should feel like when it happened. But I had to be close, everything inside me pressing against itself, contorting with such force that there couldn't be any other outcome but an explosion.

A wet, wonderful release.

But just as I was building, building toward it, I heard something in the background of the balcony. Footsteps?

Was someone coming up the stairs?

I pushed Micah's hands off me and lunged toward a seat a couple of places away from him, my breath coming heavy and hard. It was pure agony between my legs, and as I sat down, I crossed them, squeezing my thighs together harder than ever, my heart thudding so loudly it overcame the jazz music in the movie.

A woman carrying a cardboard snack tray took a seat to the right, ignoring us. As my gaze cleared, I realized she was the mother of one of my school friends who hadn't come home for the summer.

I wasn't sitting next to Micah anymore, but it was like there was a rubber band between us, an unresolved sexual tension ready to snap and fling us together again.

All the while, I could feel his eyes on me, burning, telling me that he knew damned well there was hope for him if I'd let him go that far without stopping him.

Shit—had that really been me in that other chair?

Unable to stand the weight of his gaze, I left him with my soda and candy. But, as I escaped the balcony, I could've sworn I heard him laughing.

A trap that'd almost caught me.

By the time I went home, got ready for work, and decided that I needed to put gas in my pickup before I arrived at the café, clouds had rolled in with a chance of rain. I could smell the sulfur in the air and hear the soft rumble of a shower that would cool off the town, at least temporarily.

But I wasn't sure how much cooler I'd get from some rain, because I couldn't forget what I'd done in that theater.

Micah's lips on mine . . . his hand beneath my sweater, exploring me and heating me up until I'd given myself away in more than one respect. I'd surrendered more than I should've, shown him that I was attracted to him when I'd told him I wasn't. It was like I'd revealed a poker hand that I'd thought was a winning full house when, all along, he'd been working with four aces.

How could I have been such an idiot? Why had I let myself go like that when I knew better?

The worst part about all this was that my body was still reliving every caress, every flush and blush.
It
didn't regret a damned thing.

Just outside my neighborhood, I pulled into the Texaco, which was a mile from Main Street and halfway to the café, squatting on a stretch of lonely road tucked behind Kroger. The sky grumbled while the station's lights shone a dull yellow against the graying sky. While I filled the tank, I leaned back against my tailgate and fender, wishing the gas would pump faster so I could get to the haven of the café, where I could lose myself in work.

Mom was going to scold me for taking only a half-assed day off, but if I didn't busy my brain, I was going to do something stupid like go back to the house and hop on the computer, immersing myself in Rex and my Lana Peyton account. Or maybe I'd daydream some more about Micah's hands on me.

God—this fascination would stop soon, right? He was new to me, forbidden. And, damn, that boy could kiss. It was kind of nice to know that about him, even though I'd already guessed he'd be good at it.

When an old blue Aspen pulled into the station and parked near the convenience store, my thoughts broke apart. The car looked familiar, but then again, what was there in Aidan Falls that didn't?

No one got out right away, but the longer I looked at it, the more I was sure I recognized the driver through the rear window.

Curly black hair. Jadyn Dandritch? Had her shift ended at the grocery store?

The door opened, and one long, gray-jeaned leg appeared, although she didn't make a move after that. Had she just now seen me and wanted to avoid me?

My gas tank wasn't full yet, so I couldn't exactly oblige her by leaving, but then she got out of the car all the way, standing still for a moment, fiddling with her keys. I thought she might've even glanced over at me, her hair shielding her face, before she got back inside again, leaving her door open.

Huh.

Finally, she burst out of her car, shutting the door, striding toward me as the wind picked up a few strands of curls and played with them. She was coming right for me.

I straightened my spine, because she looked like she had a firm purpose. She stopped about five feet away, lingering near the window wiper station and a trashcan, her hands shoved in her pockets. I wasn't sure what to make of her.

“Hey, Jadyn,” I said, standing away from my tailgate.

Her words rushed out. “I saw you gassing up as I was driving by and . . .”

Did she even know why she'd turned her car into the Texaco?

What struck me hard, though, was the fact that Jadyn wasn't the first person to have spotted my pickup today and wheeled around for me. There was no hiding in this town if someone really wanted to track you down.

