With his bottom lip between his teeth, he sized me up.
“Maybe you can teach her some of your tricks of color and light,” Mr. Brewer said.
Fantastic idea. “I would like that. I owe Mr. Brewer an assignment. I could use your help.”
Mr. Brewer cocked his head. “You do owe me.”
Zach pulled a business card from his suit jacket pocket. “Here.” He extended the card. “Call me tomorrow, and we’ll set a time for next week. As for my masterpiece, it’s a portrait of Kelton Maxwell that should be around here somewhere. If you were in class today, then you know what he looks like. I need to talk to Brew.”
I gripped his business card as my insides waged a small fight between irritation over his dismissal of me and nervousness that everything today seemed to revolve around Kelton. “It was nice meeting you. I’ll give you a shout midafternoon.”
I quickly searched the room for Zach’s masterpiece and Kelton. Satisfied that I didn’t need to hide from Kelton, and disappointed that I was coming up empty on Zach’s masterpiece, I continued to work the room. It was probably best I didn’t spot the painting. If Kelton was posing in nothing but a cowboy hat, I had no doubt my tray of drinks would be splattered on the floor— along with me.
I weaved through the throng of people, passing those who had full glasses. As I passed a man dressed in a sharp, tailored suit standing next to a redheaded woman, I paused when I heard Kelton’s name.
“Daddy, when are you interviewing Kelton Maxwell?” the redhead asked.
Their backs were to me as they faced an art piece on a stand, which I couldn’t quite see. Regardless, her mousy voice was hard to forget from class today.
“Trudy, pumpkin, stop asking about the boy. I have his résumé and application. I haven’t had time to read through it.” He shifted on his feet. “Although I’m not sure posing half naked for an art class looks good on a résumé. He’ll have to convince me he wants a job at my law firm.”
So Kelton was sticking to his dream of becoming a lawyer. I was so proud of him.
“Daddy. You’re so old-fashioned. So what if he models? Do you know how hard it is for someone to stay still long enough for us to sketch?” Trudy hooked her arm through his.
They stepped to the next piece of artwork. When they moved away and revealed the painting they’d been looking at, my jaw dropped. Piercing blue eyes stared back at me. I bit my tongue when all I wanted to do was moan at the beautiful, perfect man on the canvas. Kelton was casually leaning against a large oak tree with his hands tucked into his jeans pockets, bare chested and barefooted, hair tousled, and a half smirk on his chiseled face. Memories flooded my vision of Kelton and me playing in his tree house when we were ten years old. He loved trees and how the branches swayed in the wind. He’d once told me that when the leaves rustled they were talking to each other. We would sit in his tree house listening to the trees on very windy days.
“It’s a great piece. Zach, one of Brew’s students, painted this,” Kelton said as he came up next to me, the smoothness of his voice washing over me like a shower of melted chocolate. “Like it?” He gently placed a hand on my lower back.
“Not in the least,” I said confidently, even though my knees were about to give out. I thought I’d forgotten what his touch was like, but the heat of his hand brought back more memories of when we used to tackle each other playing football. I had to drop that art class. I couldn’t afford to let Kelton distract me from my goal.
He pulled on the bowtie of his tux with his free hand, stretching his neck. “Do you lie a lot?”
I do since this morning. “I’m not lying. You have several flaws, you know.”
He snorted as he flexed his fingers where they were splayed on my back. “I’d like to hear them.”
“Sorry.” With my head down, I started for the kitchen and got a whiff of his fresh rain cologne. At that moment it took every bit of willpower not to whimper.
He grabbed my arm. “Wait. Why do you keep running from me?”
My pulse began beating like a jumping bean. “Why do you keep chasing me?”
“I’m not chasing you. I’ve been trying to apologize. Brew said you seemed spooked about something when you left class. He thought I scared you.” His handsome gaze drank me in.
You did scare me. You still do. “Sorry, dude. You can be a creeper.”
He raised his hand to his mouth as one side turned upward. Damn sexy grin had only gotten sexier with age.
“I have to work. I shouldn’t have said anything.” I gawked at him instead of doing my job.
