Covered In Paint: Book Five of the Art Of Love Series

by Donna McDonald

Drake sighed again when the door closed behind his smart-ass son. He was going to miss the comfortable distance from Brandon’s maturation process an out-of-state college had provided. But on the upside at least he wasn’t going to have to drive cross-country for a car emergency anymore.

  ***

  Brandon walked into the party behind Sedrick, smiling as the beats pounded the air around him. Bodies gyrating on the dance floor were highly entertaining, but girl watching would have to wait. He smiled as he met Sedrick’s brother, Rafe, who introduced him around.

  Along with everyone else, his head swung around in surprise when he heard a girl yelling at guy near him. He almost swallowed his tongue at the long-legged, short-skirted beauty trying to escape the groping hands of a guy laughing at her efforts.

  “Chelsea?” Brandon exclaimed. He forgot the guys he was talking to as he walked over to her. She was so angry—and she was weaving as she struggled to break the guy’s hold on her.

  “What did you put in my drink, Darryl?” Chelsea demanded, pummeling his shoulder with her free hand. “Oh God, I feel sick. Tell me what you gave me.”

  “Nothing bad, sweetie. Just a little something to help you relax a bit,” Darryl drawled, patting the seat beside him. “Come back here and sit by me until it has time to kick in.”

  Brandon reached out and grabbed her free arm. The guy let go of her when he did. “Chelsea? You okay?”

  Chelsea turned and stumbled against a pair of strong arms that caught her and tried to hold her up. “Who are you…Brandon? Is that really you?”

  “Yeah, of course, it’s really me. What’s up?” Brandon asked.

  Chelsea shook her head, which only made things worse. “I’m dizzy. Asshat over there put something in my drink, but he won’t tell me what. We told Aunt Teresa we were going to a movie. She’s going to kill me if I have to go to the hospital to get my stomach pumped.”

  Brandon turned a glare on a laughing Darryl. “What did you give her?”

  “None of your damn business,” Darryl said sharply.

  Brandon snorted and glared harder. “Well, I’m making it my business. What did you give her, dude? You can either tell me or you can tell the whole Larson family when they come looking for your sorry ass.”

  Around them dancing stopped and all eyes turned to see what was going on between him and Darryl.

  “Well dude—she’s my date—not yours. What I do with her is my business,” Darryl said sternly, getting up from the couch and walking over. “So get your hands off her, and get the hell out of my face before I rearrange yours.”

  Brandon heard people around Darryl urging him to shut up and stop making himself into a bigger ass. He had just enough time to shove Chelsea against a nearby wall before the guy’s drunken fist connected with his eye. The angry punch he threw back knocked the wind out of the weaving, obviously drunk, and stoned Daryl. Not having size or weight in his favor, Brandon used Darryl’s momentary pain to his advantage as he shoved the guy to the floor. Putting a knee in Darryl’s back, Brandon grabbed him by his braids and yanked up his face until he could meet his gaze.

  “Now let’s try the question again. What the hell did you give her?” Brandon demanded.

  “Shit—it was just a Valium. Thought it might relax her enough to unlock her legs, you know?” Darryl exclaimed.

  Brandon shoved Darryl’s face back to the floor. His eye was starting to hurt something fierce, but he had bigger problems to deal with. He looked up just as Sedrick, Rafe, and four other guys circled around the two of them.

  “She’s not even eighteen, guys. Hell, I’m not sure she’s seventeen yet. Do you all really want to go to court over this asshole trying to rape her?” Brandon asked.

  “Is she really a Larson? He was my principal in middle school. I don’t remember there being any Larsons of the chocolate variety,” Rafe declared.

  “Chelsea’s real parents are dead. She lives with her aunt who married Shane Larson. If your buddy here hurts her, Shane will mess him up long before he ever goes to court.”

  Brandon saw Sedrick snickering over his out-of-character bravery. He was profoundly relieved when his friend walked over and held out a hand. Grateful for a show of support at last, Brandon let Sedrick pull him to his feet.

  “So what? You played hero now to save Darryl’s stupid ass?” Sedrick teased, grinning as he shook his head.

