If someone had told April O’Hara a month ago that Van Palmer would be her boyfriend, she would have laughed in their faces. Not cruelly, mind you, because she wasn’t an awful person, but it would have been in disbelief certainly. She’d spent years pushing away that bad boy type, determined not to get her heart broken by some player with a motorcycle. She’d fought so hard, swallowing down her feelings, when she and Van were reunited at the announcement of her mom and his dad’s engagement—but she couldn’t deny herself forever.
Well, she could if James Palmer had anything to say about it. Van’s dad had been determined that she and Van were not to start an illicit affair under his roof. They were instructed not to get to close, with the man issuing chilling warnings about what would happen if they did. April ignored him. She let her guard down and opened her heart to the man who’d given her the best sex of her life in the cusp of college all those years ago.
And then her mom’s boutique shops met a flaming end one night, all three of them burning to the ground. Even now, a few weeks later, no one had any leads on who was behind the fires, but April had her suspicions. As promised, Van confronted his dad the day after April tried to slip away in the early hours of the morning, unable to risk putting her mom through any more pain by continuing her relationship with Van. James denied the accusations vehemently, calling them outrageous, false. He even proclaimed that April was trying to break him and her mom apart with her lies, but she let that go. She let all of it go. Van swore to keep a protective arm around both her and her mom, and with him watching, James had lost all of his power.
It was thrilling.
“We need to buy you a smaller helmet,” Van joked, as they made their way toward the garages. Since they had started dating, he’d moved all of his things into the guest house out back where they’d first consummated their relationship, which made April feel more comfortable going over to visit him. He’d lived with his dad all these years to save money, putting all of his savings into his bike and his bar, but there had been talk of him finding his own place lately.
Maybe, one day, it would be their own place, but that was getting a little ahead of things. For now, April was in the throes of puppy love, enjoying her time with Van, as she wished she had from the beginning.
She hugged her borrowed helmet against her chest, unable to part with the damn thing. It was always clunky and heavy when they rode together, but it had Van’s initials carved into it, and whenever she wore it, she caught a whiff of his cologne.
“I don’t mind this one,” she insisted, leaning into him when he placed a hand on her back. It was a gloomy afternoon, perfect for their plans to ride out and watch the storms roll in from a lookout by the lake. There was a makeshift shelter up there, built piece-by-piece over the years by local teens and lovers looking for a little privacy alike, and April was excited to watch the lightning illuminate the sky. The radio was calling for it to be the storm of the summer, and she wanted to enjoy it wrapped in Van’s thick arms.
“You sure?” Van laughed then gave her a little nudge. She tried to squirm out of the way, but he caught her and dragged her back to him, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “We can get you some stylish one with… I don’t know… some fancy material on the inside.”
She rolled her eyes, biting back a grin. “Wow. That was pathetic.”
“Hey, fashion is your area, not mine.”
“And thank goodness for that,” she said with a laugh, watching the garage door rise slowly after Van pressed the button on his remote controller. Inside sat his pristine bike amongst his dad’s coveted car collection, and April tried not to look at the other vehicles with disdain. It wasn’t fair to be cruel to them just because their owner was a jackass.
How he pulled the wool over her mom’s eyes for so long was beyond her, but April vowed to show her mom the real James Palmer before their wedding at the end of the summer. She had to. April would never forgive herself if she let her mom marry that creep without exposing him first.
Sighing, she pushed James Palmer out of her mind. There was no room for him in there when she was on a date with Van. Van deserved her whole attention, her complete focus, because he always gave the same to her.
April waited outside the garage, feeling the humidity in the air thicken as the clouds grew dark. Every time it rained, she thought of the first time Van kissed her, and her arms always prickled at the memory. Moments later, Van and his bike puttered out, the engine giving a familiar roar that always made her heart sing. Helmet on, its weight stressing her neck fleetingly, April climbed on behind Van and wrapped her arms around his burly midsection. If she could have, she would have kissed his cheek, but they were both smart enough to put on protective gear while riding together.
As they veered away from the garage, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Not from the impending storm or the electricity in the air. Not from the way Van rubbed the arm encircling his waist affectionately. Not from the memory of their first kiss. Frowning, she glanced over her shoulder and immediately found the source: James on his front porch in his pretentious housecoat and slippers, a coffee mug in hand, watching them go.
April looked away quickly, as they all but flew out of the driveway, but try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that James had not been beaten just yet.