Page 23 of Dirty Secret

"Yes. Kat and I enjoyed ourselves as well."

What riveting conversation. Why was I having so much trouble speaking to her like a woman I wanted to understand? For months, I had been fascinated by Heidi. Now that I was standing a few feet from her, I could barely keep her gaze, let alone hold anything but a stilted conversation.

Ever since Heidi and I kissed, worry seemed to guide my movements when it came to her.

Fear of all the regrets. Not that I had any, but that Heidi had doubts upon doubts upon doubts.

And why wouldn't she? I barely made enough to support my family. And I lied. Our whole relationship was built on a made-up number—twenty thousand one-dollar falsehoods.

"It sure is a hot one today." Heidi waved back at the street behind us.

More of our witty banter. But it was time for me to let her know how I felt.

"You're right. I am horrible."

I refused to let her put up with someone like me any longer. Gnawing on my bottom lip, I found the courage to take my eyes off that damn planter and find her innocent hazel eyes.

Heidi tilted her head. "I never said you were horrible, Max."

Sucking in the thick, warm air of a late May afternoon, I took a step toward her. I wanted her to know how much I regretted my lies as I placed my hands on her shoulders. The steady grip, that inferred seriousness weakened as the softness of her skin was too much to resist. My thumb circled her shoulder and with a bolt of awareness, I realized she still smelled of cinnamon.

"I've watched you too," Heidi said softly.

Swallowing, I wondered if I misheard her. "What?"

"You said back at my place how I was hard to miss, but if we are both being totally honest today, then you should know . . ." Heidi stared at my mouth.

"Know what?"

My blood pumped fast and zeroed in on one location, between my legs. I adjusted my feet in hopes to reposition the growth behind my shorts.

"That—" Heidi was cut off by burly sounds of a man overrun by two little tyrants.

"Max, was it all right that I gave Kat's friend a cookie? Oh, I didn't realize you were with someone."

My father appeared in the doorway, his hand gripping the edge. His smile broadened as he noticed Heidi. His eagerness to bewitch a lady on full display as he offered her his suave smile. "I'm Tom Brighton, and whom might you be?"

"My name's Heidi White, Mr. Brighton. I live right around the corner from here."

Folding my arms, I waited for his usual compliments about her charm and beauty. Then, he would cap off with the tale about how he once saved a small woodland creature from almost certain death. Being with my father at the time, he only slowed his truck so he didn't run over a squirrel.

But there was no story, no praise for Heidi. My father's blue eyes flickered to me. It seemed he was trying to explain something with his stare. I shook my head in confusion. He probably wanted me to run to the store and pick up some more hemorrhoid cream.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. White. And you live right around the corner? What a small world." All graciousness in my father's features dissolved, replacing his cheerfulness with tight lips and clenched teeth.

I was about to ask my father if he was well when he abruptly grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. "Excuse us, Ms. White. The kids are watching a show in the family room." He pointed down the hallway. "Max and I need to discuss something personal."

Heidi nodded and stepped past us. My eyes drifted to admire the perfect fit of her jean shorts as she walked toward the sound of animation. Clearing his throat, my father motioned for me to follow him upstairs. Once I arrived on the top floor, I trailed him into his bedroom.

"Do you have any idea who that is, Max?" my father whispered after he closed his door.

I stood in the middle of the small, square bedroom with one twin-sized bed and one oak end table.

"Yes, it's Heidi White. I am replacing the pipes in her home. I've told you about her."

His clasped his head as if it was about to break into pieces. "I had no idea you meant that Heidi White. Why didn't you tell me it was her?"

My father had never been one for dramatics, so this burst of theatrics was both surprising and concerning.

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