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“A slime-ball producer spliced together video of me that implied I screwed half of the female population of Florida, aired it on national television, caused a rift between my dad and I, and then my dad married Teresa.” He tipped his beer toward her. “Now, the production company is trying to convince me to do a reunion episode.”
Lucy had apparently missed that invitation. But, then, why would they invite a lowly production assistant anyway? “Maybe you should do it?”
“No way in hell am I opening myself up to that kind of embarrassment again.”
“Will, hey, this is supposed to be fun.” She reached for his hand to give what she hoped was an innocent squeeze. She tried to tug her fingers away, but he held tight.
“I confess Teresa wasn’t just the housekeeper.” His hollow words echoed through the cabin.
“I think?—”
“When I was a kid, she was my nanny. She helped raise me… She was never just the housekeeper.” The pain of his father’s betrayal to his family flickered in William’s eyes.
Silence stretched between them, but he still didn’t let her hand go. Lucy used to make him laugh in Florida and had prided herself on being exceptionally good at it. Right then, she wanted nothing more than to help him find his way back from whatever dark place had sucked him in.
“I confess that this one time, on assignment, I threw a box of condoms at my colleague. That was pretty mortifying.” She rolled her eyes, hoping to diffuse the tension and lighten the heavy atmosphere.
He slid his hand away and opened another beer for himself, tossing the cap into the trash bin. “That was pretty awesome.”
“Wrong word. Humiliating is more accurate,” she corrected.
“Luce, it was spectacular. And they’re multi-purpose if for all kinds of fun games” His eyes moved over her in a way that was anything but innocent.
Her resolve disintegrated on the spot, but she kept on. “I confess this other time I reported on location and totally rocked it. When I say rocked it, I mean I. Was. On. Fire. It’s such a rush being on live television.” She peeled off the rest of the label from her beer bottle. “And then a fly flew right into my mouth. I gagged and couldn’t finish. Somewhere, I’m on a Best of Bloopers reel, gagging and coughing up an insect on live television. I didn’t have a rooster collapse on me, but it was still holy-crap embarrassing.”
“You heard about the rooster, Luce?” he asked.
“Everyone’s heard about the rooster.”
That got her the dimples.
“Next question.” She grabbed a card. He would not be getting her all mushy with the Luce business again. “Wild card. Ask any question.”
“Sounds fun. I like to be wild.” Wasn’t that the truth?
She snorted. “What were you really doing when you left earlier?”
“I confess I had business to deal with.”
“Two-part question.” She tossed the card on the table.
“You’ve got to say that first.”
“That’s not in the rules.” Not that she’d actually read the rules. But she was pretty sure it wasn’t there.
More dimples.
“What business exactly? Is it a news story?” she asked.
He leaned forward so their hands nearly touched. “If I confess something to you, can you keep it to yourself?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Did you do something illegal?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad. Your confession would be more interesting.” She tossed another piece of label into the pile littering the table.
“Would you keep a secret if I did something illegal?” he asked.
