Dray (Miller Brothers Book 1)

by Young, Alexa

  “Well, that more than makes up for it.” She smiles, taking a sip of her wine that’s just been placed down on the table.

  “I also have a hidden agenda. Laurie will have my balls if I don’t earn enough brownie points tonight,” I add with a smirk.

  I need to keep the boys intact.

  “Ahh, she is a little fierce, my friend, but she certainly loves you. She talked you up but also gave me a little warning about your reputation.” She quirks a brow, and I can only imagine what Laurie has said.

  Fuck.

  “Yes, it does precede me. But trust me, I’m far more than that. I guess I’ve come to a point where I’m tired of this lifestyle. I’m looking for something real.” I hope my words hold conviction because the few minutes we’ve been chatting, I’m liking her even more.

  “Well, I’m certainly real. You can pinch me, if you want.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” I smile, sipping on my beer.

  “So, what are your usual haunts?” She leans back slightly in her chair, all eyes on me.

  “Most of the popular bars.”

  She rolls her eyes ever so slightly. “Ahhh, see, that’s where you’re going wrong. You need to hang out in more of the classier places. You’ll find a different calibre of women there.”

  “I’m starting to realise that.” I watch a smile quirk on those beautiful lips of hers.

  “So, apart from working out, what do you like to do?”

  I laugh at her question. It’s been a long time since a woman asked me my interests; normally within seconds, their hand is resting on my knee, making their intentions clear. It’s a sure enough sign she’s interested in me, just in other ways.

  “The usual—films, sports.”

  “Football?” she asks, looking intrigued.

  “Yes.” I’m surprised by her sudden interest.

  “Man United or Man City.” She narrows her eyes, waiting for my response.

  “United.”

  Her eyes widen in alarm. “Oh, my God, then I can’t see you anymore.”

  “You can’t be a Man City supporter,” I say in disgust. The words almost stick in my throat. I despise City with a passion.

  “Yes.”

  “Get away from me.” I jokingly push her away, and she giggles.

  “Get your dirty United hands off me.” She slaps my hand away, and I’m enjoying the wicked gleam present in her eyes.

  “Oh, whatever.”

  “Sorry, did you just win the premiership? That would be a no.” She takes a sip of her wine, letting those words linger.

  I narrow my eyes; this is fighting talk right here. “Yeah, but we’ll come back next season and win it.”

  She splutters in her wine. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see who the champions are next May.”

  “Want to put a wager on that?” I ask, raising a brow.

  “A ‘money where your mouth is’ kind of guy, huh? Fifty pounds?”

  “Make it a hundred.” I smirk as her eyes widen a little, but she quickly recovers.

  “Ooh, you talk big. Let’s just hope your team can take the title. Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if they didn’t?” She’s enjoying this ribbing way more than I care to like, but there’s a part of me that is delighted by it, too. I like a girl with a good sense of humour; she could almost be one of the boys.

  “God, you City supporters are so arrogant. It’s money that’s bought you the title.” Ritch and I were always having huge debates over the whole football transfers. We had little time for billionaire owners who came in and bought a team. I was glad he was on the same side, someone to be there throughout the highs and the lows.

  She purses her lips in annoyance at my words. “Oh, whatever. How about another refill? All this goading is making me thirsty.” She winks with a grin, and I can’t help but shoot one back.

  I signal over and order us some more drinks. The rest of the night flies by as we talk work and other interests, not mentioning football again. It seems effortless, not like a date at all. It’s only when Diane looks at her watch and frowns that I’m brought back to Earth with a bang. Our time is up.

  “So, fancy doing this again?” she asks, pulling on her coat. I smile at her eagerness, as I’m equally as keen.

  “Why not? Maybe next time we could go for something to eat? I’m pretty sure Laurie can reserve us a table.” I can almost guarantee it. Laurie will be in her element to know a second date is imminent; she’ll probably start picking out hats soon.

  “Oh, Laurie’s food is to die for. I have a busy schedule coming up, but I’m more than sure I can fit you in somewhere,” she adds with a smirk.