She pushed her hair behind her ear. “I've been mulling over our talk this morning, and I'm afraid I came off as rude. I was going to visit you at the café some time to apologize, but since you're here, I decided to get this off my chest.”

“Okay.” The gas pump clicked off, but I didn't go to set the nozzle back in its holder. “You were fine this morning, though. Really. I wasn't offended.”

Jadyn seemed to be pre-programmed for saying sorry, come hell or high water. “I got to thinking that I shouldn't alienate anyone who doesn't treat me like a used rag, so . . .” She took one hand out of her pocket and gestured helplessly with it. “This is me officially apologizing.”

I felt sorry for her, this girl who'd been on Cloud 9 with Rex for a short time until Micah Wyatt had intervened. I knew just how persuasive he could be. “And I'm sorry we're both being put under a microscope by the nosiest people in the world,” I said. “Everyone here has something to say about everything, starting with their beef and ending with their sports heroes.”

She smiled. It was the first time I'd seen her do that since she'd made a graduation speech as the outgoing president of our senior class.

“I'm sure you have friends who support you,” I said. “You never lacked for those.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “Friends move on—or sometimes you realize you actually didn't have many of them in the first place.”

“All of them . . . They just dropped you?”

“My best friends already have internships this summer, and they only came by town to say hi before they got down to professional business elsewhere.” She had always run with the ambitious crowd—student council, FFA, Beta Club members. But instead of going to a university like them, she'd stayed behind, taking care of her elderly uncle. “The rest of my friends . . . ? It appears they think I changed for the worse, so they've kept their distance so far.”

I was lucky I had Evie, who'd always been on the fringes with me. We'd liked it that way until college had come along.

“In any case,” Jadyn said, “thank you for making an effort with me this morning. It couldn't have been easy, seeing as you probably have your own strong opinions about how I swooped in to date Rex after you broke up.”

“It did bother me that he had someone so soon afterward, especially since he was supposed to be so into me.” I shrugged, offering that as an olive branch. “But that's not on you, Jadyn. We didn't know each other well in school, so you didn't owe me any allegiance.”

“I'm sorry, anyway.”

She was so on the level with me that I couldn't help making things easy on her. “Just don't let this bug you anymore. Okay?”

I went to the gas nozzle, pulling it out and setting it back in its place. Talking about Rex wasn't exactly my subject of choice, especially when questions about Micah were bubbling inside of me, ready to pop at her.

Grabbing the gas receipt from the machine, I tucked it into the back pocket of my short black skirt, which I'd paired with my Angel's Seat T-shirt and Keds. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Ask and you shall see.”

Good—she was letting me in bit by bit. “This morning, you warned me about Micah Wyatt. Just how bad is he?”

Jadyn pushed back her hair, looking at the clouded sky, then at me. “You remember that old song about the devil going down to Georgia and getting that young fiddle player into a contest? Micah reminds me of that devil.”

I widened my eyes. Damn. I'd asked, and she'd sure told.

“Dramatic, I know.” She seemed puzzled, like she wasn't sure she should word things so strongly. “There's a part of that song where the devil challenges this Johnny kid to take a dare, to compete for a golden fiddle. I think that's what Micah does—he challenges women to resist him while flashing that golden smile. And he likes it when they take him up on it—the higher the stakes, the better. From what I've seen of him so far, he chooses the females who are most likely to turn him down, some of them married, and when they ultimately can't, their humiliation is his prize. I'd hate to see more shame piled on you because of his tricks, Shelby. I'd hate that to happen to anyone else.”

What would she think of me if she knew about my escapade with Micah in the theater today? I'd sure done some fiddling there with him.

I was flushing again, and as I checked to see if Jadyn had caught the sure giveaway, I heard a truck's horn blaring from the road.

I looked toward the sound, and the wind picked up, belting me. I pushed my hair out of my eyes in time to see a red, show-offy Ram Laramie Limited pickup with a painted T-Rex claw zinging down the side. A bunch of kids were in back, dressed in swim gear and pumping their fists to the loud metal music coming from the cab, where Rex was leaning out the window and steering the truck into the gas station.

Spotted once again.

“Oh, no,” Jadyn said, and I got the feeling she was about to disintegrate back to her car.

“Don't you go anywhere.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward me so we were standing side by side.

Rex's truck squealed to the end of my gas lane as cheerdevils and football cronies catcalled to us from the truck bed.

