Dirty South (A Blue Collar Bad Boy Romance) (19 page)

Chapter Six

My eyes widen. "I, um—" I break off as his arm
pulls me tighter against him. "Jack, what if—"

"No one's looking at us," he replies steadily,
though his gaze doesn't leave my face. My eyes dart around. He's right, the
dance floor around us is crowded and everyone is focused on their own partner.

"Like you said yourself, I'm not interested in football
players," I gasp, my mind trying to work through the hormones that just
flooded my brain.

"Here's the thing, though," he says. "I can
feel your heartbeat." His thumb grazes over my right wrist where he's
holding it and my breath almost stops. "And right now it's pounding like
you just sprinted a hundred meters. Can you deny it?"

"No," I whisper, feeling like I'm caught in a
tractor beam.

"My thinking is," he continues, bending his head
down slightly, "we could live in the same house together and not take
advantage of the situation, or we could—"

"I just told you I'm interested in Miles."

"No commitment. Just fun. Just two attractive people
spending some time together." My body begins to quiver. "You don't
know you're beautiful, do you Bree? I could make you feel it."

The songs ends and I feel suspended in midair. We continue
to stare at each other, Jack's strong arm holding me up, until the microphone
crackles and I'm jolted out of my reverie. I take a quick step back and almost
lose my balance.

"Good evening everyone," I hear Ray's voice boom
through the speakers. I turn with the rest of the crowd toward the stage, where
Ray and my mom are standing together. I shake my head, trying to clear the fog,
but my skin is burning where Jack's hands have just touched me. "Thank you
so much for coming tonight. Many of you have met Anne before, or hopefully have
had the chance to meet her tonight." My mom smiles and waves. "Anne
and her daughter Bree have been a blessing in my life," he continues, and
I feel dozens of eyes glance over at me. "I never thought, after Clara
passed that I—" he stops for a moment, lowers the mic, and looks at my
mother before beginning to speak again. "I know that we both wish that
Anne's son and my daughter could be here for this announcement, but…" he
holds the mic out to my mother's mouth.

"We're engaged!" she says joyfully.

I'm surprised by the tightness that immediately grips my
chest. The crowd bursts into applause and I paste a smile on my face as my mind
begins to whirl. It's not like I didn't see this coming, my mom practically
told me last week. It's just different to hear the words. My mom's first
marriage blew up so spectacularly and publicly…I wonder if my dad knows. Ugh,
why am I even thinking about him? He's made it clear that he doesn't care what
happens to any of us.

"Bree, Jack, why don't you two join us?" my mom asks
from the stage. I glance up at Jack, who gestures for me to go first. The crowd
parts and I pick up the front of my dress as I walk up the few steps onto the
stage. Jack takes the mic from my mom and raises it to his lips.

"Let me be the first to say congratulations," he
says, his perfect face lit glowingly by the surrounding white lights. "I'm
so excited to have you and Bree joining the family."

What the fuck…
I think as I smile, pulling back
slightly so that Jack knows not to hand the mic to me. I'm a terrible public
speaker. Is this the same guy who was just propositioning me a moment ago, now
welcoming me to his
family
? That's just all kinds of weird. Mercifully,
he understands my body language, and puts the mic back in its stand. The band
picks up a playful tempo and I make eye contact with my mom. There's a happy
but pleading expression on her face, and I know why.

I walk over to her and wrap her up in a hug. "I'm so
happy for you," I whisper, knowing that's what she wants to hear. And it's
true. I am happy for her. If she's happy, I'm happy.

We step down off the stage and are quickly engulfed by the
party guests. All the talking and greeting I've been able to avoid all night
happens all at once, and I'm swallowed up into the crowd. I pass from conversation
to conversation until I'm in a daze. I'll never remember all these names, and
the fact that the men are all wearing nearly identical tuxes doesn't help
anything.

I finally end up near the dock and
make a break for it, hurrying down the stone steps to the wooden planks that
reach out to Ray's sailboat. I pull my heels off my aching feet, and walk down
toward the water barefoot. I hear the waves lapping against the wood and the
gleaming white hull of the boat as I pass it on my right. I'm only a few feet
away from the end when I hear a voice behind me.

"Tired of all the cocktail
chatter?" Jack asks from the last stone step.

"I'm no good at all that
stuff," I call over my shoulder. I just wanted a moment alone. How did he
even find me? I hear him laugh softly, which I take as a validation that what I
said was true. "How much longer will it go?"

"Oh, a couple hours at least.
No one leaves an open bar too early," he says, his feet echoing softly on
the wood as he walks toward me.

"Well, I guess that decides
it," I say, as he comes to stand next to me.

"What?"

"You know, your little…idea on
the dance floor. You're going to be my stepbrother now."

