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Slim and I had been best friends, once upon a time. We met in detention after school, and Slim introduced me to a few of his friends. Older boys who had money and confidence and attitude.
I was sick of watching my mother struggle working three jobs. I was sick of living in poverty, of having holes in all my shoes and a stomach cramping with hunger. Sick of seeing my mother close to tears every time she looked at a photo of my father.
Slim Miller was cool, carefree, and he made me forget how hard things were at home.
By the time I was seventeen, I was hooked on the feeling of independence. I wanted an easy way out of the struggle I knew. We wanted to form a brotherhood, didn’t care about laws or morals, just wanted to make money and be free.
I was young and angry at the hard knocks I’d gotten in life. The lifestyle Slim was offering seemed like my only way out.
My mother wasn’t happy. When I barely scraped by to get my high school diploma, she gave me an ultimatum: get a job, or get out from under her roof.
It was an easy decision. I didn’t even pack my clothes—they were rags anyway. I just walked out of the house with a chip on my shoulder and anger in my heart. I had a future, and it wasn’t going to be working myself to the bone the way my mother had.
The tattoo spanning the width of my back was proof that I’d found a new family. Forever.
I was such a fucking dumb kid.
Nora nudged my shoulder with hers. “Hey. We all make mistakes, Fallon. You’ve more than made up for yours.”
Even thinking about it now, as I lean my elbow on the window opening and feel the cool forest air whip around me, shame threatens to overwhelm me. I’ve spent two decades trying to distance myself from that life, but somehow, everything always comes full circle.
Nora told me she was thinking of staying in Heart’s Cove. She’d bought a new SIM card for her phone, started looking for an apartment. “Reno was good, but I have no ties there anymore. I work from home; why not do it here?”
Why not, indeed.
When the farmhouse comes into view, I slow down and park a little way away from Jen. I watch her exit her car, the afternoon sun gleaming on her blond hair, her face turned up to catch the rays. She inhales deeply, then exhales as she turns to look my way.
Truly, that woman is beautiful.
I open my door and watch her walk with her precise, controlled gait to approach my car. She tilts her head to stare into my eyes, then nods to a nature trail. “You want to go for a walk with me?”
“Yeah,” I answer, because it’s the truth. There’s nothing else I’d rather do.
Being around Jen makes me forget about my shame. I forget that I’m an ex-con. I forget about the past that has one hand gripped around my ankle, preventing me from walking away. When I’m with Jen, my head is quiet. My heart is full.
We walk on the pine needle-strewn path, wind rustling through the trees as squirrels and birds go about their business.
After a few moments, Jen takes a deep breath. “I think we should have sex.”
My cock is immediately rock hard. Stumbling over my own feet, I choke on a cough, then quickly recover. “What?”
“I said, I think we should have sex.” Her face is pointed straight ahead, her fists clenched.
“Um.” I clear my throat, trying to ignore the tightness in my jeans. “I mean, I’m all for it, but I just—where is this coming from?”
“Well, I thought about it.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and I see the tip of it is bright red. “I…enjoyed…what we did the other night. And it might help us figure out…where we stand. Plus, we did really well in the croquembouche challenge and the bite-sized challenges this week, and that was after just a kiss. Sex might help us win.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or feel insulted. For some reason, my shaft grows harder. “You want to have sex with me because you think it’ll help us perform well in a baking competition?”
“Well, no.” She bites her lip. “I mean—yes. I don’t know.”
“Usually, women have sex with me because they think I’m attractive.”
“What women?” Her head whips toward me.
Surprise makes my brows arch. She seems almost…jealous. And that pleases me. Like the cat getting the cream, I let my lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “Don’t worry, Jen. Right now, there’s nobody that interests me but you.”
“Right now,” she repeats. Then, under her breath, she says, “This was a mistake.”
