Page 77 of The Complete Truth Duet
“What happened to no pity?” The corners of his mouth lifted playfully, but his eyes were still sad and I hated it more than I could ever explain.
“Oh, I don’t feel bad for you. All that emotional upheaval. I’m concerned for your heart. You aren’t exactly a young man anymore.”
His eyes lit. His mouth split. And then he came back to me.
Burying his face in my neck, he burst into laughter.
It was a stupid joke, something I suspected he recognized too. But, in a life like ours, where the dark and dismal were far more prevalent than the light and humorous, you took the few moments of levity you could get.
Penn spent the night wound around me.
I talked.
He listened.
I laughed.
He kissed me.
And, eventually, when we were sure the girls were asleep, he made love to me.
I knew every inch of his body.
His favorite color was blue.
His favorite meal was turkey bacon burgers.
And his tattoos held both a lot of meaning and none at all.
However, the true Penn Walker was still a mystery to me.
But from that day forward, within every word he spoke—every truth, every lie, every sentence, and every syllable—I looked for the gray.
Little did I know, that was all I’d ever find in him.
Cora
“Surprise!” I yelled as Penn returned from his run at twenty past the crack of dawn. He was hot, sweaty, and shirtless—just the way I liked him.
He eyed the pan in my hand, complete with the numbers three and eight burning on top, as he walked over, pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, and then asked, “What did you do, woman?”
“So, I know you don’t like cupcakes. Which is a travesty in and of itself. But it’s your birthday, so I made you a little traditional dessert from your native area of the southern United States that you may recognize as blueberry cobbler.”
He blinked at me. “I’m from Florida.”
I pushed the pan toward him. “I know. Blow ’em out.”
“Florida’s not the South, Cor.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know how to read a map. I’m pretty sure Florida is as south as you can get in the U.S.”
His lips thinned, suppressing his smile. “No, babe. Florida is not the South in terms of the culture. It’s a literal melting pot for people from around the world. You drive up into Georgia, you’ll find your cobbler. In Florida, though, that piñata you were talking about the other day or a tube of Bengay depending on which coast you’re on would be more appropriate if you wanted to do something reminiscent of my”—grinning, he tossed me a pair of air quotes—“native area.”
“What! Seriously?”
He laughed. “You mentioned you haven’t traveled much. But how far south have you been, babe?”
I twisted my lips. “Indiana?”
It was his turn to be shocked. “Seriously?”
I shrugged. “I don’t get out much.”
He cocked his head to the side. “How far you been north?”
“I’m not sure. What’s the northernmost room in the building?”
“Jesus,” he breathed.
“Now that you mention it, I’m a little offended I haven’t been invited on any of the Guerrero family vacations.” I winked and he rewarded me with a laugh.
He dipped his head, blew the candles out, and then brought his smiling mouth to mine for a lip touch. “Good news though. I fucking love cobbler.” He punctuated it with another lip touch.
My proud grin stretched across my face. “Of course you do. It has fruit in it. That’s, like, the anti-chocolate.”
He laughed again. “Nature’s sugar is better for your body.”
“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you there’s, like, a whole bag of good old-fashioned processed white sugar in it too.”
“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Good. Now I feel better about part one of my Florida-themed birthday party.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s part two?”
I sauntered up the stairs, calling over my shoulder, “You’ll see.”
“Oh. My. God.” Drew gasped as we guided Penn to the railing overlooking the building’s postage-stamp backyard.
I’d sent them both home from work early with strict instructions to stay away from the windows.
Penn had grumbled. Because Penn.
Drew had grinned huge and offered me a high five. Because Drew.
“What is it?” Penn asked. His eyes were covered with a scarf blindfold I’d all but had to hog-wrestle him into putting on.
“Your woman just professed her undying love for me.” Drew stopped and bit his knuckle. “Dear Lord, she’s topless.”
“What!” Penn snapped, going for the scarf.
I barked a laugh, slapping his hands away. Then I leaned over the rail and yelled, “Hey! Tops up. The guys are coming.”
This was received by a symphony of cheers, groans, and curses, but within a few seconds, everyone was covered again.
Only then did I take Penn’s blindfold off.
“Happy Birthday!”
All the girls parroted me from below
Penn blinked a million times, adjusting his eyes to the bright sun—or possibly the sight of over twenty bikini-clad women relaxing on towels and lounge chairs.
