Cheater by Rachel Van Dyken
“We need another story.” Her expression softened, and she went all doe-eyed. “Come on, Thorn, you cheat on women all the time—you’re good at dealing with estrogen. How do we do this, make it believable, keep everyone happy, and the families on friendly footing? Because I refuse to let you ruin our families again.”
“Me? I ruined your family? And Brooke? What did she do? Nothing?”
Avery gasped. “You tried to seduce her!”
“What?” I hissed. “What did you just say?”
“You. Seduced. Her. In. Her. Bedroom. MINUTES after kissing me.”
“I was drunk—I stumbled into the wrong room, saw red hair, and thought . . .” Shit. I’d gone too far. Shit. Shit. Take it back, take it back.
“Thought what?”
“So, a story?” I pasted a fake smile on my face. “I say we go with—”
“Thought. What?” Her fingers gripped my T-shirt and twisted.
With a groan, I broke eye contact and looked down at the ground. “I thought it was you. In my muddled drunken brain, I thought it was you, not Brooke—so, yeah, she wasn’t the sister I’d planned on seducing.”
There. I’d said it.
Let her hate me.
“You thought you were crawling into my bed?”
“I figured if I could just talk to you and see how you really felt—then I’d be brave enough to call everything off, or if that failed, at least I’d be drunk enough to pull the plug on the wedding.”
The silence stretched out long past uncomfortable, making the tension between us nearly unbearable.
“You felt that way because you were drunk.”
“No, Avery Bug, not because I was drunk.”
She waited.
I exhaled through my clenched teeth and finally admitted the truth. “One day you were my friend, and then you became something completely different. Because I wanted you. Because I’ve always wanted you. Because even when it was wrong—and you were only seventeen years old—I wanted you.”
“And now?”
I kissed her.
She didn’t kiss me back.
Not at first.
And then slowly, her hands snaked around my neck, her lips parted—and I was completely awakened to what it would feel like to belong to Avery Black.
“Stay,” I heard myself begging between each heated kiss. “Stay.”
“You’re a bad habit, Thorn.” Her chest heaved, and her green eyes glistened. “An addiction I can’t kick—each kiss gets me drunker than the first, until I lose all sense of right and wrong.”
“This is right,” I urged, already backing her up against the wall and parting her lips with my tongue. Her body melted under my touch. I was pretty sure I could taste her forever and still be ravenous for her mouth.
Her hand slid down my chest, pushing me away, putting maybe two inches of space between us. “What about your Monday?”
“Screw Monday.” I slid my hands under her shirt and slowly inched it off her body. “I’m talking about today. Do you think you can handle that?”
She nodded.
“Thank God, because plan B involved duct tape, rope, my bed, and an infrared sensor.”
“Classy.” Avery’s questioning gaze had me ready to bolt already, but if she needed more, I needed to be willing to give it. “One question.”
I waited.
“Are you even capable of commitment?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer.
“Thorn?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. The last time I tried I fell for someone else. A girl with bright green eyes and strawberry-blonde hair who smelled like grape gum and called me by my last name. She made me feel alive. I think she’s the only one capable of giving a cheater a reason to change his ways. That’s all I can give you, the truth.”
She brushed a kiss across my lips. “It’s enough.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
AVERY
I yawned behind my hand. My eyes watered a bit, and my vision was starting to double and then triple. “Two months ago. Starbucks. You stood in line and yelled obscenities at the poor old lady getting trained. I, being the hero in this scenario, stepped in, punched you in the face—we both ended up in jail and then started dating.”
Lucas gave me a thumbs-down, and his abs glistened beneath the soft glow of the bedside lamp. “Is there a reason that every story you come up with involves you being the hero, while I end up maimed, in prison, or almost murdered?”
I giggled. “I think my favorite one was when you got jumped, and I saved your life with my kung fu.”
His menacing grin did funny things to my stomach. “Admit it. The closest you’ve been to kung fu is the movie Kung Fu Panda, which you probably watched because you’re convinced the panda is your spirit animal since it’s always eating.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Next!” Lucas pressed down on the red beeper I’d stolen out of one of his board games and yawned. “And please let me keep all of my teeth this time.”
“Flaws make people human!”
“Avery Bug, in one of the stories you were wearing a crown . . . Now, something realistic, please.”
“Okay, okay.” I moved onto my knees and started crawling across the king-size mattress toward him.
His smile fell, replaced by a heated look that had me ready to jump all over him—again—and get distracted—again—and fail to come up with a believable story for our families—again.
“How about . . .” I licked my lips and grinned. “I’ve got it. The perfect story.”
“Oh?” He started kissing my neck. I shivered. “Are you going to share this perfect story or just keep it on lockdown and then surprise the shit out of me? Careful how you answer—I’m already old, remember? Surprises age people, Avery Bug.”
“You’re a male dancer, like Carl. On the weekends you shake your ass to make more cash—and then you donate said cash to the children because you, Lucas Thorn”—I imitated his voice the way every female imitated his voice—“are a giver.”
