The Secret Diamond Sisters (12 page)

“I trust you.” It wasn’t something she told people often—if ever—but with Brett, she didn’t have to think twice about it.

“That’s quick,” Brett said. “Seeing as we only met three hours ago.”

“I get vibes about people,” she explained. “And I like you.” She looked away from him, surprised at how up-front she’d been about her feelings.

“I like you, too,” he said, his voice softer than earlier.

Courtney’s cheeks heated up. With Brett, she felt both jittery and comfortable at the same time. She’d never felt this way around anyone. “Can you give me a hint about where we’re going?” she asked.

“You don’t do well with surprises, do you?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I plan everything in advance.”

“This is a surprise you’ll like,” he promised. “We have about twenty-five more minutes. Think you can handle it?”

“No,” Courtney said, only half joking. “You can’t just tell me now?”

“Nope.” Brett smiled, refusing to budge.

Courtney gave up, since it was clear he wasn’t going to give in, and the conversation flowed the rest of the way there. She was happy to forget her family drama for a little while. She discovered Brett would watch any movie (minus chick flicks), so he knew all of Courtney’s favorites. Their music tastes were different, but he promised he would make her a playlist, and Courtney wanted to hear the music he enjoyed. Music revealed a lot about a person, and she wanted to know more about Brett.

“I’m not a fan of EDM,” he said. “And I take it you’re not either, since you didn’t mind leaving the club.”

“What’s EDM?” she asked, unable to hide the alarm from her tone. It sounded like something from
Fifty Shades of Grey.

“Electronic dance music,” he explained. “What’d you think it meant?”

“Nothing.” Courtney felt her cheeks heat up. No way was she telling him what had crossed her mind. “But you’re right. I’m not very into whatever they were playing at the club.”

Soon their surroundings changed to a sprawling desert. The barren mountains stretched out for miles, and while it was hard to tell in the dark, Courtney knew from when she’d flown over them this morning that they were a bright shade of brown that looked almost red.

“The park isn’t usually open at night, but they make an exception for Fourth of July,” Brett explained as he drove past a sign that said Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.

“Since it’s a good place to watch the fireworks,” Courtney said, quoting what he had said earlier.

“You got it.”

A few people were milling around the nearly full parking lot, getting food and beer out of the trunks of their cars. While it was nighttime, it was still hot, and Courtney was glad she was wearing the airy sundress instead of her usual jeans and T-shirt. But she wished she had changed into flip-flops before leaving. She would have to manage in the pumps—or take them off and be barefoot.

At the edge of the parking lot, an expansive area held kids spread out on blankets, drinking and laughing. There must have been hundreds of people there. Some groups had speakers playing music, but nothing so loud that it was as overwhelming as the club. A metal rail guarded the ledge where the ground dropped into a cliff. Below was a basin full of sparsely leaved trees with a stream running through it, and red, jagged mountains lined the horizon. The light of the almost-full moon gave the park a surreal, magical glow.

“Come on.” Brett held out his hand, but then pulled it back. “I want to introduce you to my friends.”

She didn’t blame him for pulling his hand away—it was the right thing to do given their situation—but if he hadn’t, she had a feeling she would have taken it. What was happening to her? She’d never been impulsive, but it was like Brett was bringing that unknown side of her to the surface. And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that yet.

He led her over to where two girls and a guy sat on a big blue blanket. The guy sat close to one of the girls, and Courtney guessed they were a couple. The other girl sat farther away from them. She looked irritated, and Courtney felt guilty for a second—what if this girl and Brett were an item?—but she brushed the thought away. She couldn’t be more than friends with Brett. She was already a disappointment to her mother; she didn’t want to disappoint her father by breaking a clearly stated rule.

They went through introductions—the guy and girl who looked like they were together were Scott and Vanessa, and the irritated-looking girl was Dawn. Brett sat down and Courtney sat next to him, leaving a decent amount of space between them.

“Do your friends go to Goodman?” Courtney asked.

“No,” Brett said with a small laugh. “They go to Palo Verde—my old public school.”

“At dinner tonight, your mom made it sound like you’ve been going to Goodman forever,” Courtney said. “When did you switch?”

