Her thick eyelashes swept upward. “I got to go.”
The place wasn’t exactly an office but more of a game room with a foosball table, a pinball machine, and a dartboard as well as a small home theater with a TV, the chaise longue, a beanbag chair, and a loveseat. The only piece of furniture that could be classified as office material was a glass table with a computer on it against the back wall. Overall, the room reminded me of our boathouse turned man cave at the lake.
I settled against the foosball table. “So you’re not dating Dillon? Find another so soon?” Dickwad. Those questions didn’t help her.
“What about you and Chloe? Why was she crying outside your apartment this morning?” Her tone was light with a sprinkle of sarcasm.
I cocked my head. “Come again? Chloe was crying? This morning? At my place?” Was she looking for me? Did Zach upset her? Or… No, they weren’t dating. Zach and I had a friend code. We didn’t date each other’s exes.
She picked something off her leg. “Didn’t you break up with her?”
“Yes.” I was about to drill her for more information, but then I shoved Chloe to the back of my mind. I wasn’t there to discuss my former girlfriend. I’d ask Zach about Chloe later. “Any luck with the lawyer?”
“He was in court. His secretary said she’d relay the message.”
“How’s Gracie?” I lost my attitude. “You said she wasn’t with your parents. Is she in college?” Gracie would be nineteen now.
She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. Suddenly, tears cascaded down her cheeks.
Panic coursed through me. Please, please don’t say something happened to Gracie. I pinched the bridge of my nose. She tucked her head down and began to cry.
Motherfucker. I ran to her, sat down, then reached out to pull her to me whether she wanted me to or not. Maybe I needed to hug her for my own sanity or my own dire need to feel her again. I gently grabbed her arms. “Come here,” I said softly.
She adjusted herself against me without a fight, sobbing.
“Shhh. Everything will be okay. I’m here for you,” I whispered as I rested my chin on her head, stroking her hair. Her in my arms felt so right, yet so wrong. At that moment, I was at peace with my demons. But as soon as she left my arms, I would be a complete fucking mess. It didn’t matter. I had to help her, even if that meant putting my feelings on the line.
She hiccupped. “I’m sorry.” She pressed her hands to my chest and pushed weakly.
I didn’t move.
“I’m getting snot all over you.”
I whipped off my jacket then pulled up the bottom of my T-shirt and wiped her tears. “You can blow your nose if you’d like.”
She regarded me with a fragile smile. “How many girls have you offered your shirt to?”
“Only you.” Honest answer. I couldn’t handle girls who cried. But with Lizzie it was different, natural. Like she was part of me or had never left me.
She sucked in a breath then shivered before she accepted my offer.
“I can take it off,” I said.
“Please, leave it on.” Her voice was nasally and strangled. After she patted her eyes and wiped her nose, she adjusted her position, moving to sit cross-legged. “Thank you. I don’t mean to dump my life on you.”
“I told you I want to help. Do you want to talk about Gracie?”
She shuddered. “Gracie died when she was fourteen. Overdosed on pills.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I had no words other than that. I wasn’t sure I was breathing or if blood was even pumping through me.
She waved a hand in front of me.
I blinked.
“She couldn’t handle life anymore. She was never the same after that day. We tried to get her help. But medication, therapy, love, nothing got through to her.”
Shooting a friend had to be more traumatic than anything I could imagine. Death alone was traumatic. Finding a dead body was traumatic. My mom and Lacey both understood that more than anyone. But accidentally killing a friend and then watching her die had to supersede all else. I stood up, took off my ball cap, and tugged on my hair. Here I was worried about my own fucking feelings. This girl lost her entire family, and loser Malden had stolen her inheritance. I went over to the pinball machine, lost in a sea of what-the-hell. When I turned, she was standing in front of me with doe-like eyes and about to say something. Before she did, I let go of my ball cap and cupped her face in my hands, her soft skin heating my palms. I mapped my gaze from her lips to her eyes before fixating on the gold speck in her left eye. After a long moment, I lowered my head, a thread separating us.