He glared at me.
“Or”—I held up one hand—“we tell them a partial truth.”
“I’m listening.”
“Great, could you perchance not kiss me while listening though because it makes me stumble over my words, and I hate feeding your ego. Tonight, I saw you preening at yourself in the mirror, so stop that.”
He laughed against my neck.
And I briefly wondered if I would survive the day Lucas Thorn walked out of my life.
Again.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
LUCAS
Work had been hell, probably because I spent most of my workday trying not to stare at Avery and imagine her naked.
Time passed too fast, meaning I blinked and it was Saturday, the day of the party. We’d stayed up most of the two nights before. I couldn’t keep my hands off her, and I had this urgency to keep marking her—making her mine before we faced everyone.
Which in turn caused us to run late since she’d stayed over at my apartment again and said she had to go home and change into something presentable. I took a few deep breaths while parked out in front of Avery’s building and drummed my fingers against the console while soft music floated through the car.
I adjusted my tie a dozen times.
And nearly choked myself to death at least six of those times.
“Sorry.” The passenger door opened, and in a flurry of mouthwatering perfume, Avery hopped into the car. “I couldn’t find my heels, and then I realized my shoes didn’t match and—”
I wasn’t aware I was swearing out loud, until she stopped talking and my mouth kept moving.
“Are you okay?” Her expression was one of concern.
“You look incredible.” I breathed out a tense sigh. “That dress.” I shook my head, mouth completely dry. “It’s really . . . tight.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Tight as in, maybe stop bonding so much with your panda spirit animal, or tight as in, wow,
“The latter.” I leaned across the console and captured her lips in mine. Relief washed through me when she threaded her hands through my hair and whispered my name. “I missed you.”
“I was literally gone for eight minutes, maybe nine.”
“The day you get ready in eight minutes, I’ll run for president.”
“Vote Thorn!” She nuzzled my neck and then sucked on my earlobe. “But seriously, we need to go. We’re already late and I’m sweating.”
“You and me both,” I grumbled, putting the car into drive and inching into downtown traffic. “Though it’s more of a cold sweat.”
“That sounds lovely, Thorn. Tell me more about this ‘cold sweat.’”
I studied her lithe body out of the corner of my eye and tried to remind myself of all the reasons we were actually going through with this.
“I have an idea.” I pulled the car onto the freeway and turned down the music. “What if, instead of telling everybody a story, we just tell them it’s none of their damn business?”
Avery’s eyes twinkled, and her lips spread into a beautiful smile. “Thorn, I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“Since I’m never going to make it a habit to compliment you, I’d just take what I can get if I were you. Beggars can’t be choosers.”
I glowered and then barked out a laugh. “Fine.”
She reached for my hand.
And the entire thing felt normal.
If normal was taking one giant step backward into a past I’d rather forget—and facing every single person I’d hurt by not admitting my feelings earlier for the girl sitting next to me.
Like when they originally started happening.
Which was long before the day of the rehearsal dinner.
Or in a vain attempt to jump into her bed because I was so damn miserable with my choice to marry her sister.
Unfortunately, the car ride didn’t take long, which meant that we were in front of my childhood home sooner rather than later.
I turned off the ignition.
Avery let go of my hand.
“It’s one traumatic night with our families,” she said, more to herself than me. “And then we carry on with our lives and try not to figure out whatever this is between us, alright?”
“Oh, so we’re not trying to figure this out?” I was surprised she wasn’t overanalyzing every little thing or asking to see my phone, or imploding over the fact that never once had I said we were exclusive.
“Nope.” Her hands trembled in her lap. “If I think past today, I get freaked out, not because I’m afraid of commitment.”
“Because you’re afraid of me,” I finished for her.
She didn’t deny it—how could she, when it was the truth? However ugly honesty may have been, at least we both knew where we stood.
Her lack of a denial hung in the air. It was the perfect moment for me to tell her how I felt—that what was happening between us was real—but I wasn’t confident enough in my ability not to cheat.
And that’s what sucked.
Which made me a horrible human being.
Because I wasn’t sure if there was something broken inside me that made sure I stayed far away from any sort of relationship for fear I would hurt someone—even if that someone were myself.
“Thorn?” Her eyes were filled with a sadness that I alone was responsible for. “Let’s just focus on today.”
“Today,” I repeated, lifting her hand to my lips and kissing her smooth coconut-infused skin. “I can do that.”
“Now”—she puffed out a breath—“let’s go face the firing squad.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if your grandfather brought his guns over to our house just so he could clean them in front of me.”
“Rest assured, he’s gone completely blind in his left eye. I highly doubt he’d be able to hit a moving target.”
“Great, Avery, I’ll just practice my zigzag.”
Her laughter wasn’t at all comforting as we joined hands and approached my childhood home.
It felt weird walking into my house with Avery by my side as more than a friend. I wondered if I should seem more excited about our fake engagement.