"And?"

"Oh, come on."

"There's nothing wrong with it.
We're not related. The only problem that I could see is if one of us got
attached. It would make seeing each other around the house rather
awkward."

"I wouldn't get
attached," I say indignantly.

"Me neither. Then it's
settled."

"That's not what I meant!"
I say, spinning to face him. Without my heels on, my head doesn't even make it
past his barrel chest.

"So what's the problem?"
he asks, his voice low and throaty as he leans over me. "You don't strike
me as a prude."

"I'm just not attracted to
you."

"Liar."

"You're very arrogant, you
know that?" I hiss.

"Yes," he says simply.
"And you're very stubborn, you know that?" he challenges me. Before I
have a chance to respond, his arms are around my waist, picking me up and
pulling me up and against his body. I'm startled for a moment, but then find my
arms winding around his thick neck as his mouth covers mine.

My body surges with warmth as our
lips touch. He kisses me hard, one hand moving behind my head to hold me in
place as he easily supports me with one arm. Our tongues search for each
other's mouth at exactly the same time, and I'm filled with a desperate ache
that I've never known before.

Suddenly, he pulls his face away
and drops me back on the dock. I open my eyes and look up at him in shock.

"You just let me know when you
want to keep going," he murmurs, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.
I'm too outraged to say anything as he turns on his heel and walks back toward
the party.

Son of a bitch
, I think as I
grind my teeth. He's got me right where he wants me.

Chapter Seven

"You hungover or something? Steal some champagne last
night?" Silvio asks through the window, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Huh?" He looks down at the BLT that's sitting
between us. "Oh, right." I pick up the plate and hustle over to Table
4, wondering how long the sandwich had been sitting there.

"Well?" he asks as I return to my spot behind the
counter.

"Just tired," I reply. Which is true…I'm
exhausted. I kept waking up sweating from dreams of Jack's hands all over me,
and as soon as I'd fall asleep, another one would wake me up again. "Why
didn't you guys go?"

"Not really our kind of party," Silvio answers.

"They let Stratton go?" Andrè asks, appearing at
the window next to his brother.

"Yeah…wait, what do you mean? Why wouldn't they?"
I frown, turning toward him with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Those pictures," Silvio says, letting out a low
whistle while he and Andrè glance at each other, shaking their heads.

"What pictures?"

"You didn't see? Came out yesterday afternoon. I
figured he'd be on lockdown," Silvio says.

"Photos of Jack in a bar, doing body shots off a
topless girl while another one's got his jersey on," Andrè fills me in.

"No way," I say incredulously. "Seriously? Wearing
his jersey?"

"I'm telling you," Andrè says. "And you said
he was supposed to be taking it easy, so I thought for sure he wasn't even
allowed to go out now."

"Well, the party was at our house," I reply,
chewing my lip. "And these pictures came out yesterday afternoon?"

"Yeah, he's gotta be on his best behavior now,"
Silvio says, though he clearly enjoys the thought of Jack's antics.

I grab the water pitcher to refill a table's glasses as I
feel steam rise from my ears. Jack's proposal last night wasn't about me at
all…he just needs a girl, any girl, close to home because he can't go out
anymore. Ugh, what a man-whore.

By the time we close up, the sun's been down for well over
an hour. I hurry home, anger fueled-adrenaline coursing through my veins. I need
to work it off. In my bedroom, I pull on a pair of shorts, a sports bra, a
t-shirt, and my old sneakers. I wrap the belt that Carter gave me around my
waist, like I promised him I always would, and pull my t-shirt over it. I
hustle down to the kitchen, take a quick sip of water so that I don't get
dehydrated, and side-step Jack as he emerges from his workout in the basement
gym.

"Where are you going?" he asks as I walk quickly
toward the front door.

"A run!" I call back without stopping.

"It's dark out!" he protests, walking after me
down the marble hallway.

"I have a knife!" I reply, pausing to turn around
and reveal the sheath strapped to the belt that Carter gave me.

"What the fuck, Bree!?" Jack exclaims as I shut
the front door behind me. I roll my eyes as I hear the front door open and his
footsteps following me as I begin to jog. "What the hell are you doing
with that thing?"

"Carter gave it to me so I could protect myself,"
I explain. "He showed me how to use it, obviously."

"What if—"

"Jack. This is a gated community. I think I'll be
fine." I frown as he continues to run next to me, and pick up my pace.

"You seriously trying to lose me? I'm a professional
athlete." I stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him. "You
do have some pretty good speed, though."

"Yeah, well, I'm the
daughter
of a professional
athlete," I growl.

"You ever think of going into sports?"

"Absolutely not," I reply as my legs pump on the
cement beneath us. "I don't like what that scene does to people. I run for
myself, and that's it."

