Honey (Full Throttle Series) Read online

  That had been the biggest mistake of my life.

  It started out small, things that I didn’t give much attention to in the beginning because I was utterly smitten. She liked complaining that I didn’t earn enough—something that I thought was some kind of odd teasing at first until I began to realize that she was very, very serious. So I did side jobs because I wanted to provide for her, and at the same time didn’t want to touch my extra savings in case I needed it for future emergency uses. I gave her what I earned during those side jobs, confident that she’d put them to good use.

  She used them on branded clothes, luxury bags and going to high-end parties she wasn’t invited to.

  The fights that followed were wild, along with the make-up sex that had me forgiving her for everything—a repetitive cycle, really. Then there was her jealousy of my charge and the time I spent away from the house, which she counteracted by throwing parties in our home and leaving the mess for me to clean up because she was too hungover to.

  Her career seemed to be going nowhere, which pissed her off. She hated the idea of having kids, something she lied about in the past as she claimed that she wanted lots of kids to dote on.

  Her frustration turned to hate, making her look for outlets to let it out on—outlets like men that she flirted with and took home and did God knew what. But that didn’t stop her resentment towards me because apparently, I couldn’t provide her a better life. Two years into the marriage, and she was accusing me of holding her down and telling me that she was sick and tired of everything and just wanted out.

  So when she packed her bags and told me she never wanted to see me again, I took it to heart and let her be. A few days later, the divorce papers were delivered to me, and I signed it without hesitation, knowing I’d already fought too many times for her and lost each time.

  Now, it was time to get back to my old life.

  Sara had said that we could talk once she was back from her vacation at her husband’s home in Texas, and all I could do at the moment was wait. She probably had a job for me, and I wanted to let her know firsthand that I wanted to take a job based on my skills, not out of pity. That was another sour point with Tanya—my friendship with my old boss and how Tanya couldn’t even benefit from Sara’s wealth. Sara didn’t really hide her dislike for Tanya, either, and I guess that put a strain on everything.

  Because Sara told me to feel at home here, I began to rummage around the fridge and was pleasantly surprised when I saw that it was fully packed with tons of food and beer. I wondered if they stocked it up before going to Texas and if they had any plans to use this place when they came back. I made a mental note to list everything I ate or consumed and restock it after, not wanting to take too much from their hospitality.

  I settled for a can of soda, opened it and took a sip, feeling the coldness seep into my throat. Then I wandered around the area, going up the second floor with my bag and choosing the last room, which was their guest room and the one I was used to.

  I’d stayed here twice when I was still part of the security team for Sara’s business and she had been under some threats after her first husband died and opportunists found her vulnerable. That was before she proved to the world that she was just as ruthless and capable as her late husband, and a few years before she met the man who had now become her second husband. I met the guy during their wedding, a race car driver who was younger than her, and I liked him and thought they made a good team.

  Images of Tanya trying to flirt with the guy ruined the mood instantly, so I tried to shake it off my mind. I really needed to stop thinking about her and try to do something productive here, such as planning my next steps after I was done with my time here. Maybe I would take Sara up on whatever job offer she had, considering my savings were depleting. Maybe I could find something else.

  For now, there was only one thing I wanted to do: take a swim and clear my mind from every other thought in the world.

  I stripped down and opted for some trunks, taking a towel with me as I went back downstairs and headed for the back patio where the private pool was located. It was a very pretty patio with a tiny garden on the side and walls covering every corner, with a wooden deck and a dark blue pool in the middle. The water was well-maintained and calling to me, and it was my excitement and preoccupation that didn’t allow me to hear the noise at first—that was, until I slid the patio glass doors open and stepped out.

  There was a splash—a subtle splash, followed by more splashing sounds that left no doubt to what I should have noticed from the very beginning. There was someone in the pool, swimming at their leisure like they owned the place.

  An intruder.

  I readied my stance, watching the shadow of a figure doing laps for at least a minute. It was obviously a woman, and it looked like she had been at it for a while. Finally, her laps slowed down, and I watched her glide to the edge where the railing was located and slowly hoist herself up from the water.

  She had the reddest hair I’d seen in a while, darkened by the water and plastered all over her shoulders and back. Her skin was milky white, with a few dots of freckles that suited her. She was wearing a green two-piece that was as skimpy as they came, and it looked like her curvy body was poured into it. One tug of the string would probably leave that body bare, and the confidence with which she pulled it off had me staring.

  Then she pulled her arms up to slide her hair back, her breasts jutting out in the air—and my shock turned to discomfort and irritation at the same time. There was something else, but I ignored it ruthlessly.

  “You have exactly one minute to get out of here, lady, or else I’m going to throw you out.”

  My statement was deliberate, and I expected her to be startled, which she was. I also expected her to maybe scream and panic, to make some kind of excuse or apology before she hurried out of here as fast as she could.

  She didn’t.

  Instead, the woman stared at me in disbelief, almost as if I said something idiotic. Then disbelief turned to anger, making me realize what color her eyes were that I’d been trying to figure out from the very beginning.

