Kicked (12 page)

We shared, each of us tasting the too-sweet dessert and moving closer and closer as we did so.

By the time only one bite remained, my left arm rested against hers, our shoulders almost touching. I scooped up the delectable bite and poised it in front of her lush lips. She opened them, and I slid the spoon inside. The quiet moan she let out had my cock locked in a desperate battle with my zipper.

Her eyes closed as she savored it. I leaned in and licked the chocolate off her bottom lip. Her eyes opened in surprise, then closed again as I pressed closer, my mouth on hers and my tongue dancing along the seam of her lips.

She opened for me, and I finally tasted her—sugary and perfect. She twisted her tongue with mine, sending waves of pleasure rushing over my skin. I’d kissed plenty of girls before, but none of them had been like this. Cordy was special, unexpected, and utterly intoxicating.

Someone cleared their throat. Cordy broke the kiss and dropped her head as embarrassment colored her cheeks. I glanced up to find Grandlin Daugherty giving me the nastiest look in his arsenal.

Fuck me.

“Trent, a word?” He spoke with his usual nasal intonation and motioned toward the back hallway of the restaurant. It wasn’t a request.

“Mr. Daugherty, I didn’t realize you were in town.” I stood.

Cordy looked up at me. “Is everything all right?”

“I’ll be back. Stay here, okay?” I squeezed her shoulder and followed Grandlin.

He turned sideways to cut through the tables, though the move didn’t help much given the width of his potbelly. I scanned the restaurant, and my worst fears were confirmed. A teary Carlotta and her mother sat at a table against a far window. The Daugherty clan had had an excellent sight line to the kiss Cordy and I had shared. A cold sweat broke out along my brow.

Once we reached the back hallway, Grandlin shoved me into the wall. I was a foot taller and made of muscle, but I was already in enough trouble without laying out Grandlin Daugherty.

“Are you trying to make a fool of my daughter?” His voice was rough, and anger boiled in his eyes.

“No.”

A server rushed by and into the kitchen, giving us a worried glance as he passed.

“Then what are you doing with that tramp?” He pressed his forearm against my throat.

“Don’t call her that.” My anger at his words overtook my worry. I shoved him off me, but not hard enough to do any damage. “She’s a friend from school.”

“Lizzie is calling your mother as we speak.” He stabbed his finger in my face. “And you have some explaining to do to Carlotta.”

I rose to my full height and scowled at him. “I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, especially not your spoiled brat of a daughter.”

He stepped toward me, but seemed to think better of putting his hands on me again. “That
spoiled brat
isn’t just my daughter, Trent. She’s your fiancée!”

I sat in the formal sitting room at my parents’ house. The stuffy paintings of the last six generations of our family line hung along the walls, each of them haughty and puffed up with self-importance. I rubbed my temples and leaned back to wait for whatever scolding my mother intended to give.

After the scene at the restaurant, I’d taken Cordy back to her dorm and promised to call her later. She’d been confused, then hurt. The way she closed up and wouldn’t even let me kiss her good night was like a razor along my heart, but I deserved it. I couldn’t explain everything. She wouldn’t understand about Carlotta and my family responsibilities. Cordy lived in the real world, not one created by tradition and set to spin on its axis by wealth.

I cradled my head in my hands as my father’s shuffling gait and my mother’s shrill voice sounded from the cavernous main hallway.

Grandlin strolled in first, anger in his huffs and puffs as he took a seat on the tufted leather couch across from me. “Carlotta is crying her eyes out at home. I hope your little side piece was worth it.”

I glared at him. “Don’t call her that. Don’t even talk about her.” My voice rose with each word. I’d been angry before, but the rage that boiled inside me at his insults to Cordy was something new.

“Trent. Don’t speak to Grandlin in that manner.” My mother walked in, her face drawn down in a familiar look of disappointment. My father held onto her arm as she led him to the couch and sat him next to Grandlin. She perched on a nearby chair, her beady eyes trained on me.

“What’s all this about?” Dad gave me a curious stare as Grandlin launched into a diatribe about what he’d seen at the restaurant.

When the blowhard finally quieted down, Mom rose and began pacing, her heels whispering across the rug and then clacking on the herringbone oak floors. Her tall, willowy frame covered the distance back and forth. I’d seen this so many times. When I was a child, the pacing usually ended with a punishment for me. Now, I wasn’t sure what she’d do. She couldn’t exactly send me to my room.

She stopped in front of me. “What were you thinking, and who is this girl?”

“I just wanted to do something nice for her. She’s no one, really.” The lie stuck in my throat, but I continued, “She helped me in my speech class. I wanted to repay her.”

“By mauling her in a restaurant in front of your fiancée?” Grandlin squawked.

“She isn’t my fiancée!” I slammed my fist into the side table, and my mother started pacing again.

“Grand, can we have a moment with our son?” My father’s quiet voice cut through the tension.

“Use it to talk some sense into him!” Grandlin rose and stalked out. His voice echoed into the room as he demanded a glass of scotch from our butler.

“Trent, let’s discuss it.” My father smiled and tried to lean forward, but he didn’t have the strength. He gave up and fell back against the leather, fatigue already eating away at him.

The cancer was in the middle of its magic trick, making my father disappear right before my eyes. First it took the spring from his step, then his hair vanished, and now all that was left was his frail body and the sparkle that still lit his kind eyes.

He’d always been so strong, like an oak whose roots went to the center of the earth. But over the past year, his body had betrayed him. The hard worker, former college quarterback, and family man to his core was now looked after by a team of nurses day and night. It was still a shock to see how much he’d changed. Dad had always been so vibrant and sturdy that I’d been lulled into thinking he would always be that way.