  Brandon reply was a snort. “You know me better. I’m taking Chelsea home. She’s a family friend.”

  Sedrick raised his hands as he mocked Brandon’s bravado in the faces of so many guys staring at him. But Brandon also saw Sedrick laughingly back off only to follow behind him as he walked to Chelsea. His friend had his back, but he hoped he wouldn’t need it.

  Chelsea was leaning drunkenly against the wall he’d shoved her against and was all but sleeping. “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” he said, taking her arm.

  When Chelsea got her eyes open enough to see Darryl climbing to his feet, Brandon felt her push hard against his chest before weaving her way over to the guy. Lifting one of her pointy-toed pink high heels, far too sexy for a high school girl, she kicked Daryl hard in the crotch until he swore and fell to the floor again.

  “Think about that next time you try to drug somebody,” she spat.

  Brandon glared at her as she stumbled back toward him, but couldn’t say he blamed her for wanting some revenge for herself. She stopped in front of him. Reaching up, she put a hand to his bruised eye. “Damn—I must have missed the real fight. I think I passed out at the thought of it.”

  Brandon frowned. “Your boyfriend gave you a Valium. What are you doing here, Chelsea? This is a college frat party.”

  Chelsea glared at him and dropped her hand. Guys were all rude jerks—even heroic ones. “I’m going to catch enough hell at home later. I don’t need any from you. Thanks for the assist.”

  Shaking her head in disappointment, Chelsea walked as steady as she could through the gawking crowd. Even as dizzy and disoriented as she was, she still felt Brandon’s eyes boring into her back the whole time. Outside in the cool air, she bent forward and tried not to heave. Thank goodness she had said no to the alcohol. Too bad it hadn’t occurred to her the soda Darryl gave her might not be safe either. Next time she went to a college party, she was bringing her own drink. Lesson learned.

  “Chelsea? Are you going to be sick?” Brandon asked. Not believing she was fully aware of much, he watched Chelsea shake her head as she straightened.

  Turning back toward the door, he waved when Sedrick said good-night before going back to the party. He brought his gaze back to Chelsea who was standing hands on hips and deep breathing to keep from barfing on the frat house lawn.

  He looked around at the perfectly manicured green and back again at the three-story house. There would be no joining this frat after tonight probably, but what the hell. He didn’t want to hang with jerks anyway.

  Frowning about what to do now, since he hadn’t driven there, Brandon got out his phone and sent a text in hopes of getting a discreet ride home. Two texts later, he got the answer he wanted from the right person.

  “I had to call to get us a ride—not my Dad—but someone we can trust,” Brandon said.

  Chelsea nodded as she breathed deep and slow. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll make it. And for your information hotshot, I’m seventeen. I have been for over half a year.”

  “Really? When did that happen?” Brandon asked, scanning the street.

  “On my birthday, Dweeb. How in the world did you ever get into Harvard? I thought you were supposed to be a lot smarter than that,” Chelsea teased. She rubbed her stomach and prayed for it to settle.

  Brandon laughed and scratched his head in surprise about how sharp-tongued she was even in her drugged condition. “Are you always this pissy when someone saves you?”

  Chelsea closed her eyes, but it only made her weave more. She opened them and looked at the swelling eye of her rescuer. “You’d be pissy too, if yo
u were in my shoes. I feel like a fool for dating Dipwad Darryl. The party was supposed to be a drop-by-and-say-hi thing. The SOB would have done me for sure if I’d had the liquor he was trying to pour down me, along with the Valium. I guess I owe my still-intact virginity to you showing up.”

  Not sure how to answer without revealing how stunned he was by the info, Brandon rubbed a hand over his head. “Forget about tonight if you can. Guys like Darryl are a piece of shit. He deserved to be kicked in the balls for what he did to you. You could probably press charges if you wanted.”

  Chelsea shook her head. “No thank you. I don’t want a public record of my humiliation. Kicking him was enough. He never got anywhere with me anyway and I’m even more glad about it now.”

  A car pulled along the street and honked. Brandon saw a hand wave to him from inside.

  “Come on. That’s our ride to Dad’s. My car is there. We’ll decide later how to get you home.”

