Dare to Kiss (The Maxwell Series Book 1)

by Alexander, S. B.

  A commercial came on. Mary turned, her dark eyes regarding me. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. You feeling okay?”

  With my Coke in hand, I padded into the family room, my bare toes sinking into the soft carpeting.

  “I’m good. Becca is coming over later. I’ll be up in my room studying.” I had my trig and calculus tests coming up—plus I had homework.

  Emeril’s voice came back on the TV—my cue to head up to my room. I left Mary to resume her class with Emeril.

  The rest of the afternoon I spent doing my English and chemistry homework. Then I started on calculus problems when a soft knock broke my concentration on integrals.

  “It’s unlocked,” I said from my bed. I had a desk, but I liked to spread out my books and lie on my stomach when I was doing homework.

  The door opened and Becca bounced in. “I met Mary. Nice lady. She showed me where your room was.” She glanced around, checking out my hideaway. “I know, Lacey, we’ve only known each other short time, but can I ask where’s your mom?”

  I sat up. It wouldn’t hurt to tell her part of the truth. I just didn’t want to share the whole truth. Not yet. “She passed away.”

  She diverted her attention from a framed poem on my wall adjacent to the door and regarded me with sorrow in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you like the poem?” I asked. The poem was by Sri Chinmoy.

  Hope knows no fear. Hope dares to blossom, even inside the abysmal abyss. Hope secretly feeds and strengthens promise.

  “Do you write poems?” She plopped down on my bed. My calculus book jumped a tad.

  “No. I saw it in a store in LA, and I had to have it. My mom used to tell me that without hope, your dreams won’t come true.”

  “And your dream is baseball,” Becca said, looking up and past me.

  Two posters of my favorite Major League ballplayers were tacked to the wall above my bed. I loved Jacoby Ellsbury, even though he didn’t play for the LA Dodgers. I also had a poster of Clayton Kershaw, a pitcher for the LA Dodgers.

  “You’re such a boy sometimes,” she teased.

  “Hey, I have frilly pink curtains on my window.”

  She rolled her big brown eyes. “Good thing. Or I might have to stage an intervention and decorate the room myself.”

  I threw a small throw pillow at her.

  She snickered. “So, are you good?”

  “I am. Except the knot. How was school?” I sat cross-legged, touching my forehead.

  “Did you not eat before tryouts? That’s what Kade had said today when everyone was asking about you.”

  Kade lied for me? Another notch loosened in my heart. “I didn’t. Then I panicked when someone broke into my locker.”

  “Coach Dean has been questioning girls who had gym yesterday.” She reclined on the bottom of the bed, propping her head in her hand.

  “Do you know if Aaron bullied Mandy?” I tossed my calculus book on my pillow.

  She traced the outline of the stitching on my comforter. “I don’t know the whole story, but Kody does, since he was dating her. I wasn’t friends with Mandy. And I didn’t hang out with the Maxwells either. But rumors around school were that Aaron didn’t like the attention she brought to the team. Well, to her. The local media would come out to watch her. They did a few news articles on her. Aaron thought it should be about him. Anyway, little things would happen to her before a game. Like one time she found her glove cut up before a game.”

  “Was it Aaron?”

  “No one could prove it was.” Looking up at me, she stopped tracing the comforter. “I’ve been dying to tell you about Kade.” Her energy transformed from dour to cheery. “OMG. When you fell, Kade jumped out of the stands.” Her free hand was flying around as fast as the words spilled from her mouth. “I swear if he could fly… Actually, I think maybe he did fly.” She flipped hair over her shoulder. “Anyway, when he got down on the field, he wouldn’t let anyone near you except Coach Dean. It was like you were Snow White, and he was your prince. Like he was afraid that if anyone kissed you, you would fall in love with them instead of him.” She giggled.

  “A tiny bit dramatic. Don’t you think?” I made a pinching gesture with my forefinger and thumb.

  “Let me talk,” Becca said. “So the ambulance came, and Kade wouldn’t even let the medics around you. Somehow they convinced Kade they knew what they were doing. The girls in the stands were about to pass out. They’ve never seen Kade Maxwell run to a girl’s rescue. He does have it bad for you, girl.”

