Brazen Steele: Brazen Series Book 2

by Dean, Ali

  A few months ago I might not have felt comfortable giving Naomi her own car. That’s a lot of independence and responsibility for a sixteen-year-old. But as we’ve spent more time together I’ve realized my baby sister is a hell of a lot more mature than I was at her age. My Jeep Wrangler’s been sitting in Mom’s driveway now that I’ve made the Sprinter my primary ride. It’s time to give it to someone who will actually use it. Not gonna lie, thought about giving it to Jordan instead as a Christmas present or something, but I didn’t think she’d be into it. I don’t want her to think I’m pushing gifts on her to bribe her to stay with me or something while I’m filming.

  I did get her something though. When I hear her stir I reach over to my bedside table and grab the small box.

  “What’s that?” Jordan asks, her voice cracking with sleep.

  “I got you a present.”

  She snuggles closer to my chest. “What for? Thanksgiving?”

  “Yeah. I know it’s not usually a gift-exchanging holiday, but Brie started a jewelry business, and I wanted to support her.” Okay, that’s only part of the truth. I also wanted to get something for Jordan that she could wear. Something visible that says she’s mine. I don’t know, but with Griff slowly sending her more Brazen items, I’m getting a little annoyed seeing Brazen all over her, even if I rep the same company.

  With us having to be kept a secret, it’d be nice to have a little symbol of what’s real between us. The photoshoot for Skate Wave was particularly rough, especially because they took tons of photos of Griff and Jordan together, almost as if they were the ones who were a couple. Everything’s so good between us, but when we have to hide that from the rest of the world, it stings. I doubt a necklace will soften the blow, but whatever.

  Jordan opens the box and pulls out the delicate gold chain. There are two small pendants, a skateboard and a heart.

  “This is beautiful, Beck. It’s light too, so I can ride with it easily when I’m skating. Clasp it for me?”

  She sits up a little for me to put it on. “I like having something on me that’s from you,” she admits, looking down at it with a little smile.

  “That’s actually why I got it. All this Brazen gear on you now. Maybe it makes me an asshole, but there are moments when we’re pretending we’re not a couple, like at the Skate Wave shoot, and it’d be nice to look at you and have that little visible reminder, you’re mine.”

  “That’s sweet, Beck.” She leans forward and runs her nose along mine. “What am I going to get for you then?”

  My hands are already on her ass, thinking about other things. She sleeps in underwear, so it’s not my fault. “Hmm?”

  “What are you going to wear to remind me you’re mine? When you’re filming? When you’re in the middle of an interview telling the world you’re single?”

  Oh, Jordan’s showing a possessive side, and that makes me growl a little as my hands slip under her panties to her bare skin.

  “You want me to wear a necklace?” I’d do it, if she asked.

  “I don’t see you as a necklace guy,” she murmurs, sounding distracted now too.

  Is it too soon to get a tattoo? We’ve only been a couple for six weeks or so now, but she’s embedded in me deep. I already can’t imagine my life without her. When I think of my future, she’s in it. But I can’t forget Jordan’s just turned eighteen. She’s probably not anywhere near ready to think about forever. I know I wasn’t at her age. Before I met her, I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to get married. Now, three months after meeting Jordan, I’d totally get a tattoo for her if she asked. Hell, I’d probably put a ring on it already too. But for now, I’ll settle for a necklace and the knowledge my hands are the only ones to hold her bare ass cheeks.

  * * *

  We’re at Airwalk, getting in a quick session before heading to the Perrys’ for the rest of the day, when my dad calls. I’m tempted to blow him off, but I haven’t spoken to him since he told me about the marriage weeks ago; maybe he’s calling to tell me they broke it off.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Beck.”

  “Thanks.” I pick up my board and walk over to sit on the picnic table.

  “So, have you thought about being my best man?”

  Watching as Jordan skates across the park toward me, I find the strength to tell him what I should have the second he asked me. “I’ll be at the wedding, but I don’t want to be in the wedding party.”

