Dream Lover

by Stacey Keith

  Right now, April was making him hunt for her. Brandon scanned the crowd. A few women threw him looks of invitation, which he filed away for later. On a hunch, he went around back where the smokers usually went—not that his April was a smoker. His April probably had a bedspread full of adorable stuffed animals. Brandon had found that if you jerked a bedspread off just the right way, you could send those things flying.

  There was a big tree out back with a bench underneath it. No smokers here tonight, but he did find April.

  She looked so prissy sitting there with her knees pressed together and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The whole pink gingham thing was a nice departure from that suburban mom crap she’d had on earlier. Brandon closed the distance between them, enjoying the fact that she hadn’t seen him yet.

  If he’d been thinking with his brain, he might have steered clear. But he didn’t feel like doing that. Not with all those fascinating contradictions to figure out. Not with that body, ripe with promise, to go with the ice princess facade.

  Not with his brother’s future on the line.

  He noted the look of alarm when she saw him. Of all the expressions he was used to seeing on women’s faces—flinty, flirty, inviting—he didn’t expect to see fear in April’s enormous blue eyes. She was younger than he’d thought. Twenty-two, twenty-three, tops. Fresh out of college.

  Five years ago, when he was twenty-three, Brandon had been doing eighteen months in the Banderas Men’s Correctional Facility for knocking over a gas station.

  “What’s a good girl like you doing in a place with me in it?” The corners of his lips twitched despite an attempt to keep a straight face. “Social workers don’t actually go out and have fun, do they? Don’t you have lives to ruin?”

  She quickly looked away, giving him her haughty profile. “You were a rude jerk today. You called Ryan a mall cop.”

  A rude jerk. Was that the best she could do?

  He braced one hand on the tree trunk beside them and regarded her lazily. Her pale blond hair shone like a candle in the dim light. Unlike his bronze-colored, one quarter Choctaw skin, hers was milky white. She reminded him of one of those china dolls his grandmother collected, except that April’s face looked wary and intelligent, not empty. She was clearly uncomfortable around men.

  “How long you been with Raymond County?” he asked.

  She pulled her chin up, which told him everything. So April hadn’t been working there long and felt defensive about it. That meant he could either compliment her, flatter her vanity or make her feel like the amateur she clearly was.

  “I’ve been with Raymond County long enough to know you’re no fit guardian for your brother,” she said. “Matthew needs to be in school, not on a skateboard.”

  “One fuck up of a home visit and you know all that?” he drawled. “Boy, you are good.”

  She pressed her lips together in suppressed fury. It was fun watching her try to keep it together. “Are you familiar with family law, Mr. McBride?” she said.

  “I’ve been in trouble with the law, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I’m talking about the law that gives social services all the authority they need to do what’s right by your brother.”

  “Can’t say I’m big on authority.” His eyes dipped into the neckline of her dress. Distracting, the way her breasts kept heaving around like that. Maybe she had trouble catching her breath.

  All that fire and ice. It gave him a buzz that beer never could.

  “If you don’t want the state of Texas breathing down your neck, then I suggest you try abiding by the law,” she said drily. It made him wonder if she’d rehearsed those words in front of a mirror. “Also, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop staring down my dress.”

  Busted.

  Well, this was new. Most women actually wanted him to look.

  “Tell me about yourself, April,” he said, changing tactics. “You banging the mall cop?”

  Her mouth fell open. He could tell she was itching to get up and storm off, but couldn’t. Not with him standing right in front of her, blocking the way.

  She looked as though she’d been rudely awakened from a nap, but her blue eyes had shades of steel in them. “You’re a pig.”

  Brandon tilted his beer at her in agreement.

  He was kind of loving this. He wanted to get under her skin. Hell, he wanted to get under her everything. “Most women would say that’s true,” he confessed. “I am a pig. But some women need one. They need someone who will drag them down in the mud and show them how good life can be when it’s got some dirt on it. In the end, we’re all animals, just feeding and breeding.” He took a long draw off his bottle before asking, “Which makes me wonder. What kind of animal are you, April?”

  The blood flamed in her cheeks. He’d never seen anyone more laughably transparent. When she started stammering out reasons that wasn’t true and what an awful, awful person he was, he detected something else about her that stirred the hair on his arms. Maybe her defensiveness gave it away.

  April wasn’t just uncomfortable around men. She had no experience with them at all.

  Then he knew. And the discovery sledge-hammered him in the stomach.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “You’re a virgin.”

  If he had told April she had three minutes to live, she couldn’t have looked more shocked and mortified than she did right now, ramrod straight on the bench, hands practically strangling themselves on her lap. She would deny it, of course, but he knew.

  “It’s none of your business what I am,” she snapped, making a valiant effort to reclaim her dignity. It occurred to Brandon that women like April would be a whole lot happier if they just admitted they either liked to fuck or were afraid of it. “The only thing we should be talking about is your brother’s truancy. If I have to take this to court, I will.”

  A virgin. He couldn’t believe it. Who was a virgin these days? Not the chicks he hooked up with. The sluttier, the better.

