Page 102 of On a Fault Line

Smirking, she reaches behind me to give my ass a squeeze.

Little minx.

“Hmm…be a good boy today and keep your paws to yourself in front of my family.” Penny then moves to fix the collar of my button-down shirt, and I’m not even sure it needs her attention. “We both know how good of a Boy Scout you can be, so I doubt that will be a problem.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling like a demented clown. That’s the thing with Penny; she can make a silly childhood nickname be downright sexy. I can’t stop smiling around her. I feel like I’m using facial muscles that I haven’t exercised in decades.

And in what world would I ever allow someone to playfully mock me every chance she gets and not want to cut their throat and then watch them bleed out?

Yet, here she is…my little hellion.

I don’t stand a chance.

I watch in awe as Penny runs up toward her childhood home—the one that helped raise her—and enters with the elegance of a category five hurricane.

Summer looks good on her, with her hair pulled up in a high ponytail and her sundress riding a little too high for my liking as she rushes the house. Granted, this is a family gathering. We aren’t at a club where I’d be trying to resist the temptation of blinding any onlookers with my fists.

My eyes scan my surroundings, a habit that I doubt will ever die.

It feels good to be back in Hillsboro. However, I’d be lying if I said being here didn’t give me mixed emotions.

I never grew up with a house to call home. Yet, every part of me realizes why Penny is eager to be here. It is nostalgic. Familiar. Despite not having the luxury of time to make memories here, it is by far the closest thing I have to a home, and it has everything to do with the people present.

Draw the line…

But all I do is keep moving it.

Sure, there’s a contract in place that lays forth the details of our little arrangement, but it’s my heart that is attaching strings in places that will only get me hurt in the end.

Every part of me knows that the closer I get to Penny, the harder it will be to let her go. We are bound together by a piece of paper that highlights a sexual relationship—not an emotional one. Yet, the experiences we’ve shared with each other go beyond the rules of a detailed outline. Our connection is not limited to some bullet points that were agreed upon with a legal witness.

I’m just not sure how things can go back to normal after our time is up. Can I really be around the Hoffmans and not have images of Penny’s perfect body floating around in my head? Can I completely cut ties with a family that has given me so much to live for?

I glance to the front door of the house as Penny runs through it. So many things have happened in a short amount of time that I’m sure she is craving a sense of normalcy, and being here helps. It’s hard to feel like I belong here when all the thoughts flittering through my head are laced with guilt that I’m currently pursuing a sexual relationship with the youngest Hoffman—the only daughter to Donna and Germain—and keeping it a secret.

And our little tryst must stay hidden. I can’t afford the fallout if this ever gets out.

“Collins, come on in,” Donna greets with a smile and open arms.

I shift the cake carrier to one hand and walk into her embrace, accepting the warm welcome. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course. You are always welcome here.” Donna gives me a motherly look. “Penny already rushed out back. She sure has energy running through her today.”

“She does,” I agree, biting back a telling smirk. If anyone could figure out what is transpiring between Penny and me, it would be Donna Hoffman.

“It’s good to see her so happy. Oh, what’s in the carrier?”

“A berry flag cake.”

She unzips the quilted fabric and takes a look inside. “When did you find time to Pinterest?”

“Oh, not me, ma’am. I don’t even think I know what that is exactly.” I gesture toward the pan. “This is all your daughter’s idea. Although she made me…”—my words trail off, as I think of how to complete my thought without drawing any suspicion about just how much time we spend together—“drive extra slow to not mess it up in the back seat.”

The real reason I was driving slow was to not cut off my hard-on with any sudden movements from the steering wheel…but I don’t share that information.

Donna laughs. “Sounds about right. Let’s not let Nic cut into it first. Then all the pieces will be wonky. Have you seen that boy of mine wrap a present before? No finesse. Likenone.”

I chuckle as I feel a presence behind me. Turning, I see Germain make his way toward me. “Quit monopolizing all of Collins’s time, honey. Let him socialize.”

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