Tell Them Lies (Three Little Words Book 3) (11 page)

"Right, because giving up on chemo is her planting roots."

"Hey," Liz snapped, stepping in even further, and with the added inches from her heels, she was over six feet tall so he had no choice to meet her eyes head-on. "You don't get to decide that she's done just because she's making a choice that's not the norm. And it's not up to you to write her off in the next couple months either. You are not God, Kieran. Don't pretend otherwise."

Searching her eyes with quick, frantic movements, Kieran stared right into her for a few long moments before resting his forehead against hers, slipping an arm around her waist and drawing her into him. She melted, just a little, from the way he smelled and felt all around her. From the way that she wanted to wrap her arms so tightly around him that he might never feel doubt or fear or worry.

Instead of that though, she wrapped her fingers around the cool fabric of his suspenders, breathing the same air as him and pretending that he was tumbling and falling in the same way that she was. It was so much easier to pretend
that
.

Applause and whooping came from the reception, making Liz jump a little, cracking the moment between them. Kieran released her, staring at her with a slightly confused look on his face before he took her hand and led them back inside to find their seats. Dinner flew by, conversation at their table easily carried by Rachel and Kieran and Casey's sister-in-law Jen.

"So, Kieran," Dylan started right after everyone was settled with some gold glittered cupcakes, "what is it that you do?"

"I own a small gym over on the northeast side of Grand Rapids."

Dylan leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his broad chest. "No kidding. That's got to be a big time investment."

"Eh. It can be. It was a lot worse when I first opened, but now that I've got good staff, it's nothing overwhelming."

"Hmm. So, having a girlfriend like Liz isn't something that's too much for you?"

"A girlfriend like Liz?" Rachel repeated, leaning forward in her chair and pointing her empty wine glass at Dylan. "Explain, before I shove this up your ass."

Tate smothered a grin behind his hand, and Liz felt her mouth drop down. "Hey. Don't talk about me like I'm not sitting right here."

"Yeah, I'd like an explanation of the statement too," Kieran said softly. Too softly. And after he said it, he slipped a hand to the patch of skin right between her shoulder blades, dragging his fingers in a small circular pattern. It was like someone was dripping lit gasoline onto the surface of her skin.

Dylan held up his hands. "She just deserves someone who can give her his time. Not scraps that are left over after a long week of work. And believe me, that's why I don't have a girlfriend. I work at least sixty to sixty five hours a week. Not every girl is okay with that, and Liz isn't the kind of girl who should be. She deserves more."

Liz smiled at him, feeling the kindness of that sentiment down to her toes. Maybe it was the three magical seven and sevens that she'd downed before and during dinner, but she leaned forward and kissed Dylan on the cheek.

Apparently it was funny, though the cloud in her head didn't help her to understand why, because when Kieran grabbed her hand and practically dragged her to the dance floor, the entire table erupted in laughter. Including Dylan, who looked incredibly satisfied.

"Wait, can we get another drink before we dance? But not from
this
bar, because I don't like how she looks at you." Wait. Did she say that out loud? Was her brain actually transmitting that message?

Kieran halted where he was, turning to gape at Liz. "Says the woman who just kissed another man."

Yup. Apparently it had. And with the incredible floatiness (wait, was floatiness a word?) that slipped through her arms, she pushed them up his strong muscled chest and around his neck, pressing herself against him. There were people dancing around them to a wonderfully slow, romantic song, but the beat that seemed to be pushing through Liz's veins was fast and fierce. It screamed raw at her, to touch and claim this man where everyone could see.

"I didn't
kiss
him. I just... kissed his cheek. I didn't kiss him like I kiss you."

Kieran's eyes heated, like actually, really heated while they looked down at her. And it made her breath come faster and harder. Because she could feel it all over, that look he gave her. And it made her breath come faster and harder. Because she could feel it all over, that look he gave her. He looked at her like he wanted her every bit as she did at the moment, like his blood was lit with the same fire.

"And how do you kiss me?" he asked, his lips dragging down the shell of ear while she swayed into him. Liz pulled back so she could see his whole face. Then she smiled. At least she thought she did, because he smiled back. And before he could wipe that smile from his incredibly handsome face, she stamped her mouth over his, giving absolutely no thoughts to the fact that she never would have done it if she was sober.

The way his entire body froze probably meant surprise, but it was short-lived, because he wrapped his arms around her and absolutely dominated the kiss that she'd started.

