BAD WICKED TWISTED: A Briarcrest Academy Box Set (60 page)

Her eyes softened. “No, life just happens, bad and good. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Did a higher power give Sarah a deadly disease? Or make my mama an addict? I don’t think so. Life is choices. It’s how we go on that makes us who we are.”

I paused, forgetting about myself for a second. “You never told me about your mom.”

“I didn’t trust you,” she said sadly.

My hands clenched. “Yeah, I’m a selfish fuck.”

“I remember you when you weren’t,” she said.

“Don’t be fooled by me, Dovey.”

She ignored me, taking one of my hands and unfurling the clenched fist. She pressed our hands together, palm to palm, her eyes soft with—
God, I wanted it to be love
.

I bowed my head and
yes, yes, yes
, I wanted to sink into her softness; I wanted to drown in her gentle touch; I wanted to fall to my knees and cling to her waist for a thousand years.

I just needed this,
her.

I leaned into her, inhaling her wildflower smell.

Regret filled me for the love I’d thrown away when I’d used her.

“I wish I could take this heartache from you,” she whispered, her eyes bright with emotion.

And that was enough to make me feel lighter than I had in months, knowing she understood. I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and pulling her to me, gently so she wouldn’t flee. My head rested on hers, and I rubbed my face against her hair, enjoying the closeness, the warmth, the
intimacy
. I had to. Just this one horrific day, I wanted her tenderness and perhaps her absolution.

After a while, she pulled away, and I stepped back, feeling awkward and self-conscious. My need for her hadn’t diminished. Could she tell? Yeah, that was dangerous ground.

Needing some distance, I left her and pulled the curtains back from the window to check the street. The Mercedes was gone. “If that car comes back, call me. And you damn well better call me if those men come back.”

She scoffed. “Barinsky’s men coming over was a huge misunderstanding. I’ll straighten it out tomorrow.” She smiled brightly, but I wasn’t so sure. It felt like she was trying to downplay it.

“Why don’t I stay the night?” I offered. “Or better yet, come home with me. I have plenty of room for you and your family, Dovey.” And then neither of us would be alone. Maybe we could sit out by the pool and talk. Maybe, just maybe, I’d tell her more of what was eating me; I’d tell her why this entire year had changed me into someone she didn’t recognize.

“Cuba, go home,” she said. “I don’t want your help.”

My body flinched. What had I expected? That we’d be best buds now?

Whatever.

And didn’t I need to stay away from her anyway?

Yeah, there’d be no getting her back
someday
. Not that I wanted to, because I didn’t.

I didn’t.

“I didn’t want something I needed. I wanted Cuba.”

–
Dovey

AFTER HE LEFT, I went back to the kitchen and found Heather-Lynn. I needed details.

“Why would you think asking Cuba for money was a good idea?” I asked her, still irritated with her audacity.

She opened a can of tomato soup and poured it into a pot. “Because these men will do whatever it takes to get their money. Remember what happened to old man Carson, the one who used to own the tobacco place? Those men cut off his fingers when he didn’t agree to sell his store.”

“That’s just gossip,” I said, downplaying what I knew to be truth. I rummaged around and found the pan to make us grilled cheeses to go with the soup.

She grunted. “In case you didn’t know, Carson’s new nickname is Nubs. Face it. We’re in over our heads.”

Yes. But there had to be a way out of this without involving my ex.

She stirred the soup. “I didn’t say anything in front of Cuba, but the two men that came slapped Sarah around.”

Horror filled me. I clutched the counter, and my words came out garbled. “
Whhaattdoyoumean?”

“When she told them she didn’t have the money, they hit her.” Her eyes blinked rapidly. “She has a bruise on her left cheek.”

Bile rose up and my stomach churned. I paced around the kitchen. “I didn’t see it when I went in there. Does she need to go to the doctor?”

She shook her head, her normally bright face pale. “We put ice on it as soon as they left. Poor thing, she was hysterical.”

I licked my lips. “Maybe we need to go ahead and schedule a nurse to come in. You can’t watch her every minute I’m not here. You have your bingo nights and your dates. It’s not fair for you.”

She nodded. “You know I don’t mind watching her, but you’re right. I’ll call her doctor tomorrow and get a list of references.”

But where would the money come from to pay for that? We had to sell this house first.

And then Heather-Lynn completely took my mind off of Sarah.

“That Cuba sure is a fine piece of ass. Mmm-hmm. No wonder you fell for his charm last year. I’d tap that.” She jiggled her hips.

I chuckled at her silliness, but then stopped, remembering all too well exactly how his smooth moves had reeled me in last year…

“I had a dream about you. A good one,” a deep voice said, right as I took a giant bite from my peanut butter sandwich. I looked up, ready to shoot down the guy who was yanking my chain in the cafeteria at BA.

“Yeah? Is that so?” I said, checking out the fine specimen who stood across the table from me. Over six feet tall and breathtakingly handsome, stood Cuba Hudson, a divine creature who looked as if he’d just stepped off the cover of Bad Boy Magazine, rich jocks edition.

We were in the same history block this semester. And don’t think I hadn’t noticed him.

He was the most gossiped about guy at BA. I’d eavesdropped on plenty of sex convos about him. Apparently he had a giant cock and great stamina. Whatever.

