Forgiving Lies (18 page)

Mr. and Mrs. Logan Hendricks,

We are pleased you have chosen The Vineyard at Florence as your honeymoon destination and hope you enjoy your stay here. In the kitchen you will find vouchers for free brunch every day of your stay, as well as complimentary chocolate-dipped strawberries in the refrigerator and some of our finest wine.

Congratulations on your recent nuptials.

Sincerely,

The staff of The Vineyard at Florence

One, I was going to kill Mason after I shook his hand for somehow pulling this off. Two, I really hoped Rachel wasn’t freaking out over this. At the moment, I couldn’t remember what she’d looked like when she told me about this; had she been mad or scared? Three . . . I placed my thumb over the name
Hendricks
and swallowed hard. I let the image of the girl I’d left in the kitchen be forefront in my mind and pictured the surname
Ryan
instead. My heart started racing as I imagined it all.

Rachel in a white dress, her blue eyes and beautiful smile directed at me as we exchanged vows. Rachel with my parents and Mason’s family. Us at the beach in Florida. Rachel’s stomach round with my hands pressed softly against it.

I let my focus come back to the bedroom of the villa and blew out a hard breath. It didn’t matter that I’d only known her a little over two months. I’d known that first day that she was a game changer, and I was sure now that I couldn’t live without her. I wanted to marry her; I wanted everything I’d just envisioned. And I wanted it now.

Letting the letter drop back onto the rose heart, I walked through the house to find Rachel shutting the pantry door; she’d put away all the food while I’d been in there. With a secretive smile, she nodded her head in the direction of the refrigerator and my body relaxed when I caught the brightness in her eyes again. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t scared about what any of that meant; she wasn’t accusing me of anything even though she couldn’t have known that it was all Mason. I opened the door to the fridge and right in the middle was a tray of huge chocolate-covered strawberries, just as the letter had said. And off on a side counter were the wines.

Without a word, I grabbed Rachel’s hand and towed her back outside. She laughed and tugged against me, but I wasn’t letting her win this one.

“Kash, what? Did you forget stuff in the truck?”

“Nope.” I stopped suddenly, whirled around, and knocked her legs out from under her, catching her and cradling her in my arms before she could hit the ground. She gasped and glared at me, but I kissed her soundly to silence any snide remark she could have made. She wasn’t about to ruin this. “I forgot this.” I met her blue death stare and waited for it to soften before speaking again. “Mrs. Hendricks . . .”
Wrong name. Wrong. Name.
“Isn’t it tradition to carry your new bride across the threshold?”

Her head tilted back and she laughed. “Isn’t it tradition for the bride to be aware that she got married?”

I paused with one foot in the villa and one out. “You’re ruining it, woman,” I growled.

“Well, husband”—her laugh died down and she ran her hand down the side of my face to my neck—“we should probably continue with tradition and consummate the marriage.”

Kissing her lips once, I left my mouth hovering over hers as I took the last step into the villa. “Let’s get to it, wife.”

I didn’t miss her near-silent inhale on the last word or the way her blue eyes had taken on a darkness I’d never seen before. And I wondered if she was seeing a future similar to the one I’d been seeing in the bedroom.

“I
LOVE YOUR
tattoos,” she whispered softly, and I cracked open my eyes to watch as hers followed her trailing finger on my arm.

“Do you?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

I grinned and helped her by turning my arm when she reached where it rested against the bed. “Who’s the liar now?” When her brow scrunched together, I continued. “I seem to remember you telling me you hated them, along with my lip ring . . . my hair . . .”

Her soft laugh filled the room and I tried to commit the sound to memory. “I was lying.”

“Exactly, so who’s the liar now?”

She shrugged with the shoulder that wasn’t against the mattress. “But those were forgiving lies.”

“
What
lies?”

“Forgiving lies, the only kind I’ll tell.” Forgetting her study of my arm, she crawled up the bed and rested her head on the pillow next to mine so our noses were almost touching. “You know, like white lies.”