  “That’s too bad,” he said, “about the virgin thing. We might’ve had some fun. But to be honest, virgins bore me.”

  “How dare you!”

  He locked eyes with her, just to see what she would do. Pissed-off women didn’t scare him. If anything, they turned him on.

  But something else stirred deep inside, almost like recognition. When his gaze dropped to her pink lips, his fingers twitched and his heart picked up its pace. She looked so young, so clueless. What was there to recognize?

  He was a product of the streets and she was a product of a textbook.

  “Since we’re sharing things,” he said softly, “I find myself wondering what it would take to make you scream.”

  April leaped to her feet. Brandon, who knew his weakness for pushing buttons and boundaries, sensed that he’d pushed all of hers. But he refused to move out of the way.

  He smelled the heat of her skin, her shampoo, the fabric softener from her dress. The air between them had a kind of violence to it. Her eyes were huge and she was breathing hard and he could see all the feathers he’d ruffled.

  So many shiny feathers.

  “I’m filing a report in the morning,” she said furiously. “You are unbelievable. I may not know a lot of things, but I know one thing. You hate women. And you wouldn’t hate them if you weren’t afraid.”

  “File your report,” he said. “File a bunch of reports. I don’t live by your rules.”

  “Oh, so you’re not afraid of going back to jail for harassing an officer of the court? For refusing to make your brother go to school? You’re ruining his life. I’m going to do whatever it takes to save it.”

  Since he towered over her, April tilted her head back to see him. He didn’t hate women. But in just this one moment, he might’ve hated her.

  Hated her and wanted her.

  Brandon gave her
what he knew to be the devil’s own smile. “Guess I’ll see you back on my doorstep with a court order,” he said as she wrenched herself away from him and huffed off toward the patio. “Next time, ditch the cop. If he can’t save you from yourself, April, he sure can’t save you from me.”

  * * * *

  “Beer,” April told the bartender. “No, make that two beers. Don’t bother with a glass.”

  She perched on a stool and tried to take a nice recovery breath, but her lungs wouldn’t do it. This was exactly why she never went to places like the Double Aces. There were men in them.

  In the mirror behind the bar shelves where all the good liquor was kept, April spotted Jacey making her way over. For the first time ever, April didn’t want to talk to her. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. All she wanted was to get quietly drunk, wish she were someone else, someone normal, and then go home and pass out.

  “Hey, where were you?” Jacey stared at her with a mixture of hurt and concern. “Tessa opened your gifts and you weren’t even there.”

  “I ran into a client.” April nodded to the bartender when he brought her beers. She pushed a ten-dollar bill toward him, started on the first bottle and almost gagged. Why did anybody like beer? It still tasted just as bad as it had in college—like something out of a litter box.

  Now Jacey looked really concerned. “April, what are you doing? You don’t drink.”

  “Don’t you think it’s time I started? I’m the most boring person I know. I bore myself even.”

  “Yes, but beer isn’t the answer to your problems. You just need a boyfriend.”

  April barked out a laugh. A boyfriend. What would that fix? “Don’t worry about me, Jacey. I’ll be fine. Go back to the party.”

  Jacey grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her to the table where everyone was laughing loudly and smelled like too much perfume. April sat down and took another gag-worthy swallow of cat urine. When did beer start working?

  Brandon knew her secret. Shame squirmed inside her stomach. Even her own sisters didn’t know she was a virgin or how afraid she was of sex.

  To the world, April had always been careful to present that part of her personality she found acceptable: the honest concern, the talent for listening, the heartfelt desire to help others. But inside, she just wanted to be like everyone else, like Jacey even—fun loving and uncomplicated. Instead of worrying about starving children, she wanted to worry about boys, shoes and vacations.

  April took another determined gulp and set her bottle on the table.

  Okay, warmer.

  Seated across from her, Roxanne raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “What happened to the root beer?”

  “I drank it,” April said. “Now I’m drinking this.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be the designated driver? Aren’t you always the designated driver?”

  “I un-designated myself.” April liked the sound of that. It was a declaration of sorts.

  April Lynn Roby: un-designated.

  See? I can be fun, too, she thought. I’m not the boring virgin Brandon said I was.

  Well, not boring, at least.

  Jacey dropped into the chair next to Roxanne and leveled her gaze across the table at April, who sat up a little straighter and tried to smile. Could Jacey see what a mess she was?

  “Leave April alone,” Jacey said to Roxanne. “And don’t bitch at her about the driving. I already called for backup.”

  What backup? April found that she had trouble focusing both her eyeballs at the same time. Oh, and her life still sucked. But she did feel a sudden rush of love for Jacey and Tessa and for all the girls she’d grown up with. The first time she met Jacey in Mr. Abel’s class, Jacey was the new kid that no one would be friends with because she talked funny, but April had liked her right away. They both had a crush on Ricky DeMaris, who didn’t know either one of them existed. They also loved bedroom karaoke, cute vampire boys, Disney movies and chocolate.

  The difference was Jacey grew up and eventually dated Ricky DeMaris, who turned out to be a giant douche. Whereas April grew up, went on dates, and leaped out of the cars as soon as they pulled up in front of her house.

