The Real Thing (Sugar Lake #1)



WILLOW TEXTED HER family before they left the resort to let them know they’d clear everything up when they arrived. They hadn’t responded, which she took as a comforting sign, but Zane was so quiet on the way home he made Willow even more nervous. He was never quiet. She’d been surprised to learn he didn’t have a car with him at the resort, but she shouldn’t have been. He’d planned to spend the next two weeks in Sweetwater, which meant he had probably planned to drive back with her. It was all part of his big plan. She’d never known him to be a planner, but he seemed to have thought out just about everything to substantiate this shenanigan, with the exception of the guilt that went along with it. She realized that was probably why he was quiet, and it endeared him to her even more.

As the miles passed and they turned off the highway toward Sweetwater, the usual sense of calm her hometown brought evaded her. Zane’s leg began bouncing repeatedly, another of his nervous habits. She’d forgotten about that one.

“You look even more nervous than me. You okay?” Willow asked.

“Yeah. Just thinking about Ben.” He raised one shoulder in a half shrug.

She curled her fingers tightly around the steering wheel. Of course he was thinking about Ben. It was anyone’s guess how her older brother would react to their news. Despite Zane’s claim that Willow knew him better than anyone, she believed Ben knew him better. They were too close for him not to have shared his sexual conquests with her brother, and Ben was more than a little protective of his sisters. Willow was glad she didn’t know all of Zane’s secrets. Just thinking about him and other women made her feel a little sick. She’d been pretty good about not thinking about it over the years, but this fake engagement made her feel possessive of him in ways she probably shouldn’t. Where did a person in a fake relationship draw their boundary lines?

“Maybe because you spend your life acting,” she suggested, not unkindly. “And we’re the one family you’ve never had to act around?”

He rested his head back, and a genuine smile, which was a world away from his mischievous or seductive smiles, slid across his face. He looked so real, Willow almost reached for his hand.

“Yeah. I think you nailed it, babe.”

She slowed the car as they entered the narrow cobblestone streets of Sweetwater, which was located at the base of the Silver Mountains. Sugar Lake came into view, and as she turned onto the main drag, driving by the old-fashioned storefronts she adored, she thought of the seasonal festivals and community events she loved so much. But as she drove parallel to the lake, she had the urge to flee. Being on her turf made their situation even more real, and her stomach clenched tight.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked to distract herself.

“Anything.”

“Don’t say that. There are things I don’t want to know.”

He laughed. “Fair enough. You can ask me anything you want to know the answer to.” He reached across the car and kneaded the tension that had settled in her shoulders.

He knew her so well, and his touch felt incredible. She could get used to this. For a couple of weeks, anyway. “You know how you call me babe and sweetheart . . . ?”

“Let’s not forget sweet cheeks.” He smirked.

“I’d rather forget that one.”

“Admit it, you love that one the most.”

His hand circled the back of her neck, massaging the knots at the base, and she heard herself moan. She clenched her mouth shut against the telling sound.

“Ah,” he said. “Looks like I hit your sweet spot.”

She glared at him.

“Admit it, Wills. I know how to hit all your sweet spots.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Hey. No more eye rolls, remember?”

“I remember,” she said in a singsong voice. “Can we get back to my question?” She turned down the road that led to her parents’ house and felt like the elephant in the room had settled on her chest. “Why do you call women by those names?”

“What names?”

He stopped rubbing her neck but kept his hand there. His skin was so hot it felt like he was branding her with his handprint.

“Um. Babe, sweetheart, those kinds of names.”

He began massaging her neck again, and despite her resolve to remain detached, his touch brought a world of comfort.

“Then maybe I asked the wrong question,” he said, his hand stilling again. “What women are you talking about?”

She pulled onto her parents’ long driveway and parked behind her siblings’ cars. At least she had a clear path for an escape if things went poorly. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Wills, you need to clue me in. Who do you think I call those names? I try not to call women much of anything other than their names.”

Searching his eyes for the truth, she’d swear it was staring back at her. “That doesn’t make any sense. You call me everything but my name most of the time.”

He shoved his door open and stepped from the car. “Stop picking me apart and let’s get this over with.” He came around and offered her his hand. “Come on, baby cakes. Let’s go show your family how in lust we are.”

Lust? That was easy, but fooling her parents into thinking they’d been secretly dating all this time? Not so much. “This is not going to be a walk in the park.”

“Nothing worth its salt ever is.” He motioned toward her parents’ two-story white Victorian. “Ah, the Grand Lady. She still looks as beautiful as ever.”

Her father had given their five-bedroom house that name because it sat high on a hill at the end of a cul-de-sac, as if it were watching over the other houses on the street. From Willow’s childhood bedroom on the second floor, she could see all the way down to Sugar Lake. The house wasn’t enormous, but it was big by Sweetwater standards and sat on three acres of land.

“My parents are talking about selling again. Maybe you can help talk them out of it while you’re here. They’re back to complaining about how big it is, and the upkeep.”

“It is too big for them, babe.”

She sighed. “I know, but I have so many good memories. It would make me sad to see it leave our family.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, and slid his arm around her waist, holding her tight.

She didn’t even try to fight it. She was getting used to being attached to him at the hip, and right then she needed every bit of support she could get.