I pulled her closer and let the tips of my fingers trail up and down her bare spine. “So why not just call them white lies?”

“Because they’re usually lies you tell people to protect them or be polite . . . right?” I just raised an eyebrow as confirmation and she smoothed it out. “It’s like you telling me I looked beautiful when I was sick, or how I had to keep telling Candice I was fine when I wasn’t, and acting like I wasn’t upset with her even though I was. And with you? You and I both knew I was lying anyway . . . so they’re lies. But they’re the kind of lies that people forgive and forget about because they’re so minor. But when people tell harmful lies, or ones that can shatter trusts, and the other person finds out about them . . . they always say what they did was unforgivable. So if lies that can hurt people are unforgivable, then why can’t the ones that are meant to be polite be forgiving lies?”

I prayed she didn’t notice how tense my body had become. I searched her face for any indication that she knew I was hiding things from her, but when I found nothing, I worked at slowing my heart rate and relaxing every muscle in my body. Realizing I’d stopped my trail at the top of her back, I began slowly going up and down again.

“
Forgiving
makes more sense when you put it that way. And you did look beautiful that day; you always do.” My tone was gruff and I hoped like hell she wouldn’t try to figure out why.

Liar,
she mouthed.

I shook my head, wishing I could say I wasn’t. I wasn’t lying about her always being beautiful. But being a liar was pretty much in my job description. So instead, I said the one thing that wasn’t, and never would be, a lie. “I love you, Rachel.”

“I know.” She smiled and ducked down to kiss along my jaw. “And I love you too.”

One of her hands trailed down my stomach and I caught it before it could get to where I was already hard. I wanted her, but she’d just unknowingly called me out on everything I was doing to her, and the guilt I had from lying to her had just tripled and was eating at me. I didn’t deserve anything from her right now; but she just rolled to her knees and began the same descent with her other hand. Capturing that one as well, I intertwined our fingers and pinned our hands to the bed.

“Rachel . . . ,” I said when she grinned devilishly at me.

Bending low, she placed a kiss on my right hip before trailing her tongue along the muscles of my lower abdomen. “Shut up, Kash.”

Flashing her blue eyes up at me, she winked and leaned back before letting her lips slowly trail up my length. My fingers dug into the top of her hands and pressed them harder against the comforter when they wrapped around the tip and her tongue darted out to taste me teasingly before releasing me. A growl worked its way out of my chest and cut off abruptly when she took me in completely, never once taking her eyes off me. My head fell so I was looking up at the ceiling before my eyes rolled back and I fought with hating myself for lying to her and loving everything she was giving to me, including her complete and utter trust. I released her hands and whispered, “Forgive me, Rachel,” to the ceiling low enough that I knew she couldn’t hear me as I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up my body.

I crushed our mouths together and squeezed her closer to me as I rolled us over and brought my knee up between her legs, parting them while I searched blindly for another condom. She wrapped her long legs around my back and flicked her tongue against my lip ring before tugging on it gently, and I groaned as I attacked her mouth again. I dug my hips harder against hers and we both stopped moving when I was pressed at her entrance. We stared at each other, our breathing ragged as I began teasing and sliding against her, and when I’d barely started to slip inside her, her face turned pleading.

“Please, Kash. Don’t stop.”

Stop. Stop. You need to stop . . . motherfucker, stop.
“Shit.” I reached over to the nightstand and slapped my hand down on a condom.

Tearing it open with my teeth, I had it rolled on and was slamming into Rachel within seconds. She yelled my name and gripped my shoulders tight as I pounded into her and I almost lost it a few minutes later when she whispered for me to go harder. Raising myself up even more on one forearm, I reached down between us and watched her beautiful face respond to my touching her and as she came undone beneath me. I came crashing down with her and when I couldn’t support my weight anymore, I lowered my body onto hers.

