That devilish grin graced his face again, making him look like a mischievous kid. “Yeah.”
I stopped in the middle of the hall, making a couple behind us bump into me. “Won’t you be late?”
He shrugged as if it were of no consequence. And, maybe to someone with his reputation, it wasn’t. I could not imagine having such a devil-may-care, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants attitude. I shook my head and kept going.
He walked me all the way to my classroom door. I lifted my eyes to his. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but he just smiled.
“Thanks,” I said.
“My pleasure, Princess.” He leaned down and pecked my lips. “See you later.”
Uh . . . what the heck just happened? Had I missed the I’m-Blake-Travers’-Girl memo? It sure seemed like it, if the open stares from the other girls were any indication. Their glares ranged from envious to downright hateful, but I had no words.
I was still in a state of confusion when I made my way to lunch that afternoon. I moved through the line, unable to think about eating anything other than a cup of soup and some crackers, and found a quiet corner table.
A few minutes later, as I had my head buried in my folded arms, my best friend, Rachel, plopped her tray down across from me. I lifted my head and glared at my bubbly, red-headed friend.
“Ssshhhh,” I said, feeling my headache coming back.
“You look like horseshit.”
Wow. I must look bad. “I know.”
She bit her burger, grinning at me.
“What?” I demanded.
“Blake Travers, huh?”
My tummy flopped at the sound of his name. Or maybe it was the food. I think it was Blake. “What about him?” I asked, trying for nonchalance.
She laughed and grabbed a fry. “Uh huh. It’s all over school that he walked you to class and kissed you. Is it true?”
I felt it the minute he walked into the cafeteria. Even from across the room, our gazes collided, and I thought I could almost read his mind. This was scary. He started our way just as Rachel glanced behind her and saw who’d caught my attention. “So it is true?”
I shrugged, not sure what to say. I had no clue what was true where Blake was concerned, other than he made my blood rush hotly through my veins and he seemed to see me for who I really was.
Rachel was openly grinning when Blake sunk into the seat next to me. “Hey.” He glanced over at Rachel, but otherwise, he was focused 100% on me.
“Hi,” Rachel answered, a cocky smile in her voice.
“Feeling better?” he asked me.
“Sorta. Not really,” I admitted, shoving my half-empty soup cup away.
He leaned in fractionally and his unique scent drifted to me, easing my stomach. I suddenly wanted to wrap myself in the comfort of his leather jacket again. “Think you’ll feel better by this weekend?”
I opened my mouth, noticing how his gaze tracked to my lips. “I hope so. Why?”
“Well, I still want you to come by the shop, but I was also hoping afterwards, you’d come with me to a party.”
I shot a surprised glance to Rachel. She was still smirking, her focus on her food. I looked back to Blake. “A party?”
“Yeah. My best friend, Jesse, and his family put on a big party every year for Christmas. It’s pretty nice, lots of food. And I want you to come. With me.” His hand had clasped mine under the table, and when I forced myself to relax, he interlaced our fingers. “Will you?”
“I—”
“Of course she’ll go,” Rachel interrupted.
Blake’s dimples winked again. “Great.” He glanced across the table. “You’re welcome, too. Jesse’s family won’t mind, it’ll be fun.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
I still had no idea what was happening. I was holding Blake Travers’ hand while he and my bestie made my weekend plans.
But, as he ducked his head and brushed a kiss to my nose, I found I didn’t care. Not one bit.
Blake
I made sure to write notes and flirt with Delilah Jackson every day in Government class, then walk her to Physics, pecking kisses everywhere but her mouth each time. Somehow, that seemed like something private between us, not to be shared with anyone, and I would forever link her in my mind with the beach and moonlit nights.
Yeah, I was playing with fire.
Call me a pyro, but I couldn’t stay away from her. And I could tell she liked it, no matter what other kids said or how they stared at the resident punk and the town princess together. I couldn’t help but wonder what her daddy would say . . .
Now, like an addict, I was at the auto shop on a Saturday morning, thirty minutes early, waiting to see her.