  “Well, I am highly honoured.” Holding out my arm for her to take, we walk outside. I flag down a taxi and open the door. I’m being the perfect gentleman.

  She turns and faces me. “Thank you, Dray. Laurie said you were a special kind of guy, and you didn’t disappoint.”

  Her words stun me into silence, and I’m slightly taken back. I smile as she leans in and presses her lips against my cheek.

  “Hopefully see you soon.” She looks at me expectantly.

  “Definitely,” I finally get out. We share a look and have a moment before the taxi driver coughs, breaking our spell.

  “Bye.” She climbs in and I close the door, watching her drive off.

  For the first time in a long time, I’m excited.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Eight

  I smirk as I hear another text alert, and Ritchie rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time this morning.

  “Jesus, someone is smitten. Of course, you know Laurie rang her the moment she got home. She said it went well and she’s looking forward to seeing you again.” From the look in Ritchie’s eyes, he’s hoping I’ll elaborate more.

  “It did.” I take a swig of coffee, knowing my curt reply will piss him off.

  Sheesh, he’s worse than a girl.

  “So?” He’s beginning to grow impatient, not content in waiting any longer.

  “What?” I ask, looking confused. I know I’m pissing him off, which makes me smile harder.

  “Do you like her?” His eyes hold mine, and I shrug as his face contorts into anger. “Fucking hell, Dray.”

  I chuckle at his response. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. Yes, I like her.”

  “Thank God for that.” He sighs, looking physically relieved. I don’t think he’d relish the prospect of telling Laurie we weren’t compatible.

  “You failed to tell me one important point, though.” I narrow my eyes in disgust.

  He looks at me puzzled, shrugging like he’s no clue at the point I’m making.

  “She’s a fucking Man City fan.”

  A large grin spreads across his face. “Ahh yeah, Laurie said to keep that quiet. She thought you might back out on that basis.”

  “Trust me, I nearly did,” I mumble. That kind of thing would normally be a game-changer, but Diane’s looks and personality definitely won me over.

  “So have you agreed to meet up again? I’m guessing by all the back-and-forth texting you have.”

  “Yeah, she has a busy schedule at the moment, but hopefully soon.” There’s a part of me that can’t wait, and it’s strange feeling something for someone other than Luce.

  “I’m happy for you, mate.” He taps me on the arm, and I know he totally means it. “Good to see you smile.” He stands up and heads off to supervise the delivery we have coming as I sit and contemplate if Diane could be the one.

  * * *

  I’m lying on the sofa with the match on in the background when there’s a loud pounding at my door. My eyes flick to the clock.

  Who the fuck can that be? It’s after ten at night!

  I open the door to find Luce standing there like a drenched rat. “What the fuck happened to you?” I ask.

  She promptly bursts into tears and runs into my arms, dropping the heavy bag down beside her. It falls to the ground with a dull thud.

  I stroke her hair as she so
bs uncontrollably into my chest. I grab her bag, slowly walking us inside. The first thing she needs to do is get out of these wet clothes. She’s shaking like a leaf, and her teeth chatter incessantly; she needs a hot shower to take the chill from her bones. I sit her down and go to get the shower started. The room fills with steam as I hand her a towel, leading her through. I grab some sweats from her bag and leave her alone, but I want answers the moment she comes out.

  I make a huge mug of tea and have it waiting when she emerges ten minutes later. She’s dressed and sits on the sofa, slowly sipping her drink. I don’t want to rush her, so I wait. Another tear rolls down her cheek, and that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

  “Firecracker, what the fuck has happened?”

  “Everything’s ruined,” she whispers as another tear follows.

  “What’s ruined?”

  “My flat. The stupid jerk upstairs left his bath overflowing and the ceilings collapsed and everything is ruined—my furniture, my carpets, all my personal things.”

  “I told you that guy is a stoner. I’m not fucking surprised.”

