Dangerous (25 page)
“The flowers are a nice touch,” she said, gently touching the petals of the blue wildflowers that forged an inner circle next to the pebbles that decorated the edge of the pie. Bright, yellow dandelions
bloomed
her name in the top center of the pie, and a perfect, red rose sprouted from the mud directly below it. “None of my mud pies were ever this pretty.”
“Well, here’s your chance.” I walked to the edge of the woods that surrounded the mud hole and grabbed a basket that was filled with everything one might need to make a mud pie: pie tins, pebbles, assorted flowers, and sticks.
I set the basket on the ground beside her and took a seat on the folded towel that was on the other side of her.
“I really am sorry about last night, Dara. I do things without thinking, but I promise you that I never meant to hurt you.”
“Stone, I wish I could know that you truly mean that.” Her lip quivered as tears streamed down her face. “I really need you right now.”
Watching her cry made me feel like shit. I took her face in my palms and kissed her tears
away,
welcoming the taste of the bitter salt if it would ease her pain. “I do mean it, Dara,” my lips whispered against her moist skin. “I’m here, baby.”
Soft sobs made her breath uneven. I pulled her against my chest and wrapped my arms around her, wanting to protect her from the evils of the world and wondering if I was one of them.
When she had finally calmed, I handed her a pie pan, and we both scooped up mud to fill it. I watched her smile as she lined up pebbles and flower
petals,
her feet sinking in the mud as she carefully constructed her mud pie.
I rose and walked a few feet away to rinse my hands in the creek. As I bent down to dip my hands into the cold water, I felt mud splatter against my back. I stood upright. “Oh, no, you didn’t.” I turned to look at her and was rewarded with another splatter of mud against my shoulder.
I sprinted toward her, a peal of laughter erupting from her lips as she bent down, scooped up another handful, and pelted me in the chest.
When I reached the mud hole, I grabbed a handful and smeared it across her cheek. Her laughter tinkled through the air as she squinted and tried to fend me off with one, tiny hand.
In one quick move, I scooped her in my arms and laid her in the middle of the mud, my body pinning her in place.
Her smile dissipated, and she watched me intently with her vibrant green eyes. She reached up and touched my face with her mud-covered hands, stroking the edge of my jaw.
“Did I ever tell you that I’m happiest when I’m with you?” she asked, her whispery voice caressing me.
Her confession was my undoing. Girls had told me many things in my life, many of them not worth repeating, but no female had ever told me that I made her happy.
I crushed my lips against hers, needing her to feel my urgency. I propped myself up with my left elbow as my right hand skimmed the edge of her body, feeling the gentle curve of her hip. I wanted to be closer to her. I pushed up the edge of her shirt, admiring the feel of her body against my mud-slickened hand. I pulled back, noting the contrast between the cool, dark mud and her warm, golden skin. I smoothed my hand across her flat belly, tracing a circle around her belly button ring.
My blood was pumping, and I pulled her into a sitting position long enough to pull her shirt over her head. My hands left muddy prints as I touched her pristine, white, lacy bra and unfastened the front enclosure.
Her hands wrapped firmly around my back, pulling me closer to her.
“You’re right,” I whispered. “Mud pies
are
a lot of fun.”
Dara
Pink and white mints shaped like hearts, doves, and flowers graced the food table. Their sugar coating glistened like diamond dust in the bright light of Crimson and Scarlet’s salon. In addition to the beautiful mints, Mrs. Cruze, Crimson and Scarlet’s mother, had also made vegetable quiche cups and a sparkling, pink punch. A cupcake tree on each end of the table bloomed white cupcakes decorated in a variety of trims from tiny pink roses to pink polka dots. Tiny white cups of nuts arranged in neat rows and plain potato chips offered the guests a salty treat to offset the sweets. Finger sandwiches and gherkin pickles rounded out the meal.
The gift table, covered in a white table cloth with elegant pink tulle draped around the sides, boasted a bouquet of pink and white balloons, a photo of Granny and Mr. Milton, and an ever-growing pile of gifts, wrapped in glossy papers and decorated with pastel ribbons and bows.
I beamed as I stood back and admired the tables. Crimson, Scarlet, Mrs. Cruze, and I had spent the last day and a half making food and decorating, but as we waited for the remaining guests to arrive, we could all feel good about what we had accomplished. Everything had turned out even better than I had hoped.
I glanced at Granny, who was chatting happily with Shirley, her sister from Nashville. Watching them as they sat next to each other, it was easy to see the resemblance.
At the sound of a motorcycle, I looked out the window and watched as Stone pulled into the bookstore’s parking lot and circled around the back of the building. He and I had agreed to get together after the bridal shower. We had gotten along well together the last few days, and we had spent most of our free time riding the motorcycle or sitting in Quail Mountain Park or on my front porch talking. I had told him everything that happened on my visit with my mother. When I was with him, everything seemed easier to deal with. He encouraged me to be cautious, but to talk to my mother. He thought we could both benefit from getting to know each other. I had taken his advice and had spoken to her on the phone a couple of times since our last meeting. It was a bit awkward, but I was willing to see where the relationship would go.
Granny’s bridal shower progressed perfectly. Guests had a wonderful time playing games, chatting, and watching Granny open her gifts. Since she had always taken care of me, it made me happy to be able to do something for her. I watched her as she thanked her guests before they left, and she seemed truly blissful. Mr. Milton had been good for her. It relieved me to know that he would be with her now to keep her company. I had one year of high school left, and although I wasn’t sure what my plans would be afterward, I knew it wasn’t likely that I would live with Granny much longer, unless, of course, she needed me.