His tongue swept through her mouth, and she whimpered when it tangled with hers. His hands crept into the open sides of her dress, clasping her rib cage in a way that was probably entirely inappropriate for a wedding, but Liz just
did not care
.

Kieran felt so hard and hot and perfect that Liz wrapped as much of herself around him as she could on that dance floor. She could feel the tips of her nails pushing into the skin of his neck, like she'd leave a mark, and that didn't stop her in the slightest.

There were tongues and teeth and lips coming together in a way that made her head absolutely spin.

Slowly, the change in tempo of the music penetrated her fuzzy hearing, but apparently it was only her ears registering the change. Because when she pulled back from Kieran, his mouth followed hers.

"Good Lawd, Blondie. I think I just got knocked up watching you," Rachel said from next to them, where she and Tate were slow-dancing. Liz blinked a few times, and Kieran backed away from her enough that she felt like she could breathe.

She just made out with Kieran in front of hundreds of people. Okay, even in the pleasant haze that coated her brain from the alcohol, she knew that not everyone was watching them. But what if they had been?

Did they sit back in their chairs and wonder what someone like her had done to catch the eye of someone like Kieran? Even though his hands coasted down her hips to cup her ass (yes, drunk Liz said ass), it should be fairly obvious what she'd done to ensnare him.

Kieran slipped his hands back up to her waist and held her at a respectable distance, and it felt like someone was shoving ice spikes into her skin, for all that distance made her feel. Liz was never going to drink ever again, if this was what it did to her.

Because what she wanted to do was draw him to her, so no one could look at him or wonder what they were doing together. So that he'd drown in her skin and smell and kiss, that he wouldn't even notice what she'd done to shield him from the outside world.

Oh Lord, she was turning into a obsessed stalker person. It was just... all wrong. All of it.

Practically shoving away from him, Liz gasped for breath while she weaved through people to get back to their table. Her drink sat half-full, so she slipped her hand around the cold glass sphere. The condensation felt like heaven on her overheated palms, and she didn't think twice before tipping it back, letting it slide down her throat.

Before he touched her, Liz felt him. Like the tiny, microscopic hairs on her arms lifted and pointed in his direction. The tips of his fingers hit a spot low on her spine, dragging just a tiny bit on her skin, and she set her now empty glass down.

"Woah. Easy, killer. Those aren't weak drinks."

"I know that," Liz said, fully hearing the slur in her voice. "That's the point, isn't it? Don't people normally drink at wedding receptions?"

Kieran nodded, giving her a considering look. "I suppose you're right. Anything reason in particular we're drinking so quickly?"

Liz shrugged, freezing her shoulders up by her ears for about four seconds longer than was entirely necessary.

"Because I don't know how to do this," she shout-whispered, gesturing in between them, and accidentally smacking him in the chest with the back of her hand. "Not in front of all these people. I feel like they're all staring at us and me and you and they don't know why. And I'm lying to all of them and I don't know why. So I'm drinking. So I don't have to answer why. Can
you
answer why?"

"Okay," Kieran said carefully, sliding his hands up her arms to frame her shoulders. "Do you want to go get some fresh air, maybe drink some water?"

Shoving his hands off of her, Liz leaned in until their noses almost touched. "No, I do not want fresh air. I need, I need, I don't-"

And he completely ignored her, nodding politely at the people around while he practically dragged her through the crowd until they'd reached the doors. The air outside was so bracingly cool, Liz felt goosebumps pop up on her arms as soon as she cleared the building. It had a mildly sobering effect, but didn't actually make her feel
sober
. Drinking was weird. It was like your brain disconnected from every other part of your body, operating as a separate entity.

"Liz."

"Oh. Hi. What's up?"

Kieran sent her a long look, then shook his head. "You're an interesting drunk. I wasn't quite sure what to expect tonight. And it wasn't this."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she said sharply, a little shrilly and more than a tad bit defensively. And all those adjectives were a wee redundant. Which must be another drunk Liz thing. Crossing her arms in front of her, Liz worked very hard not to tip over after the shift of the center of her gravity.

Holding his hands up in concession, Kieran took a step back. And it hurt. "It means nothing. Just that I like seeing different sides of you. You're not gonna like, kick me in the balls or anything if I suggest you switch to water, are you?"

Liz dropped her head down, laughing quietly. When she looked back up, he'd moved closer to her again. His hand lifted to touch the underside of her jaw. "No, no kicking in the umm, balls. I just felt a little...” she lifted her eyes up to the dark, starry sky and thought really, realllllly hard, “lubricious towards you. In public. And it freaked me out."

