Filthy Lies Page 9

  "Did you hurt your hand, Miss Winter?" the little girl asked curiously with a gentle pat on the bandage. The boy, Shane, looked up at her expectantly from the other side. Both of them rushed toward her the moment we walked into the large room full of homeless and otherwise, people living out the not-so-great American dream and scarfing down free turkey and stuffing. The kids were cute, in a disheveled way. They appeared mostly clean, but there was definitely a look of neglect about them. They looked like children who didn't have anyone taking care of them, which was probably pretty accurate from what Winter had told me. How do they get here? Safely? They're so…small.

  I watched as she gave them hugs, and then bustled them over to what looked like a classroom of sorts—probably where kids did their homework when they used the center after school. There was a poster of multiplication facts, and a few others with things like basic grammar rules and the periodic table stuck to the walls. Plastic tubs with pencils and crayons, and what I guessed were art supplies, were stacked neatly on a rolling cart. The whiteboard had a smiling turkey drawn on it with HAPPY THANKSGIVING written as a greeting. Despite the shabbiness of the space, it was comfortable, and probably a much more enticing place to be than wherever the kids "lived" with their train-wreck "families."

  Winter seemed to be going for somewhere a little more private and away from where people were eating as she sat on a sofa and settled the kids on either side of her. She placed the container of cookies on the small table in front of the sofa but didn't open it.

  "Yes, I had an accident in my kitchen last night, and that's why I'm late today. My friend helped me get here, because I promised to bring you something." The kids looked at me in acknowledgement as I gave them a smile and a clown wave. They turned their attention right back to Winter as if to say, yeah, you brought her to us, and now your work is done, buddy.

  "What did you do?" Shane asked.

  "I burned my hand on a hot pan and also cut myself with a sharp knife," Winter answered honestly. She censored her story enough to convey the facts without making it sound too terrifying. I was impressed with how good she was at communicating with six-year-old humans, if I remembered their age correctly.

  Someday she will make an amazing mom.

  My father's edict crashed into my peaceful observations unwanted, stealing the good thoughts away from me. I hated that he held the power to ruin something pure and good in an instant.

  Don't let him.

  "Your kitchen is a very dangerous place, Miss Winter," Brenna said, her brother nodding vigorously in agreement. It certainly was last night, kid. "Did your boyfriend put this on you?" she asked, touching the bandage with the tip of her finger.

  "Oh, he's not—" Winter blushed as we shared brief eye contact. "My f-friend, Mr. James took me to the doctor who put it on me." She focused her attention back on the children and their questions, but I could tell she was flustered.

  Winter flustered…another fucking turn-on. God.

  I also had a craving for Brenna's innocent comment to be true.

  If two little kids were making her nervous asking if we were a couple, then whatever shit my father might insinuate later on today might send her screaming for the hills. She would need reassuring. And I would give it to her.

  "Well, he's a boy." Brenna gave me a sideways glance. "And you said he's your friend, so he's your boyfriend, right?" This small girl was not going to let it go apparently.

  Winter still looked beautifully flustered, and my cock was still throbbing when I decided to take control of the situation. "That's right. I am her boyfriend."

  "My mommy has boyfriends, but not a nice man like you."

  Her comment delivered a blow that hit me right in the heart. "How do you know I'm a nice man?" I asked.

  "You don't yell, and you talk in a good way to Miss Winter." Winter and I shared a glance, both of us probably thinking about the reasons she would frame her evaluation of my "niceness" in such a way. Probably didn't have much experience with men speaking in a "good" way if what Winter suspected about the mom was true. I couldn't imagine Brenna and Shane, two innocent kids with their whole lives ahead of them, being subjected to such desperate conditions, but it was staring me right in the face regardless. Life was a shitty existence for more people than it was a good one.

  "Is your mom here with you?" I wanted to get a look at this woman and make up my own mind.

  "She brought us for the Thanksgiving but she had to go to her job. She'll come back when her job is over." Shane volunteered the information as if he'd already answered the question more than once today. It didn't take a genius to figure out what kind of "job" his mother was doing either. Selling herself to some degenerate pig…one fuck or blow job at a time. The whole situation was so wrong.

  "Well, I'm glad I got the chance to meet you both today. Miss Winter really wanted to make sure you got your special gift she made for you guys."

  "The chocolate-chip cookies?" he asked with a big smile.

  "That's right," Winter answered as she opened the box and offered them each a cookie.

  Their eyes lit up when they bit into the delicious treat. I knew how good Winter's cookies tasted, but it was almost sad seeing these two enjoying something as simple as a homemade cookie. Such a small thing, but so very important to Winter to do for two neglected children with a very dim future based on their current situation. I totally got where her drive to help came from now. She had such a big heart, and I was completely content to watch the three of them as they ate cookies and talked together. She is such a beautiful sight.

  "Do either of you know how to use your mom's cell phone?" she asked nonchalantly.

  "She showed us how to do 911 on it," Brenna offered.

  "But she said only call it in a 'mergency." Shane nodded seriously as he chewed a mouthful of cookie.

