It definitely isn’t helping. For one thing, Jimmy is all hands. He’s been groping me since this dance started, his fingers sliding around to brush my breasts or down to my ass while he apologizes and pretends it’s all a mistake.
But his grip on me is too strong and I can’t break away. Jimmy is a linebacker for the Bulls, and he looks the part. Big, wide, powerful.
When he finally succeeds in jerking me closer to his body, I feel more than I want to feel. I’ve never been this close to a guy, but I’m pretty sure that bulge at his groin isn’t a pistol.
On the other hand, Jimmy is a bit of a redneck. A pistol isn’t out of the realm of possibility, though that sure is a strange place to keep it.
“Evie, you smell so good, look so good—what do you taste like?”
“Jimmy, no—” I try to twist away from the lips headed my way, but I’m not sure I’m going to make it.
And then Jimmy sails backward and I’m free. After trying so hard to jerk away from him, I have enough momentum to send me flying the other direction.
Someone catches my hand, and then I collide with a body.
“I got you. It’s okay.”
I look up into Matt’s face, and my heart melts. Oh, I should be angry—I am angry—but he’s holding me close. Really holding me close.
And it’s everything I want.
His brows lower and he looks pissed. At me, at Jimmy, I have no idea. I brace for a fight with him, but all he does is tug me closer and tuck my head beneath his chin.
When he starts swaying to the music, I catch Julie’s wide-eyed gaze. Her jaw has dropped open, and then she smiles and gives me a thumbs-up.
That’s when I smell the whiskey. Matt is holding me, dancing with me in public, but he’s also been drinking. And that means he isn’t doing this with a clear mind.
But oh, what the hell, I don’t much care. I’m dancing with Matt Girard. My body is plastered to his, his arms are around me, and his warmth flows into me.
He smells good and he feels like heaven. My heaven. I close my eyes and squeeze him tight. He squeezes back.
When I open my eyes again, Jeanine Jackson is standing on the edge of the floor, looking highly pissed off. I don’t care. Jimmy is dancing with Susan Palmer, clearly having moved on now that Matt intervened.
The slow song doesn’t last long enough. When it’s over, Matt steps back and stares down at me. He looks like he’s thinking about something, thinking hard, but I don’t know what it can be.
“You grew up,” he says.
“So did you.”
He’s frowning. Then he puts a hand in my hair and sifts his fingers through it, down to the ends. My scalp tingles with his touch.
“I miss you.”
“I’m right here.” My heart is in my throat as he continues to sift, sift, sift.
“No, I miss who you were. Who we were. My best friend. My Evie.”
Oh, that hurts. It shouldn’t, but it does. He misses us as kids. He misses the me who played in dirt and worshipped the ground he walked on, not the me I am now. I still worship the ground he walks on, but in a more realistic way.
Or so I hope.
“I’m not going to be that little girl ever again, Matt. We’re here now, and this is what we are. You don’t have to like it, but you can’t change it.”
“I won’t be here to take care of you anymore. You have to be careful.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
He shrugs. “Some. Not enough.”
I take his hand and lead him off the dance floor and over to a picnic table away from everyone. I make him sit down.
“You can’t drive home this way. You have to sober up.”
He catches my hand and presses it to his cheek. “Don’t fucking care.”
“You need to care. I think if you get a DWI, that’s not going to go well with West Point.”
Maybe it’ll be the answer to my prayers if he suddenly can’t go to West Point, but I don’t want him to get in trouble for it to happen. That would be wrong. And I love him too much to want him hurt.
His gaze sharpens a little bit then. “No, you’re right. Can’t have that. Have to get away.”
I sit beside him and slide my fingers along his cheek. He already put my hand there, so I feel like I can get away with it. He closes his eyes and groans.
“Matt… what’s wrong? Why do you have to go away?”
“You wouldn’t understand, Evie-girl.”
“You can try me.”
