You Own My Heart (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake 4)

“You both need to shut up.” Honey looked at Glen. “And you need to go home.” Her heartstrings were done being pulled. Glen had now crossed into the river of annoyance, and she didn’t have the time or patience for it. Chastised, Glenn fell silent.

“He’s right.” Nash pushed off from the bar and leaned across her to grab up the empty trays. Nash looked at her, his deep brown eyes way too focused for her liking. “You’ve been here for six months, and I don’t feel like I know you any better than the day you walked into this bar.”

“That’s how I like it,” she quipped, trying to make things light even though something had changed. Nash Booker looked serious.

She grabbed Glen’s tab and, after ringing it in, slid over the change from his fifty. He winked at Honey like they were sharing a secret or something and made a big show out of leaving his ten-dollar tip on the bar.

“Makes me wonder is all.” Nash leaned in close and surprised the hell out of her, his warm breath tickling the side of her neck. Did she stop breathing? Maybe. Was she able to hide the fact her entire body shuddered like a freight train coming in hard with all brakes fully engaged? Probably not.

“Wonder what?” she asked haltingly.

“Makes me wonder what you’re hiding.”

Honey locked eyes with Nash, her gaze saying the words her mouth couldn’t seem to form. Back the hell off.

“You ready, Nash?”

Honey’s eyes fell away as Booker’s flavor of the week slid up to the bar. Jade Daniels was recently divorced, and she’d made it all but impossible for Nash to ignore her. She was nice enough, but geez, a few days ago, Honey had had to work to convince the woman that Canadians did not live in igloos during the summer. Hell, the border was less than a day’s drive from Crystal Lake. It would be a no-brainer for most people. But then, it wasn’t her brains Nash was after. The woman had a body like Monroe and a mouth like Jolie.

“Let’s head out.” Nash reached into the front pockets of his jeans and tossed a set of keys at Honey. “You mind locking up? Tiny usually does when I can’t.” He paused. “You know the code for the back door right?”

“Sure.” She lived above the bar, so it wasn’t a big deal. Half the time, she helped Tiny anyway. It wasn’t as if she had a busy social life or anyone waiting for her upstairs.

“I’ll see you Saturday.” Nash nodded to the few patrons left in the bar and headed out into the snow and cold with his hot date.

Right. The Coach House was closed Thursday and Friday for Thanksgiving. With a sigh, Honey reached for her cloth and began to clean. About an hour later, the last customer got his butt into a cab, and she locked the door behind him. She turned off the main light switch and headed for the stairs that led up to her apartment.

Once inside, she stepped out of her boots, undid the knot at the back of her head, and let her hair fall free. She flopped onto the threadbare sofa that had come with the place and tried to ignore the wire that poked her side. The windows rattled and moaned, protesting the wind and snow, and she burrowed deeper, reaching for the knitted blanket she’d brought with her.

She picked at the worn threads, rolling the softness between her fingers as memories washed over her. Her mom had made this for Honey when she’d been a little girl. She’d taken her to the local Walmart and let her pick out the pink, purple, and yes, black. Even as a child, the dark side had called to Honey. It had been a good day. She smiled sadly. There hadn’t been many of those.

Honey closed her eyes and shut out the lonely, quiet space she called home. She tried not to think about the fact she’d be stuck here for two days while everyone she knew would be nestled in the warmth of their families, sharing turkey, ham, and all the fixings.

She tried not to think about Nash and Jade and all the sex they’d be having.

She tried not to think about how long it had been since she’d had sex. About how long since she’d connected to another human being. Maybe she never had.

Most of all, she tried not to think about the Blackwells.

She tried and subsequently failed in epic fashion. Which meant dawn was breaking when she finally fell asleep.

2

Nash Booker was feeling pretty damn good. He’d spent the night with Jade and managed to slip away without too much trouble. Sure, she’d tried the big pouty lips and wide eyes on him—he’d give her solid B for effort—but he was immune to that shit. He wasn’t interested in anything more than the horizontal dance they’d shared, and he’d been clear about that. He politely declined her offer of brunch, citing Thanksgiving and all, and after another round of the horizontal with a bit of the vertical thrown in, he’d headed out.

It was two in the afternoon, and Nash had exactly one hour before his mother was expecting him for dinner. He smiled at the thought. No doubt she was buzzing around the kitchen, barking orders at his dad, when all the poor guy wanted to do was watch football. He wasn’t sure if his brother Cam would show up or not, but his sister would be there with her kids. Melody and her husband had flown in the night before, and Nash was looking forward to seeing the crazy, unfiltered bunch he called family.

First stop, though, The Coach House. He didn’t have time to head out to his place on the lake for a shower, so the small one adjacent to his office would have to do. Being the smart guy that he was, he’d left clothes in his Jeep the day before, and his mom wouldn’t be able to ride him for showing up in clothes she deemed unacceptable. Lisa Booker had one nonnegotiable rule for family dinner: no jeans.

Nash let himself into the darkened bar and headed for his office. He saw the sales receipts from the day before left neatly on his desk and double-checked that the cash and till were locked up in the safe. Humming some random tune, he shed his clothes and hopped in the shower. Twenty minutes was all he needed to clean up and pull on a crisp black collared shirt, black slacks, and dress shoes. He grinned as he tightened his tie, knowing his nephew Tink was going to love it. And for good reason. He’d sent the little guy a matching tie for his birthday a few months back.

Batman had never looked so good.

He grabbed a couple of bottles of wine from his private stock in the cupboard and was reaching for his jacket when overhead, all hell broke loose. A fire alarm pierced the silence, followed by a loud crash and a distinctive female voice i

mparting an impressive array of the kind of language only a trucker would use.

Nash jogged up the stairs and knocked on Honey’s door, but there was no way she heard him on account of the word vomit and fire alarm. He smelled smoke and reached for the door handle. Luckily, it wasn’t locked. He pushed it open and paused, eyes taking in a sight he was pretty sure he’d remember for a long, long time.