Honest
Greer
How could my response to a simple question make that man even more irritated? Why did he insist on taking me when he clearly can’t stand me?
Why did I say yes? That’s the thing I don’t understand. All it would have taken was a single, determined 'no'. One simple word would have prevented this awkward drive.
Why didn’t I say it?
It makes no sense.
This man makes no sense either, but he’s honest.
That’s why.
I don’t need smiling people telling me everything is going to be all right. I need honesty.
There have been enough men in my life lying to me that they care. Havoc can’t seem to hide a single emotion. It’s oddly comforting knowing exactly where I stand with a man.
“Why would you even say something like that to me, Greer?” Havoc snaps.
“Huh?”
“Why the personal stuff?”
He thought that was personal? I snort.
“Woman. We aren’t friends.”
“Like I haven’t already figured that out?
I didn’t tell you that the only people in my family who have ever cared if I was alive or dead are my grandfather and the family lawyer.
That would have been personal. I told you that I moved here because I liked to see kids play safely.
That doesn’t happen in Urbium.” Why did I say that even though it’s true?
Grandpa only cared because he needed to know there would be an heir to receive his fortune, and Mr. Rothswyler has been taking care of this family forever.
Havoc stares silently out the front windshield. “I moved here to follow the woman who gave birth to Creed. I stayed because it became my home.”
What he didn’t say is glaringly obvious and painful. That woman isn’t Creed’s mother, nor is she part of his life. She destroyed the man sitting next to me. Just like Darrel tried to do with me.
“Just so you know, this still doesn’t make us friends.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Understood. What do you like the best about living in Silent Valley?”
“The people. Sometimes you randomly fall into a place and find people that turn into your family. I couldn’t see myself ever living anywhere else. If the world ever ended, I’d hunker down right here and fight to protect this little corner of the world until the lights went out for the last time.”
“You remind me of my friend Winnie. She’s a fighter and loyal to the death.”
“She?”
“Winnie isn’t a literal fighter. I mean, I can’t see her taking up boxing. Though I’m pretty sure she knows how to defend herself. Winnie doesn’t let anyone push her or her friends around.” She meant it when she offered to take out Darrel, and I love her for that.
“You have an actual female friend?”
“Out of all that, you got that I have a female friend?”
“Women like you don’t have female friends.”
WHAT? “Women like me? You know almost nothing about me. Nor do you know anything about my friends.”
“Oh, don’t even pretend. We both know what kind of woman you are.”
Pretend? “When have I pretended to be anyone but myself? But you don’t know me.”
“I know you. I can see everything I need to know about you. From your twenty-thousand-dollar purse to your watch that probably cost more than this truck, you scream money. The average yearly income in this town is probably close to the outfit you have on. You wear those clothes like they’re a second skin.
Like you’re entitled to always have the best. So yeah, I know exactly who you are, woman. ”
Everyone wears these clothes and has these accessories in my circle of ‘friends’ in Urbium. It’s expected. Why would I think about what I wear? But people obviously are. And they’re deciding they know me based on them.
Wild.
And just a little bit hurtful that he found me lacking because I dress nicely. “There’s nothing wrong with wearing nice clothes.” Why did I feel the need to defend myself?
“No, there isn’t.”
We pull into a parking lot and stop. When Creed said this guy was opposed to technology, he didn’t mention that nothing at all was updated.
Chic stores in the city spend money on antiques like they have here, but I don’t think these were antiques when they were bought.
“Does he even have refrigerators in his store?”
“Yeah, though Timmons wasn’t happy about buying them. They’re about the only thing he has inside that isn’t at least forty years old.”
I can believe that. “Thank you for the ride. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
Havoc opens the door like he’s going to join me.
He makes no sense, hating me one minute and shopping with me the next. I open the door and hop out of the SUV before he makes it to the front.
Havoc gives me an eyebrow raise.
Did he really expect me to wait for him to come around and open the door?
“Woman, you make no sense.” He walks next to me.
“Me? You think I make no sense?”
An old man opens the door, stepping out to hold it for us.
“Morning, Mr. Timmons.”
“Morning, Havoc. How is that boy of yours?”
“Good.”
“Thought you taught him manners.” Mr. Timmons doesn’t hold back, does he?
Uh-oh. “Havoc would have opened the door for me, sir, but I was just so excited to see your store, I couldn’t wait for him to come around.” Why did I stand up for a man who hates me?
“And who are you?” Mr. Timmons gives me a narrow-eyed look.
“My name is Greer Hestons. I moved in next door to Havoc and Creed. Havoc, like the wonderful neighbor he is—” Don’t smirk at the massive lie that just came out of your mouth. “—offered to show me where your store was.”
“Haven’t met many kinder souls in my life than Havoc.”
Are we talking about the tall, tattooed, grumpy man standing next to me? Because kind really doesn’t seem to suit him. “He told me all about your store, and I just couldn’t wait to see it. The décor is amazing.”
“My late wife did it before our boys were born. She picked every piece in here. I don’t know what I would have done without her.” Mr. Timmons must miss his wife badly.
“She had amazing taste. She must be sorely missed, but being surrounded by her love must be of a little comfort.”
He nods. “It surely is. You two have a nice little browse. I’ll be at the front register when you’re ready.”
“Why did you do that?” Havoc whispers as Mr. Timmons walks away.
“Do what?” I grab a wicker basket and put its handles over my arm.