Her long lashes fell, sweeping the tops of her cheeks. As if that was my cue, I brushed my lips across hers.
She whimpered. My stomach flip-flopped. She grasped my hips before she slipped the tips of her fingers inside the waist of my jeans, moving closer.
Sirens went off in my head. My blood boiled in a good way. I yearned to strip her naked. Not here. Not now. Not while she was vulnerable, and not when I was trying to protect myself from getting hurt. So I silently chanted Patriots, football, Super Bowl, anything to keep the madman in me from bursting free. But fuck if her hot touch and delicate fingers didn’t send the fire straight to my groin.
My chest rose, meeting hers. “You’re so damn beautiful. Just like the day I met you.” I slowly pressed my lips to hers. Sparks ignited somewhere. Or maybe it was the throbbing in my ears.
She licked her lips. I groaned then nibbled on her bottom lip before easing my tongue inside her mouth. The world crystalized. Gone was the haze that had been clouding me for the last seven years. I buried my hands in her hair, exploring her mouth. She tasted like summer and bubblegum.
She slid her hands around to my back as she sucked on my tongue.
Patriots. Football. Super Bowl. Stop. Break it off now, my subconscious yelled. The problem was my body wasn’t obeying. I wanted more of her, mind, body, and soul. Reluctantly I broke away, kissing along her jaw until I settled on her ear.
She pressed her hips into me.
My body hardened, every fucking inch of it. “I love your toe socks,” I whispered as my hands—almost of their own accord—traveled down to grab her butt, firm yet soft.
She giggled.
A door shut above us followed by voices and thud, thud, thud.
She backed away faster than the Roadrunner. A cold breeze whipped through me, my adrenaline dissipating as the voices drew near. Lizzie fluffed her hair as she went in search of her boots. I fell back, gripping the pinball machine, trying to get my system to quiet, my stomach to stop spinning every which way.
Dillon graced us with his presence along with the two girls I’d seen that day on the porch. They bounced over to Lizzie, clearly excited to see her. The one with a ponytail threw herself at Lizzie. The other one, who had hair shorter than mine, waited her turn to hug the girl who had just made my body fire into fifth gear.
“Are you okay?” the short-haired girl asked.
Lizzie nodded, lacing up her boots.
“Dillon says you’re going to stay with us awhile. For real this time,” the ponytail girl cooed like a high schooler.
Dillon came up to us. “I see you didn’t kill each other.”
On the contrary, although I might die if I didn’t kiss her again. I might die if I did. Yep, downshift, dude. Take a step back. Regroup. Help her. Keep your damn hands to yourself. A laugh roared in my head. Not after that kiss. A kiss that tasted familiar, felt like home. For fuck’s sake, I was screwed.
“Did she get ahold of the lawyer?” Dillon asked, cutting short the flashes of images of my tongue in her mouth, my hands on her ass, hell, her fingers burning my skin.
I casually rested my hands in front of my groin as I nodded, afraid to speak, afraid my voice would come out strangled.
“You know finding that dude who stole her money probably won’t get her money back. We could rough him up pretty good, though.” Dillon watched the
girls, who were sitting on the chaise chatting away.
I couldn’t help but ogle Lizzie. She was smiling. “Those your sisters?” I knew he helped girls off the street, but the girl with the ponytail could pass for his sibling.
“Nope. The one to the left of Lizzie is Bee. The one with the short black hair is Allie. Both were on the streets, trying to survive.”
“I admire you, man. I also commend you. None of my business, but why do you get girls off the street?”
“Everyone needs a chance. And no one should be living on the streets, especially young ladies.” His voice dropped to almost a growl as if he were pissed about something. “So, lawyer, huh? You got any other lawyer ideas to help Lizzie?”
