The Naked Truth (The Honeybrook Hamdens Book 1) (2 page)

"So what's the deal? I thought Amy was supposed to pick me up." Not that she wasn't secretly relieved. In truth, facing Amy before anyone else was like walking directly into the lion's pit.

Luke was easier. Less assuming.

And far more likely to draw conclusions.

"You know her, she had some kind of important something or other, but she said she'd be down tonight. Honestly, I think she might have gotten a look at the place somehow and decided she didn't want to rush into it."

"What do you mean? It can't be that bad."

"Oh, it is." Luke whistled, then turned onto the beach-side street they used to ride their bikes down when they'd been kids.

They were getting close now. She could already smell the salt on the air, and it carried her away on the ocean breeze. How had she forgotten that smell?

It was like childhood and home and...

She cringed, blocking away the memory. No need to think about that. Lord knew she had enough problems without adding that to the equation.

"What do you mean? Aunt Flo only had the place for two years. How could she have--"

"A question for the ages. But between getting the place from Gran and cutting loose from the earth, that old broad did some serious damage."

"Like, is it just messy or..."

"Honestly, I think this is something you're going to have to see to believe." Luke turned up the radio and started mumbling along with whatever twangy country song was playing. Julie stared out the window.

She knew she should ask about his bar. How it was coming along, if they'd opened yet, but that subject led to seriously dangerous territory. Then again, it seemed like everything led that way nowadays.

After a minute or two, the wide white gates of the Honeybrook Estates yawned before them and Luke went through all the rigmarole of swiping his ID and signing a blood oath and all the other things people had to do if they wanted access to beachfront property.

When he was done, they motored past streets filled with cookie-cutter stone-fronted houses. The facades were the same as she remembered, and she was sure the people inside were, too. All the kids who'd thought the Hamdens were too low down to live in their neighborhood, now all grown and raising kids just like them.

She shook her head, and went to sigh, then caught herself and stopped.

"Almost there." Luke nudged her.

"I remember." They motored even further up the hill, and when the crest was in view, so was the house. Or...at least, what used to be the house.

Whether there was a house still there underneath the overgrown rose bush and the rows of bushy, half-dead trees remained to the seen. The buttercup exterior was snaked with dying vines and the yard looked like something out of
The Thing
.

"That's..." She blinked, but she knew it was the right place. Her grandmother's prized white picket fence falling apart, her welcoming scarlet door worn, the knocker missing.

"This is the place." Luke nodded, then pulled alongside the rickety fence and popped the car into park. "Mom's waiting for you inside. You ready?"

Well, that was the question of the century, wasn't it?

As ready as I'll ever be.

And with that, she hopped out of the car, grabbed her bag, and sprinted up the cobblestone steps before whatever was living in the grass had a chance to follow her inside.

“
Y
ou really don’t have
to do this, you know.” Julie’s muffled voice sounded on the other side of her bedroom door, and Chase rolled his eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day.

“Believe me, I know.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Yeah. But not to your mom,” he answered. Mrs. Hamden had been talking about Julie’s prom since the second Amy had left for hers two years before. She should have known, though, even then, that Julie wouldn’t make things nearly so easy as Amy had.

Amy with her perfect quarterback of a boyfriend and her sky blue Cinderella gown had been everything her mother might have hoped for. Julie on the other hand…

Mrs. Hamden had been grumbling for days about how Julie had insisted on making her own dress, and worse yet, she still hadn’t gotten herself a date. Things had been on red-alert levels of desperation when he’d come over for dinner one night and Mrs. Hamden suddenly had the brilliant idea of fixing them up.

For Chase it had been no big deal. A night with Julie would be fun. But ever since the matter had been decided, Julie insisted on reminding him he didn’t have to go. No, really, he didn’t.

“Okay, I’m coming out now. If you laugh, I’m going to punch you.”

“Okay.”

The door creaked open and the girl who stepped out was not, in fact, Julie Hamden.

Julie Hamden had wild honey-colored hair and  ill-fitting retro clothes. Julie Hamden was a girl, his best friend’s kid sister.

But the woman in front of him wore a sleek form-fitting red gown that flared out just above her ankles, her golden hair tumbling over her shoulders to accentuate the off-the shoulder cut of her sleeves.

Chase swallowed hard. “You made that dress?”

She nodded. “First dress I ever made.”

“Good job.”

“Thanks.” She smiled, and his heart pounded in his chest.

“You really don’t have to do this,” she said again.

But it was too late. And for the first time?

He knew he should have listened.