I wasn’t lying, I had found a new bumper. Not that she’d really done anything to mine other than a small scratch. I just found a killer deal and wanted to replace it, along with the quarter panel we were making good progress on.
I smelled her first; so out of place in a garage, her sweet berry scent wrapped me up like a blanket.
I pivoted. “Hey, Princess.”
“Hi.” She grinned and glanced down at the bumper leaning against the wall. “So . . . is that our project today?”
The need to kiss her rushed through me, but I banked it. I needed to slow this way down. “Yeah.”
“And the quarter thingy?” she asked as she shrugged out of her jacket, revealing a form-fitting yellow thermal top.
“Quarter panel?” I laughed at her shrug. Cars and Delilah just did not mix. “It’s being painted.”
Nodding, she approached, her eyes on the bumper. But my eyes were on her. She glanced up and caught me staring. “What?”
“I’m just trying to figure a way to keep my hands off you.”
Ocean blue eyes widened as a sweet pink blush stained her cheeks. I knew then, without a doubt, that she wanted me to touch her again. Really touch her. Not holding her hand, not friendly little kisses to her cheek.
No, touch her in every way possible.
And I wanted nothing more than to oblige, but something held me back. She was perfection, the damn Mona Lisa, and I was a grease monkey from the other side of the tracks. Literally. I didn’t care about much in this world, but even I cared enough not to soil a perfect rose.
“Why?” That one word came out in a breathy whisper from her lips. And, suddenly, the garage felt like a closet.
“Why what?”
Her gaze dipped, met mine again. “Why are you trying to keep your hands off?”
Good God.
I squeezed my temples and sucked in a breath. “Nothing good can come of us, Princess. Sure, we can have a little fun, but if we go any further than we have already, it’ll be trouble for you.”
Slowly, she approached, tentative and a bit shy in her movement. “Blake . . .”
I spun away and marched to the open bay door, letting the breeze cool me. Suddenly, her hand was on my shoulder. “Blake.”
Next thing I knew, she was in front of me, her body pressed up against mine as her fingers weaved through my hair. She guided my head down until our lips met the way I’d been dreaming of since that night on the beach.
I traced the seam of her lips with my tongue and she timidly let hers dip out to meet mine. I groaned and yanked her closer, as close as I could get her. Sensation rocketed through my body like a firecracker. I deepened the kiss as far as I could, feeling drunk and hoping she was feeling a fraction of the same thing. I wasn’t sure I could handle it if she let go now.
If she left me now.
She could crumble every one of the walls I’d built in the blink of an eye if she killed this thing between us, and as much as I wanted to hate that, I couldn’t. I found myself praying she’d see me, the real me, and care. That she wouldn’t break me.
With a ragged breath, she drew back and pressed her forehead into my chest. “What if I want to go further?”
I kissed the crown of her head, not sure what to say to that.
&nb
sp; She lifted her head and peered into my eyes. “I know you think you’re some kind of loser, or unworthy, but you can’t hide from me.”
I blinked. “Dee—”
A quick, fierce kiss shushed me. “No. You’re not trouble. At least not the way you mean. You’re sweet and funny and smart. You might fool other people with your tough guy act, but you’re not fooling me.”
“What do you want, Delilah?”
“To have fun. To laugh. To live a little.” Her sweetness was killing me. “To be with you.”
I was afraid to hope. I nearly couldn’t, but some small, nearly dead part of me that used to know love, surged forward and clung to her words. But I had to ask, “And if you figure out everyone is right about me and my family?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
I shrugged. The Sheriff didn’t intimidate me. I’d seen too much.
Her hands on my shoulders moved to play with the hair at my nape. “Well, then I’m not worried about that either. I won’t judge you based on your family. I’ll judge you by how you treat me. Deal?”
That kernel of hope started to sprout. “Deal.”
She leaned up and kissed me again then drew back to grin at me. “So . . . you gonna show me how to fix a bumper?”