“What’s the joke? I said, talking around my chews. Time was precious. I only had ten more minutes of lunch before my Geometry class.

He seemed perplexed and sat. I checked behind him and then over my shoulder, but no one seemed to be encouraging him. Huh. At first, I thought Spider might have put him up to messing with me, but he was in detention this week for fighting.

Cuba smiled. “No joke. I dreamed about you.”

“Do tell,” I said, eyeing the black knit shirt he wore, not missing how it clung to his chest. Then, because I’m practical, I wondered how much he spent on it. I bet it was designer; I bet for the price of his shirt, I could eat out for a month.

He leaned in. “You may not know this, but my mother’s a gypsy. She tells me what my dreams mean.”

“Really?” I said. “I thought your mother was Brazilian. Aren’t gypsies Romanian?”

“My father’s side is Romanian.”

“Ha.” I packed my lunch up. “Everyone knows your dad is Archie Hudson, owner of the Dallas Mavericks, and as American as apple pie.”

He grinned.

I got out my math homework and ran a quick finger down the page, checking the answers. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d go away. I didn’t have time for a rich boy who went through a new girl every month. And why would this hot as hell guy be interested in me anyway? With my consignment shop wardrobe and plain features, I wasn’t exactly his type.

He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go, so I gathered my things and shifted my body to get up from the table.

“Wait,” he said. “You didn’t ask about the dream. Don’t you want to know?” He blushed, and I watched in amazement as it spread up his neck, across his face, making even the tips of his ears turn a delightful shade of red.

Could he be for real?

I settled back on the hard chair. I did have a few minutes, I suppose. “Okay, I’m curious. Tell me about this dream.”

He smiled big this time, his lips tilting up in a delicious way. A perfect mix of white and Latino, his skin was the color of pale honey, his longish, dark hair streaked with red high-lights from the Texas sun.

I stared at him, perhaps blatantly, getting sucked in by his unusual eyes. Bordering on bizarre, they were nearly yellow, and right now they stared at me as if I was a tall drink of water and he was dying of thirst. Huh. How many other girls got this particular look from him? I’d wager about one or two a day.

He cleared his throat. “It started out with you in this blue dress, cut down to here.” He grazed his hands down to his stomach. I eyed his obvious hard abs.

“Blue isn’t my color. I’m more of a black girl. Sometimes grey.”

“My dream and it is your color.”

Well, okay then. I nodded.

“Anyway, this dress had lace on it and…I don’t know…stuff. And it matched your eyes, a deep blue like a stormy sea.”

“You’re very poetic,” I commented, cocking an eyebrow.

“Thank you.” His tone was serious, but his mouth twitched.

I chuckled. I couldn’t help it.

“I made you laugh. I like it,” he said in a deeper voice, like he was sharing a secret with me, something just between the two of us.

“Okay, blue dress, very revealing. Is there more?” I asked, waving my hand. Let’s get this over with. Sarah and I could laugh about this at dinner tonight.

“You had on these amazing heels. I don’t remember the color. Maybe an animal print. But I do remember they made you tall, your face almost level with mine.” He rubbed his chiseled jaw. “I liked those shoes.”

“Like these?” I stuck out my leg, showing him my plain Jane flats. Same thing I wore every day.

His heavy-lidded eyes lingered over my legs a millisecond too long for it to be casual, and my breath quickened. Oh, he was good. Very good.

“No, but I like those too,” he said, eyes at half-mast.

Really? Dude was lying. These shoes were functional only.

“Your legs are long, Dovey. It’s hot.”

I straightened up in my seat. “I don’t think I like where your dream is headed.”

“No, it wasn’t like that. It was just you standing on these stone steps, maybe in front of a museum or a library waiting for someone. And when I showed up, you ran straight into my arms. Like we were a couple.” He bit his bottom lip, worrying it, his teeth scraping across it in the most mesmerizing way. “And then I kissed you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Tongue?”

“Most definitely,” he murmured.

“Long? Short?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Hot and deep. Languorous.”

“Languorous? One of your SAT words?”

He grinned. “It means leisurely and unhurried. It fits”

Oh. That was, um, well…

I nibbled on my nail, visualizing it: me…him…those full lips.

“Is that it? No nudity?” Did I sound disappointed?

He put his elbows on the table like he was settling in. “Nope. Isn’t it enough to be the most romantic kiss known to mankind?” He sighed. “Incredible doesn’t even touch it. The way your mouth fit to mine was perfect.”

Oh. My toes wanted to curl he was so smooth. What girl doesn’t like to hear that a hot guy had a sexy dream about her? But still.

I said, “This is good stuff. Maybe you should turn it in to Playboy.”

“There wasn’t any sex, so I don’t think Playboy would want to hear about it.”

He crossed his arms, and I stared at his tat, a twisting vine of gorgeous red roses that encircled his entire arm, from the top of his wrist all the way up under his shirt. The vine was thick with green leaves and long, sharp thorns. One lone black rose caught my attention. I’d always wanted a tat, and I had a thousand questions for him on the tip of my tongue. How far did it go? Did it dip over his shoulder and go down his back?

I opened my mouth to ask, but stopped myself just in time.

Inquiring about his tat was not the smartest move. He was bad news.

The bell rang.

“Okay,” I said, standing. “This was fun but I have class.”