"Not even high school sports?"

"No," I respond flatly.

"What's up with you? You seem even grumpier than
usual," he notes lightly.

"It's nothing." I can't tell him what I'm upset
about. I don't want him to know that he can have that effect on me.

"Did you know they were going to get engaged?" he
asks. He thinks I'm upset about the engagement…fine, let him think that.

"I had a pretty good idea," I reply.
"You?"

"Same. Alexa's going to be shocked, though."

"What's the deal with her? People just keep telling me
she's in Europe…what does that even mean?"

Jack laughs. "It means no one really knows what she's
doing, least of all her."

"And that drives your dad crazy."

"Oh, yeah. She's great, though. You'll like her.
Everyone does."

"She coming home soon?"

"Maybe," he says with a shrug. "She dropped
out of college, followed this guy over there, but her relationships don't tend
to last long."

"So you two are alike in some ways."

"Well, Lex tends to romanticize everything. She thinks
her life's a cross between
The Great Gatsby
and
Emma.
" I
glance over at him in surprise, not expecting to hear those references from
him. "What? I was a Lit major at the University of Michigan."

"Not just a pretty face, huh?"

"Aw, shucks, you think I'm pretty?" he asks,
pushing my playfully.

"Quit it!" I scold him. The feeling of his skin on
mine is too distracting.

"You
are
in a bad mood," he says.
"Upset we didn't finish that kiss?"

"Probably not as upset as you," I retort. "I
hear I'm your only option."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I shrug. "Oh,
you heard about those pictures yesterday. Look, a man like me is never really
out of options…and I know you're going to tell me I'm arrogant for saying
something like that, but it's the truth. Is that what's eating you? You think I
only asked you because I couldn't get anyone else in bed?"

"Well?" I ask, keeping my eyes trained on the dark
road ahead of us, lit only by the security lights by the mansions on either
side.

"I think you're beautiful and interesting," he
says simply. "But yeah, it doesn't hurt that you're someone who's not
going to sell a story to the press, or my underwear online."

"You're honest, I'll give you that."

"I see how Lex gets torn up by these guys promising her
the stars and the moon, and then ditching her when they're done. At least I'm
straightforward about not looking for any attachment. I don't want anyone
getting hurt. Has to be two consenting adults with all the information out
there. Speaking of…how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"What?!" he yelps stopping in his tracks. I laugh
as I keep running.

"Oh man, I got you!"

"Not funny!" he says, starting up again.

"Eighteen," I tell him as he catches up to me.

"And you're clean?"

"Jack!" I protest. God, it's not like I expect him
to hand me red roses or something but that's a bit much.

"Hey, it's a fair question."

"Yes, OK?" It's not a lie, really…I mean, I am
clean. It's more of a lie of omission than a
real
lie.

"Gets so humid out at night when it doesn't rain,"
he remarks, then quickly whips off his shirt.

"Jack, seriously?" I groan, stealing a quick
glance at his bare chest in spite of myself.

"Not bad, though, right?" he smiles, spreading his
arms out to give me a show. "Just giving you something to think about. And
it's only fair…you showed me yours."

"I did not 'show you' mine! You snuck in and saw
me."

"Hey, no sneaking involved. I honestly didn't think you
were in there."

"I know," I reply more softly. I do my best not to
glance sidelong at his torso, but it's covered in sweat, and I can see each
muscle twisting across his stomach with every footfall.

"What about your brother? When's he coming back?"

"I think around October. He can't tell us the exact
date, even if he knows."

"And he gave you that knife? Sounds a little
overprotective." A laugh bursts out of my mouth, and I try quickly to
stifle it. "What?" he asks, sounding a little insulted.

"Sorry, I just…I just realized how much he would
dislike you," I admit, beginning to laugh again.

"Hey!"

"I mean, if he knew you were propositioning me! But,
well, also because you're wealthy and probably never had to have a job."

"I have a job," he replies indignantly.

"I said
had
to have a job." He falls into
silence for a bit, and I worry I've hurt him. Sometimes it just seems like his
ego is so big, that would be impossible. But that's no excuse for me to be
mean. I open my mouth to apologize.

"What would you do? If you didn't have to work in the
diner," he asks before I can say anything.

"I want to get an MFA in writing," I whisper. It's
my wish that I can barely allow myself to know that I want.

"My dad could probably—"

"No," I interrupt him. "Driscolls don't
depend on anyone. It's practically our family motto. I'll earn the money myself."

"How long will that take?"

"A while," I respond, feeling a lump in my throat
at the thought. Well, at least I don't have to worry about rent.

"Should we turn back?" he asks.

"You tired?"

"No. You?"

"No."

"Then let's keep going."