  “I love y’all,” April said, choking up a little. “I really do.”

  Jacey laughed. Even Roxanne laughed.

  “You are such a lightweight,” Jacey said. “One beer and you’re a disaster. Wait ’till you rip your dress off and start dancing on the—” Jacey’s gaze focused on something or someone over April’s shoulder and her eyes grew huge. “Good Lord, who is that?”

  Whatever pleasant lightheadedness April had managed to achieve went splat. She knew who was on the patio behind her because she recognized the glazed hungry expressions on her friends’ faces.

  Brandon McBride was the only man in Cuervo who had the raw virility to make women drool.

  “Wow,” Roxanne purred, flushing a little.

  April didn’t want to turn around, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. The blond woman from earlier, the one who’d been sitting on Brandon’s lap, now followed him out of the Double Aces with a smug, triumphant smile. And even though April hated Brandon with a passion she usually reserved for serial liars, compulsive cheaters and people who weren’t kind to animals or children, deep down there was a tiny flicker of envy for that woman.

  In one vivid montage in her head, April saw it all—the way that woman would wrap her arms around Brandon’s flat stomach as they drove off into the night, the ride back to his place with the wind whipping her hair, their anticipation building, a sense that anything and everything was possible. And then stumbling into the house, already locked in each other’s arms, the bedroom door closing, shutting out April, shutting out everyone but them.

  That woman with her tight, low-cut shirt wasn’t afraid. That woman knew what she wanted and took it. But April knew that would never be her. Never. She would always be on the outside looking in, watching people who actually had the courage to live life out loud.

  It made her sick.

  That was when Brandon turned his head and gave her a long look, the kind of look you usually give someone you hate. April was too befuddled to know what it meant exactly, but a shameful wave of heat rippled through her. Even from a distance he had the power to scorch her from the inside, to give her buzzy, tingly feelings she had no way of dealing with or even understanding.

  April turned her back to him, grabbed her second beer and chugged.

  “You know that guy?” Jacey asked her. “Like, for real?”

  “He’s that client I told you about,” April said. “I mean, if you want to call him a client.”

  Roxanne had that predatory look in her eyes that she sometimes got when there was a designer dress on sale at Maxine’s only someone else had managed to get their hands on it first.

  “That’s your client?” Jacey whipped her gaze from Brandon to April. “What kind of client are we talking about here?”

  April was well on her way to tipsy now, but she wasn’t numb, which was disappointing. Maybe numb showed up after three beers. She searched for their waitress but it seemed like a lot of effort. “I can’t talk about clients,” she said, pantomiming a zipped lip and then throwing away the key. “Hello? I’m a social worker.”

  Jacey laughed. “No, what you are is a hoot. We really should have done this years ago, getting you...” She moved her hand side to side in front of her face and wiggled her fingers. Drunk.

  “Please,” Roxanne scoffed. “On two beers? That’s pathetic.”

  “I don’t think she’s pathetic,” came a man’s voice. Was that Ryan? April had to lean her head back to see, and when she did the room spun. “I think it’s cute,” he added.

  It’s you, April thought with a warmth she’d never felt before. Ryan was such a nice man. He would never say mean things to a girl or call her boring. And he l
ooked awesome dressed in jeans and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

  “You have good hair,” she said. It seemed like the most important thing in the world to tell him right now. Then her brain kind of drifted away and she forgot what they were talking about.

  “Thanks for coming to the rescue,” Jacey said. “Friends don’t let friends drive home with other friends who might be drinking.”

  Ryan’s gaze fell on a box that said Intimate Massager on it. “Wow, you girls really go all out, don’t you?”

  Everyone giggled, but April giggled so hard she started hiccupping.

  “Oh, boy,” Ryan said, grinning, all cute with the hair and everything. “Maybe it’s time I got you ladies home.”

  Since the police wagon was around back, everyone gathered their things and followed him outside. But April didn’t want to go. There were so many fun people she suddenly needed to talk to. Plus all those new string lights were super cool and—

  “Here we go.” Ryan hoisted her in the back of the police van. Steel benches lined each wall. The van smelled like disinfectant.

  “Omigod,” she said, “are you arresting us?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Now get in.”

  Jacey climbed inside with the others and then April climbed in and the van took off, leaving her stomach on the street somewhere.

  Jacey slid down the bench beside her. “Are you mad at me for calling Ryan?”

  “Totally!” April said. It was very bright in here. Tessa sat across from her and she liked Tessa’s shoes. “The whole town is against me. My friends, my family…pretty much everybody. You want me to date Ryan.”

  “Well, sure, but I wasn’t trying to push him on you,” Jacey said. “He’s the only sober guy I know who has a van.”

  A van that April might throw up in. No wonder it smelled like disinfectant. Everyone was talking all at once, which made her head swim.

  “Jacey,” she said. “Do you think I’m boring?”

  Jacey took out a mirrored compact, inspected herself in it, and fluffed her ponytail. “Boring how? Like my Aunt Adelaide boring or boring because you never go anywhere?”