“There are carts in the corner.” Havoc nods to the three carts lined up neatly against the wall. “And you know exactly what I mean.”
Sadly, I do. “Because you love living here.” And I wouldn’t want Mr. Timmons to know what a grump you are. “A cart won’t be necessary. I don’t really need much. I just wanted to get a feel for shopping.”
“It boggles my mind that a woman your age—”
“Excuse me?” There are insults, and then there is just plain rudeness. “I have not reached an age to be referred to that way.”
Havoc grins. “You should definitely think about grabbing some cake, but they aren’t as good as The Cake Lady’s.”
No one’s is as good as Cordelia’s.
“Have you been to the coffee shop and tried her cakes yet? They are worth moving to Silent Valley for.”
I tried the first cakes Cordelia made when she invited us back to her home for school breaks. “I’m not in the mood for cake.” Why settle when I can have the best anytime I want?
“You don’t answer questions that you don’t want to, do you?” Havoc reaches over and takes the basket from my hands.
“Why should I?”
He chuckles, “So that I know if you’re biddable or stubborn.”
“Isn’t every woman a little of both? When we trust you, we’re easy-going and comfortable. When we want something, we’re determined to get our own way.”
“When doesn’t a woman want something?”
Really? He really said that out loud to a woman? I can’t help but smile. “That’s fair. Though what some of us want might surprise you.”
“What do you want? A diamond necklace?”
It’s my turn to chuckle. I have dozens of those in the family vault. Grandfather doesn’t trust banks as much as you’d think, considering how much money he has in some of them. “Doesn’t every woman?” I reach over and pick up a block of cheese that I’ve never seen before.
Havoc stops. “You don’t.”
“Have you had this before?” Green cheese is a little off-putting.
“Sure. Those are diced herbs and green onions. There’s also bacon and cherries mixed in. It’s made on a farm a little over an hour from here.”
“Wait, you know where the cheese came from?” Havoc doesn’t seem to be the type to be bougie or crunchy enough to know where his cheese comes from.
“They came in and gave out samples a few years ago. Since then, they’ve been one of Creed’s favorites.” He takes a block and sticks it in my basket. “You can thank me after you try it.”
“Too much cheese isn’t good for you.”
“That reminds me, we need to head to the chip aisle.” Havoc skips past the fresh fruits and vegetables and heads right for the junk food.
“Now we know you like orange chips.” He pulls a bag off the shelf.
“But do you like spice? Because if so, these jalapeno ones will change your life. They’re another local brand. ”
“Maybe I was wrong, and you are crunchy.” It’s weird to say that a tatted-up man who rides a motorcycle is crunchy. “But you eat pizza.”
“Woman, I’m not crunchy.”
“But you know where your food comes from.” I grin at him.
“Don’t irritate me.”
“Why not? It’s kind of fun. If I can’t be your friend, I might as well irritate you whenever I can for my own entertainment.” Why do I feel the need to prod this man?
“You have a weird sense of humor.” He quirks an eyebrow at me.
“So?”
“How are you and your lady getting on?” Mr. Timmons steps into the aisle. “Need help finding anything?”
I twist my body slightly and bite back a giggle.
“We’re just fine, thank you, Mr. Timmons.”
As soon as he walks away, I turn back.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because he thinks we’re dating.” I can’t stop the giggle.
“And why is that so funny?”
“Like I would ever date you.”
Havoc frowns.
Can’t he see how ridiculous the idea is?
“Why wouldn’t you date me?”
Other than the fact that you hate me. “Not only aren’t you my type—”
“What exactly is your type? Rich?”
More money is the last thing I need. We could live off the interest on the interest of my money for generations.
“No.” What is my type? It’s definitely not a man like Darrel.
“He’d need to be intelligent, sensitive, thoughtful, a little bit nerdy…
maybe more cerebral than nerdy. Kind…dating a kind man is important. And loyal.”
Havoc snorts.
“What? I know a man like that is probably impossible to find. They only live in books.”
“They’re real. They’re just picky about the women they choose to spend their time with.”
Are they really? Darrel sure didn’t seem to be. Then again, he was none of those things. “I’m ready to check out.”
“Is that your way of avoiding the conversation?”
Absolutely. “I have plans this afternoon.”
He nods but doesn’t look convinced.
“If I didn’t want to be here, I’d just leave.
” Which is true. I could call Cordelia and she’d drop everything to pick me up.
Bram might even do the same, but I wouldn’t ask that of him.
We’re just barely becoming friends. I walk towards the front counter, not waiting to see if Havoc is ready or not.
We’ve shared way too many truths, and he’s been far too grumpily honest for me to want to spend much more time with him.
My hormones are starting to kick in enough that if he says something else mean, I just might cry.
Havoc sets the basket on the countertop.
Mr. Timmons walks over and says, “That all for you two?”
“Yes, thank you. But don’t you worry, I’ll be back again soon. Your store is wonderful.” Which it really is. I wish I had taken more time looking at it than I did ‘talking’ to Havoc.
“I’ll look forward to seeing both of you again. That will be eighteen dollars.” Mr. Timmons didn’t even look at the antique register, which seems to be there only to make change. He did all the math in his head.
Wild. “Where’s your credit card machine?” I slip my card out and wait for him to pull out a phone or grab a machine from under the counter.
“No machine.” Mr. Timmons nods to a sign on the door that says cash only.
Why did I not think about that? Because I can’t remember the last time I paid cash for anything. Literally, anything.
What am I going to do?