“People are mingling and talking with drinks in their hands. So, talk to the creeper. You might find that I can purr like a kitten if you pet the right spot,” he said in a serious tone.
I was so doomed to fail if I stayed this close to him. I was ready to tear off the wig and my contacts and throw myself at him. But for some reason, my legs wouldn’t move.
He cocked his head to one side. “I can’t help but ask. Do I know you?” He studied me like I was his lab experiment.
Get out now! a voice in my head screamed as I glanced past him.
A beautiful blond girl dressed like a runway model in a formfitting white strapless cocktail dress glided toward us with a smile etched on her face and her gaze fixed on either Kelton or me. Whoever she was after, her arrival was my cue to leave. My legs still wouldn’t move. Damn curiosity.
“Kelton, there you are.” She reached up with her delicate fingers and touched his face.
My guess? She was none other than Chloe.
Kelton scowled, clearly not liking that the girl was trying to direct his attention away from me. Either that or he was irritated that someone would try and tell him what to do. Which didn’t surprise me. Kelton had never liked to be told what to do. Even when my father told him he wasn’t allowed to see me anymore, Kelton didn’t listen. The boy had a mind of his own. All his brothers were like that. Even at a young age the Maxwell boys had been brazen, not taking crap from anyone, at least not at school.
Dropping her hand, she said, “At least introduce me to your new friend.”
“Pardon me,” I said. “I need to work.” I bolted. Once inside the kitchen, I let out a loud sigh.
“Animals out there?” Wendy asked.
I laughed when I should be fleeing. As I set down the serving tray, the girl in the white dress bounced in.
“Did I say something to make you run?” She placed a strand of hair behind her ear, exposing a large solitaire diamond earring. She definitely came from wealth. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Kelton can be an ass, and I just want to make sure he didn’t upset you.”
What! I wanted to hate this girl. I wanted to tear her big brown eyes out of their sockets and wiggle my nose, hoping she would turn into a toad. But I couldn’t. Her voice was soft. She had a pretty smile, and she seemed genuine. Kelton would be the luckiest man alive to snag a beautiful and nice girl like Chloe.
“I’m sorry. I was the one who was rude.” That was the first true statement I’d said in the last hour.
“Hi, I’m Chloe.” She held out a dainty hand.
“I’m Emma.” We shook.
“Chloe, have you been here the whole time?” Wendy wiped her forehead with a dishtowel.
Chloe placed a hand on her flat stomach. “I have, but I’ve been in the ladies’ room. I think I ate something last night that didn’t agree with me.”
Wendy went over to her purse and returned with a Pepto-Bismol tablet. “Take this.”
After Chloe chewed the tablet, the two began talking about Chloe’s graduation party. I closed my eyes and counted to ten to get my heart to stop racing. As I did, I slipped my hands into the pockets of my apron. My hand closed around a business card—the key to finding Terrance Malden.
4
Kelton
A booming bass pulsed as I strutted into the back entrance of Rumors, shrugging out of my tux jacket. The damn bowtie was enough to strangle me, especially whe
n I stood beside Emma. Her jasmine scent about choked me with memories of Lizzie. The more I talked to her, the more I swore I knew her.
I pushed past a long line of girls waiting for the restrooms. They were all ages, shapes, and sizes for a Friday night. A handful smiled at me suggestively. I’d picked up one or two on occasion after Chloe and I had broken up. But I wasn’t trolling tonight. I was here to listen to my brother, Kody, perform. He’d written a new song he was trying out.
When I passed the last two girls in line, one of them flipped her dark hair over her shoulder. “Did you see? Dillon Hart is here. I can’t believe he’s in a trendy club like this. I’m going to try and talk to him,” she said to her friend. “I would love to get my hands on him. He’s hot.”
Her friend choked. “The only way you’re talking to him is if you’re a homeless girl under the age of twenty,” the other girl said in a high-pitched voice. “And how do you know he’s here? No one really knows what he looks like. My brother tells me he’s a ghost in this city.”