  “Not helping, Dray.” She bursts out crying and I instinctively walk over, placing her mug down and pull her into my arms. She nuzzles into my chest and sobs. I stroke her wet hair and try to soothe her. I know it’s not just possessions to her; the way she’s crying, she’s inconsolable.

  “I’ve nowhere to go,” she says between sobs. “My parents have family staying over for a month, so I can’t ask them.”

  “Firecracker, you know you always have a place here. You don’t even have to ask.” Jesus, I’d walk over hot coals just to make her happy. My home is her home.

  She pulls away and smiles weakly. “I didn’t want to assume. Things have seemed a little strained between us.” The pain evident in her eyes breaks my heart. Her words are true, but I’d always be there for her, come what may.

  “Shush,” I say soothingly. “Everything’s fine. You can have the spare room for however long you want it. It’s yours.”

  “Thank you.” She clings to me tighter as she slowly begins to calm. I continue to stroke her face as she leans against me.

  It feels good. Too good.

  Fuck.

  How am I going to make it through? It could be months living together.

  Am I strong enough?

  And then my thoughts turn to Diane.

  Fuck. Diane.

  I’d only been texting her thirty minutes ago, but as Luce trembles in my arms, I know where my heart lies.

  I’m screwed.

  After Luce finishes her tea, I lead her into her room. By now, her hair is almost dry, but she looks exhausted. She climbs into the bed, and I pull the covers over her.

  “Thank you, Dray, I don’t know what I would do without you.” She lets out a yawn, and I can barely answer her. I’ll always be there for her regardless of whether she needs me or not.

  Yep, I’m totally screwed.

  * * *

  When Luce emerges from the bathroom the next morning wrapped in just a towel, I have to cover the raging hard-on in my sweats. It’s been over a month since I’ve screwed anyone, so seeing Luce standing there almost naked is having an effect on me.

  “Hey, do you want a coffee?” I ask, trying to use anything as a distraction.

  “Please.” She drops down onto a stool, not even bothering to go and dress first.

  Shit.

  Think of something unsexy.

  I hand her the coffee and manoeuvre myself onto the stool. I think I might have gotten away with her not seeing the noticeable tent in my sweats.

  Fuck. It’s like I’m thirteen again.

  She sips and moans at the same time, making my cock stir even more. I distract myself by reading the sports headlines. The radio’s on in the background as she hums away. She begins to sing, her soft, sweet voice filling the air, and I can’t imagine anything more beautiful as she sits there stripped of makeup and clothes. She has a natural beauty no one could ever replicate. She’s always been a head-turner but never noticed. I guess the number of guys I’ve had to restrain behind her back meant she remained oblivious to it all.

  “You’re not going into work today, are you?” I ask, concerned after the state she was in last night.

  “No, I rang Elaine earlier. She says she’ll cover the early shift, and Emily and Angie will be in later to take over. I need to head over and see what my flat looks like this morning. I have to get in touch with the insurance company. There’s so much to do.” She stops and sighs, looking completely overwhelmed by it all.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” I wasn’t really asking; I was going with her regardless of whether she wanted me or not.

  “Please.” Her answer surprises me. She’s always been someone so strong, always independent, doing everything on her own. But I see a vulnerability about her, and all I want to do is be there for her, to help and protect her. By the look in her eyes, it’s bad. I just hope we can salvage the things that matter the most. The thought of seeing her cry again breaks my heart. I hate to see her so sad.

  After breakfast, we head over. As I pull up outside, judging by the grim look on her face, I can tell it’s going to be a sight.

  Unlocking the door, she takes a deep breath before entering. A strong, damp smell hits us the moment we walk through. My eyes take in all the damaged furniture, but that’s easily replaceable. The carpet feels like a wet sponge beneath my feet, but it’s the display cabinet where she kept all her beloved books and family trinkets that catches my eye. It’s been destroyed, along with family heirlooms.

  She cries again and I hold her; it’s the only thing I can do. She sobs for a few more minutes till she can compose herself. My heart breaks, knowing all the things of great sentimental value have been destroyed by one man’s stupid carelessness. She walks through and opens her wardrobe, which thankfully is unmarked. Pulling out the case at the bottom, she starts to pack. I grab more toiletries and anything I think she’ll need.