Hell, we’d made a mess of things, and now I had the worst partner in crime that history had ever seen. The girl couldn’t lie to save her life, and at least 80 percent of the time she picked a fight with me just because she couldn’t help herself. Now we had to spend the entire night pretending to be a couple in love and lying to the people who knew us best. Right, what could possibly go wrong?
Try everything.
“LUCAS!” Mom screamed my name like she hadn’t seen me just a few days ago and held open her arms while my dad lifted his beer in acknowledgment and continued talking to Avery’s grandpa, Lewis.
“Mom.” I kissed her soft cheek and pulled back while she examined Avery from head to toe and then burst into giant, wailing sobs. “Mom.”
Avery gave me a panicked look.
“Just let her cry it out.” I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Huh, is that light new?”
“Just installed it last night.” Dad wrapped an arm around Mom and handed her a paper towel.
“Sorry, kids.” She blew her nose. “I just—it’s happening, this is really happening.” She leaned in and whispered, “It’s just like old times, and we’re so excited.”
“Us too!” Avery said in a strangled voice. I shot her a pleading look while she quickly hugged my mom and then linked arms with her, abandoning me to my father and a very angry-looking Grandpa Lewis.
“Lewis.” I nodded toward him and then held out my hand.
He stared down at it and grimaced. “We killed traitors back in Nam.”
Interesting, please tell me more about how you killed people for less than what I did four years ago. “And we’re all so thankful for your service.”
He grunted, then pointed at his good eye and back at me. “Don’t think I won’t be watching you like a hawk.”
Thank God he was half-blind.
“I’ve got my eye on you, son.” He let out something that sounded a hell of a lot like a growl, then left me and Dad in blissful silence.
“Is he wearing a pink shirt?” I asked once the man was out of earshot.
“Can’t tell pink from blue, poor bastard.” Dad sighed. “Besides, bright colors are easier to see; last week Tess lost him in the grocery store and only located him because he was wearing yellow and telling anyone who would listen about Agent Orange.”
“How . . . nice for him.” This. This was why I rarely came home. Everyone in both our families was certifiable.
Which is also why it was so sad when they stopped spending time together.
One thing was for sure—our families belonged together. Both dads slightly crazy, the moms loud, and the one living grandparent who talked about the good ol’ days when everything cost a nickel.
Gas? A nickel.
Shoes? A nickel.
Meat? A nickel.
According to Lewis, everything was a nickel.
Which also meant that, to him, everything in this day and age was too damn expensive.
I sighed and weaved through the halls toward the loud chatter in the kitchen and braced myself for the impact of seeing the rest of the Black family for the first time in four years.
I noticed Tess first. She was wearing a short black dress with white pearls and had a white apron with a dog on it wrapped around her petite body. Her reading glasses were perched on the top of her head, and she had a glass of white wine in her hand.
“Lucas Thorn.” One penciled eyebrow arched, then the other; her red lips pressed together, and then she was walking toward me. The kitchen fell silent.
“I’m so happy to see you.” Her smile was tense. That made sense. The last time I’d seen her she was sobbing her
I hugged her as tightly as I could, hoping to at least convey in that hug that I was sorry, so damn sorry.
She relaxed in my arms and kissed me on the cheek. “I can’t say I’m surprised—I know how close you and Avery were.” No accusation tinted her voice, but I couldn’t be sure if she was being honest and kind or passive-aggressive. “I wasn’t surprised at all to hear the good news.”
Please let the good news be the marriage and not some other random made-up story that I had to lie about.
Avery saved me by snaking an arm around my waist and shrugging. “Thanks, Mom. We’re really excited we were able to reconnect.”
“Yeah.” A familiar voice echoed through the kitchen. “And we’re all dying to know how that happened.” Brooke threw back her glass of wine and zeroed in on Avery and me with an intensity that had me wanting to both strangle her and run in the opposite direction. Her hair was dyed a fake red that made her face look harsh, and her dark eye makeup didn’t help, nor did the slutty white dress that showed enough boob and ass to make her look like a prostitute.
“I think”—Avery glanced up at me—“that’s a secret we’d like to keep between us.”
I could have kissed her for that save.
So I did.
Hard.
She gasped against my mouth as I mauled her in my parents’ kitchen and shoved all the doubt anyone may have had about us out the window. Take that, nasty witch.
When we broke apart, Avery’s chest was heaving. God, I wanted to devour her right next to the cheese plate.
Her cheeks bloomed with a pretty pink before she laid her head against my chest and laughed. “Sorry, got a bit carried away.”
Tess sighed happily, then poured more wine. “This really is wonderful—we’ve always wanted Lucas to be a part of our family, and now he will be.”
“Yay,” Brooke said sarcastically from her spot near the bar.
I was about to tell her to shut the hell up when Kayla appeared from around the corner, wearing a dress that was even more scandalous than her sister’s. Red, with a plunging neckline, plus high heels and dark makeup to complete the look.