Kieran smiled, using the pressure of his thumbs to tilt her face up closer to him. "I don't know what that means."

"Hmm?" He was so close. His lips. They were so close. Just one little move would put them on top of hers.

"Lubricious. I don't know what that means. But it sounds hot."

When she smiled, she swayed, maybe because her body could only handle one type of motion at the same time. And the swaying made her lips touch his for just a second.

"It means lustful, or lecherous. So it's fairly ironic that you found it hot. Because it's supposed to be." Wait. That just came out of her mouth, didn't it? Judging by the deep, scraping chuckle that came out of his perfectly formed lips, yes, yes it did. So she swayed again, making sure to push forward a little bit farther. "I'm feeling lubricious towards you, Kieran. And I want to stab anyone else who looks at you and feels the same. Maybe it’s because I’m super drunk. That’s probably it."

Her lips fit perfectly in between his. Moving them just a little bit until he started kissing her back, Liz breathed out so that he had no choice but to breathe her in. Wrapping her arms up around his neck, she held him as tightly as she possibly could. Thankfully, he did the same.

Their tongues were just starting to touch when a roaring applause came from inside. The garter. Jake had thrown the garter. Which meant that Casey had already thrown the bouquet. With a gasp, Liz pushed Kieran away from her.

"I missed it," she whispered, covering her mouth like it might give away the reason why.

"Liz. It's okay. Casey will understand."

But instead of processing his words, so kindly meant, everything pushed and pressed on Liz until she felt the stars spin around her head. And then she bent over and threw up in the bushes next to her.

T
he sounds
of his gym mildly registered in the background while Kieran pecked away at his computer, updating some of his client files. Or at least he was supposed to be updating client files. He was staring at the tauntingly empty screen of his phone for a reply from Liz. Because, not that he was paying attention, but he'd sent her a text forty seven minutes ago asking if she'd want to bring some lunch over to the gym.

Did he have a solid reason to ask? Not precisely. It was more that he needed to talk to someone before he lost his damned mind, and she'd pulled a rather impressive disappearing act ever since her friend's wedding. Apparently, puking in front of someone made her a tad reticent to communicate.

Which he could understand, considering how spectacularly she'd done it. Sure, he'd done all the right things, smoothed a hand down her back, made sure her hair stayed out of her face, and got her home safely. And still, after that, nothing. Not a single word in six days.

And what was worse was that they were supposed to put on a weekend-long show in front of his entire family in a little less than a week. So no big deal at all that she was freezing him out from some misplaced sense of embarrassment.

A clang of weights hitting the floor rang out, followed by a shouted curse.

"You evil bitch."

"Two more, Kate. No arguments."

The tortured groan that came next made Kieran smile. They ran a small operation, just himself and three other full time trainers taking care of the roster of people who came in for one-on-one strength training, so they knew all their customers well.

"Come on, one more and I'll let you breathe."

"You are
such
an asshole, Hailey."

"Don't you know that that's a term of endearment around here? Now quit stalling and do one more."

Kieran tossed his phone onto his cluttered desk and walked out into the main gym area. They hadn't gone for the typical mirrored walls and rubber floors, instead keeping the large square area with exposed brick walls, large wooden beams crossing the opened ceiling. Uncovered bulbs hung from chunky black wires at varying lengths bracketing the large wire-covered fans that aimed down towards the floor. There were mirrors, of course. People had to be able to see their form, but they were set strategically in front of different weight apparatuses, framed out in thick, dark mahogany wood.

There weren't many things he'd boast about in his life, not genuine accomplishments that he could say he'd built up by making his hands bloody and raw. But this gym, not very creatively named Carter's Gym, was one of the things that made him breathe deep with pride. He could look around the room, and pull it into his chest, let it warm his lungs, and push it back out into the space he'd built from nothing.

"Hailey, Mrs. Bateman," he greeted as he walked next to where Hailey had one of their favorite clients doing some seated tricep presses. "And remember, we've talked about verbally abusing the staff. Just don't do it when I can hear, I'll have to ban you from the property and that would be sad. Because you're really rich, and you come in here so much that you cover most of my utility bills."

Mrs. Bateman groaned out a laugh while she finished her last rep, dropping the weight to the floor, then swatted at his leg where she'd sprawled backwards on the bench. Hailey winked at Kieran, barking out some orders for their next rotation.

