Drake (The Powers That Be, Book 5)

by Harper Bentley

  “Who’s Zeke?” I inquired. “And Will?”

  “Zeke’s Ryker’s brother,” he explained, unlocking my door and opening it for me. After closing it, he walked around and got in starting the engine. “He played football at Hallervan. Wide receiver. Got drafted to the NFL.”

  “Cool,” I replied because it was very cool.

  “Yeah. We’re all gonna try to make a game sometime when they play the Seahawks,” he said as we pulled out of the parking lot.

  “That’d be awesome,” I concluded, duly impressed. “And who is Will?”

  “Did I tell you I played football at U-Dub?” he asked, again avoiding telling me who Will was. Hm.

  “You did?” He’d told me he’d played and had gotten hurt but hadn’t supplied much more information as in where or beyond what Ryker had revealed.

  “Yep. Quarterback. Three years then hurt my shoulder and I was done.”

  I looked at him realizing I didn’t even know his age. “How old are you?”

  He cast a glance at me out of the corner of his eye and smiled. “Twenty-five.”

  “I was a junior in high school when you were a junior in college. I wish I could’ve seen you play.” My face turned pensive at my thinking I would’ve loved watching him.

  “Would you have been my personal cheerleader and shaken your pom poms for me?” He gave me a wink before taking a right.

  I rolled my eyes at the rephrasing of his smartass comment from the football field. “Yeah, because as a badass, All-American star quarterback you so would’ve dated a seventeen-year-old high schooler.” He laughed at that. “Besides, you probably already had your own personal cheerleader anyway.” Ergh. I didn’t like the thought of that.

  He shrugged.

  Well, shit.

  And that’s what I’d meant about wanting to get to know him better. Well, not really wanting to know about past girlfriends, but him in general.

  “You’re the same age as my brother,” I divulged.

  “Yeah. Vic was a bad motherfucker at football. Gable loved playing with him.”

  Good lord. There were so many names to keep up with.

  “So your cousins are Gable, Zeke, Ryker and Will?”

  “Gable, Zeke, Ryker and Loch, who’s the baby.”

  “And your brothers are?”

  “You’ve met Titus. Then there’s Kase, Blaze, Zane and Wilder.”

  “Cool names. But holy crap. Does your family have any girls?” I asked.

  He laughed. “My dad’s sister, my Aunt Melanie, lives in Idaho and she’s got two girls. But Ryker’s dad and mine are brothers and run the garage together, that’s why we boys are all close.”

  “And Will is?” I asked again.

  We pulled up to the curb in front of my house and he cut the engine. Then suddenly looking wary and staring down the street, he asked, “Your brother home?”

  I looked for Vic’s motorcycle but didn’t see it. “I don’t think so but he might’ve parked in back.”

  “Call him.”

  I pulled my head back in question. “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  “But Dra—”

  “Now,” he ordered, and rather rudely, I thought.

  “You’re the bossiest person I’ve ever met,” I griped as I got my phone out of my purse. As it rang, I asked Drake, “Can you at least tell me why you wanna know?”

  “Get your brother on the fucking line,” he rumbled.

  Seriously?

  “Hey,” I said when Vic answered. “Are you home?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Drake wanted to kno—” I didn’t finish my sentence because Drake took my phone from me. God!

  “Vic? Drake. Doing great, man, thanks. What do you know about this guy Honor’s been seeing?”

  Was he kidding right now? He was asking my brother about Jeremiah when he could’ve just asked me. I glowered at him listening to his Uh huhs and I’d had enough. Grabbing my purse, I opened my door, got out and stomped toward the house. His rude self could keep my fricking phone for all I cared. As I got to the top of the porch steps, I heard his car door slam and as I reached out to pull on the storm door handle, I was stopped because he was there, putting a hand on it to keep me from opening it.

  “What the—” I spun and looked up at him angrily. “I wanna go in now, Drake.”

  He stared down the street again for a moment before looking back at me.

  “What’s going on?” I questioned, glancing to where he’d looked.