  “Mmm.” She was right about that.

  “What?” Becca asked.

  “He told me he loved me.” The words came out easily.

  “I knew it. When he gave you that flower yesterday. I’m so happy for you. Do you love him?” Her dark eyes were laser-focused on me.

  “I like him a lot. But, I’m cautious.” I folded the edge of a piece of paper. “My last boyfriend dumped me after I told him I loved him.” There was more to Brad that I didn’t care to share at the moment.

  “Lacey. I know I warned you in the beginning about Kade, but he seems different. I don’t know, more mature. Plus he is so hot, sexy, and sooooo…male.” Her cheeks reddened.

  We both laughed.

  “I need to go.” She rubbed her hands on her jeans as she rose.

  I debated whether to ask her stay for dinner. I wanted to be able to talk with Kade alone.

  “Do you want to stay for dinner?” I asked anyway. I wanted to bond more with her. It was nice having a girl as a friend. Dad would be pleased.

  “Nah, I can’t. My mom is taking me out to Wiley’s Bar and Grill. It’s our mother-and-daughter night. My dad is balancing the books at the Cave. I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

  A pang of hurt hit me square in the chest. I’d never have a mother-and-daughter night again. I hopped off the bed. “I’ll walk you out. Kade is coming for dinner.”

  When we opened the door, a citrusy smell drifted in.

  “Whatever Mary is cooking, I’m sad I can’t stay. It smells delicious,” Becca said.

  “I think it’s pork chops,” I added as we climbed down the stairs.

  When we reached the front door, we hugged and said our goodbyes. It was only four thirty, so I figured I’d check in with Mary and see if Dad came home. I found him sitting at the kitchen island, eating a sandwich, and Mary preparing a salad.

  “I guess you’re not staying for dinner?” I asked Dad, kissing him on the cheek.

  “I need to get an early start at the club.” His brown hair was wet, and he wore black pants and a blue button-front, long-sleeved shirt rolled up to his forearms.

  “Please stay. Kade is having dinner with us.” I sat down next to him.

  “Maybe next time, Sweet Pea.” He pushed off the granite top with his hands as he stood, grabbing his glass of water. “I promise. I gotta run.” He downed the water as he went over and set the glass in the sink. “I’ll see you ladies tomorrow.” He snatched his wallet and keys from the counter near the door to the laundry room and disappeared.

  I would have protested if it weren’t for the doorbell chiming. “Kade is early.” I jumped down from the stool, darting for the front door.

  Mary laughed behind me.

  I slowed. A girl should be calm and proper when meeting a man. My mom’s words, not mine. I pulled out the clip in my hair then combed my fingers through it. I glanced down. I should’ve changed out of the sweatshirt. At least, I had jeans on and not yoga pants, for once. As my hand covered the doorknob, the bell dinged again.

  I opened the heavy wooden door. The sexy beast stood on the porch, hair windblown-messy, white henley, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, black jeans, black boots, and a Maxwell grin on his gorgeous face. Maybe it was good I had a sweatshirt and a
bra on since my nipples were hard.

  “Hey, baby,” he rasped.

  Cold air followed him in. No sooner had I shut the door than he planted a soft kiss on my lips. “You look better,” he said. “I missed you.”

  I planted my hands on his firm abs. “What did you miss about me?”

  “Your beautiful green eyes,” he said, staring into them.

  “That’s it?” I stuck out my bottom lip, snaking my hands around to his lower back.

  He leaned down, threading his fingers into my hair. “I can’t tell you everything at once. I have to keep you wondering,” he said close to my ear.

  “Just remember two can play this game.”

  Footsteps echoed in the hall. “Dinner is ready,” Mary announced.

  We separated. My bare feet slapped against the wood floor. Kade’s boots thumped.

  Mary had the glass dining table in front of the window in the nook area set with plates and utensils. “Sit, you two,” she said, pointing at the table.