Dillon Hart’s name had been mentioned once or twice in conversations among the locals who frequented the club on occasion. Word on the street was no one could pick him out of a lineup. But he did offer food and a warm bed to runaway girls who wanted to get off the streets and away from their pimps. I wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but I was curious. If Dillon Hart was in the club, then I’d like to meet him so I could shake his hand for helping keep girls safe. I slowed my pace.
“I caught a glimpse of him when I overheard the bald guy I bumped into call his name,” the girl with the dark hair said.
I ducked into the manager’s office not too far beyond the girls.
Kade whistled from behind his metal desk. His copper eyes grew wide. “My baby brother in a tuxedo.” He sat back in the chair.
“Bite me. I didn’t have time to stop at my condo to change. Got any spare clothes here?” I knew he did. With Lacey away at college and the club a good distance away from where we lived in Ashford, Kade spent at least three nights a week in Boston.
He flicked his head toward the private bathroom. Mr. Robinson had it built just for Kade when he handed over the management of Rumors to him after we graduated high school. I beelined it into the spacious room. He was older than Kross, Kody, and me by a year, but we were all over six feet tall and fit into the same size clothes, more or less. I opened a cabinet adjacent to the sink and snagged a pair of jeans and a Hinder Band T-shirt. I changed quickly and stuffed the tuxedo into the cabinet. Since Chloe and I were no longer dating, I hoped I would never have to wear that monkey suit again. For a second, I thought to throw the tux into the trash but decided against it.
I went back into the office. “I left the tux for you, bro. You can make use of it when you marry that beautiful girl of yours.” Parking my butt in a chair, I propped my feet up on top of the desk.
“Where is she, by the way?” Kade glanced at his watch. When Lacey was home from college, Kade hardly let her out of his sight.
“No idea. Chloe spent the majority of time at the fartsy gala in the bathroom, and Lacey was with her. My guess would be they’re still in the bathroom.”
“What’s wrong? Chloe okay?” Kade pinned me with a glare. “Did you upset her again? You know her old man will have your balls on a skewer.”
“For three years you’ve been worried about her father killing me. I can handle Pitt. Besides, you know Chloe and I aren’t an item anymore. And her old man was pleased, if you ask me.” I couldn’t say for sure, but Kade’s best friend, Hunt, who worked for Pitt, mentioned Pitt had been in a good mood since Chloe and I had broken up.
“You’re not using her for sex, are you?”
“Those days are done, bro.” I wasn’t about to stay with a girl who wanted more than I could give. I saw my future with me and only me, although I couldn’t help but think of the girl who’d left me standing on the scorching tar street seven years ago. I dropped my feet to the floor. “Kade, have you ever thought about the Reardons? I mean, whatever happened to Lizzie and her family?”
He pinched his eyebrows together. “Where did that come from?”
I rubbed my chin. “For some reason, I’ve been thinking about Lizzie.” Her scent. Her dark hair. Her blue-gray eyes. Her long neck. Her plump lips—the ones I kissed and would give anything to kiss again. I’d bet at the age of twenty she was more beautiful than I remembered.
“Are you thinking of Karen? The anniversary of her death is coming up. It’ll be seven years since she died. And you always go weird on us around that time.”
I leaned on my knees. “So? I miss her.” Every one of us in the family missed Karen. She had been Daddy’s little girl, Mom’s princess, and to us boys she had been the most precious girl in the world. She had been happy, beautiful, and intelligent—sometimes too smart for her own good.
“Kel, we all miss Karen. But you hide for days around the anniversary of her death. I get that you have to work out your own shit. I get you loved her. We all handle emotions differently. Yet after seven years I’d have expected you to have come to terms with her death.”