  “You gonna behave like an adult or a spoiled child?” he challenged.

  Yippee. Drake the jerk was back.

  My head snapped around and I took a deep breath blowing it out trying to keep from going off on him. When I wasn’t so sure that was going to happen, I kept my mouth closed and just scowled up at him.

  He raised an eyebrow, apparently wanting an answer.

  “You’re infuriating,” I whispered.

  “Which is it?”

  I glanced up at the porch ceiling and blew out another breath, highly annoyed.

  How could our awesome evening have gone to shit? And why was he back to acting this way again?

  When he figured out I wasn’t going to answer, he nodded toward where he’d been looking and asked, “That your boyfriend’s truck down the way?”

  I looked quickly back down the street and saw Jeremiah’s truck sitting there. What in the world? “He’s not my boyfriend, but yeah, I think it’s his.”

  “He have friends in this neighborhood?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Stay here, Honor.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I fucking mean it,” he added curtly then jogged away toward Jeremiah’s truck.

  Suddenly the headlights came on and the tires screeched as Jeremiah drove off before Drake even made it to him. As he passed by me, it was dark, but I was pretty sure he flipped me off.

  Great.

  What was weirder, though, was another car did the same thing right behind Jeremiah’s truck, headlights on but they pulled out, shot a U and took off in the opposite direction.

  Drake stopped to watch the second car before turning and making his way back. He walked up the porch steps and questioned, “You know what that was all about?”

  I winced. “I told him the other night I didn’t have time for a relationship right now.” His eyebrows came up as in, Oh, really? and I quickly clarified, “I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But I’d told him several times before that I wasn’t interested in him.”

  “He got a taste of you and wants more.”

  “We never even kissed!” I revealed. “I mean, we did once, but it was just a quick peck. But we just hung out as friends, or at least that’s all I told him we’d ever be.” When he stayed quiet, I continued remembering I was still mad at him. “And you could’ve just asked me instead of being all dramatic, having me call Vic and not telling me why.”

  His eyes went hard as he replied, “I don’t do drama. And I was protecting you.”

  I huffed out a humorless laugh. “I don’t need protecting.”

  He nodded toward where Jeremiah had been parked. “He take it well when you broke things off?”

  I bit the inside of my lip. “No. He called me a fucking bitch.”

  I watched as Drake’s body went rigid as he breathed in through his nose, his jaw muscles bunching every few seconds like he was now the one trying to stay calm, obviously pissed at what Jeremiah called me. He finally exhaled and said, “Look, I’m not always gonna candy-coat shit. If I sense something’s wrong, I’m not gonna wait until shit fucking happens. I’ll take care of it right then.”

  I couldn’t help but snort at his candy-coat remark because to my best recollection, I couldn’t recall his ever doing that. Then I protested, “But you could’ve asked me or told me what you were thinking.”

  “By the time I did that, it could’ve been too late,” he insisted.

  “Too late for what?” I questione
d but he just stared at me not answering. I sighed knowing that how he took what I said next was very important. “Look, Drake, I want a partner. Someone who includes me, treats me as an equal, not like I can’t handle things.”

  There was a pause before he stated, "Sounds like you’re looking for a good guy, Honor.”

  “I am! What’s wrong with that?”

  His expression went hard. “I’m not him.”

  My brow wrinkled as my eyes narrowed at his pronouncement.

  “You seem to know what you want.” He reached out and ran the backs of his fingers down the side of my face. “You like soft and sweet, I can give you that. I’m just letting you know that’s not always me. And I don’t know if you can handle that.” He turned and started walking down the steps then looking back over his shoulder disclosed, “But when you’re ready for hard and rough...give me a call.”

  Chapter 10

  “I think I was just broken up with,” I told Krystal after going inside the house and calling her.

  “What? Why?”

  I put my phone on speaker on the kitchen table as I cut myself a piece of German chocolate cake then proceeded to tell her what had happened with Jeremiah and what Drake had said.