“Dude, I’m not even in law school yet. But I could talk to one.” As soon as I’d said it, I silently berated myself. I should’ve thought about that in the first place. Jeremy Pitt, Chloe’s old man, was a former lawyer. Better yet, I could speak to Mr. Davenport. After all, he was a practicing attorney. If I did, maybe then he wouldn’t see me as a naked model but as a valued summer intern who wanted to learn. Which might help my chances of getting the job and, at the same time, help Lizzie with her problem. In the end, though, we still had to find Terrance. For no other reason than to throw the book at him. Although ramming my fists into him several times would certainly feel good.
“You know, man,” Dillon said. “Whatever you do, don’t hurt her.”
“Where did that come from?” I asked. Dillon’s attitude had changed from cordial to protective. While I liked his bravado for wanting to protect Lizzie’s feelings, I couldn’t help but remember them locking lips at Rumors.
“You’re a player. And she’s not some one-night stand. Or even someone to use as your play toy then throw out when you tire of her.”
Lizzie and the girls were deep in conversation.
“Dude, I haven’t forgotten that kiss between you two. So I could tell you the same thing.” I ground my teeth together.
“Jealous, are you?” he asked, grinning. “Look, we need to work together to help her.”
He was right. I threw aside my jealousy. I had a lawyer or two to call.
14
Lizzie
Dillon and I had just left Firefly, a restaurant and bar in a shady part of Boston. I had time to kill before art class, and he was meeting with a guy who knew the underground gambling scene in the city. I wasn’t about to miss that meeting.
“So this guy, Tommy, will call you if he hears of a poker game?” Tommy had given me the willies the way he’d sized me up.
“He will if he wants me to forgive his debt.” Dillon had sold him a gun, and Tommy still owed him for it.
I’d asked Tommy if he knew the name Terrance Malden. His response had been, “I know faces, not names.” After I’d described Terrance as blond with hazel eyes and a big belly, Tommy had laughed. “You know how many men in this city fit that description?”
I yawned as Dillon braked at a stoplight. The last two days had been hectic. I’d moved out of the hostel and into Dillon’s house. For some reason, I felt like I belonged there. Bee and Allie were so excited, as was Dillon. Even though he didn’t express his feelings like the girls did, he did smile every time I entered a room. I didn’t pry anymore into his business about his sister. The girls had mentioned he continually searched for her. I wanted to help him but wasn’t sure how. Maybe when I got my life back in order I could do something for him. For sure, I would somehow repay him for all his help and hospitality.
“Any word from Pilkington?” Dillon asked.
“No. He’s tied up in some big trial. I asked his secretary if she could send me the documents, but she had to get his approval.” I’d have jumped on a plane to Florida, but my intuition told me I would have better luck staying close to Zach. And money was tight.
“What about Kelton? Has he talked to Zach?” Dillon gave his Camaro some gas.
“He said we’d talk when he saw me later.” Kelton’s other task was to contact an attorney he knew for some advice. Maybe that lawyer could help me with Mr. Pilkington. After all, a call from a lawyer might have more clout than one from me. “Can you drop me off at Rumors?”
His eyes wrinkled around the edges. “Isn’t Kelton in school?”
“Yeah, but I’m not going there for Kelton. I need a job. I think the manager has an opening for a waitress.” I’d called Peyton that morning to ask if her mom had any catering jobs on the horizon. Since she didn’t, I’d remembered something Lacey had said when I was in line for the bathroom at Rumors. Kade had been going through résumés for a waitress.
“You know the manager is Kade Maxwell?” Dillon shifted his attention from the road to me. “And if I’m not mistaken, you don’t want to get involved with the family.”
“True, but I can’t live at your place for free.” My insides were twisted over seeing the Maxwells. But I wasn’t worried so much about the brothers as I was about their parents. Anyway, since Kade knew me, maybe he would hire me. “You know, I recall that when we first met, you didn’t want anything to do with the Maxwells because of the mob. What changed your mind?”
