by Diana Gardin
I curl into him, turning to the side and pulling my legs up on his lap right along with the rest of me. I’m languid, sleepy, and I want nothing more than to be totally wrapped around him right now.
He kisses my forehead tenderly, then brushes my hair back out of my face.
“Do you know what you do to me?” he asks, his voice raw.
I shake my head. “Make you really, really horny?”
His rumble of laughter brings a wide smile to my lips.
He uses a finger to turn my face up toward his. “That’s a given. Your magic powers guarantee that. But you also make me…want things I’ve never wanted before. You make me believe that…that goodness is possible for me again. After everything I’ve done.”
I rear back and stare into his eyes. “What you’ve done?”
He shakes his head. “I mean everything I’ve been through. I don’t know, Berkeley. I just never saw you coming. And you’re a very, very pleasant surprise.”
I just stare, transfixed in his stunning green eyes. I can’t look away. Everything inside me is still trying to recover from what he just did to me. The way he knows my body and how to touch me and talk to me is putting me in serious danger of grabbing him and throwing him down on the floor so that I can finish what he started.
I shake the thought free, and the corner of his lips turn up in a half-grin.
Crap. Damn, damn, damn. I’m in major trouble here. I’m in serious danger of getting in over my head with Dare. He’s everything I said I didn’t want. He’s ex-military, he’s stubborn, he’s commanding. He’s got a lot of darkness in his past, from his childhood demons still chasing him at night and from a faraway combat zone I can’t reach him in when he disappears there.
But then, he’s also sweet and considerate. He does things for me that no one has ever bothered to do. He protects me and he makes me laugh every single time I’m with him.
And the combination of all of it, not just the good, puts me in danger of falling in love with Dare Conners.
23
Dare
It takes two weeks for me to admit it to myself.
It happens while I’m tying a black bow tie, preparing for a formal event in Berkeley’s parents’ backyard. I stare at my reflection, my dark hair touching the collar of my tux. I’m shaking with nervousness and anticipation at seeing her in a formal gown. Just the thought of her all dressed up makes something in my chest clench tightly.
I’m falling in love with Berkeley. It’s just as unbelievable as it is undeniable.
And with that thought comes a flood of unexpected, un-fucking-welcome questions. Do I tell her? If I do, will she run in the other direction? Does she feel the same way? Do I even understand love well enough to recognize this as real?
Those questions give way to questions from my past that turned my world upside down and inside out more than once. Did they suffer? Where will I live now? Will they find me if I hide in the closet? Are they all dead? Shouldn’t I be?
I shudder, my fingers trembling as they struggle with the knot at my neck. Questions about love are not the same as questions about survival. I repeat the words like a mantra, over and over again inside my head. I picture Berkeley, eyes closed, lips parted. My name a strained whisper tumbling out of her mouth. My pants immediately tighten at the thought of what she looked like when she was vulnerable like that. In my arms.
Shit. She was beautiful.
Attending a black tie event with her parents and all their boring-as-hell, rich friends is the last thing I want to do tonight. I’d rather scoop Berkeley up and take her off somewhere to be alone. But I’m doing this for her. Because she has to be there, and she needs me by her side.
I’m nervous during the entire ten-minute drive to the Holtz home. I’m not nervous to be around people who have more money than me. I could give two shits about that. I’m nervous to be in the same room as Berkeley’s father and still keep a handle on my temper.
If he touches her again like he did that night…
I suck in a deep breath as I walk up the paved drive and around the side of the enormous house. There are lighted torches leading the way from the front of the house to the backyard. When I round the back of the home, I’m met with a myriad of black and white.
In the dusky evening light, lit torches are setting an ethereal mood around the grounds. The home isn’t located directly on the water, but the smell of the ocean is in the air. The lush green grass lets me know that the Holtzes have laid turf, because the landscape should have been less green and lush, more sandy and scraggly. There are pathways of cobblestones laid out leading to an enormous covered patio and screened-in porch, the pool, and a sun lounge.
A large, white tent is set up in the grass just beyond the patio, and I can see tables covered with black tablecloths inside. Light, classical music is trickling over the approaching night, and I search the faces around me for the only one I’m interested in seeing.
“Dare!”
I turn toward the house, and there she is. She’s walking quickly toward me in a long, flowing black dress that gathers just beneath her breasts. The material alludes to the voluptuous curviness that is Berkeley’s body, but just barely as it swishes against the ground. Her hair is smooth, free of its normal wild curls, and swept up in an elegant bun on the top of her head. She looks gorgeous, like a fucking angel.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding and gather her up in my arms as she reaches me. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She breathes, and I inhale. She smells like roses, as usual, with a hint of something fruity in her shampoo. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I’m wherever you want me,” I reply simply. “You look…” I pull back and hold her out at arm’s length. “Stunning. Perfect. You’re slaying me right now, baby.”
Her dimples appear in her cheeks as she smiles at my words. Then she assesses me right back. God, I love that about her. She can give it right back to me, threefold. “You look…dashing. Ridiculously handsome. Good enough to eat.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Eat? Do we need to stay at this party? I really like the sound of ‘good enough to eat.’”