  “First of all, what a fucking creep! Jeremiah, not Drake. And that doesn’t sound like a breakup to me, what Drake said, not Jeremiah pulling his shit,” she concluded.

  “Yeah, well, I think it does. He treated me like I was a child!”

  “He was protecting you, like he said,” she reasoned.

  “I’m a big girl. I don’t need protecting.”

  “With the way Jeremiah’s behaved, you never know.”

  “I can handle him.” I got up and rinsed off my plate. “Oh, and Drake kept avoiding answering when I asked who Will is.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t feel comfortable sharing everything just yet.”

  “I don’t know if he’s the right guy for me anyway. We didn’t start off on a good note. And he’s just too…bossy,” I concluded feeling tears sting the backs of my eyes.

  Krystal laughed. “Honey, he sounds just like Victor.”

  I went stock-still at hearing that swiping at the tears that’d escaped because she was right. “Oh, my God. He does.” I sniffed and grabbed a tissue to wipe under my eyes. “But that’s the thing. I don’t need another bossy man in my life.”

  “Vic comes off as bossy but he’s being protective. It’s just how he is. Drake sounds the same way. They’re both…what’s the word? Reactive? If you’d been with Vic tonight and he’d seen the douchebag’s truck, he would’ve done the same. Except he would’ve told you to,” her voice went deep as she mimicked Vic, “‘Get your ass in the house and don’t come out until I say so!’ Am I right?”

  “Shit. You are.”

  “And how would you have behaved?”

  I thought for a second. “Probably the same, mad that he was telling me what to do, but I would’ve done it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Yeah, but I trust Vic,” I replied, realizing right then what the problem was. “I don’t know Drake well enough yet to just randomly do what he says. And what happened tonight actually kinda scared me. He’d been so sweet up until then.”

  “I’m sure it did. But that’s what you have to decide. Do you want to get to where you trust him and put up with his protectiveness or are you over it?”

  “I need to think about this.” I frowned when I asked, “Do I owe him an apology?”

  “Depends on what you want, On.”

  “Yeah.” And that was the question. What did I want?

  “But remember, you’ll be fine either way,” she reminded.

  “Thanks, Krys. You’re the best,” I whispered.

  We hung up and I stared at my phone wondering what to do.

  I liked Drake. I was extremely attracted to him and he’d been so nice the last few days, which made me huff out a laugh because, big whoop. He’d been nice! But at least he’d shown me that side of him before going all alpha dude on me. And if something like what happened tonight occurred again, could I deal with it? Did I want to deal with it? And what exactly had he meant by hard and rough? Was he talking just how he was? Or sex? Yikes.

  As I got ready for bed, I figured that was the riddle to which I needed to find an answer. So just before I turned off my light, I texted him.

  Text Message—Wed, Mar 2, 12:12 a.m.

  Me: I’m sorry

  I fell asleep waiting for his reply. Which never came.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  Sundays are bipolar.

  If you have something to do or your state of mind is good, they’re awesome.

  On the other hand, if you have nothing planned or, oh, say your text message hasn’t been answered in four days, they’re like getting your eyebrows threaded. It hurts and, yeah, that’s about it.

  Lucky me had awakened at seven that morning, and no matter how hard I tried to fall back to sleep, after thirty minutes I’d finally given up and rolled out of bed. To get my mind off everything, most of which was Drake’s blatant rejection, I’d started laundry, cleaned out the kitchen cabinets and made Krystal more brownies.

  Well, that had taken all of an hour and ten minutes. Yeesh.

  Next, I started in on the hall closet, throwing out old coats and jackets to take to Goodwill.

  Thirty minutes down.

  I wanted to vacuum but didn’t want to wake Vic, so I’d dustmopped around the area rug in the living room then gone outside and swept off the front porch.

  A whopping forty-two minutes.

  Ugh.

  Going back inside, I swept and mopped the kitchen floor then folded laundry.

  When I saw it was only ten-thirty, I cursed under my breath. And upon hearing a giggle coming from Vic’s room I muttered an even worse curse.