“Kade gave me the lowdown that the Maxwells are not involved with the mob or any of their business. And my gut tells me they’re good people.” After several more stoplights and turns, Dillon parked in the lot behind Rumors. “I’ll go in with you.”
“Afraid Kade and I might rumble?” I was having second thoughts as we walked up to the back door.
“You don’t have to work,” Dillon said. “Or are you here to confront your past?” The light breeze blew his shoulder-length hair over his eyes.
“Maybe I want to see what Kade thinks of me after all these years.” I believed Kelton didn’t blame Gracie or anyone in my family for what had happened. Deep down a small part of me wanted to see if Kade or any of the other Maxwells did.
Dillon pushed his hair out of his face. “Why do you care what Kade thinks?”
“Because I care about Kelton.” And Kelton was all about family. If his family didn’t welcome me, then a relationship between Kelton and me would never work. Oh my God. I was getting so far ahead of myself. I didn’t even know if Kelton wanted a relationship. Boy, that one kiss— slow, wet, tentative, and amazing—had screwed me up. “You’re right. Let’s go. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I was headed back to the Camaro when I heard the click of the door.
“Dillon, man. What are you doing here? Kelton bothering you again?” a deep male voice asked.
“Nah, Kade,” Dillon replied.
I almost laughed that Dillon had told on Kelton. I should’ve thought about that angle. Yeah, that wouldn’t have prevented Kelton from finding me or talking to me. I pivoted and met a sparkling pair of copper eyes.
“Lizzie?” Kade kept his gaze riveted on me. “Is that you?”
Damn. I feigned a smile as I sized up a tall and broad-chested Maxwell.
Kade’s expression was soft. “I’m sorry to hear about the deaths in your family.”
Dillon cleared his throat. “Lizzie and I—”
“I came here because I heard you had a job opening,” I blurted out.
Kade rubbed a hand along his jaw. “Forgive me, but there are a ton of places in Boston to get a waitressing job. Why here?”
“It was a bad idea.” I glanced at Dillon. “I’ll walk to BU from here.” I needed to be alone for a while.
“Please don’t hurt him,” Kade said, pain coating his words. “Kelton will never come back from it this time.”
I knew Kade was watching out for his brother. I didn’t blame him, but I couldn’t help but dig my nails into my palms. “You’re forgetting I was thirteen and I didn’t have a choice. So don’t blame me. And not that you care, but I bawled my eyes out when we moved. It took me a long time to get over Kelton.” I wasn’t anywhere near over Kelton.
Kade came closer to me. “I’m not blaming you. But I know you’re not in town to stay. I’m asking yo
u not to hurt him. As far as my opening, I don’t think you working here is a good idea.”
I let out a small laugh. “Protecting your brother’s feelings now? You haven’t changed.” I started for the street. “Oh, and you should probably tell him not to hurt me.”
Dillon said something to Kade, but I tuned them out as I picked up my pace. Seeing Kade hadn’t resulted in the outcome I’d expected. But he did remind me that I needed to keep things between Kelton and me strictly platonic.
* * *
The walk to BU allowed me to shed some of my anger and hurt before I saw Kelton. I didn’t want him to know that Kade had irritated me, but only because I didn’t want a brotherly fight. I’d seen a couple of those as kids. They had ended with bruises and blood.
I made it to the art building then found a restroom. I wanted to don my wig and contacts. Mr. Brewer knew me with red hair. I wanted to keep things simple. It was none of his business anyway. I thought about dropping the class since I’d found Zach, but I’d already paid the fee. Plus, a selfish part of me screamed no. How else will you get to see Kelton practically naked?
A girl ran in and directly into a stall. I combed through my wig, examined myself in the mirror one last time, then left. As I did, I bumped into Mr. Brewer. “So sorry.”
“Hello, Emma,” he said, steadying me before we headed toward his classroom. “Did Zach help you with any techniques?”
Dare to Love (Maxwell #3) Page 13