Forbidden Son Read Online Free Page A

magnolia whose petals are easily
bruised, turn brown, then wither away.”
    For
the life of her, Honey Belle didn’t know what the analogy meant. “I-I’m not
sure I know what you mean, Tripp. Is your mother ill?”
    He
nodded. “Not in body. It’s her mind. It slips away a little more each day.”
    Honey
Belle reached across the table and intertwined her fingers with his. “I’m
sorry. It’s the same with my daddy. Guess we have something in common, don’t
we?”
    The
next hour and a half flew by, and before she knew it, Tripp was paying the tab.
“How about a walk on the beach before I take you home?”
    As
much as she wanted to feel wet sand squishing between her toes and, perhaps,
hold hands with the handsome man seated across from her, a little voice inside
her head sounded a warning. And as good as the first glass of wine tasted, the
second glass had left her feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, and perhaps a
little tipsy, too. “It’s late. I wouldn’t want to worry my parents.”
    Honey
Belle loved her parents. Between work and sitting with her father, she didn’t
often date. Tonight she felt like Cinderella. But like all good fairy tales, it
was time to bring this one to an end.
    Sheer
and utter dread weighed heavy in the pit of her stomach as Tripp drove toward
Barrington Street. What if he insisted on walking her to the front door? What
if he asked to meet her parents? What if...what if?
    When
he pulled to the curb and shut off the engine, relief washed over Honey Belle
with a fierce intensity that left her weak in the knees. She said, “The lights
are out. I guess my parents went to bed early.”
    “Too
bad, I wanted to meet them.”
    “My
father doesn’t respond well to company. The least little thing wears him out.”
    “Another
time, when it’s more convenient.”
    She
waited for Tripp to open the car door. A true southern gentleman, she thought.
Not like the rednecks she’d dated who reeked of cigarette smoke.
    “I’d
like to kiss you goodnight, Honey Belle.”
    She
lifted on her toes and ran her hand upward over his chest. Very slowly, never
breaking eye contact, she raised her mouth to his. “Hm. Aren’t you glad you
didn’t have the shrimp with garlic sauce?”
    He
laughed, and so did she. “Good night, Tripp.”
    She
stood next to the elm tree and watched until the taillights on his car were no
longer visible.
    The
sky had grown dark, but the streetlights illuminated the sidewalks and the
older homes lining both sides of the street.
    She
slipped off her high heels and, holding one in each hand, raced the full four
blocks to the gas station where she’d left her old pickup truck. Thirty minutes
later, she crossed the railroad tracks and rattled down a washboard road that
the county refused to maintain. A few minutes later, she pulled into her own
driveway. It wasn’t a nice place to live.
    She
grabbed her purse, and dug out her key before she opened the screened door and
let herself in the house.
    The
house was small, with a living room that also served as the dining area, a
galley kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bath. Beyond the back steps was a yard
littered with old car parts and rusting barrels overflowing with bags of
garbage.
    She
never wanted Tripp Hartwell the Third to know where she lived. If he asked her
out for a second date, she’d make certain she met him at the elm tree on
Barrington Street.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter
Five
     
    Tripp
whistled a nameless tune as he let himself into the kitchen of his parent’s
stately home. What made the house, though, was the back porch, which his
grandfather had closed in with glass panels. Even in the middle of winter it was
warm and cozy on the sun porch. Between the porch and his mother’s green thumb,
plants thrived there as if living in a greenhouse. Beyond the porch, in the
backyard, was a swimming pool and a well-groomed garden of flowering plants,
stone paths, and dribbling water fountains, his mother’s pride and