He squeezes his eyes tight, and then he opens them again and shakes his head. “No, cher.”
No other excuse or explanation, just a flat-out no. I try not to let it bother me, but it does. This is the boy who cried on my shoulder when his mother died, and now he won’t tell me something that is obviously causing him pain.
How far apart we’ve grown.
“Okay.” I extract my hand and stand. “I’m going to go get you some water. Don’t move.”
“I won’t.” He grins and my heart turns over.
I hold my hand out. “Give me your keys.”
He slides his fingers into his pocket and fishes them out, putting them in my palm without argument.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I repeat.
He leans back against the picnic table and crosses his legs at the ankles. “Not moving, baby. Promise.”
I go to get water, then make my way back to where I left Matt. He’s still there, which surprises me. I honestly expected he’d wander off somewhere the minute he was alone.
Except he isn’t alone. Jeanine is there, straddling his lap, arms around his neck, mouth plastered to his. Ordinarily, I’d turn around and leave them alone, but not this time.
This time I’m ticked off and in full mama-bear mode. Matt doesn’t need her tongue down his throat. He needs to sober up so he can drive home safely. I remember the keys in my hand then. Maybe I need to drive him home, make sure he gets there.
Alone.
I march over and slap the bottle of water down on the table. It’s enough to make Jeanine jump. She turns glazed eyes to me, and I know she’s about as drunk as Matt. Great.
“Get off him, Jeanine.”
Matt grins up at me stupidly. “Hey, Evie-girl. Where’d you go?”
“Water.” I twist the cap on the bottle and shove it at him. He takes it and slugs some back. Jeanine’s still sitting on his lap, her lower lip thrust out in a pout.
“Go away, Evangeline. Nobody wants you here.”
“Not true,” Matt says.
“Honey,” Jeanine says, turning back to him, “if she stays, we can’t be alone… and I need you alone. I need you so much.”
I prop a hand on my hip and tell myself that committing violence against Jeanine probably won’t be helpful.
“I’m sure he needs you too, Jeanine, but not right now. Matt’s daddy called and he has to go home. Immediately. Family emergency.”
Matt’s gaze narrows, but he doesn’t call me out on the lie. Jeanine’s pout grows bigger, if possible. She turns to Matt, shutting me out.
“Baby, is that true?”
Matt shrugs. “Yeah, guess it is.”
Jeanine tries to extract herself and ends up nearly falling on her ass. I save her, not Matt.
She jerks her arm out of my grip and steadies herself as she stands. “Call me later?”
“Absolutely,” Matt says.
Jeanine toddles off toward the pavilion and Matt sucks down water.
“Do you have any taste at all?” I ask, exasperated. “You can do so much better.”
He shrugs. “You got any suggestions?”
I do, but my tongue feels too thick to say the words. He’s drunk and now is not the time.
We stare at each other for a long moment. Matt is still leaning back against the table, long legs sprawled in front of him, one arm spread along the table, the other bent as he clutches the water and takes swallows of it.
He looks like a decadent god lounging on hi
s throne. I almost laugh at that idea, but it is kinda true. Maybe I read too many novels if I’m thinking like that. Thrones and gods, sheesh.
“So what’s the emergency?” he asks.
“You know I made that up.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I’m taking you home. You can’t afford any trouble.”
He climbs to his feet and sways a second. “Yeah, true.”
He follows me toward his car, then stops when I click the button to unlock it.
“Wait… Can you even drive a stick?”
“Yes, I can. Uncle John taught me.” Sort of, but I don’t add that part. I’ve driven Uncle John’s Chevy truck approximately three times. It’s a column-shift—but it can’t be all that different, right?
“Cool,” Matt says. Then he gets into the Corvette and leans his head back on the seat, eyes closing.
