Page 31 of Unlikely You

Over the next few days,Honey tried to draw me into conversation, both in person and via messages. I ignored most of it or gave noncommittal answers, but she didn’t stop trying.

This woman was relentless. If I hadn’t agreed to go to lunch with her, I’d hate to see what she would have unleashed on me.

No one had ever pursued me this way before. Not even in a romantic way, and I didn’t think this was that. I didn’t know what Honey’s motives were, other than feeling bad about what happened at Sapph, but she couldn’t be doing all this just for that. It almost felt like she’d decided I was a project and she was going to work on me relentlessly.

If Honey attacked business the same way she attacked me, her family was going to be successful.

Trying to ignore her at the marketplace was next to impossible now. I’d feel someone’s eyes on me and glance over to find her smiling at me, her dimples popping in her cheeks. I still wanted to stick my tongue in them and now the urge was even worse. Other urges were constant. No matter what I did, I couldn’t put a lid on the fantasies of getting her naked. Of digging my fingers into her skin. Of taking her apart and seeing what she was made of at her basest level. To make her come until she cried. To literally fuck all night until we couldn’t move anymore, and I knew her inside and out.

Sex, in my past, had been a quick and casual thing. I’d known intrinsically that the kinds of desires I had weren’t always the same as other people. That some of the things I wanted weren’t the kinds of things you were supposed to discuss in polite company.

Sure, most people were fine with a few little spanks or some mild domination, but what I wanted went deeper than that and the things I wanted sometimes scared me. And then there was my other problem on top of that. So sex had never felt right for me and I’d kind of given up on pursuing it.

Honey would never be into the kinds of things I liked. Honey was the kind of woman who wanted to have a soft and sweet orgasm on a cloud. Lots of little kisses and praise. I could picture her on a white bed with too many soft pillows.

I didn’t do cute sex.

It was a moot point because I wasn’t going to be having sex of any kind with Honey Beatrix Holloway. I hated that I knew her middle name. I also hated the way my brain had started calling her “Honey Bea” and how I couldn’t seem to stop.

It was harder to ignore her when she sent me messages. Melliferal had been kind of quiet and distracted for a few days, so I guess I needed to meet my quota of human interaction and Honey was the only taker.

After much back and forth, I agreed to go to lunch with her on Tuesday at the pier. The weather was supposed to be absolutely gorgeous. Seventy-two and sunny the entire day. It was also good because I wouldn’t be forced to sit at a table across from her the whole time. There would be other distractions.

“See you on Tuesday,” she sang at me on Sunday evening when we were packing up from the marketplace. I shoved everything into the wheeled cart that I used to bring everything to my car. I thought about waving to her with only one of my fingers but I didn’t. I just did a grunt and nod, which made her smile and flutter her fingers in a little wave.

It wasn’t just Honey that I’d had to avoid the past few days. Oh no. Her family had started paying far too much attention to me. Especially the youngest one. The boy wasn’t around, so at least it was one less person, but I absolutely caught the parents talking about me in what they thought were hushed voices, but I heard every word. I did my best to ignore it, but all of the attention was getting on my nerves. I was used to being able to come here and focus completely on my business and my customers, but with all this other stuff going on, that was a challenge that I didn’t need.

And then, to make matters worse, I had a hard time keeping my thoughts on my work and almost sewed my fingers together. Twice.

Honey Holloway and her family were physically and mentally dangerous for me. What the hell was I going to do?

If anyone asked,I hadn’t changed my outfit three times before going to meet Honey at the pier. I hadn’t looked at every angle in the mirror to make sure I looked as cute as possible. Most days I barely thought about my clothes, but today I wanted to make an effort. Not because of Honey. Just…because.

Finally, I selected a crocheted crop top that I’d bought on a whim and a pair of distressed jean shorts that made my ass look good. Not that I cared about my ass looking good for Honey. It didn’t matter. The shorts were comfortable. That was all.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail and kept my makeup light, but I never left the house without doing my eyes, and I made an extra effort to make sure my eyeliner was perfect. So sharp you could slice your enemies with it.

I arrived exactly on time to the pier, right at the entrance and looked around. She wasn’t here.

Figured she’d be late.

Sighing, I looked down at my phone and waited for a “running late, sorry” message.

“Hey, I’m sorry!” a voice said, making me look up and watch her running across the street.

She was wearing a dress with flowers and bees on it. Of course. Of fucking course.

The dress hugged her every curve and had a halter top, giving a plunging look at her cleavage from the front.

Indecent. It was indecent to look like this in public. She’d start a riot.

“Jesus Christ,” I said to myself as she skipped up to me, her sandals delicate on her feet. Her toes were painted a soft buttery yellow and they had designs on them that I couldn’t make out. Bees, probably.

Her hair curled softly, hastily twisted up in a clip.

“I’m not that late, am I?” she asked, pulling her phone out of her leather crossbody bag and checking the time. “Two minutes late. That’s not bad. I got busy packing online orders and lost track of time. So. Where do you want to go?”

Honestly, I didn’t care. All the food at the pier was good. But she was buying, and this was the first and last time I’d ever have a meal with her so why not go big?

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