  Brandon took Chelsea’s arm again and steadied her as they walked. At the car, he opened the back passenger door and helped her climb inside.

  “Hi guys,” Brooke said in greeting.

  Chelsea scooted over in the seat when Brandon nudged her. To her surprise, instead of sitting up front with Brooke, he climbed into the back seat beside her. She suddenly realized she was going to be staring at his darkening, swollen eye the whole ride—and feeling guilty—unless she slept. Deciding that closing her eyes was a great idea, she leaned her head against the cool window and did, thankful when a soft darkness swallowed her.

  ***

  From the front seat, Brooke looked at Drake’s almost grown son. The young man was going to have a visible shiner tomorrow. She grinned when Brandon turned a look of full male satisfaction to the now sleeping Chelsea. Brooke chuckled at what she imagined was going through his head. The boy might not have his father’s dark, brooding looks, but he seemed to have Drake’s same intensity.

  She thought about how proud Brandon’s mother probably would have been of him intervening like he had. His mother probably would have been worried too. God knew she had felt a few twinges of concern on the way here. At least Brandon had been level-headed enough to call. That said a lot about how he had been raised.

  “Okay. Before I drive us anywhere, just tell me the other guy looks worse than you. I need to hear a story I can repeat later with a straight face when I tell it to your father,” Brooke ordered.

  “Hell yes, he looks worse,” Brandon bragged, liking when Brooke laughed at his explanation. “Then when I got done with him, Chelsea kicked his nuts in with one of her pointy-toed pink shoes.”

  Brooke smiled and put the car into gear. “Glad to hear the altercation ended so well for our side. So I need to tell you that after you texted, I sent one to your father to tell him I was picking you up. I figured there was no reason not to warn him we had a bit of a situation going on.”

  Behind her, she heard Brandon sigh, and wanted to laugh. But she wasn’t too old to relate to the sinking feeling of facing off with a parent. Hell, she was still doing it with her mother even at her age.

  “No. There isn’t any reason not to tell Dad, but I bet he’s going to make me take a breathalyzer test when we get home. He’s never going to believe I got into a fight and didn’t have a drop to drink.”

  “Well, I believe you,” Brooke offered. “And I’m glad you called me for a ride home.”

  “I was afraid to call any of the Larsons. The guy was a complete piece of shit, but not worth Shane losing his new job over. I beat the crap out of him until he told me what he gave her. The idiot gave Chelsea a Valium.”

  Hearing it had been a minor drug, Brooke snickered with relief in the front seat. “A Valium shouldn’t hurt her long term. Looks like you did a better job taking care of her than you did yourself.”

  Brandon laughed at the praise. “Yeah—well—I guess it does look like that from where you’re sitting. Dipwad Darryl, as Chelsea called him, got in one good punch on me. It connected because I got distracted by Chelsea saying she felt sick.”

  Brooke nodded as she negotiated the stop-and-go streets of the campus. “Calling for help was the smart thing to do in this situation. Since it was just a Valium, maybe she ought to sleep it off a bit before she has to face the full Larson inquisition. I think her taking a nap will give us all time to calmly tell the story to Reesa and Shane a dozen times before Chelsea gets home.”

  When the car rolled to a stop, Brandon drew in a deep breath and stepped out. His father walked up to the car, hands in pockets—restrained—but angry. He’d seen the same look many times. He sighed at what was coming. “Can we save the lecture for later, Dad? Chelsea’s sick.”

  Sighing in a perfect imitation of his son, Drake stepped forward and lifted one trembling hand up to grab his son’s injured face. He turned it from side-to-side assessing the damage to his eye. “Didn’t we go over ducking when you were about ten?”

  Brandon snorted at the memory of those long ago fights over lunch money. The action removed his face from his father’s shaking fingers. Guilt over worrying him had him sighing again. “It’s hard to duck when you’re shoving a girl out of harm’s way.”

  “Good point,” Drake said tightly, nodding as his imagination filled with a picture of it happening. “Are the guy’s parents going to be calling me tomorrow?”

  Brandon shook his head. “Don’t think so. If they call anyone, it will probably be Shane and Reesa. Chelsea kicked him in the crotch after I beat on him. He drugged her soda with Valium, Dad. I only beat on him to find out what it was he gave her.”