I start the engine. Then I pray I make it home without damaging this fancy-ass car I could never afford to repair.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MATT
*
I’m confused when I wake up. It’s dark, but this isn’t my bed. I sit up, and my mouth feels like a desert. I can use some water. My head is throbbing, but not badly. It’s the Old Charter kicking in, of course, and I’m pissed that I had enough of that stuff to fuel a headache.
I’m still fully dressed. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit for a second. It takes a moment, but I start to make out objects in the room. Stuffed animals. A small dresser with a mirror. A lamp on the bedside table and a pile of books.
It occurs to me that the pleasant scent surrounding me is Evie’s. I’ve been lying on her bed, my face in her pillow, breathing in her shampoo for who knows how many hours.
I shove myself to my feet and make my way from the tiny room and out into the hallway. There’s a night-light glowing softly. I keep going until I reach the living room.
There’s a form on the couch and I know it’s Evie. She put me in her bed and took the couch. God knows what she told her mother. There was no need to tell the old man anything. He’s at a strip club or a dive bar and unreachable, guarantee it.
“Evie,” I croak because my throat is so dry.
She gets up instantly and comes to my side. Her fingers on my arm are cool. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah. Just need something to drink.”
I need to piss too, but I don’t tell her that. I know where the bathroom is. Hell, I know where the kitchen is. So why did I wake her?
Because I want to hear her voice again. Because I want her to be awake with me so I don’t feel so alone.
“Come on,” she says and leads me into the kitchen where she gets a glass, puts some ice in it, and adds tap water.
I take it and drink it down. She fills it again while I say, “Be right back.”
She knows where I’m going. When I return, she’s leaning against the sink, glass in hand. She gives it to me and I chug half of it. It’s cool and crisp with a slight taste of chlorine or whatever it is they add to the water in Rochambeau.
“What did your mom say about this?”
“Not much. She agreed that bringing you here was better than taking you home. She called and left a message on the answering machine in case your dad comes home. Just said you were staying with us tonight. No mention of drinking.”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Shit, did I get you in trouble, Evie?”
“No, I’m not in trouble. I didn’t drink anything, and Mama believes I’m old enough to make my own choices. She also believes I’ll make good ones, though I’m sure if I made a bad one, there would be consequences.”
“She’s pretty cool.”
“She is. How do you feel?”
“Better now that I’ve had some water. But not great, no.”
“Want something to eat?”
Actually, I am kind of hungry. But I have a feeling there are some things I shouldn’t eat. Hamburgers. Greasy fried food. That sort of thing.
“Got anything easy on the stomach?”
“Cereal?”
“Sounds great.”
“Sit down and I’ll get it.”
I sit at the small table near one window, and Evie goes to work pulling out a bowl, a box of cereal, and some milk. Then she brings the bowl over to me and I thank her. I can tell it’s Rice Krispies by the crackling sound.
She sits down and yawns, and I feel a prickle of guilt that I woke her. But the scent of her shampoo is still in my nose, and I’m glad she’s here.
“Sorry about, you know, what happened at the party.”
“Which part?” she says, and the guilt rises a little higher.
“All of it,” I say, figuring that’s the right answer. I remember that I tried to force her to leave, and then I remember dancing with her after shoving Jimmy away. I also remember letting Jeanine climb all over me and Evie chasing her off.
Shit, I am a jerk.
“It’s okay,” she says. “I ground the gears in your car and couldn’t get out of second for about a mile. I figure we’re even now.”
I don’t even care about the car, but yeah, it kinda shocks me that she’s admitting that. I remember it now that I think about it. I wasn’t that drunk. Well, okay, I was drunk and things are a little fuzzy, but I remember most of it.
“You said you could drive a stick.”
“And I can. Just not very well it seems.”
I want to laugh but I don’t. “Why did you bring me to your house?”
“Because it’s closer. If I drove you all the way out to Reynier’s Retreat, I might have wrecked your engine or something. And even if I didn’t, I’d have had to call Mama to come get me. Seemed easier to come here.”