  I go back to the shelf and lift up the memory box; it’s sodden and almost falling apart. It contains her grandma’s diary and old photographs. Luce was the apple of her grandma’s eye and wore her wedding ring after she died. She kept all the letters her grandma and grandpa had exchanged during the war. It was her own little memory box, which she visited time and time again when feeling low and needed a reminder.

  I carefully open it; there’s water inside, but some things could be salvageable. I open a plastic bag and place them carefully into it. I know a guy who works on restoring damaged articles, and I hope he can help me with this.

  After thirty minutes, we head back to mine. I stop off to get us some food then drive back. Luce sits nibbling, barely coherent. I know she’s struggling to deal with it all, so I have to try and be there for her throughout this ordeal.

  Diane has texted, asking if I’m okay. I feel guilty, as I’ve barely even given her a second thought since Luce landed crying on my doorstep. I apologise and type out a text about an emergency, but don’t go into detail. I don’t want to have to get into that just now. She shoots me one straight back saying she hopes everything will be okay.

  I hope so, too.

  Luce takes a nap after lunch. It’s the first time I’ve seen a peaceful expression cross her face all day; since the moment I saw her yesterday she’s worn that frown. I just want to see her smile again. I step out and deliver the precious cargo to my friend, who surveys it and says he can possibly restore them. They’ll take some time to dry, but he has a special room to hang them and will be in touch when they’re ready.

  I grab us some more pizza, since I know she won’t feel like cooking and mine leaves a lot to be desired. I pick up a couple of tubs of ice cream from the shop. Girls love it, and I’m hoping it will lift her mood slightly.

  Walking in, I hear the TV on in the background. Luce is lying on the sofa, same sad expression as she aimlessly stares into space. Her eyes flick round to mine and widen when s
he sees the pizza and ice cream I begin to unload.

  “Hey, how you feeling?” I ask. I already know the answer but don’t know what else to say.

  “Still sad, but this will help, thanks.” She lifts the lid on the pizza box and smiles. I got her favourite: meat feast. I love that we have the same taste when it comes to pizza, none of this half-and-half shit. She grabs one of the tubs of cookie dough ice cream, and I hand her the spoon and wink. I know I’ve just made her day brighter. She walks off to the sofa as I unload the pizza onto two plates and grab us two Cokes, diet for Luce. You know I have it bad when I make sure I always have her favourite in my fridge. I sit down beside her and hand her the plate. She’s already tucking into the ice cream, but she puts it down and takes a bite of pizza.

  “Really? That’s gross.” She’s one weird girl at times. Some things are not meant to go together.

  “You know I love savoury and sweet,” she explains, like it makes it more acceptable.

  “Yeah, but ice cream and pizza?” I shudder slightly at the thought.

  “Hey, don’t judge until you try it.” She dips her spoon into the tub and lifts it to my mouth.

  “No way.” I shake my head and turn, but she’s having none of it. She leaps onto my knee and force-feeds me.

  Half of it is on my face so I relent, opening up to swallow the rich, sweet goodness.

  “Now, try the pizza.”

  I unwillingly open my mouth and take a bite, and the merge of sweet and meat is enough to make me vomit in my mouth. “Eurrghhh! Seriously, what is wrong with you?” I chug down half a can of Coke in an attempt to rid myself of the vile aftertaste.

  “Oh, whatever.” She hops off my knee and continues with her little ritual.

  “Freak,” I mutter as I gobble down the rest of my slice.

  Luce nudges me with her foot and I grab it, but she gives me a pleading look so I forgo the torture this time. She keeps her foot there and after finishing off, I wipe my hands and begin to massage it. She sighs and lifts her other onto my lap to give that extra attention, too, as she lies there finishing off the rest of the tub. We continue watching in silence, the only sound the TV in the background. It feels good, so natural. It's like home, and a part of me is worried I’m letting myself fall a little bit deeper.