Memories flitted through my mind—Dad lifting me onto his shoulders with ease after my peewee team won our super bowl, Dad throwing a particularly hard shoulder and laying me out during a “friendly” football game when I was in high school, Dad wiping away happy tears when I got accepted to his alma mater and recruited as a quarterback prospect. The memories should have been happy. Instead, they stung as I considered the pale reflection of the man my father used to be.

His brittle voice barely made it to my ears. “You know that our families have hoped for quite some time that you and Carlotta would grow on each other. Now that Zane is a senator, this would be the perfect time for you and Carlotta to solidify the union of our families.”

Zane, Carlotta’s brother, had won a U.S. Senate seat, made possible in large part by campaign money from my parents. A merger between our families would place the Daughertys and the Carringtons into the upper echelons of politics and power. I was interested in neither. And, most of all, I wasn’t interested in Carlotta.

“I’m not getting engaged to that girl, Dad. She’s a terror. My first memory of her is when she had her nanny fired for not giving her a Popsicle fast enough.” I sat back in my chair as Mom continued her circuit of the room.

“Think about your future.” Dad rubbed his left knee with bony fingers and winced. “Think how high you could climb with a senator for a brother-in-law and the Carrington family wealth in your pocket. Think of all the good you could do.”

I scoffed. “As a politician? I can barely give a speech to my class of twenty people about what I did last summer. And I could only do that because of Cordy’s help.”

“Cordy?” My mom paused. “That’s the bitch’s name?”

I stood so fast my head swam. “Don’t call her that.”

“Geneva, please.” My father held his hand up. “Maybe we should stop trying to force it.”

“No!” My mother whirled and crossed her arms over her chest. “I haven’t withstood the goddamn Daugherty family for the past eighteen years just so you could ruin it at the last minute with some girl you met at school. Your future is riding on this. You could be anything you want to be. Don’t you see, Trent?” Her voice shook, but everything else about her was deathly still. She had always prided herself on perfection, and today was no different. “This is a small sacrifice on your way to wherever you want to go. Don’t throw it away!”

“Come now, darling.” My dad waved her over. He was the only one I’d ever seen who could gentle my mother.

She stopped her pacing and sat next to him, taking his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to get excited. It’s not good for you.”

He kissed the back of her hand. “Maybe we should listen to what Trent has to say.”

She turned to me, and her gaze hardened. “I’ve heard enough. Your dad wants to go easy on you, to let you find your own way in the vain hopes it would lead you back to reason. Clearly, that hasn’t worked. So, here’s what we’re doing from now on. You will not see this Cordy person anymore. You will take Carlotta on at least two dates per month.”

I shook my head and glared at her. “No—”

“I’m not finished.” She narrowed her eyes. “If you choose to follow these instructions, everything will remain as it is. You’ll go to college. You’ll play on the football team. You’ll have access to money, and all your needs will be met. If you choose to disobey, you will be cut off. No money, nowhere to live, nothing except the clothes on your back and the Carrington name.”

My father gaped at her. “Geneva, let’s not take this too far.”

She softened the slightest bit as she glanced at my father, his eyes the same shade of green as mine. “Gordon, this is for his own good. He needs to learn how things are instead of living in some fantasy world.”

I lowered myself into my chair and let her words sink in. Could I give everything up and try to make my own way? The thought of defying my mother set off fireworks in my mind. I could leave this house and never look back. But then my gaze moved to my father—the man who’d always been there for me. What sort of son was I to cause family strife during the small amount of time he had left? My heart was being ripped apart with competing emotions, thoughts of my father, and thoughts of Cordy.

Dad swallowed hard and turned his sunken eyes to me. “She’s probably right.” He sighed, as if unsure of his own words. “You have some growing up to do. The family needs you now that I…”

Mom leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. The same pain I felt at watching my father deteriorate showed in her eyes.

He cleared his throat and continued, “And, really, how much do you know about this girl? You’ve only just met her in the past few months. I think—” He fell into a coughing fit, his worn out body shaking from the effort. Once it abated, he wiped his face with one hand as my mom wrapped an arm around his narrowed shoulders. “Your mother is right. Give Carlotta a chance. Take her out on a few dates. See if this thing with the other girl is real. Time will tell. If you’re still hung up on her after some time apart, we can revisit it. You don’t have to decide on either of them today.” He ended with a wheezing breath and put his palm on his chest, as if that could calm the life and death battle that raged in his lungs, his blood, even the marrow of his bones.

Mom glanced to Dad and then back to me as if to say, “Look, you’re upsetting him.” I couldn’t bear the thought that she was right.

“Please, son?” Dad extended his hand to me.

I took it, his thin skin a ghostly reminder of the strong, healthy man he used to be. “All right. I’ll give it a try, and”—I swallowed hard as the words burned like acid in my mouth—“I’ll stop seeing Cordy.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
RENT

C
ORDY MAINTAINED A DEATH
grip on my fingers as I led her to the same table we’d sat at two years ago. A few things were different this time around, including the fact that I’d rented the entire restaurant just for us.

The chandeliers glowed softly overhead, and overflowing arrangements of blue hydrangeas and yellow roses decorated the tables nearest to ours, encasing us in our own small world within the restaurant.

I pulled her chair out for her, and she sank down, her head on a swivel, taking in every detail I’d planned. “This is so…” She stared at the nearest floral arrangement, the large yellow roses in full bloom.

I lowered into my chair, sitting at her elbow so I could be close to her. A string quartet played softly in a back corner, and a candle flickered at the center of our table. Everything was as I’d requested, but the perfection of the venue didn’t quell my nerves.