Easy for you to say. You aren’t the one who can’t remember if you left the gun cabinet unlocked. You aren’t the one who was distracted by a beautiful girl who had walked into the garage that day as I was putting away ammo. My old man had told us that Karen found the combination to the gun safe. I wasn’t sure I believed him. He always had a way of trying to protect us, even our feelings. Somewhere in the back of my mind I suspected he wanted to shoulder the blame so my mom wouldn’t think that any of her sons were responsible for Karen’s death. I couldn’t bring myself to broach the subject with any of my siblings or my father, and I wasn’t about to now. If my mom found out I might’ve been the one to leave the gun cabinet unlocked, she could relapse and have to return to the mental health facility where she’d lived for years after Karen’s death. I couldn’t handle that. I couldn’t handle the screams that came from her room at night. I couldn’t handle her depressed and crying all the time. Most of all, I would die knowing that I was the one to send her back to the mental health facility. I would take my secret to the grave. Hell, I’d lived with it all these years. I could live with it many more if that meant my family was happy.
“No one gets over death. It’s just not that easy.” I pulled on my hair. “I often think about Gracie Reardon, too. How she must’ve been devastated. How could anyone handle killing their best friend, and at the age of twelve no less?”
“Kel, you need to talk to someone. Why don’t you go see Dr. Davis? He helped Kody when Mandy died. And he’s helped Lacey with her PTSD.” Kade’s voice held concern.
“I’m not going to a psychiatrist.” I narrowed my eyes. “I’ll deal.”
“Then talk to Dad. He counsels military veterans every day. Plus he understands what we went through.”
I snarled. “I said I’ll deal.” I was afraid that the minute I opened myself up, the guilt that had taken up a large space inside me would be real. Which would mean I was responsible for my sister’s death.
He raised his hands. “Okay. I’ll back off. So, have you heard from Davenport? Do you have an interview set up yet?”
I blew out a breath. “No. I called yesterday, and the receptionist said Mr. Davenport would be in touch. He was at the shindig with his daughter. I spoke to her briefly. But when I went to talk to him, he was gone.”
“You haven’t slept with her?”
I arched a brow. “Fuck no.” I pushed to my feet. “I may crave sex, but I wouldn’t stoop low enough to sleep with someone to get a job. I have morals, you know.”
He circled the desk. “Bro, I’m sorry.” He squeezed my shoulder.
The door opened. The thump, thump of the bass blasted in.
Lacey breezed in with her brown hair flowing behind her and her breasts poking out of her low-cut green dress. “It’s crazy out there.”
Sliding his gaze over the love of his life, Kade groaned.
“I’
m out of here.” I stalked to the door. Lacey was only home for the weekend, and when she was, she and Kade sucked face the entire time. I didn’t blame him, but I didn’t want to witness their escapades.
“Wait, Kel,” Lacey said as she tried to wrap her small hand around my bicep. “Why didn’t you wait for Chloe after the art gala?” She peered up at me with those green eyes of hers, reminding me of Emma.
“We’re not together anymore, remember?” Then I got the hell out of there before she could give me the third degree about love and shit. Besides, I had another girl—with red hair and a light scent of jasmine—who drew my interest.
5
Lizzie
I jumped on the subway, or as Bostonians called it, “the T.” A middle-aged lady sat across from me, holding onto her purse for dear life. Several other people from all walks of life occupied the other seats, reading, chatting, or sleeping.
My phone vibrated as the train sped down the tracks. I checked the screen. A text from Peyton. How come you ran out after you thanked my mom? I wanted to invite you to a frat party at BU. Call me. We can change wig styles and give the frat boys a run for their money.
I chewed my lip. Her invitation sounded like fun. But I didn’t know how long I’d be with Dillon.
Sorry. I’m tired. Let’s do something soon. In part, I lied again. I ran out because I was afraid she’d want to tag along, and bringing her with me would only get complicated. Plus, for the brief time I’d met Dillon, he didn’t seem like the type of guy who would welcome Peyton. Not when he was selling me a gun.
Let’s meet for lunch at BU next week.
Deal, I replied. Peyton and I had had loads of fun when we were at the University of Miami. The train braked, announcing my stop. I filed out of the train car with a handful of people. Climbing up the stairs, I pocketed my phone. Once outside, the cold wind hit me. I shivered as I got my bearings. I’d checked out the map before I boarded the train. I had to walk four blocks. Sweeping my long, dark hair around me, I tucked it inside my coat then began my trek to Rumors. I found my hair was a great neck warmer.
Dare to Love (Maxwell #3) Page 4