Kieran walked away chuckling, then he heard the chime of his phone. The specific chime he'd assigned to Liz so that he wouldn't have to trip over himself to grab the phone only to have it not be her. But this time, he hurdled the weight bench in front of him, actively ignoring the giggles from the women behind him, and snatched his phone off his desk, making papers drift to the floor in his haste.

He was so effing screwed. The absolute and total unmanly feeling of relief slipped through his body at her primly-worded text made him grin like the Joker. Because ever since that wedding, that glorious wedding that she'd needed a date to, Liz had gone from an intriguing girl that was helping him right on to a beautiful, intelligent, caring, loyal woman that he basically wanted to shackle to him for the rest of his life. Cut, end of story, amen, so let it be.

Typing out the address and clicking send, Kieran grinned and then rubbed at the spot above his heart that was racing. Like, lovesick-chick kind of racing heart. It was ridiculous.

Because he was a douche, that's all he put.
Sounds great
. Like he hadn't been counting down the minutes until she was forced to see him again, forced to touch him again, forced to kiss him again. Though... there had been absolutely no part of that wedding that had felt forced. It had felt scarily real. Sure, she’d all but admitted that she’d only been acting that way because she was well and smashed, but it still had felt freaking awesome. Like the way she'd fit against him had been preordained by some benevolent God that was taking mercy on him for time well-spent.

It was laughable, honestly. If anyone felt less worthy than divine intervention, it was Kieran. There was no way he'd done anything worthy of that in his entire life. Sure, he'd been fortunate enough to be born to a mother who loved and supported him when most wouldn't have. But anything else, those few scattered prayers for things that were most likely selfishly motivated basically meant that any guardian angels were directed elsewhere.

Until Liz.

Speaking of angels, holy shiiiiiiiit, when he'd seen her at the wedding? Yeah. It was like heaven itself had poured down into one golden dress, she'd looked so perfect. And felt and smelled so perfect. Until the puke, of course.

Giving his head a hard shake, Kieran tossed his phone back down onto his desk, attempting just a tiny bit of discipline to keep his head away from all things Liz for the next two hours until she showed up.

Or one hour and thirty nine minutes. Not that he was counting.

"Hailey," he yelled from his desk.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Can you keep an eye out for my twelve o'clock? I've got stuff back here that needs to be organized."

"Uh-huh. Sure thing."

Women. It was insane how their eye-roll was practically verbal. "Shut it, kid. Just holler when she gets here."

I
t was just a building
. Just a regular building, holding regular workers and regular customers. Liz chanted that to herself about a million times from the driver's seat of her car before she managed to push open the door. No matter how many times she said it, it just did not help her.

It didn't erase the fact that the last time she'd seen Kieran had been when she'd been hunched over in some well-trimmed bushes around Casey's reception venue. Pulling a deep, fortifying breath into her lungs, Liz grabbed the bag of food from her passenger seat and then lifted herself out of her car.

Biggest hurdle over.

Or so she thought, until Kieran came striding out of the mirrored door, grinning at her like she was bearing a Publisher's Clearing House check or something.

He shouldn't be smiling at her like that? Should he? She'd done nothing but embarrass herself around him. But the smile, ohhhh the smile on his chiseled, handsome face remained all the same.

"I have to admit, angel, I thought you'd tell me to eff off."

Liz cleared her throat, trying her absolute hardest not to stare at the way that his white shirt stretched across his chest and that way this it made his dark hair look even darker.

"Well, I wouldn't tell anyone to, umm, to do that." His smile stretched even further. Liz shook her head, focusing on the bright red logo for the gym on the door just past his shoulder. "Besides, you've done nothing to warrant it."

Taking the large takeout bag from her hand, Kieran shrugged. "Considering the wealth of communication I've gotten from you the last week, I couldn't be so sure of that."

It stung enough that she might have winced, even though he was quite clearly joking. Mustering the best smile she could hope for, Liz looked up at him. "I apologize for that. I didn't, I mean,
you
didn't do anything wrong. Obviously."

He motioned for her to follow him around the side of the building, where there was a small clearing with two dark green patio tables, bright stripes of white and yellow fabric covering the chairs around both of them. The air held just a hint of summer in it, the Michigan humidity showing itself a tad earlier than normal.

Liz sat and helped him unpack the brown paper-wrapped sandwiches, fruit salad and chips she'd picked up at the deli near her house. There was enough of a furrow in his dark brows to let Liz know that she probably wasn't quite off the hook for the previous week. After she'd taken a small bite from her club sandwich, she cleared her throat then looked up at Kieran.