“My mom
wishes
I had gone to Goodman forever,” Brett said. “But she couldn’t justify the expense, since Palo Verde is one of the best public schools in the area, and I liked it there because I’ve known everyone forever. But once my mom got serious with your dad and we moved into the Diamond, he wouldn’t hear of me going to public school any longer, so he convinced Goodman to let me in last January. And by ‘convinced’ I mean donated a large sum of money to the school.”

“Do you not like Goodman?” Courtney asked, surprised. Judging from their conversation at dinner, she’d assumed he would want to be as challenged in school as possible.

“The academics are great,” Brett said. “I was behind their curriculum when I started, but that was solved by some hours at the student tutoring center. I appreciate the small class sizes, and I have a better chance at getting into UCLA coming from a school like Goodman, but I still prefer hanging out with my friends from Palo. The kids at Goodman are a little bit...” He paused, as if contemplating how to word it. “Never mind. You’ll see once you start.”

“They’re a little bit what?” Since she would be going there, she wanted to be prepared.

“They’re very privileged,” he explained. “There are a few scholarship kids per grade because the school is required to have them, but other than them, no one has worked a day in their life. They spend winter break in the tropics, spring break skiing in the Rockies or the Alps and at least two weeks in the summer traveling Europe or another foreign country, if they’re not doing an academic or sports program designed for high school students at colleges throughout the world. Their worldview is...skewed. So when I’m not in school I choose to hang out with my friends from Palo, much to my mom’s disappointment.”

“Wow.” Courtney could barely comprehend what he’d just told her. “It does sound really different.”

Before he could reply, the girl with the thin brown hair—whom he’d introduced as Dawn—plopped down on the blanket, ending their conversation. “How long will you be in Vegas?” she asked Courtney.

“A year, at the least,” Courtney said, repeating what Adrian had told them at dinner, playing with a thread that was coming loose from the blanket. She’d never been away from home, and a year felt like such a long time. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

“Cool,” Dawn said, looking back and forth from Courtney to Brett. “So, your parents are dating, right?”

“They are,” Brett confirmed, his tone neutral.

“So that would make you two...”

“Friends,” Courtney jumped in, not looking at Brett.

“Right.” Dawn didn’t look convinced.

Brett moved closer to Courtney, his proximity sending her stomach flipping. She pretended she didn’t notice, so that Dawn wouldn’t grow more suspicious. “What time are the fireworks starting?” he asked his friends.

“Any minute now,” Vanessa said. Dawn scooted toward Vanessa and Scott, and the three of them talked about some band they liked. Courtney was glad to be able to talk with Brett privately again. Well, as privately as they could, given the situation.

She angled her body towards him, wishing they were watching the fireworks alone. But it was better this way for both of them.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Brett said, quietly enough so only Courtney could hear. “Something happy.”

Courtney searched her mind for what to say. She didn’t want to talk about her past—not with Scott, Vanessa and Dawn there. “I want to travel the world someday. Paris, Rome, New York...” She paused to look up at the sky, taking in the stars twinkling overhead. For her whole life, seeing the world had only been a dream, but now, as Adrian Diamond’s daughter, it could be a reality. “I want to see the art in the Louvre and the Met, the ruins in Rome and maybe even an active volcano.”

“Rome’s pretty cool,” Brett replied. “There’s so much history there—it’s one of my favorite cities in the world.”

“
One
of your favorites?” Courtney didn’t bother hiding her disbelief. “How many cities have you been to?”

“A few.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. He had probably been to more cities than he could count on all of his fingers. And toes. “I’ve never seen an active volcano, though.”

“You’ve never been to Hawaii?”

“Oh, I have,” Brett said. “But when we took our private helicopter tour over the Big Island, the volcano was having an off day.”

“Poor you.” Courtney couldn’t stop from laughing. “How did you get to travel so much, though? I thought your mom couldn’t afford private school before moving in with Adrian.”

“My mom only divorced my dad about two years ago,” Brett explained. “He’s a lawyer, so we were comfortable enough to go on family vacations. But he went to public school when he was our age, so even though my mom wanted me at private school, he refused to pay for it since the public schools for our neighborhood were some of the best in the state. They bought their house specifically so I could go to those schools.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Courtney said.