  I’m bracing for a speech from Dad trying to change my mind, but that’s not what I get. “No problem. You have this weekend off, right? You’re not competing right now and filming hasn’t started.”

  Jordan’s on her board a few feet in front of me, rocking back and forth and watching me with a furrowed brow. “Right,” I say absently, hoping he doesn’t want to meet up again so soon. Maybe I shouldn’t have answered the call, but it’s Thanksgiving, and he’s still my dad.

  “Great! We decided to keep the engagement short and are having the wedding this weekend. It’s not far, a resort in San Diego. It’ll be right on the beach. I already got you a room.”

  My teeth clench together and my fist grips the phone tighter. A hand touches my thigh and I find Jordan’s moved to sit beside me, her eyes questioning.

  “Send me the details. I’m bringing a date.”

  Dad starts to ask questions, but I cut him off. “I gotta go, Dad. See you Saturday.”

  I don’t realize my other hand is clenched in a fist until Jordan moves her hand over it.

  She doesn’t say anything as she strokes it with her thumb, coaxing my hand open to hold hers.

  “Will you come to my dad’s wedding with me?” I ask, before I can remind myself why it’s a terrible idea. All I know is that I don’t want to go alone, and she’s the one I need with me.

  “Yeah, I’ll go. When is it?”

  “Saturday.”

  “This Saturday?”

  “Yeah, it’s news to me too.”

  Jordan pulls my head down until we’re forehead to forehead. “I’ll go. You okay?”

  “Not really, but I will be.”

  She doesn’t ask any more questions, and I’m grateful for that. It’s obvious I don’t want to go, and I feel like I owe her at least some explanation.

  “My dad cheated on my mom. It was a long time ago, and it didn’t take her long to move on, meet Marco, and make a better life for herself. I could have shut him out of my life, but he had visitation, and it was easier to go along with it than cause a fight between my parents.”

  “And you’re still going along with it?” she prompts, when I pull back to take a deep breath. I never talk about this. Ever. It makes every muscle in my body tight. And there’s a wave of something else ugly that I know I shouldn’t feel. Shame. I’m ashamed of my dad, ashamed because we share genetics and I could be like him one day.

  “Yeah, I guess. I see him maybe four times a year for a couple hours. It’s almost always over dinner with his newest girlfriend. I guess it’s easier to keep this minimal surface relationship with him than to cut him out entirely.”

  “You keep hoping he’ll change, maybe?”

  I suck in a sharp breath, my chest hurting. I don’t want to admit it, but, “Yeah, I keep hoping he’ll show up alone and want to talk about something real in our lives. Saying that aloud sounds dumb. Especially now that he’s marrying someone.”

  “You’ve met her?”

  I shrug. “Once.” I don’t want to talk about her. Hell, I can’t even remember her name.

  “Anyway, that’s the deal on my dad. He’s probably marrying her because he’s realizing he’ll be too old to reel in the trophy types soon. I don’t know. He’s a plastic surgeon, likes to think he runs in the circles with the rich and famous, and is all about the appearance of success. Maybe I don’t even expect him to change. Maybe I just feel bad for him,” I admit, thinking about how sad a life it must be to value those things over loyalty and family.

  “Hey, I’ll go with you. We’ll have fun, all ri
ght?”

  I shoot her a skeptical look. She smiles. “Okay, maybe not fun exactly, but it won’t be terrible. I’m sure there will be cake at least. Music.”

  “It’s at a beach resort in San Diego.”

  “See? We can hit up skateparks there!”

  I lean down, needing a quick kiss and not caring if someone spots us. “I love you,” I tell her.

  “I love you too, Beck. Come on, let’s enjoy the day with the family you do love being with.” She gets up and pulls me off the bench, forcing me out of my funk. I guess if it means a trip with Jordan all to myself, my dad’s wedding isn’t the worst way to spend the weekend.