I found myself nervous as Delilah and I pulled up in front of Jesse’s house for the annual Joyner Christmas party. Maybe it was because she’d driven us in her Beamer, clearly illustrating the difference between us. Or maybe it was because this was going to be a declaration of ‘us.’ She may not realize it, but that’s exactly what we were doing. Heck, maybe we had been all this past week at school, but this was different. The Joyners were like my second family. Jesse’s parents were awesome, even his little sister, Leta, and older brother, Dwayne, were cool. It was the life I could only wish for after my mom died, and they knew me as well as anybody. They would see the writing on the wall when I showed up at their home with a girl. Something I’d never done before.
Delilah parked behind several other cars lining the curb and glanced over at me. “You okay? You sure it’s all right I came with you?”
She’d read my thoughts. But it was too late to back out now. I’d stepped forward in faith and I wouldn’t go back now. I squeezed her thigh. “It’s fine. We’ll have fun.” I studied her fidgety hands. “Hey, it’ll be great. Even if Rachel decided not to come, you’ll be good with me. I swear.”
Her tense shoulders loosened up a smidge. “Okay.” She grabbed her purse from the backseat and jumped out. I was left with no option but to follow. I loped to catch up with her and grabbed her hand, lacing our fingers.
I knocked and Dwayne Joyner answered, freshly shaved and bigger than I remembered. College obviously agreed with him. “Hey!” He smiled broadly at me, his gaze drifting to Delilah with obvious interest. “Merry Christmas!”
I shook his hand after he closed the door behind us. “Merry Christmas. Dwayne, this is Delilah Jackson. Dee, this is Jesse’s older brother, Dwayne.”
“Blake!” Leta skidded to a stop in front of us, a tray of Christmas cookies in her hand.
“Hey, squirt.”
Her eyes raked over Dee with a smile. “Hi, Delilah.”
“Hello,” Delilah answered, her hand unconsciously squeezing mine tighter.
I rubbed her knuckle with my thumb, trying to reassure her. “You know each other?”
Leta laughed. “Not really. But who doesn’t know who Delilah Jackson is?” She faced Delilah again. “Glad you could come.”
We made our way to the dining area, Delilah’s hand still firmly grasped in mine, as Dwayne and I talked about his classes at UT. He was studying Criminal Justice and wanted to be a cop. It suited him, too. His sense of justice and honor, his uncanny way of shooting it straight.
Mr. Joyner was hovering over the dining table, carving a big ham, and Mrs. Joyner was puttering around the kitchen, where heavenly smells were drifting out.
“Hey, Blake,” Jesse’s dad said. His eyes tracked to Delilah much like the rest of his family. “Hello.”
Delilah smiled as I introduced her.
“Nice to meet you, young lady,” Mr. Joyner said, before turning his attention back to me. “So, Jesse tells me you’ve decided on the Marines?”
I nodded, realizing that dream was quickly being replaced by dreams of Delilah Jackson.
“That’s great, son. I was a Navy man myself.” He glanced up. “It’s an honorable choice you’re making.”
I swallowed, wondering what my future would be now. Was she going to be a part of it? “Thank you, sir.”
Finally, Jesse came trotting in from the kitchen, his hands full of trays of steaming food. “Hey, dude. Hi, Delilah.” He, unlike the rest, didn’t look at all surprised to see her.
She brushed closer to me, her sweet scent mixing with the food pleasantly, making me want to consume her, too.
A few more people straggled in over the next hour. An aunt and uncle. A handful of cousins, and a few more friends, including Trace. It was contentedly crowded and I felt Delilah relaxing next to me as we ate, even laughing with Mrs. Joyner and Leta.
Dwayne plopped down next to us on the couch after the meal. “So, are you two—?”
Delilah tensed beside me and I would’ve given anything to know what she was thinking. I sure didn’t bring her here to make her uncomfortable. I opened my mouth to tell Dwayne it was none of his business, but she spoke up first.
“We’re dating.”
I shot her a look. She smiled.
“Exclusively?” Dwayne continued to pry, obviously thinking of all the girls in my past who I’d been less than faithful to. But, hey, it was always casual. And I never felt a thing like I did with her.
