Honor Bound by Joey Hill (speld decodable readers .txt) 📕

He had a bite to eat at the restaurant—no sign of Ella in there. After, he followed the sounds of loud music to the club across the walkway from the condo. Neon lights and blaring bass signaled he’d reached the hot spot.

The club was packed when he shoved through the front door. Definitely no kids here. All adults, some couples, a few singles, a lot of them crowded together on a giant dance floor swirling with colored lights overhead. Clay made a beeline for the bar and grabbed a beer, then leaned against the padded leather edge and surveyed the crowd.

How the hell was he going to tell if Ella was even in here? There had to be more than a hundred people in the place, all packed together like sardines. He supposed he’d have to just make the rounds.

He pushed off the bar and strolled around the tables. It was so damn dark in there he couldn’t see a foot in front of him. He guessed the club considered this trendy or even romantic, but he found it damned irritating, mainly because he couldn’t make out any faces until he was inches away. How was he supposed to find Ella—if she was even in here? And keeping the fact he was here a secret was going to be impossible if he had to get in everyone’s face.

He finally gave up after about ten minutes and moved back to the bar, ordered another beer and stayed there. But then a miracle occurred. The band took a break, the lights came up and he could actually freakin’ see. The sardines from the dance floor took their places at tables or at least disbanded enough that he could take quick glances at who was in the club.

That was when he saw a brunette wearing a white dress flash by not more than ten feet in front of him. He skirted his gaze in that direction. It was Ella, wearing some skintight dress that looked as if it had been painted on her. She had her hair down, loose waves curling over her shoulders. She wore red shoes—high heels—and matching red lipstick.

Not that he was noticing every fucking thing she had on or anything.

Goddamn, she looked sexy as hell. And she made his dick hard.

And worse than that, she wasn’t alone.

Shit.

Three

Her first night, and Ella had already scored a major hot guy. Single, in Waikiki on business, Shawn was from Los Angeles and came to the island four times a year as a tech for his software company.

He was talkative, tall, well built and easy to look at with curly, sandy brown hair and green eyes. He liked to surf and promised to teach her tomorrow.

After she’d left the pool this afternoon, she’d taken a nap, then showered and come downstairs to the restaurant for dinner. That was where she’d run into Shawn, who’d been seated next to her table. He saw her dining alone and came over, cocktail in hand, asking if he could join her.

She couldn’t have planned it better than if she’d—well, if she’d planned it herself.

They’d had dinner together and hit it off right away. He kept the conversation going since he seemed to like to talk about himself and his career—and okay, maybe he liked to talk about those two topics an awful lot, but it was better than awkward silences. And she didn’t mind listening. It gave her time to look at him, and he was nice to look at. Plus, it gave her an opportunity to ponder all the what-ifs for tonight, the possibilities of what might happen between them.

She could definitely have sex with Shawn. He was nice-looking, clean, professional, had introduced her to a couple of his business associates who’d passed by their table, which meant he was on the up-and-up about being here on business and really wasn’t a lone serial killer. And he’d paid for dinner and invited her to the club across from the condo.

There, he’d bought her a few drinks. He even danced well.

So far, he’d passed the test. She was enjoying the club, having a great time getting out on the dance floor. For the love of God, she was with a man for the first time since . . .

James.

No. She wasn’t going to think about James tonight, wasn’t going to think about the last time they’d gone out, the last time they’d had a moment together, the last time he’d held her, kissed her, touched her—

Tonight was all about new beginnings.

“You went quiet on me, Ella.”

Shawn slid his fingers under her chin and focused her attention back on him.

“Oh. Sorry. Was just catching my breath. You do like to dance.”

The cocktail waitress brought them fresh drinks. “Okay, then. Quench your thirst so you’re ready to go when the band starts up again.”

She took a couple deep swallows from the wine the waitress had placed in front of her, then exhaled. The dress she’d bought was sinful—it was white and it hugged her curves in all the right places. And the red stiletto heels were just the perfect added touch.

“You are so beautiful.”

She smiled at Shawn. He’d said that about ten times in the past hour. “Thanks. Again.

You don’t have to keep saying it.” She stopped just short of telling him that she was pretty much a sure thing and he could stop trying so hard. Then again, what would she know? Maybe this was dating and how men acted. It wasn’t as though she had a ton of experience. She’d had James, who’d fumbled around with half-assed compliments when they were younger and she’d fallen madly in love with him. There’d been no looking back after that.

And no one else since.

So maybe Shawn’s slick presentation was the norm. He was clearly the expert here and she was the novice.

She finished her glass of wine just as the houselights went off.

“You ready to hit the dance floor again?”

She took a glance at the dance floor and