Page 42 of A Secret and a Lie
“How long have you owned this place?”
“Not long, but my best friend and I have been coming here for almost twenty years. So, when I heard they were selling, I couldn’t let anyone else have it.”
He reclines on his barstool, his arm draped casually over the dark wooden bar top, appearing at ease. It hits me like a physical blow that he brought me somewhere that meant something to him, and my chest tightens further.
Just as I open my mouth to reply, he goes on. “It was this or cook for you, and I decided I wanted to save that for our next date.”
Butterflies flap their paper-thin wings in my gut. “Oh no, this is a one-time thing, Mr. Crawford, and it’snota date.” But even as I say it, I wish there was more heart behind my words.
A devilish smirk inches over his rosy-colored lips until the dimple is visible. “We’ll see.”
Genevieve
“How are you so good at this?” I ask, my voice full of humor, the martini having gone straight to my head. I should really slow down, or I’ll be at risk of doing something stupid, like falling for his charm. At least I’m blaming the alcohol for my jovial nature this evening…
Otherwise, I’d have to admit that I’m havingfun, and I refuse to do that. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to manipulate myself into believing that Ford isn’t simply a powerful man with an incredibly handsome face, which only makes my being here all the more idiotic.
He tosses me a look over his shoulder that I’d have to be blind to resist, and I seem to have relinquished that capability.
After pulling the arrows from the board and updating the score, he turns back to me, his face shrouded in shadows now that he’s stepped out from beneath the light. “I did a few tours with the Marines. Darts were a solid source of entertainment.”
The gin sours in my stomach, and I quickly change the subject, killing the dozens of questions that have sprouted to life in my mind at his admission. “What did you do after the military?”
“I spent some time in Europe, mostly Germany. Took some bartending jobs to pass the time, even worked at a ski chalet one winter. I needed something…different, and I wasn’t ready to sit behind a desk yet.”
Buckcherry’s “Lit Up” echoes through the bar as he places the darts back on the table and we start a new game, one that I will inevitably lose. Instead of aiming for the board, I face him. “Do you like it? Sitting at a desk now?”
He lifts one of his broad shoulders, his crisp, white shirt pulling taut. “Most days, yes. I like the idea of keeping my grandfather’s legacy alive.”
“Were you and your grandfather close?”
“Yeah, he raised me. He was the best role model, and I idolized him. I never told him that because he would’ve said that I needed to meet more people.” He snorts, but the sound is more wistful than humorous. “He was just like that. Humble and honest.”
The admiration in his voice is as thick as honey, and it makes my throat tight. I don’t have anyone like that in my life. Outside of the family I chose in Corinne and Marcus, I didn’t have anyone to guide or direct me; I built my empire myself. It’s something I’m proud of, but I sometimes wonder what it would’ve been like to have someone like Ford’s grandfather, someone to aspire to.
“What about you? Are you close to your parents?”
Fuck no.“I left home when I was eighteen. I haven’t seen them since.” There’s no animosity in my tone, but my response doesn’t open the door for him to prod me further about that. Which makes the fact that I continue inexplicable. “We had a bit of a disagreement about the trajectory of my life.”
He nods as though he understands that on some level, and I turn back to the board as I place some distance between me and the admission I made about my parents. I aim my arrow and throw. He chuckles. “At least you hit the board this time.”
“It’s seriously a miracle.” I giggle, and he takes my place as I take a sip of my martini before asking, “If you weren’t running your business, what would you be doing?”
The question is reminiscent of one Ford asked the night we met, curiosity spiraling through me. He leans against the high-top wherewe’ve taken up residence. “That’s easy. I’d be doing guided big game hunts, specifically Dall or bighorn sheep.”
My eyebrows raise. I’m not sure I saw that coming, but now that I’m considering it, I suppose it makes sense. It’s not difficult to picture him in camouflage with a camel-colored pack strapped to his back, a rifle on his shoulder. He’s built for it.
I’m about to comment, when he reflects the question back to me, and I should’ve expected to look in that mirror but didn’t. “What about you? What would you be doing if your life were different?”
I’ve never given this any thought; there was no point. I’m walking the stone path that’s been laid specifically for me. I don’t regretmostof the decisions I’ve made, and I’m proud of the woman I’ve become and the safe haven I’ve created. I like my life, and that’s why I fight so hard to maintain it.
“I can’t imagine doing something else, but if I did, I’d still be doing something in the sex industry. Teaching or mentoring, maybe.”
Perhaps I could train other Dommes or dominatrixes, or organize some BDSM classes. I’ve never done that before; although, I, myself, was trained. I could pass on some knowledge. I don’t know why I’m entertaining this. I love my job. It’s a heady rush, watching the tension drain from a client’s shoulders, knowing I’m responsible for making them feel good.
Picking up the dart nearest me, I flick the pad of my thumb over the pointy end. “There are parts of sex work that are unglamorous at best, and dangerous at worst. I’ve seen all the sides. I’ve…trusted the wrong people. I’ve relinquished my control to a man who was unworthy of that power. I’ve seen and experienced too much not to spend my time and effort fighting for something better. Society tells us that sex work is dirty and shameful, but it’s not, at least not for everyone. I’d love to help erase the stigma.”
I lift my gaze from the dart to his face, finding his eyes already on me, his expression firm, and head tilted to the side like he’s trying to work something out in his mind.