If she'd thought the inside of the house would be any better than the outside, she was quickly corrected. Aside from a small space inside the foyer, there were only walking paths cleared from one room to the next. Other than that, junk littered the place from floor to ceiling.

Boxes, old stuffed animals, gardening equipment that had clearly never been used--it was all there. And god only knew what else she couldn't see.

"Mom has been
living
in this?" Julie turned to find her brother leaning against the door. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought he was seeing the place for the first time, too. He looked so sad as he surveyed it, rubbing his scruffy chin as he looked around.

"Only recently. We tackled the bedrooms first. Want to see yours?" He nodded toward the stairs in front of her which were mercifully clean save for the years of wear on the dark red carpet.

"I'm not sure I can take it, truth be told." She took a deep breath, thinking of the room she'd had when they'd lived in this house.

Back then, the place had been like something out of a
Home and Garden
Magazine. All old mahogany fixtures and ancient built-in carvings. Sure, they were probably still here...somewhere. But her room? With its worn white trim and its rickety closet? With the tiny white rocking chair in the corner and the light pink blanket Gran had knitted for her...

It'd hurt to see all that wasted now.

All those memories lost in the muck.

"I handled it myself. Come on." Luke moved past her and started up the creaking stairs, so she gripped her suitcase tighter and followed him.

"I can't believe she managed to do all this in two years. She must have been some kind of super-hoarder." When Julie reached the top of the stairs, she paused and looked from side to side. The avalanche of rubbish was apparently exclusive to the downstairs. Here, things were almost exactly the way she remembered.

Her grandmother's prized oriental carpet still ran down the hall, and the dry sink she used to keep plants in was there, though devoid of its usual violets.In front of Julie, just beside the bathroom, was her own chipped white door.

Luke turned the glass knob and led her inside.

And that's when the tears pricked her eyes.

It was here. All of it. The walls had the same gaudy rose wallpaper Gran had put up when she found out they were coming to live there. She'd picked it out just for Julie, who always loved helping her in the rose garden.

The rocker was there, too. And her afghan. She hefted her bag onto the tiny twin bed, the ancient springs sighing with the pressure.

She took a deep breath, and when she was sure the tears had subsided, she turned to Luke and asked, "You did this?"

He nodded. "I think this is how it was."

"It is. It's...perfect. Beyond perfect. It must have taken you forever."

He speared a hand through his hair, the side of his mouth tilting in a modest smile. "Anything for my baby sister, I guess. Anyway, it was no big deal. You should probably find Mom and catch up. I've got to hit the road."

"But I just got here. You can't, I don't know, hang out? Just for a while?"

"Can't." He glanced at his shoes for a second, and then met her gaze. "The bar'll be opening in a few hours and I'm already late. I'm shocked Chase hasn't called me already."

"Oh, right." She swallowed, then nodded solemnly, trying to ignore the way her heart had turned over in her chest at the name.

Even after all this time...

She shook her head. If she was going to be home, she had to deal with the eventuality of Chase Westmore and everything that came with him. She had to be a good sister and talk about her brother's bar...even if she didn't particularly want to know about who helped him run it.

"How is that going, by the way?” She braced herself, then added, "You know, with Chase?"

"Good. We're still fixing it up, but we're getting there. People seem to like the small town feel, even if we are sort of a hole in wall."

"I'm sure you're not," she lied. In truth, she couldn't figure out how they could be anything
but
a hole in the wall. Back when the place had belonged to old Sully, it had smelled so strongly of smoke that nobody wanted to live within a block of the place. And the decor...

Well, the one time she'd ever dared to enter the place, there had been a running motif of green shag carpeting. Even in the bathroom.

Luke shrugged. "Well, you oughta come down tonight and see the place for yourself. I'm sure Chase wouldn't mind catching up."

I wouldn't be so sure...

"Sure, I'll think about it." She nodded, and then he left, closing the door softly behind him.

She sat on the bed beside her suitcase and let out one prolonged sigh as she sorted through all her problems.

Not only had she lost her job, her boyfriend, her designs, and (more than likely) her career, but now she had to figure out how to avoid her brother's best friend while also attempting to support Luke's dreams.

In her pocket, she felt her phone buzzing, but she pulled it out and tossed it onto the rocker. It made a stomach-turning sound, but she'd check to see if she'd ruined it later. For now, she just had to relax. Accept her situation.

She reached into her satchel and pulled out the pack of Lucky Strikes.

For a few moments, she twirled the little box between her fingers, staring at the logo.

Screw it.

