Honeytrap by Crystal Green

Author:Crystal Green
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2015-01-06T16:00:00+00:00

13

I drove the straightest line I could back home, where I dropped off the mower and went back out again for work.

I didn’t feel like such a straight arrow, though—not with Micah’s kisses still on my lips, so vivid that I kept touching my mouth. I was only a few days into summer, and he already had me on a hook, even after I was determined to walk the good-girl path.

Micah = 3.

Shelby = 0.

Just when I was feeling like I’d never be able to hold my head high in Aidan Falls, I passed Main Street, slowing down when I saw Mr. Carmichael strolling with a book tucked into the crook of his arm. He wasn’t far from his theater, so I guessed he was only taking a break from the refreshment counter, keeping his eye out for anyone who might wander up to the box office to buy a ticket.

The sight of him flustered me for a second. Had he seen me and Micah in the balcony yesterday? I hadn’t run into Mr. Carmichael during my escape, so I wasn’t sure. If he had gotten a gander at what we’d been up to, I might never be able to go into the Ritz again.

I was considering a drive past him with a friendly wave, just to test the waters, when he spotted me from the other side of the street, motioning for me to slow down at the curb.

I bit my lip as I lowered my window, and he stopped in front of the theater by the poster display. Coming Soon: Psycho. I could relate.

His veneers were white in the sunlight. “I did some research on that Rocky Horror,” he called out. “Might be doable!”

Was he going to wag his finger at me next, saying, “And, missy, you were being rather doable with that Micah Wyatt yesterday, too. Did you think you could hide what was going on?”

But . . . there was nothing else from Mr. Carmichael.

I’d gotten away with it.

A heart-speeding burst of power attacked me. A rush. A roar.

I answered his Rocky Horror news with a thumbs-up. “That’s great, Mr. Carmichael!”

He gave me a thumbs-up right back and then turned into his theater. I watched him enter all alone, wondering if anyone else was in there to see his beloved films, or if he ever really got to talk to anyone, now that his wife, Bonita, had passed on. Mr. Carmichael had been a huge part of Aidan Falls history, a part of so many lives, that it was crushing to know he’d gone by the wayside somewhere along the line, just like his theater.

A wedge of sadness and sentiment worked itself into my chest, and I ran my gaze over the marquee, its lights dim. But maybe that sadness wasn’t just about the Ritz. Yesterday, I’d almost asked Mom if she and my father had ever come here . . .

A light bulb went on in my head. Why hadn’t I ever asked Mr. Carmichael

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