She giggles, slapping my bicep. “Later. I have to be here.”
I nod, holding her gaze with my own. “You just made me a promise, honey.” My hand sinks lower on her waist, and she smirks.
“Yes, sir.”
I grab her hand before she can salute, and bring her knuckles to rest against my lips.
She nabs a passing waiter and grabs two flutes of champagne off his tray. She hands me one, and takes a large gulp of hers.
“Easy, there,” I murmur. “It’s going to be a long night.”
She sighs. “I know. But just look at this place.” She gestures around us, and I look.
It looks beautiful, like a picture in a magazine, but admittedly, it’s not Berkeley.
“Black and white everywhere! Classical music! Ugh. It’s beyond boring.”
I nod, in complete agreement. “How about when we leave we blast Rise Against?”
There are the dimples again, the forehead folds disappearing instantly. “Make that the Eli Young Band and you’ve got a deal.”
I wince. “Ain’t gonna happen.”
“There you are,” a cool female voice greets us.
I look up from Berkeley’s face, and her mother stares back at me. Her expression is extremely guarded, and the muscles around her mouth twitch as she purses her lips. She glances from Berkeley to me, and holds out a hand.
“I didn’t realize Berkeley had invited a friend,” she greets me. Her voice drips with icicles. “I’m her mother, Denise. And you are?”
I shake her hand, gripping her thin fingers tightly in my own before I release it. “I’m Dare Conners. Thank you for having me. Your home is beautiful.”
Berkeley glances between us, anxiety written in her features. I place my hand on the small of her back reassuringly. Her mother doesn’t miss it, her eyes going straight to the point of con
tact.
“Dare, would you excuse Berkeley for a moment?” My name leaves her mouth as if it’s created a bad taste. “I have some people I need her to speak with.”
Berkeley releases an exaggerated huff. “Momma, I—”
I give her a gentle shove in her mother’s direction.
“Go,” I say with a smile I don’t actually feel. In fact, I feel like doing the opposite of smiling, but I don’t want to make things any harder for Berkeley than they clearly already are.
She narrows her eyes on me for about two seconds before she’s yanked away by her mother’s hand. Damn, apparently that thin, frail-looking woman is a hell of a lot stronger than I gave her credit for.
I stare sympathetically after Berkeley for a minute before taking my first sip of champagne. Wow. I’m a beer guy, but this bubbly shit is kind of delicious. I can see how downing that whole glass and then some would work quickly in my system.
I make my way around the outskirts of the party. I just need to be moving. It’s hard for me to stay still, to stay in the same spot for too long. I people-watch as I slide through the crowd. Everyone here seems happy to be here, but at the same time they all seem like there’s somewhere better they could possibly be. It’s so weird I find myself being pulled into listening to conversations and just trying to understand where some of these people are coming from. I fail every single time.
I finish my glass of champagne but opt to wait awhile before I have another. I suspect I need to be ready to shepherd Berkeley out of here at a moment’s notice.
As Berkeley takes longer and longer to return, I find myself wishing I had some company. The party sucks, but it would suck less if I had someone to talk to. Or commiserate with. Mea would be perfect.
The thought of Mea brings me back to the night of the loft above the coffee shop. After Berkeley and I were done upstairs, I took her down to speak with Thomas again. He’d explained that he owned the gallery next door and that he displayed his own art there as well as works by up-and-coming artists. He offered to hang her piece of the sunburst, and she’d been over-the-moon excited.
“Like, for people to actually buy?” she’d squealed.
Thomas had chuckled. “Yep. I’ll price it and hang it, and we’ll see what happens.” Her piece had sold less than a week later, and I will never forget the look on her face when she found out. She’s been back to the loft to paint several times since then.
That same night she told me about the apartment with Mea and Greta. Her eyes shone with excitement, and I was so happy for her it hurt. I wanted her to get out from under her father’s thumb, but I had no idea how to go about making it happen. Then it just fell into her lap, and I was more than relieved. Her parents hadn’t taken her moving out well, but she hadn’t expected them to.
And now she is on her own. I know she’ll nail down a job next, because the girl is seriously capable of just about anything.
I’m broken out of my thoughts when a deep voice beside me pulls me back to the present. “I’m surprised you’d show up here.”
I look up, straight into the icy blue eyes of Grisham. Fuck. On principle, I want to punch this fucker in his smooth, perfect face. My fist curls just looking at him. I force myself to relax, uncurling my fingers.
Berkeley isn’t with him.
She’s with me.
“Yeah, well, I’d go wherever Berkeley asks me.” That’s the only answer his ass needs.
He keeps staring forward, a frown marring his features. “That’s…good. I’m glad to hear it. She deserves someone who will put her first. She’s never had that in her life. I hope you can give it to her.”
I glance at him, somehow keeping my tone even. “Why, because you’ll be waiting in the wings if I don’t?”
He shakes his head, finally meeting my gaze. “She’s made it clear she doesn’t want me. Losing her cost me a lot. But I never really had her to begin with.” He nods toward the house. “You know she told her parents about you. Not sure if they’re gonna approve. I hope for your sake they take it easy on her.”
I nod coolly, taking in the action of the party once more.