After most of the guests had left, Stone walked into the salon with a dark-haired woman. He didn’t venture far into the building, choosing instead to hover right inside the door. He called me to him.
“Dara, I’d like you to meet my mother, Olivia Hamilton,” Stone said, placing a hand at the small of my back.
His mother was quite pretty with long, dark hair and a genuine smile.
“Dara, it’s very nice to meet you. Stone will have to bring you over to the house one night, so that you can have dinner with us.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Hamilton. We were just having a bridal shower for my grandmother.” I thought about introducing my grandmother, but as I turned around, she was engrossed in conversation with her sister. “She’s over there in the pink blouse. Would you like some food? We have plenty left, and I could introduce you to her.”
“I appreciate it, but I need to go. When Stone told me you were across the street, I forced him to bring me over to meet you. I wish I had time to stay, but I have an appointment shortly. We’ll get together soon, though.”
“Sounds good,” I agreed.
“Walk with us out to her car,” Stone said, “and then I’ll come back inside with you.”
“Your grandmother looks so familiar,” Mrs. Hamilton commented, as she turned to go out to the parking lot. “What’s your last name, Dara?”
I followed them to Mrs. Hamilton’s car. “My last name is Golding, but my grandmother’s name is Baxter, Helen Baxter.”
“Baxter,” she repeated to herself. Her head snapped in my direction. She glared at me, a look of horror written on her delicate features. “Oh,
my gosh
, the trial.” It came out a whisper.
“Is Ford Baxter your father?” Mrs. Hamilton
asked,
her voice much louder with a touch of hysteria.
“Mom, her dad is deceased.” Stone took his mother by the arm. “Her family has nothing to do with that,” he soothed.
“Stone, I recognize her grandmother from the trial.” His mother watched his face as she enunciated each word.
Feelings of shock and horror burned their way through my veins. My stomach churned, and a wave of nausea swept over me as if I were standing in a rowboat during a horrendous ocean storm.
Stone looked at me pleadingly. “Tell her your father is dead, Dara.”
I opened my mouth, but the words would not come out. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my cupcakes and mints from clawing their way up my esophagus.
“Dara?”
Stone’s voice was low.
I wasn’t exactly sure what my father had done to them, but it was obviously nothing good. Had he broken into their house and stolen from them? I could feel the hot tears springing into my eyes. My dad had screwed things up for me once again. “He’s not dead, Stone. He’s in jail.” He had been in and out of jail his entire life.
“Shit,” Stone bit out caustically. “You lied to me?”
I pursed my lips together, not trusting my voice to speak. Trying desperately to compose myself, I inhaled deeply. It didn’t work.
“Let’s go, Stone,” his mother said quietly.
Stone grasped me by the upper arms, demanding my attention. “You lied to me?” His voice was low and dangerous.
I nodded my head.
His jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth together. “You knew your father killed my brother, and you lied to me about it?”
Killed his brother? Then it dawned on me. Luke. The tears flowed over my cheeks, and there was nothing I could do to hold them back. I swallowed again, afraid that I wouldn’t be able to hold the vomit back, either. I wanted to explain, but they were both glaring at me, and while I hadn’t made the connection between Luke and my father, I knew they wouldn’t believe me. Why should they? I had just admitted to lying about my father.
“I thought you were different,” Stone whispered, his hands still firmly wrapped around my biceps. “I can’t believe you knew, and you didn’t tell me.”
He turned to leave.
“Stone!”
I called out.
He stopped where he was, but he didn’t turn around.
“I didn’t know,” I said around my sobs, not knowing whether he could understand me. “I didn’t know!”
He turned slowly, glaring at me. “You didn’t know what? You didn’t know your father was alive? Or you didn’t know he killed my brother?”
“What was I supposed to say?” I shouted. “‘Hi, my name’s Dara. Oh, by the way, my father’s rotting in jail because he killed someone while driving drunk.’ Stone, when you asked me about my father, I was embarrassed of the truth. I don’t have parents like yours. I did lie, but you never told me that Luke was killed by a drunk driver. I didn’t know that the driver you mentioned…was my father. Stone, I didn’t know!”
He started walking again, never turning around to face me. He got in the car with his mother, and they drove away, leaving me standing there to wallow in yet another puddle of misery created by my parents.
I ran to the grass strip on the edge of the parking lot, losing my battle with the cupcakes.
Dara
A sad, lackluster image stared back at me in the mirror. I dabbed on an extra layer of concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes.
Two days had passed since I had last spoken to Stone at my grandmother’s bridal shower. I tried to call him, but he wouldn’t answer.
Today was the first day that I was scheduled to work since the incident, and I hoped that he would be there, so that I could explain.
An hour later, I walked into the bookstore, my nerves on edge as I mentally tried to remain calm.
“Hey, Tom,” I greeted as I approached the counter.
He stood up from his seat at the computer. “Dara, I need to talk to you.”
I knew something was wrong. Normally, Tom barely even looked up from the spreadsheet that was consuming him at the moment.
He handed me an envelope. “Stone wanted me to let you know that we don’t need your services anymore.”
My jaw dropped. “He fired me?”
“Technically, it’s a layoff.”
I took the envelope and stared at the wall behind Tom, while my mind thought of all the repercussions of being laid off. I would no longer be working with Stone, and I would be that much further away from reaching my goal of purchasing a car.
“He can’t do this to me,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry, Dara,” Tom said.
“Is he here?” I asked, hoping that I could speak to him, that maybe if I explained, everything would be all right.
“He hasn’t been here in two days. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
“You’ve been running the bookstore by yourself?” I asked, afraid that everything that needed to get done wouldn’t get done. Was he helping all of the customers who needed help?