The fireworks started before either of them could say anything more, bursts of light shooting into the desert sky, bigger than any firework show Courtney had seen in Fairfield. It was impossible to ignore the electricity bouncing between the inches of space separating her and Brett, dancing across her skin with each boom overhead. She couldn’t stop glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He looked lost in thought, although sometimes she swore she caught him watching her, too. This went on for twenty minutes, and then came the finale—shot after shot of fireworks exploding, without a second’s break between them. Some soared into the air like comets and others spread like meteor showers, filling up miles of sky.

When it was over, Courtney was sitting so close to Brett that their arms were an inch from touching.

“How did you like it?” he asked, not making an effort to move away.

“I loved it,” she replied. “Thanks for bringing me.” Her head felt fuzzy, and she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her arm brushing his. She stilled at the touch, and he looked at her with more intensity than he had the entire night.

“Are you two ready to leave?” Dawn destroyed the moment, standing up and brushing invisible dust off her jeans.

Courtney jerked backward, torn out of her trance. If the others hadn’t been there, what would have happened between her and Brett? She’d never kissed a guy before, but from the way he was looking at her, she felt like he’d wanted to kiss her. And if he had, she wasn’t sure she would have stopped him.

She shook her head at the thought. Courtney had never broken a rule in her life.

Whatever had just occurred between her and Brett could never happen again.

chapter 11:

Peyton sat at the bar on the VIP floor of Myst, sipping a martini that a random guy had bought her when she’d sat down. She spotted Damien leading Savannah downstairs and decided not to bother them. She had assured Courtney via text message that she would watch out for Savannah, but it’s not like they were leaving the
club
together. What trouble could her youngest sister get into in public? They had their bodyguards to keep them from anything too terrible. Peyton only hoped Savannah wouldn’t become so infatuated with Damien that she got hurt when it was over. She knew how it felt to be humiliated, and she didn’t wish that on anyone, especially her sister.

Now Peyton was left by herself. Screw that. She stirred her drink and took another sip, trying not to think about her mom. Peyton liked to drink, but she wasn’t an alcoholic. Alcoholics drank by themselves. Peyton only drank when she was out, and never somewhere unacceptable, like at school. She’d seen how bad her mom got drinking alone at home, and she never wanted to cross that line.

Her phone buzzed, and she took it out to see Mike’s name flashing on the small screen. She frowned and tossed the phone back in her bag. She would have to break up with him sometime, but that conversation couldn’t happen in the loud club, and she didn’t feel like dealing with him right now.

Instead, she looked around the crowd, trying to see if she could find her bodyguard—Jackson. She hated that he’d been watching her for so long without her knowing, but it was hard to hate it
too
much when Jackson was so hot. There were worse things in life than a gorgeous guy following her everywhere. Adrian had said their bodyguards would always be around, but they wouldn’t make their presence known in public. Jackson was doing a good job of that, and the club was dark and packed, making it easy to blend.

Finally, Peyton spotted him. She smiled to herself; tonight was about to get more interesting. He was standing at the corner of the bar, behind a large group of what looked like college students. If he weren’t dressed in a suit and tie, he could have easily fit in with them.

Which brought Peyton’s biggest question to mind: How old was Jackson, and how had he gotten into this career path at such a young age?

There was only one way to find out.

She picked up her half-empty cocktail and sauntered toward the end of the bar, where Jackson stood watching her. She expected him to move away, since Adrian had said their bodyguards were supposed to give them privacy in public, but he stayed where he was. Probably because with the way Peyton was looking at him, any member of the male species would know she was heading in his direction for one purpose: to talk to him.

Jackson stood straighter and raised an eyebrow, but other than that, his reaction to her approach was neutral. Most guys would smile, lean toward her, ask her how she was enjoying her night or say the dreaded “Do you come here often?” line. She got none of that from him. He glanced at her and swallowed, and Peyton could see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. Still, he said nothing.

She situated herself in the seat closest to him. He was tall as it was, and now that she was sitting, he towered over her. Since he wasn’t Mr. Talkative, she took it upon herself to start the conversation.

“Hi,” she said, since it was as good of an intro as any.

