Forbidden Son Read Free

jealous.”
    “Jealous?
I don’t think so.”
    Honey
Belle batted her eyelashes. “Then I’d thank you kindly if you’d mind your own
business.”
    “You
know, I read a book once. It was about a girl named Cinderella. You mess with
the likes of Mr. Rich Fancy Car, and you’ll find out soon ’nuf he ain’t Prince
Charmin’. ’Specially when he finds out where you live and meets your wicked
mama.”
    Honey
Belle offered an indignant sniff. “I read the same book, Carla. It had a happy
ending. And my mother’s not wicked, just... Well, she has a lot on her mind.”
    Carla
chuckled as she placed an order on a tray and handed it to a customer. “I’ll be
the first to say I told you so when he doesn’t show.”
    ****
    No
one was more surprised than Honey Belle when Carla whirled into the employee’s
bathroom. “It’s three minutes of two, and you ain’t gonna believe it, H.B.”
    “What
on earth are you talking about, Carla? Believe what?”
    “Poke
your head out the door and take a peek. He’s here.”
    “You
mean... he’s here?” Frantic, Honey Belle snatched several paper towels
from the dispenser, ran them under the faucet, squeezed out the excess water
and wiped under her armpits. Like Carla, she hadn’t truly expected him to show
up. “You got any deodorant, Carla? I can’t go riding in a convertible smelling
like sweaty French fries.”
    “Nope.
Only thing I got in my purse is condoms. Pays to be prepared, you never know
when you’ll score, girlfriend.”
    Honey
Belle arched an eyebrow and shot her coworker a sarcastic scowl. “A ride in a
convertible doesn’t mean he or me wants to score. ”
    “Hm-huh,
I’m just sayin’.” Carla shoved the cellophane packet into Honey Belle’s apron
pocket. “‘Sides, I got two young’uns to prove what happens when you don’t think
you’re gonna... score.”
    Honey
Belle groaned as she pulled the rubber band from her hair. She raked her
fingers through the long blonde strands, gathered the hair, and pulled it into
a neat ponytail. She applied a fresh coat of Passion Pink gloss to her lips,
and pinched her cheeks to add a little color. “Wish me luck, Carla.”
    “You’re
gonna need it, H.B. He’s a heartbreaker, for sure.”
    Honey
Belle was fearful Tripp could hear the thrumming of her heart as she approached
him. “You’re here.”
    “You
didn’t expect me to show?”
    “Well,
I wasn’t sure. Some guys like to feed a girl a line of hooey.”
    “I’m
not some guy.”
    “I
know, with a name like Tripp Hartwell the Third, that must make you somebody.”
    As
if wanting to change the subject, he said, “Your chariot awaits, birthday
girl.”
    She’d
dated lots of boys. Not one had made her feel giddy. Today, she was giddy. She
allowed him to escort her to his car. When she reached for the door handle,
Tripp covered her hand with his. “A gentleman always opens the car door for a
lady.”
    “Oh,
sure.” She cringed inside, fearing her ignorance was showing. It was the first
time anyone had ever opened a door for her. She smiled, and as she slid into
the seat, the plush fabric felt as if she’d sat in a bucket of downy feathers.
    “Ready?”
    “Huh?”
Honey Belle wondered why she was acting like a dunce. She wondered if he
thought she didn’t understand English.
    He
walked around to his side of the car and, in one fluid movement, sat behind the
steering wheel. He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and adjusted
them on the bridge of his nose.
    Then,
as if he’d forgotten something important, he reached behind the seat. With a
smile that would light up a cloudy day, he handed her a single red rose. “To
the birthday girl.”
    Wishing
she had a pair of sunglasses, she blinked back a rush of tears as she lifted
the flower to her nose. No one had ever given her flowers. “It’s a wonderful
gift. Thank you.”
    “Want
to go watch the submarine races?” A lopsided grin kinked up the corner of his
lips.
    Filled
with