I continued to stare at her and she seemed to be waiting for me to answer. I raised my brows, letting her know this one was in her court. I had to be okay with whatever she wanted.
She slipped her little hand back into mine. “Yes.”
Dwayne hooted in amusement, but I tuned him out. Emotion flooded me like warm honey, bathing me from the inside out. This beautiful girl was mine? That was what she’d said, right?
She giggled, as if sensing my shock.
Dwayne jumped up and followed the herd back to the dining room when dessert was announced, leaving us alone.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked, finding my voice.
She bit her bottom lip. “Did you want me to say no?”
“No!” I breathed deep, not wanting to come across overly anxious. I softened my tone, “No. Of course not. I just wasn’t sure . . . I thought—”
“You thought I didn’t mean what I said in the shop? You thought I’d run just because of where you come from? Hide my feelings for you?”
“Feelings?” I echoed. “How could you possibly—?”
“Shut. Up.” Then she shut my mouth with a kiss, breathing life into me, making me think for once, I might be worthy.
Delilah
I wasn’t sure what it was about Blake, but he brought out a million feelings in me that I had no name for and had never experienced before. Somehow, in a couple short weeks, he’d become something more to me than a boy I flirted with or the hellion of Baybridge. So much more. He was all I thought about, all I dreamed of, all I wanted.
And nothing scared me more.
I was afraid he could shatter me; make the “perfect” Sheriff’s daughter a quivering mess, spotlighting all of my deficiencies. The thing was, with Blake, I did feel perfect. As if I could see myself through his eyes.
Tonight had also been perfect, once I got over my nerves. He took me into his world with his friends at Jesse’s Christmas party. They were all wonderful. His mom reminded me a bit of June Cleaver, and his dad was kinda like what I pictured Santa Claus being like in his younger years. He’d asked Blake about his plans to join the Marines and something solid thunked in my chest. I’d just found him . . . I hated the thought of him leaving me. But I brushed it off—it was too early to think abo
ut stuff like that—and focused on the fabulous Joyner family and their party.
Jesse’s older brother, Dwayne, had teased Blake relentlessly, but it was in a good-natured way, like they’d done it for years. And he was the one who put us on the spot to name our relationship.
I could’ve backed away, or played it off. Even let Blake take the lead. But as he looked into my eyes, I knew, just knew, that if I didn’t dive in right then, he would forever be the boy who just flirted, feeling unworthy. And I wanted so much more. For both of us.
Though I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
He reached across the console of my car as I drove us away from the party and rested his palm on my upper thigh. I glanced over and he was staring at me, his expression hidden by the darkness. Something sparked and flared between us, and it felt . . . right.
I let go of the wheel with my right hand and rested it on top of his, loosely twining our fingers. His heated flesh and callouses sent a surge of awareness through me. “What are you thinking?”
His fingers gently rubbed my leg through my jeans. “Nothing.”
A smile burst free. “Liar.”
“You probably don’t wanna know.” His deep, low answer made me tremble. There were a thousand possibilities. Either he was still worrying about our differences or he was saying . . . as he flipped his hand over to cup mine palm-to-palm, I knew. He wanted me like I wanted him.
“So, what you said to Dwayne . . . does that mean . . . what? You’re my girlfriend?” Uncertainty was painted all over his voice. “Or were you just being nice?”
I kept my eyes pinned to the road. “I wasn’t being nice.”
Silence. I finally glanced over. “I wasn’t.”
“No?”
My heart drummed a fierce beat behind my ribs. Did he want me or not? I shook my head, unable to speak.
He was quiet a moment as I passed the farmer’s market down the street from school. “Pull over,” he finally said, his voice deep. Gravelly.
“What?” I shot him a look.
“Pull over,” he repeated.
“Okay.” I flipped on my signal and made my way into the empty high school parking area. I parked in a darkened spot, away from the bright lights interspersed in the lot.
Burnout (Jack 'Em Up Book 0) Page 5