He was leaning back in his chair, watching her. Liz wiped a hand along the bottom of her mouth. "What?"

Kieran hummed. "How was that supposed to be obvious?"

"How was what supposed to be?"

"That I didn't do anything wrong. How was I supposed to know that? You didn't answer three texts and two phone calls."

There was no anger in his tone, only genuine curiosity, which helped relax her. Setting her food down, Liz smoothed out the napkin on her lap, flicking a few bread crumbs onto the cobbled brick floor underneath the table.

"You were a perfect gentleman, Kieran. And I was horribly embarrassed about my behavior. I know that most women my age have acted like that on many a Saturday night, but it's not typical for me. None of it was. It took me four days to speak to Rachel too, if that makes you feel any better." She shook her head again, struggling to put the right words onto her tongue. "You were exceptionally kind to me, helping me get home, forcing me to drink all that water."

"And the vitamins," he interjected, pointing a potato chip at her.

She smiled, a real one this time. "Yes, and making me take the vitamins. I felt much better than I deserved to when I woke up."

"But?"

"But," Liz said with a nod, "I've never felt so mortified. In my life. It's... eye-opening."

There was no immediate rush to contradict her, which she appreciated. He simply tilted his head and finished chewing. Once he'd swallowed, he kept his eyes on her while he took drink from the bottle of water in front of him. Pulling the edge of the napkin until it ripped.

"Why are you so nervous right now?"

Liz lifted her hands and then dropped them back down onto her lap. "Because I'm attempting to tell you that my mortifying behavior was spurred by your presence, and I wasn't capable of a modicum of level-headedness. I got
drunk
, Kieran. At my best friend's perfect wedding. I've never been drunk in public. Never. And Marie was talking to me about how intense you are, and she's right. Look at what an idiotic girl it turned me into. And we're not even really dating."

It was quick, the flash of disappointment that crossed his face, but she caught it nonetheless. He shifted to another smile quickly enough, but it was fake, and she abhorred it. His wonderfully handsome face should never hold anything except authenticity. And she was the reason he'd pasted on that slick, flirty smile.

"Don't do that. Don't be fake with me," she whispered, not daring to say it any louder. One of his brows popped in surprise, the smile letting go of his mouth. The way he was staring at her started a thrumming somewhere behind her ribcage. It was intrusive, almost uncomfortable. And there was no way she was going to look away.

"I was arrested when I was fifteen."

Her eyelids batted quickly, like they were trying to send Morse code to her brain, to translate what he'd just said. "You were, what?"

Finally he looked away, snapping the thread between their eyes, down at the table where a lazy fly circled his roast turkey sandwich on wheat. With a dismissive flick of Kieran's hand, the fly flew away. But Kieran still stared at the spot for a few long seconds.

"I had this buddy, we met in middle school when he transferred. Total bad apple, and we all knew it. But I was right the hell in the middle of this horrible, angry teen phase. Acting out everywhere I could, at my mom especially. Even though I didn't ever believe it was her fault that my dad took off, I sure acted like I believed it. And this kid, man, he fed into that anger at every turn." He stopped, taking an absent sip of his water. Liz barely breathed, she was afraid to move, to break whatever spell had covered this fiberglass table in a field behind a building. "It was fall, late October, and we were just bull-shittin' around the neighborhood he lived in. Knocking over trashcans and stuff. I wish I could even say that there was some reason, that we kept doing more and more because it was fun. But it wasn't. Everything we knocked over just pissed me off even more. Like it didn't do enough damage. And I really wish I could say he started the worst of it, but he didn't. I just... I don't know, I felt it like someone was stoking a fire in my stomach. So I saw this rock, and I picked up, hefted it in my hand, and chucked right through the windshield of a car that was parked in the street."

The gasp that came out of her mouth was unintentional, but it was loud enough that he looked up at her and gave her a half smile.

"Yeah," he drawled. "Of course, there was a cop just turning down the street when I did it. And the two hours after he flipped those blue and red lights on was one of the scariest in my memory. I was just this stupid kid, pissed off that he didn't have a dad, not remembering that I had the most kick-ass mom around. No, I had to become a statistic. And waiting in that room at the station until my mom got down there was terrifying. I wanted to puke my guts out the whole time. But the look on her face when she saw me there? It was a million times worse, Liz. It was like someone took a poker and shoved it in my heart. As long as I live, I'll never forget the disappointment in her eyes. It wasn't even anger, that came later, but the disappointment was what cut me the most."