  "That's good you know how to use her phone. In the cookie box is an envelope with a card for your mom. I gave her my number in case you ever need some help, or if you get scared sometime, you can call me." She smiled gently. "Can you make sure your mom gets the envelope from me?"

  The kids both said yes and continued focusing on their biggest priority—stuffing their faces with as many chocolate-chip cookies as possible.

  "In the envelope is something else for your mom."

  "What is it?" Brenna asked.

  "It's grown-up stuff for her, but it's really important that you don't lose it…or show it to anyone else but your mom."

  Both kids listened, watching intently as she drew out a small blue envelope from the side of the cookie box. She pointed to the phone number written in black marker across the front. "That's my phone number, and we're going to play a number game with it in a minute, but first I want to see who has the best pockets."

  She made a big show of looking them both over before deciding that Brenna had a button pocket in the skirt of her dress. "We're going to have Brenna carry this important envelope in her dress pocket where it will be safe until your mom comes to get you. When you are home, you can give it to her and tell her it's from me, but keep it in Brenna's pocket until you're home with your mom, okay?"

  "We will," they both answered in unison.

  She smiled at both of them and asked, "Who wants to play the phone number game? First one to learn my phone number by heart gets to be Snack Assistant for a week."

  The next minutes were spent watching Winter work her magic, teaching two six-year-olds her phone number. Creatively. In less than fifteen minutes, both could recite it from memory perfectly. My God, Winter had some serious skills. She was a true kid-whisperer. I dearly hoped neither of them would ever need to call her for help, but it was comforting to know they had a way to find her if they needed to. Although, that almost put the fear of God in my heart, because if they did call…Winter would go to them.

  After we left the youth center, it was a bit of a drive to Weston where my parents lived in a big fucking house that I tried to avoid as much as possible. Winter was quiet in the
seat beside me, looking and smelling divine, but I sensed something was bothering her.

  "Everything okay?"

  "Yeeesss," she said slowly from where she was looking out of the window.

  "Not very convincing, Win. You just told me a straight-up lie. Now you're going to tell me what's wrong."

  She kept her eyes trained out the window at the autumn landscape as we flew along I-90 toward Weston.

  "Winter?"

  "I did something I wasn't supposed to do with Shane and Brenna." She sounded worried.

  "What, giving out your phone number to a kid is a crime now?"

  "No, giving them my phone number was fine."

  "Then what was so wrong?"

  She paused, her facial expression definitely etched with guilt and stress. "I gave them money. Inside the envelope was a gift card to Target and some money for their mom," she said in a small voice. "You know, so she could buy them some shoes that fit and don't have holes in the soles, and warm clothes…and new coats."

  "Oh." On the surface it didn't seem like it was that big of an infraction, but in any business operating with government funds, the rules were hard and fast. "How much money did you put in the envelope?"

  "All of the cash I had in my wallet."

  "Which was how much, Win?" She didn't want to tell me...

  She sighed heavily and then she answered. "Two hundred and some odd dollars."

  "Shit."

  "I know."

  "And the gift card was for how much?" I asked.

  She sighed heavily before answering. "Five."

  "Please tell me you mean 'five' as in the number of fingers on one hand." I knew it wouldn't be as soon as the words left my mouth.

  "Hundred." She wiped under her eye as if she might be brushing away a tear. "It's just…they need help so badly, and the rules make it next to impossible for me to do anything for them that might actually do some good. I have money, far more than one person could ever need, and I could put some of it to good use if my hands weren't tied working within the stupid system." She sighed heavily and threw her head back into the headrest of the seat. "I fucking hate it."

  "So, if you had the opportunity to do your own thing, what would it be?" I asked the question, but I had a pretty good idea where this was going.

  "I would start my own program for mothers and children—something like a private shelter where the decisions wouldn't be dictated by a governmental agency, but guided by a board of directors with the same vested interests as mine. Essentially, I'd be able to help whomever I wanted to help." Which she would.

  "So, what do you need in order to start up something like that?"

  "I'll be qualified with the state in a matter of months, and could therefore run the shelter, but the only thing I don't have is the money. I need my trust fund money, but I can't touch it for six more years."

  I know how to get you your money. My heart started thumping hard in my chest as I connected the dots. "Have you spoken to Caleb about your idea?"

  She shook her head. "I've thought about it, but I know he's really busy with running the bulk of everything, plus now he has Brooke. He's just been so happy for the first time in forever, so I've left him alone to enjoy it."

  "I am sure he would be willing to help you get something started." Or I could.

  "I know he would, but this is something I want to do on my own, you know? For once I'd like to be able to do some good without having to answer to some long list of policies and restrictions."

  "You can get into your trust fund before you're thirty." I couldn't believe I was actually going there with her, but once I started speaking the words out loud, it was useless trying to rein them back in. "All you have to do is get married, preferably to someone who doesn't care about your fortune."

  She scoffed as she looked over at me in annoyance. "That's a low blow, even for you, James."

  "I'm not talking about someone like Shelton."