She pulled a cigarette from the package, stuck it between her lips and then began searching for the matches.

* * *

"
W
here the hell
have you been?" Chase Westmore asked the question as soon as the chime on the door sounded.

He didn't have to look up to know that his no-good partner was walking toward him, already an hour late for his shift.

"Sorry, something came up."

"Well, something came up here, too. The nozzle on the damn nitrogen canister is busted. We're fucked if we don't get another in here." He leaned on the tap, then looked up to find Luke staring at him, looking even worse for wear than usual.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Amy didn't show. I'm not sure if she's going to at all. If she doesn't..." He shook his head. "Anyway, I'm sorry. We don't need to call anyone. I had the installation guy leave a spare pressure valve. It’s in the back."

"Oh. Well, good." Chase let out a deep breath, then leaned on the back of the bar. "I'm sure Amy will show. She's not a flake."

"No, she's just been weird lately."

"Well, you're one to talk," Chase said, and his friend didn't bother arguing. Ever since they'd finished renovating, Luke had been a ghost of himself. Drifting through the tasks, mumbling to the customers, and serving as a general killjoy.

He might have thought it was the stress of managing his grandmother's old place with just his mother and himself to do all the heavy lifting, but now that Amy was coming home to help, Chase would have thought things would be getting better instead of worse.

"So..." Chase glanced at the bar top. He'd already polished it this morning, but something told him Luke might speak a little easier if he didn't feel all of Chase's attention on him.

He reached for a rag and moved toward the wood, waxing on and off in true Karate Kid style.

"I hesitate to ask since it seems like you've been hiding a body, but if Amy didn't show, then what made you late?"

"Julie."

Chase paused, and when Luke spoke again, it sounded farther away somehow.

"Amy was supposed to pick her up, but--"

He couldn't help it. He turned to face Luke. "I didn't think Julie was coming. You never mentioned--"

"Probably because Julie needs less wrangling than Amy. She's always late, but at least she doesn't call every five minutes with changes and updates."

Chase swallowed, then forced himself to focus on the bar top again. This time, though, it was as much to benefit himself as Luke. Any chance to hide his expression when talking about his best friend's sister was generally a good thing. "What could Julie possibly help with? Last I checked, she was hardly the handy type."

"She's not a kid any more. She can clean and do yard work like the rest of us. I think Mom would take just about any help she can get. The house is starting to get to her."

"I get that." Chase frowned, thinking of the way it had been when he'd cleaned out his mother's house. Running across all the tiny things that brought memories back like a sucker punch. Luke had helped him, of course.

And so had Julie.

But that had been a very long time ago.

Tell us Luke starts cleaning here somewhere

"So, how is she?" Chase glanced behind him, watching as Luke Windexed the wide bar mirror that had "Old Sully's" etched across it in garish swirly font.

"Julie? She's fine, I guess. We didn't talk much."

Chase nodded. He should let the subject drop. They had more important things to talk about. Staff schedules to go over, kitchen complaints to manage, and still...

Something was niggling at him. "That's unusual, isn't it? A quiet Julie?"

"I guess," Luke said nonchalantly.

How did it not matter to him? How did he not find it even the least bit strange that his chatty, effervescent sister apparently sat beside him the whole drive home in silence?

Chase opened his mouth, trying to find a casual way to pose his question, but Luke beat him to the punch.

"We didn't have much time to talk, yet. She might come over, tonight, though. I told her about the renovations." For a split second, Chase thought he heard a faint chuckle, and then Luke went on, "I don't think she believes we made the place nice."

"I wouldn't either. Remember all that shag carpet?" Chase shook his head.

"I remember all the cigarette butts we found in it." Luke sniffed. "Damn, am I glad that's over with."

"You're telling me." Chase agreed, then glanced around the little pub.

It was still a little dingy, truth be told, but that was part of the place's charm. The dark brick walls and original glass windows hardly let in any light, but the overhead twinkle lights added some more.

The woodwork, though, was what made the place impressive.

Luke had refinished every plank himself while Chase had built their stools from scraps. Pool tables lined the back wall where the long 1800's bar ended, and on the other side were high-top tables made from found wood and metal.

Yup, the place was a little dark and a little old, but it was theirs. And, in Chase's opinion, it was perfect.

"You think she'll be impressed?" Chase asked.

"You hoping to impress her?" Luke asked, and when Chase met his friend’s gaze, he found him staring back with raised eyebrows.

"Don't be stupid." Chase laughed, though it sounded uneasy even to himself. "I just thought you'd want to show the place off to your family."