  They were the color of honey.

  The woman bent down and picked something up—wait, she was picking a stool up.

  Then she threw it at me.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HONEY

  Trespasser!

  That was the first thought in my head as I threw the stool at the man in front of me, more out of irritation and frustration than anything else. That a paparazzi would have the nerve to let himself in and stalk me even here on private property was pretty much the last straw, and I didn’t care if I hurt him. In fact, I wanted the stool to hit him so hard that he’d see stars and stagger out of here with regret. Sure, it might involve a lawsuit, but I really just didn’t care at this point.

  But none of that happened as his arm came up. Quick as lightning, he snatched the stool before it could hit him and calmly placed it down beside him. The ease with which he did it had me gaping, and my frustration simmered down enough for me to finally notice a couple of things.

  First was that he was shirtless.

  I could have looked away, but I found myself staring at his chest anyway, trailing over muscles that were well-defined and a tan that said he didn’t stay indoors a lot. He was corded with those muscles, had a body that was hard and an energy that made one well aware it wasn’t just because of working out, either.

  Why would paparazzi try to take pictures of me while they were shirtless?

  This brought me to my second realization—that the man wasn’t carrying anything with him other than a towel. No camera, no recording devices or anything that would indicate he was actually here to take a video of me. Something clicked in my mind, and I began to look back and forth between the stool and the angry look in his gaze, which was directed at me in a rather intense manner.

  “Your one minute is almost up,” he bit out. “I’m going to let that wild moment of yours slide, and you
’d better get the hell out of here before I call the cops on you.”

  So he wasn’t a cop, which was my first thought. My shock began to turn to irritation all over again as I realized how condescending he sounded, like he had every right to be. And because I wasn’t in a very good mood to begin with, I fought his hostility with my best weapon at the moment.

  Anger.

  “Excuse me? I have every right to be here. You are the one intruding, therefore you should be the one leaving. Do you want me to call the cops on you?”

  Surprise flitted in his eyes, which were as black as they came and absolutely cold. Then they narrowed at me suspiciously. “Who are you?”

  “I should be asking you the same question,” I shot back, refusing to give up first.

  He made an annoyed sound in his throat. “I’m Gavin, old head of Sara’s security team. Your turn.”

  “I’m Honey, and Sara’s my manager.”

  “Manager?”

  “Racing.”

  “You’re a racer?”

  “Race car driver, yeah.”

  If anything, his eyes narrowed even further. “Sara is Gray Denton’s manager.”

  I almost laughed out loud at that. “Are you living in a bubble or something? Gray is on hiatus, and I’ve been with Sara for a good three years now.”

  Something passed over his face, but it was gone as soon as it came. He gave me a considering look, though the suspicion was still there. “If you know Sara that well, then…how many kids does she have?”

  I spouted off the answers without hesitation, then took a shot in return. “Where is Sara right now and with whom is she spending her time?”

  He gave me the details without missing a beat, and we both stared at each other with the same realization sliding through us.

  We both knew Sara, and we both weren’t intruders.

  His stance calmed down, and I noticed another thing: that he had been staring at my face and nothing else the whole time we were accusing each other. Remembering I was still in my bikini, painfully aware that there was a very shirtless man in front of me, I quickly retrieved the robe I’d placed on top of one of the deck chairs and wrapped it around myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he glanced somewhere else while I was doing this, only turning to look at me again when I was fully covered.

  “Does Sara know you’re here?” he asked.

  She actually didn’t, because she didn’t even know I ran away from Florida. I’d been planning to tell her when she came back from her vacation next week.

  But of course, there was no need for him to know all that.

  “Of course,” I said confidently.

  That had him frowning. “She must have messed up the times. Is there any hotel you can stay in at the moment?”

  Was he still trying to kick me out?

  “No. And I’m not leaving.”

  The man, Gavin, narrowed his eyes again. I narrowed my eyes back. “I’m not leaving, either,” he stated, his tone indicating a stubbornness that I should have detected from the very start. That tone alone indicated that he expected me to be intimidated—to bow out at his statement and pack my bags because he was quietly claiming territory.

  Oh, boy.

  In response, I lifted my chin and crossed my arms. “Well, it looks like we’re just going to have to deal with each other. See you around, Mr. Gavin.”

  Then I strutted out of there, tightening the belt of my robe and leaving him to watch my back as I stepped back inside the house.

  Let him look at that.

  I had instincts when it came to men—at least, a certain wariness, especially after what happened with my past and the sex scandal that blew up in my face. I could tell from Gavin’s actions that he wasn’t interested in me that way, and it wasn’t because he was gay. He simply wasn’t into me, which was what gave me courage in the first place to refuse to leave when any woman would have gone running at his subtle threat alone.

  He wasn’t going to touch me, and that was that.

  I stayed in the bedroom I chose for a good while, taking a hot shower before getting comfortable in shorts and a loose shirt. I wondered what else there was to do that didn’t involve going out and mingling with people. Maybe I could, so long as I wasn’t recognized. I could always dye my hair, considering that was my most eye-catching feature.