  "Well, unfortunately I haven't found this hypothetical man who would marry me so I could tap into my hundred-million-dollar trust, but not want any of it for himself," she said sarcastically. "Like that guy even exists," she mumbled while shaking her head back and forth.

  "Oh, he definitely exists, Win."

  "And you know this how exactly?"

  "Because that guy is me."

  Chapter Ten

  WINTER

  There was no way he just said that to me.

  Just. No. Way.

  I stared at James, certain my hearing was off from the late night-trip to the ER, and possibly some kind of latent trauma response confusing me.

  "I'm sorry, James, but it sounded like you just offered to marry me so I could access my trust fund." I waited for him to say something but he didn't. He kept his eyes firmly on the road. "But I know that can't possibly be what you said…because…that's just crazy."

  "Is it really that crazy, though?" he asked without looking at me.

  I continued to stare at him for a moment, trying to make sense of the disbelief bouncing around inside my head like a pinball game—complete with sounds. "Yeah, it is totally freaking batshit crazy, James."

  "Okay, you're right, it is a little crazy, but I'd still do it." He finally turned in my direction, nailing me with his gorgeous eyes, appearing completely at ease with his idea. I'd known James a very long time—knew when he was teasing—but he was definitely sincere right now. I couldn't believe it.

  I gulped. "But why would you?"

  "Because there's nobody else in this whole world I want to help more than you." He didn't hesitate for even a second.

  "Oh…" My heart gave me a jolt as I comprehended what he really meant. He wouldn't be doing it for any other reason than to help me get access to my money. "So just on paper for legal purposes," I said.

  "Isn't that what you would want, Win, a paper marriage?"

  "Want? Well, no…I definitely haven't dreamed of being married in name only, existing only as a couple on a piece of paper, but I certainly might consider it to be able to put my money to good use without having to wait six long years for it."

  "I can draw up a prenup and have one of the partners present it—protecting your trust, of course—and I'd take no assets upon dissolution."

  Dissolution?

  He means temporary.

  My weary brain finally caught up and figured out precisely what he was suggesting. James wasn't offering anything beyond a marriage on paper, which would grant me access to my trust fund, and then at a later date we would quietly dissolve the marriage. I tried to slow the pounding in my chest, but his actually stung a little. It wouldn't be out of love. "You would do that for me?"

  "I would."

  "What would you get out of it, though?"

  "You," he said simply.

  "What does that even mean, James? I am so confused, and just so you know, suggesting we get married isn't helping my confusion to lessen even a little." It was hard to be mad at him, but I seriously couldn't take any more of his mysterious crap.

  "I know, Win. I realize we need to talk about a lot of things and figure shit out, but I've asked that we not do it today. I know I brought up the marriage thing, and I'm very sorry. My timing is really bad, but can we just put these ideas aside for a few hours and try and enjoy Thanksgiving dinner? We'll work everything out to where you're comfortable with the plan, or we won't do it at all." He reached for my good hand and squeezed it. "I promise. All you have to know right now is that you are very important to me, and I'd never hurt you. I want to spend Thanksgiving with you."

  He pulled into the long private drive that led to the front of his parent's house, pausing in pleading his case so he could park the car. "We're here anyway, so it's a perfect stopping point for this discussion. We will pick it all up later, okay? Can we do that, sweetheart?"

  Whenever he called me sweetheart I melted, so I did the only thing I was capable of doing. I nodded slowly, and gave him my agreement. I didn't know what to say to him anyway. What words
could I possibly use that would clear up the fog that felt like it was growing thicker by the minute.

  Thank you for offering to marry me, James?

  You are the most generous friend ever?

  I just might take you up on your proposal?

  There was only one problem with agreeing to his plan.

  Being married to James in name only would probably kill me.

  Vanessa Blakney had always been lovely and sweet to me. Judge Blakney, on the other hand, gave the impression he might be contemplating roasting you over an open spit and eating you one bite at a time. Seriously, the man gave me the creeps. How he'd fathered such beautiful children like James and Victoria remained a curious mystery. That, and how his wife had managed to stay married to him for thirty-plus years. She had the look of a woman who pretended, almost as if she was on autopilot with her conversations and behaviors. For example, while we were eating, she barely touched her food. It was weird, because it almost felt like she was present for ornamental purposes only, but not supposed to enjoy a meal. Or participate. Still, her love for her children was apparent, and I could tell she was happy to have them home for the day. Victoria's fiancé, Clay, was absent though, something about being away in Europe .

  "I'm so sorry about your accident last night, but we're thrilled you were able to join us for Thanksgiving, dear."

  "Thank you for welcoming me into your beautiful home, but really, James gave me no say in the matter. He colluded with my brother and my mother to keep tabs on me today." I hoped a little teasing might help lighten the mood.

  I glanced at James beside me to find him grinning like a devil. "I know a thing or two about collusion," he said, "and I definitely know how to close a deal."

  No doubt on that point. I think James could get me to do anything by merely asking. I was hopeless when it came to him.