“Holy hell,” she breathed, and let her hands run through my hair and down my back. “Just . . . wow.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what I
could
say. I knew I was being a selfish bastard by keeping her when I was hiding everything that I was. And instead of breaking down and telling her everything, I’d just responded by claiming her. Curling one arm underneath her body and pressing my mouth to the soft skin at the base of her neck, I breathed her in and prayed that the day I told her everything wouldn’t also be the day I lost her.

Rachel

I
BROUGHT MY
legs up on my chair as I stared at the darkening sky. It was beautiful out here, so quiet, and just perfect. Vineyard on one side, and Texas country on the other . . . I preferred the country side. I was sitting out on the patio, enjoying our last night at The Vineyard, exactly as we had the first two nights. I loved listening to the cicadas, watching the sun set, and looking at the stars after. You just couldn’t get this atmosphere in Austin, and I was sad we were going back tomorrow. This impromptu trip had been incredible, and I loved Kash for it.

Looking over my shoulder through the windows, I caught a glimpse of him in the kitchen and a smile tugged at my lips. We’d been living up the honeymoon joke Mason had played on us, and though I knew it was just that—a joke—every time he called me his wife, it warmed my entire body, and I got a rush out of calling him my husband. My rational side kept telling me it was just the newness of being in love with him. That it was absolutely ridiculous to have a craving for this to be our reality. I mean honestly, who meets someone and a little over two months later knows without a doubt that they want to spend the rest of their life with that person?

Me.

I’d known even before we came here that I would spend the rest of my life with him. But this weekend had changed even that. It wasn’t just that I knew I would. I could
see
it now. I could see our lives together, and the absurd thing about all of that was that I now couldn’t see anything wrong with feeling this way after we’d only known each other for two months.

See? I was crazy. This is how fourteen-year-olds in puppy love think. Not twenty-one-year-olds who, honest to God, a few months ago couldn’t have cared less if they ever got married. My rational side started spouting off divorce rates and the increase in those rates when marriage happens so quickly . . . but then I thought about my parents. They’d met and were married within four months and loved each other fiercely up until the end. Was it still possible to find that kind of love?

The door opened and Kash walked out carrying two bowls of pasta. Handing one to me, he pulled the other chair up closer and sat down in front of me. Grabbing both my ankles in one of his hands, he extended my legs and set my feet down on his lap as he got comfortable.

“What were you thinking about so hard when I walked out?”

Er . . . nothing I want to share with you right now.
“I’m sad to be going back. I’ve had a really good time with you here.”

He raised an eyebrow as he chewed some of his food and waited until he could swallow to respond. “So you only have a good time with me when we’re here?”

I nudged his stomach with one of my feet and he smirked at me. “No, it’s just been nice. No work, no Candice, no pancakes . . .”

“You love pancakes. Don’t lie.”

“Not as much as some people, apparently.” Rolling my eyes, I snuggled deeper into my chair and took a bite of food.

Kash was quiet throughout the rest of dinner; he didn’t look at me, just stared out at the scenery like I had been doing before he’d joined me. We could sit in comfortable silence or even spend hours together with him on one side of the room playing his guitar and me on the other writing to my parents. But this wasn’t comfortable; it was weighted. I knew he wanted to say something, but I also knew he would say it whenever he was ready. So I finished my dinner and waited until he was. Sometime after he’d set his bowl down on the patio, he turned to me, and the depth in his gray eyes startled me.

“I’ve missed pancakes. But I’ll miss being married to you more.” Without another word, he moved my legs to the ground, grabbed both our bowls, and kissed my forehead before going back into the villa.

I was frozen. My heart had stopped and I wasn’t sure whether it had started back up again or not. How had he taken something as asinine as pancakes and turned it into a beautiful statement? But I knew right then I had my answer. It was definitely still possible to find that kind of love.

And I’d found it in him.

I stood and walked out onto the grass a ways to enjoy the night for a little longer and think about this revelation without his too-knowing eyes on me. Not two minutes later, his arms were wrapping around my waist and his lips were on my shoulder.

“I want you to be my wife, Rachel.”

My body froze but my heart began racing. What was he saying? “I thought I already was,” I said teasingly, and forced out a light laugh.