He straightened, and his gaze met hers, distant and hard. “Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Diamond?” His voice was strong and steady, as if he calculated each word before speaking it. It fit his looks perfectly.

“Ms. Diamond?” Peyton crinkled her nose and laughed. She was only seventeen. No one had ever called her Ms. before. “That’s what people call my mom. My name’s Peyton. And you’re only, what...three years older than me?”

Jackson cleared his throat. “My age is irrelevant,” he said. “I work for your family, and protocol states I should address you formally, since your father is my employer.”

Peyton huffed. “And since you work for Adrian, does protocol also state that you should do what his daughters ask?”

“It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“If what you ask directly interferes with my ability to keep you safe,” he said, surveying the crowd. “It’s my job to protect you no matter what.”

Even though he looked like he was her age, the way he was talking to her made it sound like he was in his thirties, speaking to a child. He must have to act like that because of his job. Could she get him to lower his guard around her? It would be tough, but Peyton never turned down a challenge. She thrilled at the thought, crossing her legs in his direction and smiling in a way she knew looked mischievous. This was about to get fun.

“I doubt my asking you to call me by my first name interferes with your ability to keep me safe.”

She could have sworn the corner of his lip turned up into a smile, but it disappeared before she could say for sure. “I suppose it doesn’t, Peyton,” he said.

“Good.” She leaned back in her seat and rested an elbow on the bar. “And I’ll call you Jackson. That is your first name, right? You’re not one of those guys everyone calls by his last name?”

“You have a lot of questions,” he said, and this time he smiled for real. “But shouldn’t you be spending time with your friends instead of talking to me?”

“I don’t have any friends here,” Peyton said matter-of-factly. “You’re my only one so far.”

His expression hardened, but the freckles across his nose kept him from looking like a complete tough guy. “I’m your bodyguard, Peyton, not your friend.”

“So you’re supposed to watch over me every moment when I’m awake, and we’re not supposed to be friends?” Peyton acted more confused than she was. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s my job,” he told her. “And I don’t plan on losing this job when I’ve only just started.”

“But I thought you all had been looking after me and my sisters for a long time.” Now Peyton really
was
confused.

“Carl and Teddy have,” Jackson said, his tone still frustratingly formal. “I only started being your bodyguard about seven months ago, after your previous one retired.”

“Seven months ago,” she repeated, staring into her drink. “That means you saw the worst of it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

She looked back up at him, surprised at the concern in his eyes. “That was right after my mom started her downward spiral. I mean, she was always pretty bad, but seven months ago...” Peyton thought back to what exactly had been going on at that time. “That’s when she lost her first waitressing job and brought home three different guys in one week. It was disgusting.”

“Yes.” He swallowed. “That’s around the time I started.”

“You must have thought we were all so pathetic.” Peyton kept her home life secret from her friends, and knowing Jackson had seen it made her feel transparent.

“No, I don’t.” He shook his head. “Not at all. I was impressed with you. I still
am
impressed with you. You’re stronger than most people your age.”

“Oh, yeah?” Peyton laughed. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ll never forget what happened with the last guy your mom brought home that week,” he said. Peyton’s throat tightened, immediately knowing which one he meant. “The one who brought the drugs into your house. I was watching from the open window when you walked into the living room with a phone in one hand and a steak knife in the other, telling him to get himself and his drugs out of there or you would call the police and get him locked up for life. I had my hand on my gun the entire time, ready to burst in and protect you if he tried anything. Luckily he ran out, but do you know how reckless that was? What if he’d had a gun?”

“I didn’t think about that at the time,” she said, although she’d realized later that she should have. “I just knew my mom had enough trouble with the alcohol, and no way in hell was I letting that loser turn her into a junkie, too. I wouldn’t let her do that to my sisters.”

“You never told them about that night, did you?”

“No,” she said. “It was late when it happened. They were sleeping, and my mom had passed out, which I guess is why that loser came into the living room to get his fix. He just didn’t expect me to still be awake. He actually had the nerve to ask if I wanted some.” She scoffed. “What an idiot.”