  * * *

  As soon as we step into the Perrys’ house and Mom bustles over for hugs, I forget about Dad and the wedding. As the infectious warmth from the rest of my family takes over, I realize how it’s been so easy to forget about Dad over all these years. Or pretend to forget about him as I push all that he represents and means, or doesn’t mean, into a box each time I’m with the people who actually earned my respect and love.

  Mom can’t stop beaming at Jordan as I introduce her to Griff’s dad, Steve, in the kitchen. As soon as I ask Steve what I can help with, Mom’s ushering Jordan over to the living room, where she points to a few framed pictures of me and Griff from over the years.

  “And this is prom. I just love this picture. It was the first time the boys wore suits and at the time I couldn’t believe how grown up they looked.” I watch Mom study the picture as I tie an apron at my back. “Now they look young to me!”

  Jordan’s smiling big, her eyes dancing between my mom and the photo.

  “My friends couldn’t talk me into going to prom,” Jordan tells her mom. “I didn’t have anyone special I wanted to go with, and getting dressed up isn’t really that exciting for me.” She shrugs and then glances over at me quickly before looking at the framed photo again. “Now if Beck was at my school in my grade, and he’d asked me, I would’ve gone.”

  If it’s possible, Mom beams harder at this. Those words would’ve sounded cheesy or fake coming from just about anyone else, but Jordan actually means it. I hear Steve chuckling beside me. “She’s not even trying, is she? That’s just the way she is.”

  “Who? Mom or Jordan?”

  “Well, both I guess. But I was talking about Jordan.”

  “Is Jordan here?” Summer calls from the top of the stairs. She comes bouncing down a moment later, Naomi behind her.

  They throw their arms around her like they didn’t just see her a few days ago before inviting her up to Summer’s room.

  I call out before they can steal my girlfriend. “Hey! What about me? Do I get a hug?”

  “Later!” Naomi calls.

  “Guess you’re chopped liver now,” Steve says, patting me on the shoulder.

  “Guess so.” I shake my head, not even a little disappointed with this status change.

  “Tammy talked Griff and Marco into doing the turkey trot again this year. She just texted she won a pumpkin pie.”

  “She talks them into it every year, and she’s the only one who ever wins anything.”

  “Well, she can’t cook or bake so that’s her contribution.”

  Tammy’s skills in the kitchen are almost as dismal as her son’s. “Neither can Marco or Griff so I guess that’s why they keep going back to try to win a pie.”

  “You know Tammy can talk Griff into just about anything. Marco goes to get out of helping your mom.”

  Mom slides in next to me at the counter. “Oh, I don’t even want his help. I just want him out of the kitchen so he doesn’t eat all the pies before we get here.”

  As the three of us move around the kitchen preparing the same dishes we’ve been making for as long as I can remember, I’m able to completely forget about Dad and what he might be doing today. That is, until I get a text message from him giving me the wedding details. I look over at my mom and wonder if I should tell her. She catches my eye and frowns. “What is it?”

  It’s not like I could lie to her even if I wanted to. “Dad’s getting married on Saturday. He only just told me he got engaged a few weeks ago. And then told me about the wedding an hour ago.”

  Mom holds my gaze. “Are you going?”

  “Yeah. Jordan’s coming too.” I can’t help smiling at this part and Mom smiles back.

  “Good. Have fun then! You two just enjoy yourselves. Maybe she’ll get to see you in a suit after all,” Mom teases.

  I don’t have to worry if Mom’s affected by this news. As far as I can tell, she’s been pretty emotionally removed from her ex-husband for a long time now. Still, it’s not really a fun topic to bring up. The conversation is over though when Tammy and Griff walk in.

  “You guys stink, go shower,” Steve calls.

  “How can you even smell us from over there!” Tammy calls back.

  “Is anything ready yet?” Griff asks, ignoring the order to stay out of the kitchen. “I’m starving.”

  My mom slaps his arm. “No. You have two hours. Here, eat a carrot.” She hands him a whole carrot and he takes it, grumbling as he snaps a bite off.