  Kade sat in the chair facing the window. I sat on the end to his left. Mary served us salad, pork chops, and jasmine rice. Then she joined us. I took my first bite of the pork chop and my taste buds did a happy dance.

  “Is this Emeril’s recipe?” I asked.

  “Not exactly—I didn’t have all the ingredients, so I used mangoes for the paste.”

  “It’s very good,” Kade said, between bites.

  “What are we doing for your birthday this weekend?” Mary asked as she poured dressing on her salad.

  Kade’s head snapped my way. “It’s your birthday?” His voice was a little too excited.

  I glared at Mary. She knew I didn’t like anyone to make a fuss over my birthday.

  As though she heard my thinking, she said, “But it’s the big one-eight.”

  “When is it?” Kade asked.

  “Saturday,” Mary answered.

  Kade and Mary exchanged devious looks.

  “Oh, no. You two are not going to plan anything.”

  “Eat your dinner,” Kade said. “And stop freaking out so much.”

  I stilled, the fork halfway to my mouth. His words cut deep. Was he calling me a freak? The last time he said something similar I’d punched him in the nose. Without saying a word, I set down my fork and stormed out of the kitchen before I did hit him again.

  “Lacey,” he called. “Lace.”

  His voice waned through the house as I found the one spot I went to whenever I was feeling blue, mad, or sorry for myself. I settled into an oversized chair in the sunroom, overlooking our backyard. The glass-enclosed room was cold and warm all at the same time. I imagined in the winter it would be freezing in here even though it was heated. Dad and I had seen pictures of this room on the Internet when we were house hunting. The snow had covered the glass rooftop and the trees outside were blanketed with it. I hugged a pillow and stared out at the sunny day. I loved the sense of safety and freedom the room gave me. I felt like I was part of the world, yet sheltered from all the harshness of it. I loved the beautiful scenery as the trees were turning the deeper colors of fall. It seemed that every day, green turned into oranges, reds, and yellows. If only my mom and Julie were here to see the beautiful palette.

  Footsteps clomped on the hardwood floor. A fragrant hint of cedar wafted in before my guest did. Kade could smell like trash, and I’d still want him all over me. Maybe that idea was a little over the top. You’re supposed to be mad at him. Regardless, I inhaled, letting the aroma fill my lungs.

  “I’m sorry,” he rasped from behind me. “I was just using an expression without thinking. I wasn’t saying anything about you.”

  I squeezed the pillow a little harder, suppressing a shudder at the sound of his voice. I wanted to be mad at him, but his presence overpowered any resolve I had.

  “Can I be that pillow?” he asked with a smile in his voice.

  “Depends.”

  A smidgeon of his manly frame reflected in the glass in front of me. He had his shoulder propped up against the doorframe. His toned chest strained against the white henley he wore. “On?” he prompted.

  “How much of an asshat you’re going to be tonight.”

  His reflection in the window blurred, and then he was sitting in front of me on the ottoman. “Now who’s being the asshat?” he asked.

  “Go away, Kade. I’m sure the school will have a field day with me when I go back tomorrow.”

  “Let them. Why do you even care? The girl I met that first night in the parking lot could not give a shit.”

  That was what I wanted everyone to believe. I sometimes convinced myself, even. I was an emotional freak, thanks to my PTSD. Since my first day at Kensington, it seemed I was propelled back in time to nine months ago. Right after the funeral, I’d became a temperamental nut case. One minute I would cry, then the next I would lash out at anyone and everyone. What happened to the girl who just wanted to play baseball, hang out with family and friends, and fly planes? My brooding was shattered when he lifted me in the air and set me on his lap. I adjusted my legs so I was straddling him, my soft chest to his hard one. “How do you keep doing that?” I asked.

  “Doing what?” He cupped my face with his callused hands.

  “Kade—”

  “Shut up, Lace, and kiss me.”

  The guy was possessive and demanding as hell, but I didn’t run. I kissed him like my life depended on it. Our tongues tangled, merging into a warm and wet cavern of heated bliss. He tasted like mangoes and Italian dressing, sweet and tangy.