“He had no idea who he was dealing with,” Jackson agreed, his eyes focused on hers, energy crackling between them. It was the way guys looked at her when they wanted to kiss her, and she leaned closer to him, letting him know he could. But he stepped away, and whatever had passed between them disappeared. “We’re not supposed to talk like this, Peyton,” he said. “I’m your bodyguard, nothing more.”

“It’s okay for you to talk to me,” she said. “I won’t tell on you to Adrian, I promise.” She allowed her long hair to fall over her shoulder and turned her eyes up at him seductively. It was a look that any hot-blooded male couldn’t refuse—and Peyton knew, because she’d used it before.

His eyebrows furrowed, as though he was conflicted, and he watched her so closely that Peyton thought he would open up to her to again. “This isn’t appropriate,” he finally replied. “You should be talking with kids your age, not with me.”

She frowned and leaned back in her seat. When they were talking a minute ago, she’d felt a connection between them. But he really seemed to be turning her down. “Answer one more question, and then I’ll leave you alone,” she said, although she hoped she wouldn’t have to follow through with that promise.

He remained silent, which Peyton took as a cue to continue.

“How old
are
you?” she asked.

“I’ll be twenty-three in three months.”

“So you’re twenty-two,” she said in victory. Only five years older than her—that wasn’t bad at all. “How did you get to be a bodyguard when you’re so young?”

“You said one question,” he pointed out. “That’s two.”

“Fine.” Peyton huffed and finished the rest of her drink. He might not budge right now, but she wouldn’t give up on him. Not when he knew so much about her that she’d never told anyone else. “I’ll leave you alone tonight, but don’t expect me to pretend you don’t exist just because you’re supposed to give me privacy. I’m not going to ignore you in the elevator, or wherever else we see each other.”

“Have a good night, Peyton,” was Jackson’s only reply.

Taking that as a hint to leave, she pushed her empty glass across the bar and walked to the balcony in the center of the club, watching the scene beneath her. The second floor was packed with people dancing so close that it was impossible to differentiate one person from the next. Everyone danced in time with the music, like a choreographed routine.

After that frustrating conversation with Jackson, Peyton itched to join the crowd below and get lost in the music. She walked downstairs and onto the dance floor, swept away in the heavy beat. Guys came up to dance with her, and she appeased them for a few minutes, switching to the next guy when the song changed. She hoped Jackson was enjoying the show. When he saw how his disinterest didn’t bother her, he would think twice about dismissing her so quickly. He was simply a long-term goal. But in the meantime, Peyton would have fun tonight.

Then she spotted the dark-haired girl from the gym. Their eyes met, and the girl’s face hardened. She was dancing with a guy a bit taller than she was, the two of them so close that their bodies melded into one. Peyton wished she could see his face. But his back was toward her, so she could only see his dark, shaggy hair.

The girl whispered something in his ear, and he swiveled his head, his gaze locking with Peyton’s. There was something about his eyes that made her wonder what it would be like to dance with him—to get lost in the music, and each other. His face was soft, but his smirk gave Peyton the feeling he wasn’t innocent in the slightest. He said something to the girl, and she marched to the stairs leading up to the VIP level, shooting Peyton a nasty glare on her way.

His eyes focused on Peyton, and he walked toward her. Her pulse raced at the intensity of his gaze, and she tuned in to the music to stay calm.

“Would you like to dance?” His voice was much smoother than Peyton had anticipated.

“Sure,” she said steadily. This was the kind of greeting she was used to. Whoever this guy was, he made her feel wanted—which was a vast improvement from her conversation with Jackson.

He pulled her closer, his body moving with the music. The beat quickened, and Peyton kept in time with it, leaning into him so her cheek brushed against his. He smelled like alcohol and smoke, but whatever. She probably did, too.

“Which lovely Diamond sister are you?” he asked, his lips close to her ear.

“How do you know I’m one of the Diamond sisters?” She leaned back and looked up at him, trying to sound mysterious. Word sure did travel fast around here.

“Lucky guess.” He ran his thumb down her back, and she shivered at his touch. “Actually, I saw you walk in with Adrian earlier. Sort of gave it away.”

“Oh,” she said, although she was happy he’d noticed her. “I’m Peyton.”

“Peyton,” he repeated. “Pretty name. I like it.”