  Drake was both proud and concerned over his son being in situations where physically beating on another human being made any kind of sense. He had learned long ago those conflicting emotions were just part of raising a boy.

  They both turned as Brooke started guiding a sleepy, weaving Chelsea up the sidewalk.

  “Here, Brooke. I got her,” Brandon offered, stepping to them and slipping an arm around Chelsea. When her weight shifted to him, her short-skirted hip bumped his side. He got a whiff of Chelsea’s perfume and suddenly realized she had indeed grown up quite a lot while he’d been away at school last year. His body quietly acknowledged her maturity, but his brain argued Chelsea still shouldn’t be dating college guys.

  As if she had heard his inner debate about her, she stopped moving after a couple of steps. Reaching out to him, she patted his chest, her pink painted fingernails bright against his pale shirt.

  “You’re my hero tonight, Brandon Barrymore. Thank you for saving my virginity. It would have been wasted on Daryl.”

  Brandon was glad it was dark because it hid his blush from Brooke’s suddenly curious gaze. He sincerely hoped his father hadn’t heard what Chelsea had said either.

  “You’re welcome. Now let’s go into the house so you can lie down. Valium makes you sleepy. I know because my mother used to take it to help her rest when she was sick.”

  Chelsea nodded and took a few more steps. Then she stopped again, stood on her toes, and kissed the corner of his hurt eye. It all happened too quickly for Brandon to stop her—or enjoy the moment—not that he should be enjoying the moment.

  “There. Sarah says when I kiss her boo-boos, she feels all better. Does your boo-boo feel all better, Brandon?”

  He laughed and wondered if tomorrow Chelsea was going to remember any of what she was saying or doing tonight. He kind of hope she wouldn’t. Talking about it now was enough torture.

  “Yes. My boo-boo feels all better,” he said finally, going along mostly so Chelsea would continue cooperating. “Now can we please go into the house? I need to get an ice pack on my eye before it swells shut.”

  ***

  Pulling her gaze from the couple moving slowly up the sidewalk, Brooke saw Drake was still standing by the car, so she walked back to him. It was absolutely impossible to not smile after what she’d heard.

  “Chelsea just informed Brandon that he saved her virginity.”

&
nbsp; “Shades of fucking hell.”

  Drake’s vicious swearing made Brooke laugh. But before she could offer sympathy, apparently the whole situation turned hilarious for him. Bending his head, Drake laughed, a deep rumbling, which lit up all her nerve endings. Then he sighed and laughed some more as he studied the sidewalk. Finally, he tilted his head up and stared at the sky.

  Brooke said nothing as she waited for Drake to get a handle on his emotions. When she had taunted him in her mother’s kitchen all those months ago, she had learned firsthand the man had limits to the calm he exuded most of the time. She still daydreamed about the initial unrestrained kiss they had shared. Tonight she was seeing him lose his cool for another reason.

  “I swear I don’t know what to do about my son anymore. He moved back home because he didn’t like the stuffy rules at Harvard. Does he care I’m going to be paying for his pricey Gen Ed classes there for another year? Oh, hell no.” Drake ran a hand through his hair and behind his neck to rub. “Boxes of his crap filling up my hallway are annoying. That shit is nothing compared to worrying about somebody coming after him because he has a black eye from a frat party fight. God only knows whose kid he decked. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad he saved Chelsea, but damn it—when does this shit end? I just had to replace the engine in his car. It’s been one thing after another since he left high school. I’m running really low right now on parental fuel to handle this crap. I need a damn break.”

  Brooke nodded and bit her lip to keep from laughing outright at his honest anguish. “Well, maybe—at least for tonight—you can try to be proud instead of worried. And before you get mad at me too, I’m making a suggestion, not offering a platitude. Your son acted like a true hero. He stood up for himself and managed to get Chelsea out of some potentially deep shit.”

  When Drake grunted in frustration, Brooke fought her mouth twitching to continue.

  “Outside of Brandon’s black eye and Chelsea’s drug-induced inebriation, they both seem otherwise fine. All is truly well that ends well. So how about we focus on tonight’s positive outcome?”