  Kade’s hands snaked under my shirt, around my back, gliding up to my bra.

  “Hey, you’re not getting what you want.” I grabbed his shoulder and pushed.

  “And what do you think I want?” He held me tighter.

  “A polar bear,” I blurted out.

  “You are my polar bear, Lace. I meant everything I said to you yesterday,” he said with certainty.

  “We should get back to dinner.” I changed the subject. I was still trying to wrap my mind around his declaration. Not to mention my own feelings.

  He tipped his head. “Mary said she would keep the food warm. While we have some quiet time, I would like to know why you have panic attacks.”

  I pushed away again. He drew me closer.

  I’d planned on telling him. So why all of a sudden did I have cold feet? I’d told Becca my mom passed away. There were no details though.

  “I hate to beg. It’s not in my nature. But for you, I’d do anything. I think I deserve to know, Lace.” His voice was soft, less demanding. “If I know more, maybe I can help.”

  Dip your toe in the water, Dr. Davis’s words roared. Kade had shared his painful story of how his sister died. Taking a deep breath, I climbed off him and he let me go easily. I made myself comfortable in the chair, even though this conversation was going to be far from comfortable. If I were going to tell this story, I needed my space. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

  “Doctors have diagnosed me with PTSD,” I said in a low voice, eyes downcast. I didn’t want to see any emotion on his face—at least, not right now. “I get flashbacks of that night.” An image of Mom’s beautiful, brown, lifeless eyes surfaced. A tear rolled down, and I shivered. I couldn’t do this.

  He dragged the ottoman closer so our knees were touching. “Baby, I’m right here. I’m not going to run.” His voice was warm and soft, helping to ease some of my anxiety.

  He might not run, but I wanted to. “I found my mom and sister.” I sucked in a ragged breath. “They weren’t breathing. They were covered in blood. Someone broke into our home and killed them. Now certain things can trigger a panic attack.”

  “Like the dark house,” he said softly.

  I nodded. “And Renee was a trigger yesterd
ay. She looks like my sister with the color of her hair and eyes, but when she smiles the resemblance between her and Julie is uncanny.”

  “Are there any others, baby?”

  “I’m not sure I could handle seeing a lot of blood, not after that night.” I could’ve gone into more detail about what their bodies looked like, how I slipped in the blood and fell on top of Julie. But just picturing the scene caused the small buzzing sound to surface in my head. I didn’t want to risk a panic attack.

  He lifted me onto his lap again, and a tidal wave of emotions poured out—sadness, anger, pain, grief. I buried my head in the crook of his neck and cried.

  “Don’t leave me,” I whispered between sobs. It was the first time I said all that out loud to someone other than a doctor and the police. I hadn’t told my dad or my brother what I saw that night. They knew it was hard for me, and they didn’t want to hear the details. By the time Dad had gotten to the scene, the police had already covered the bodies.

  He rubbed my back. “I’m not going anywhere,” he breathed with conviction.

  I held him tightly, crying harder than I ever had in front of someone else. Sure, I’d broken down at the funeral, but not like this. Maybe it was the strength in his arms, in his words. No matter what, I didn’t want to let go of him.

  I sat in homeroom daydreaming of Kade and the time we’d spent together. After I sobbed until my nose was raw and shared my triggers, I told him what I’d been like after the funeral. The conversation was quite cathartic for me. He’d been wonderful as he listened and held me. Throughout that evening, I started to get a glimpse of just how serious he was about me. Love blazed in his eyes. His tender kisses and gentle caresses warmed my soul.

  The speaker in homeroom crackled, severing my trip down memory lane. “Ms. Vander, please send Lacey Robinson to Coach Dean’s office,” the lady’s voice blared.

  What did Coach want? He’d talked to Dad. Maybe he wanted to ask me questions about my locker since I didn’t get a chance to talk to him after tryouts. Or maybe he found the responsible party. Or maybe Principal Sanders and Coach decided not to let girls try out since they’d had problems with the baseball team bullying Mandy. My stomach churned as my throat went dry.