  I must be desperate if I am considering that. I would never.

  Just as the thought was contemplating itself in my mind, a knock sounded. I strode over and opened it, eyeing the brooding man standing there and looking at me with what had to be disapproval. Much like earlier, I lifted my chin up at him, keeping a straight face.

  “Yes?”

  “If we’re gonna be staying at the same place,” he started without so much as a greeting, “We’d better have some house rules.”

  “House rules?”

  “We mind our own business.”

  I scoffed. “I always mind my own business.”

  “We try not to get on each other’s nerves. We try to stay out of each other’s way.”

  I wanted to tell him that he was already starting to get on my nerves, but instead, I kept a pleasant smile on my face. “I’m good at those. I also have one rule—no, two rules.”

  “What?”

  “No bringing anyone here. I’m here to be alone, and I can tolerate only you if we’re talking sharing the house.”

  “Consider it done. Second?”

  “We don’t share details about our lives. You’re Gavin, and I’m Honey. I’m not interested in anything else and I’d rather you not snoop.” It was a necessity for me because I didn’t want him prying and knowing about me. I didn’t exactly consider him untrustworthy, but I knew next to nothing about him. He could leak my whereabouts to the press, which was the last thing I needed.

  I just wanted peace.

  To my surprise, he didn’t even question the last rule. Gavin nodded his head, then held out his hand. I looked at it for a few seconds before reluctantly reaching out and wrapping my own around it. His hand was warm and huge, and there were calluses that made it rough to touch.

  We shook on it, uneasily. Then I took my hand from his, rather unnerved from the way he met my demands head-on. Most men lately either shied away from me and were uncomfortable or put on lousy advances, and only a few male friends were decent after the scandal. That only said one thing, really—that most of the male connections I made weren’t as deep as I thought. That was saying a lot, considering the racing world was full of men.

  But Gavin? He looked like he simply didn’t care, and that was just what I needed—an uninterested man.

  Let’s just hope it lasts.

  *****

  It lasted.

  The first few days were filled with awkward moments as we bumped into each other more often than we wanted to. Sara’s beach house was huge, yes, but it wasn’t so big that you wouldn’t see the person you were living with unless you stayed in your bedroom all day—and I definitely didn’t make it a habit to stay in my bedroom all day, because that was just boring. Surprisingly enough, we kept to our rules, silently changing schedules whenever we could so that we didn’t have to eat, swim or hang out in the living room at the same time. It worked, though I had to admit that I cheated a little bit in one aspect that he would never, ever find out.

  I sometimes watched him when he was swimming.

  I couldn’t help it. Gavin did it every single day after breakfast, exactly at the time when I was going down to get my own breakfast. Because the fridge was near the patio sliding doors and they were always open, the first few glimpses I got were purely accidental. I watched as he swam laps in the rectangular pool, wearing swimming trunks and using fast, steady strokes that spoke of expertise. This wasn’t some casual swimmer like I was, and it made me fascinated at how long he lasted before he got out of the pool to rest.

  The next few glimpses were no longer accidental, and I was not ashamed to admit it, even to myself.

  I
watched those defined muscles bunch, watched as he exerted effort in that water, the powerful movements eventually making me realize something I hadn’t caught on to earlier—he was de-stressing. Because my own way of de-stressing was driving or cooking, and I knew exertion sometimes meant problems, I began to wonder what was his.

  The main question, though: what was he doing here at Sara’s place alone? Was he hiding out from a problem, too?

  Because this question made me preoccupied, it took me a while to comprehend that I was standing in the kitchen for too long and staring at him for longer. Belatedly, I realized that he’d already gotten out of the pool and was toweling himself dry, then heading towards me.

  Belatedly, I realized that I was still ogling.

  It was a miracle that I didn’t spill the glass of juice in my hand due to panic. He stepped in the door, using another towel to rub his hair dry and bunching those muscles further. My mouth went dry, and I was suddenly having a hard time swallowing my breath. God, his body was amazing—too amazing.

  Pure black eyes met mine, not with hostility but with a cautious curiosity as he spoke to me for the first time since our first encounter—well, spoke to me other than the usual casual, awkward greeting.

  “Everything okay?”

  Now I was noticing things about him, like that body for one thing. There was also that voice, which was rough around the edges and just a little bit short. Deep. Pleasantly deep.

  This time, I did swallow my breath, though it was a hardship.

  “I’m fine,” I finally responded, hating how my voice was almost a tremble. My gaze caught his mouth, which opened as if about to say something. His lips were sensual, giving me the feeling that he would be a good kisser. A hard, firm kisser. Definitely a sensual one.

  Shock filled me at my thoughts.

  Gavin closed his mouth, not saying anything and breaking whatever spell I was in. Shaking my head, I muttered a greeting to him before flying out of there.

  Maybe I had cabin fever and needed to get out at least once...