“What's this? A meeting of the slut club? Who's president?”

Rex yelled at them to shut up. He kept his motor running as he reached over to turn down the music and looked at me and Jadyn. Were his eyes a little unfocused?

He'd been drinking, and his slur proved it. “Hope you two aren't relivin' good times without me.”

Evie would've called him a dick. Lord knew the word was kicking at my teeth. Jadyn only lowered her head, and I wished she wouldn't.

I spoke evenly, impressing myself with my calm. “You should have someone else drive, Rex.”

He laughed, hitting his horn in amusement. “She still thinks she can boss me around!”

It was hard to believe that this was the guy who'd been at the lake yesterday, giving me a sorry look that had made me wonder if he missed me. Now he was being as studly and callous as he'd been that day when he'd confronted me outside my biology class.

He pointed at Jadyn. “Cozying up to the only friend that'll have you? Good move, Princess. You're a real pair.”

“And you're boring us, Rex,” I said. “Leave us alone. Go drink some more.”

Everyone hooted, even Rex. Jadyn pressed closer to me, which seemed odd since she was seemingly stronger than I was, with arms that testified that she stocked shelves most of the day. Skinny but solid.

“Baby,” Rex said to me, “you've developed a mouth on you. I heard Micah Wyatt intends to find out how good you use it, too.”

More vile gestures and comments from the peanut gallery as we stood there and took it.

Rex raised a finger to quiet them again. “I lied. Isn't it Jadyn who's the expert on Micah? Aren't you, baby? Is that why you two are in cahoots, 'cause Jadyn's givin' Lana Peyton tips on how to work that mouth on someone real?”

I could feel Jadyn shriveling into herself. Neither of us had Evie here to advise on how to get rid of him once and for all, so I took inspiration from what she'd told me yesterday.

Are you going to let them control you all summer?

I said, “If you were enough man to keep us around, Micah Wyatt wouldn't have to take up the slack.”

The flatbed crowd went silent. I could see a ruddiness rising up my ex's neck, embarrassment covering him.

Finally, one drunk cheerdevil from the back beat the silence. “Bitch!”

Someone threw a beer bottle at us, and it missed, sailing to my right. But Rex was already out of there, putting pedal to metal, and the truck skidded out of the lot, leaving me and Jadyn.

She turned to me, her gaze sad. “I've never been a bitch before now.”

I touched her arm. “Sticks and stones, right?”

I was doing a pretty good job of showing that words didn't hurt me as much as they used to, but they actually had. They'd left a latent bruise that was just now growing under my skin, because every word Rex had just said was right on target.

Especially the ones about Micah.

***

Rain opened the sky for only about fifteen minutes, but since it was still long before dinnertime, our hopes for a busy night at the café didn't die. While Evie and I prepped the front of the house, I told her about the confrontation at the gas station. She was damned proud of me for giving some sass right back to Rex and his followers, and for making strides with Jadyn.

“She made a gesture to you,” Evie said. “That took some balls, you know? It sounds like she's desperate for friends, so let's be her friends, Shel.”

I agreed, but there was one thing I left out with Evie.

Micah in the theater.

I'd have to work up to that and, frankly, I didn't need to hear her
good-for-you, he's-so-hot, you're-so-not-a-blob
encouragement right now. Sure, Evie's whole philosophy was about embracing our womanly powers and not being ashamed of who we were, but sometimes sex was more trouble than it was worth. Especially today.

It ended up that we did very good business that night: the rain had never come down hard enough to keep people away, especially one table of out-of-towners who were just passing through. They'd seen the Angel's Seat website that I'd designed during spring break, thought the place looked quirky, and had come on in, buying enough pricy local wine to keep themselves and us happy. As for this being Evie's first night, it was like she'd been serving at the café for months as she'd waited on tables filled with regulars. She kicked butt with her tips and just about skipped out of the café at closing.

“What a godsend,” Mom said before scooting me out the door so I could go home, too. “Both of you girls are.”

Feeling useful, my spirits were higher than usual when I walked into the pool house, then put on a button-up linen camisole and matching, baggy pajama shorts and brushed my teeth. I was hardly tired—adrenaline from tonight's better-than-usual business was still singing in me—so I opened the sliding glass door to get all the air I could and turned on my circa '80s TV set to
The Tonight Show
.