I can’t fault that logic. Plus I’m glad we’re here. There’s something sweet and simple about Evie’s house. It’s small, but it’s more of a home than Reynier’s Retreat can ever be.
I reach for her hand. She doesn’t pull away from me, and that makes me happy. Content. “Thanks for looking out for me.”
“I know how much going to West Point means to you. If you got pulled over while drinking… Well, I think that might be a problem.”
I squeeze her hand. Fucking hell, I adore this girl. She really is the best friend I’ve ever had, and I’m kind of sorry I spent the past few years pushing her away.
I had to do it though. She’s been growing up, growing pretty, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by preying on her feelings for me. Because that’s the kind of asshole I’m capable of being.
And then there’s Candy and my stupidity of falling for her. No one knows about that, but if Evie and I were still close, I might have told her just to have someone to talk to.
I’m pretty sure that’s not a good idea. What would she think of me if she knew?
“You’re the best, Evie-girl. I owe you.”
She pushes her long hair back over one shoulder and sighs. “Keep your promise to stay in touch with me when you’re gone. That’s the only thing you owe me.”
I will. Of course I will. How can I ever forget Evie?
CHAPTER TWELVE
EVIE
*
“Wait a minute… He didn’t even try to kiss you?”
I shake my head as Julie stares at me in disbelief. It’s Monday and we’re on our way to school in Julie’s old Chevy. We’re at a stoplight and she’s grilling me about the party and what happened after Matt and I left.
“He was drunk, Jules. I took him home and put him to bed.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Evie. He would have kissed you if you’d encouraged him! He was looking at you like you were a giant chocolate cake. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you! And when he threw Jimmy across the floor? Whoa, I thought for sure that was it.”
My ears are red. Yeah, it all sounds awesome, but it just didn’t pan out that way. Which means Matt hadn’t really been looking at me like I was cake. More like I was his little sister who needed saving. He pulled Jimmy off me the same as
he would have done if it had been Christina.
He wouldn’t have danced with Christina after that, but so what? It wasn’t much different, really. I was his friend. His little sister in his eyes. That was the extent of it.
He’d been drunk, kissing Jeanine like she was made of the whiskey he’d been drinking and wanted more of, and yet he’d never tried to kiss me. Not once.
Yeah, that really makes me feel special. Even drunk he wouldn’t touch me. How can I ask him to be my first after that?
“Well, it wasn’t. Matt’s not interested in me.”
The light turns green and Julie presses the gas. “Could have fooled me. Could have fooled a lot of people actually. I thought Jeanine was going to lose her shit when Matt started dancing with you.”
I recall the look on Jeanine’s face when I told her to get lost. Yeah, if Jeanine remembers that, it’s not going to be a great day at school.
Thankfully Jeanine’s a senior, which means this week is the last I have to be around her on a daily basis.
I sigh. Holy crap, I had Matt Girard in my house, in my bed, and he still hadn’t attempted to kiss me or anything. He held my hand and wouldn’t let go while he ate his cereal, but that was it.
He confuses me and frustrates me. Just when I think there might be something more, that I’m not the only one who feels all this crazy-hard emotion, he leaves me more baffled than ever.
“It’s not over yet,” Julie says. “You still have another chance.”
My heart thumps. “He’s not into me, Jules.”
“Fuck that, yes he is. He just won’t admit it to himself.”
I lean back and close my eyes, rubbing my fingers against my temples. “Maybe in a year, when he comes home on break or something, he’ll be ready to see me differently because he’ll have been away.”
“And what if he meets someone in college, huh? What if he comes back engaged or something?”
Okay, now that thought feels as if someone jabbed me in the gut with a sharp, hot knife. It’s still sizzling and smoking, and I’m dying inside.
“He’s not going to meet someone in a year.”
I don’t really know that, of course, but I have to say it, as if speaking the words is an incantation.
Reckless Heat: A Hostile Operations Team Prequel Page 4