  “Every year,” I mutter as Griffin retreats. “Should I toss him a can of cranberry sauce now or wait a little bit?”

  “Oh, too early for that,” Steve answers. He checks his watch. “Maybe in forty-five minutes we can start with the canned goods.”

  Griffin is the worst at waiting for Thanksgiving dinner to be ready and for as long as I can remember we’ve rationed him canned goods to keep him from whining too much. I don’t feel bad for the guy. Marco confessed a couple years ago that Tammy always takes them all out to a secret brunch after the turkey trot. No wonder they keep agreeing to do it with her.

  The girls finally come down when Griff convinces them to play Scrabble after he gets his ass kicked by his mom and Marco, who joins us after showering at our house. Jordan eases right in, as if she’s been here every year. She barely bats an eyelash as Griff spoons out pumpkin from a can. I feel her eyes on me every few minutes and when I feel arms wrap around my waist, I put the knife down from carving the turkey and turn around.

  “You look good in an apron,” she whispers.

  “You look good with my family.”

  “Summer told me to stop staring at you already and just go over and give you a kiss. Is this okay?”

  I drop my head. “Well, where’s my kiss?”

  “I thought I’d start with a hug. I mean I don’t want to go all PDA in front of your family.”

  I brush a kiss along her forehead and then her jawline, before reaching her lips. “I can’t give real public displays of affection so if this is all I get for now, I’m taking it.”

  She’s blushing a little, but smiling. “Get back to your turkey. Griffin’s grouchy when he’s hungry.”

  “That and he sucks at Scrabble but blames it on getting bad letters every time. He’s in denial.”

  “I heard that, asshole!” Griff says.

  “Language, Griffin,” Tammy scolds.

  “Coming from the woman who just spelled wanker,” Griff grumbles.

  “Yeah, I better finish carving the turkey,” I agree.

  It’s hard to pull my eyes off Jordan to the task at hand, but one look at pitiful Griffin scooping his last bite of pumpkin from a can, and I know I’ve got to save us all and get food on the table soon.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jordan

  The Skate Wave article comes out on the Friday after Thanksgiving, and it makes it nearly impossible to concentrate on homework. Beck and I agreed to hole up in the library all day since we’ll be driving to the wedding tomorrow, and want to skate in San Diego on Sunday.

  But the article? It seems to have these undertones that there’s something going on with me and Griffin, and Beck must think so too because he’s acting kind of cranky. The cover photo shows me and Griff looking at each other and laughing, with Beck behind us catching air. Sure, the article talks about Brazen, a
nd how Griff chose both an established skater and someone new and fresh as reps for his brand. But then it goes on to talk about how we met, how I’ve become friends with his sister, and how he believed in me and encouraged me to give contests a try. It’s not so much what they say, but the pictures they picked; in one he has his arm around me, and it looks like I’m leaning into his chest. It all just comes off like there’s something else besides business, mutual respect, or friendship between us.

  Beck’s phone beeps and he glances at the screen before picking it up and tapping on the message. He looks up at me. “Have you been on social media today?”

  “No, I was putting it off until the drive tomorrow.” I try to check it every day, but I thought I’d take a day off since we’ve got some time on the road tomorrow to catch up.

  Beck types out a response. “Summer was asking.” He puts the phone down. “Looks like the article got you some attention, not the good kind.”

  “What do you mean?” I try to sound calm, but goosebumps break out on my arms, the little hairs standing up in alarm.

  “Probably just people jealous of you, seeing you break onto the scene out of nowhere.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask again. All I can think about is Levi, and the words on those messages that cut him so deep. We were younger then, more vulnerable for sure emotionally. The messages to him were about his sexuality, something he was particularly sensitive about at the time. But I’m not twelve or thirteen, and I don’t have anything I’m struggling with internally at the level Levi was back then. A few mean words won’t hurt me. Still, there’s something really disturbing about anyone hating on you through the internet. Strangers or not, it takes thick skin to brush it off.