“Do you surf?” he asks suddenly.
Where’s he going with this?
“I’m from Florida,” I answer warily. “Of course I surf.”
He nods, chucking. “Don’t ever take Berkeley. She hates it.”
Something in my memory clicks into place, shifting, forming a picture in my mind. “Wait. She said she was surfing a few weeks ago. Was she with you?” Unease roils my gut, and I try to force it away.
He nods. “Yeah. I’ve taken her lots of times. She does it for me, but she really can’t stand it. Athletic activities aren’t Berkeley’s strong suit.”
Fuck. She didn’t tell me she’d been surfing with Grisham. And I knew she didn’t like to do athletic stuff, which is why up to this point I hadn’t taken her.
Fuck.
Inside me, jealousy rears its big, green, ugly head. It coils in my stomach like a snake, poised to attack. It’s a brand-spanking-new emotion for me, and I have to say it sucks. It really, really sucks.
Grisham is watching me carefully. “She didn’t tell you I took her surfing.”
It wasn’t a question, more of a statement. So I don’t bother answering him. We just stand there, watching the crowd swirl around us.
“She’s been gone a long time,” I muse, finally. “I think I’ll go see if I can find her.”
He nods, and I leave him standing there. If I’d stood next to him any longer, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been able to keep ignoring my hand-to-hand combat training impulse lighting a fire inside my stomach. It wasn’t his fault she hadn’t told me who she’d been surfing with. And she and Grisham are friends, so she hadn’t done anything wrong.
But the idea that she hung out with him, without letting me know about it, feeds a nasty suspicion that maybe she did more things with Grisham she hadn’t bothered to tell me about. Maybe every second she isn’t with me, she’s with him. The thought eats me up from the inside out, and I can feel my body coiling tighter and tighter with every step I take.
I scan the patio and grassy area as I walk, not spying the coiffed blond hair and curvy figure I’m searching for. I know she isn’t in the tent, because the fancy dinner has yet to be served. As I walk closer to the house, a waiter comes strolling out of the kitchen door carrying a tray of shrimp cocktail. I catch the heavy wooden door with my hand and push inside.
Hearing voices coming from the dining room just past the kitchen, I inch forward. I don’t want to be seen, I just want to see if any of the voices is Berkeley’s. As I get closer, I can begin to make out the conversation unfolding before me.
“God, Daddy, I’m so sick of going over this with you! I don’t want to talk about it again!”
That’s Berkeley, and she is obviously talking to the Admiral. Does she need me? Should I bust in and pull her out of there?
“You brought that trash to our house tonight, Berkeley. That doesn’t sit well with me. These people are my friends and my colleagues, what will they think? And Grisham’s parents are here. Do you really want to throw the fact that you ditched their son for someone who is so far beneath him into their faces? Didn’t I raise you better than that?”
She sounds so angry, I still at the tone in her voice. Feistiness in full force. “No, Daddy, that isn’t my fault. Grisham and I have always been great friends. You pushed him on me, trying to turn it into more than I ever wanted. It’s your fault if anyone thinks we’re supposed to be together, not mine.”
“And so what? Now you’re going to end up with army trash?” He barks out an ugly laugh. “That’s just perfect, Berkeley.”
She sighs, sounding beyond exasperated. “Are you really going to cut me off because I didn’t choose the man you wanted? That’s so petty, Daddy.”
“How badly do you want to stay in that stupid little apartment of yours? Badly enough to take out the trash?”
She gr
oans in clear frustration. “Daddy! It’s not like I’m going to marry the guy. Shit! He’s just someone I hang out with. It’s not worth losing our entire relationship for!”
I stumble back a step like I’ve been punched in the gut. I grab my stomach. Shit, have I been punched in the gut? It hurts like I have.
I turn and walk as quietly as I can back out of the kitchen.
I’ve admitted to myself today that I’ve started falling in love with Berkeley. It is something I am terrified to admit, because anyone I’ve loved, I’ve lost. And I was right to worry about that, wasn’t I?
What a fucking mistake. She thinks of me as little more than a “for right now” kind of thing. Falling in love? Laughable. No wonder she hasn’t given herself to me. She just isn’t that into me. Where I thought we were heading down a path to what could have been perfection, she just thought we were heading down a temporary road. Well, lesson learned.
I walk past Grisham on my way toward the front of the house without really seeing him.
“Hey,” he says loudly, startling me out of my own head. “Where are you going? Where’s Berkeley?”
He blanches when he gets a good look at my face. I don’t blame him; my expression probably tells him I could kill someone with my bare hands. And I can. I’ve been expressly trained to do so, and the disgusting feeling snaking around my heart right now has definitely made it possible. Grisham’s perfectly controlled academy training, even navy, can’t possibly compare with that.
“You’re leaving?” he asks quietly. “You’re leaving her?”
I bark out a laugh, running a hand through my hair. “You can have her, man. Congratulations. I’m done.”
And then I walk away.
24
Berkeley
I gawk at Grisham like he is speaking to me in Chinese. We’re standing outside, my eyes roving around the party as I search for Dare. Shit. Where could he be? I’m still fuming from my conversation with my father moments ago. I snatch a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray.