  I’d hoped that after seeing Krystal the other evening, Victor would surely have come to his senses, and seeing the error of his ways, would’ve begged her to get back together with him. At the medley of chortling I now heard coming from his room, I figured that wouldn’t be happening any time too soon.

  An hour later my day got even better when Vic’s bedroom door opened and the expected clicking of the heels advanced toward the kitchen where I was at the sink peeling potatoes to go with the roast I’d thawed.

  “Oh. Hey,” a snooty voice called from the doorway.

  Looking over, I saw Tiffany Green, a girl with whom I’d graduated high school and who’d also stolen my boyfriend sophomore year, standing there giving me a haughty look.

  Yay.

  “Hey, bitch,” I answered.

  Jussssst kidding.

  “Hey,” I muttered, continuing with my peeling.

  “How’s it going?” she asked.

  Like she cared.

  “Good.”

  “What’re you making?”

  “Roast.” I rolled my eyes as I turned on the faucet then the garbage disposal, pushing the peels down the drain.

  “Vic’s in the shower,” she hollered over the noise.

  “Yeah,” I stated, flipping the switch off, annoyed that she was trying to hold a conversation with me.

  “So…”

  I glanced at her watching as she smoothed her strawberry blond hair off her forehead then adjusted the emerald green halter top that cowled at her chest, hanging so low and wide, her breasts were practically falling out. Turning back to the sink, I started peeling carrots wishing she’d leave already.

  “I’m sorry about what happened with Ben.”

  I snorted as I kept working. “That was five years ago.”

  Why these women, Tiffany included, thought schmoozing me would improve their chances with Vic, I had no idea. Maybe they were hoping I’d put in a good word for them. That would be happening never for Tiffany. Not that I gave a rat’s ass that she’d stolen my high school boyfriend. It was that she wasn’t a nice person, having done the same to two other girls throughout school—not that anyone can “steal” anyone p
er se. It’s that she purposely lured the guys away just to prove that she could. She’d also been a hateful snob. That’s why I didn’t care for her.

  “Yeah, but I still feel bad.”

  A glimpse her way showed me she was totally lying if the smirk on her face meant anything. Just as I thought. Still a hateful snob.

  “Sounds like a personal problem to me,” I murmured, unwrapping the roast and putting it into the pan.

  “I mean, I can’t help it if Ben was so easy, you know.”

  I stopped chopping the onion and celery and turned to her, my bad mood moving to the forefront, and told her the truth. “Oh, Ben was easy?” I challenged, raising my brow. “You know, it wasn’t like he wanted you. He just wanted an easy fuck. He told me that later. It’s what they all wanted. What they still want.” I now pointed my knife at her. “My brother included.”

  Her mouth fell open and her eyes narrowed. “W-well, I never!” she sputtered.

  “Oh, you always,” I retorted with a giggle. Oh, my God, it felt good saying that.

  “You’re such a bitch! That’s the reason Ben cheated on you!” she fired back.

  “Ben cheated on me because he knew you’d spread your legs for him and I wouldn’t,” I stated matter-of-factly.

  “I can’t help it if you were an uptight cunt!” she declared.

  I smiled knowing she was about to get told when I saw Vic round the corner.

  “’The fuck you just call my sister?” he bellowed.

  Tiffany turned to him in surprise. “She was—she said—”

  “Leave,” he said firmly.

  “But I thought we—” she started.

  “I need to carry your ass out of here?” he warned.

  I felt kind of bad seeing her tear up as she tried mustering some decorum, having to dig pretty deep, I supposed. But she’d brought this all on herself.

  As she headed to the door, she looked back at Vic and spit out, “I faked all my orgasms. Just so you know.”

  “I know. Frigid bitch,” he shot back.

  Crap. I cringed as much as Tiffany did just before she let out a huff opening then slamming the door behind her.

  “Vic!” I scolded, turning back to him.

  He chuckled. “Truth hurts.”