Scarred: A New Adult Romance (The Anderson Brothers Series Book 1) (21 page)

It’s
after nine in the morning, and I figure the old man’s already up by now.
Punching the dial button, I get up from the couch and head out the kitchen back
door to talk in private.

Chapter 21

Three weeks have passed since the incident. Three
weeks of pain, confusion, and worry. Rumors of the party floated around campus,
and I made sure Denise’s name was not associated with them. It was bad enough
that her friends were asking her about it, but I wasn’t about to have mere
strangers talk about her like that. I had to protect her.

We
hadn’t seen or heard from William since that night. He didn’t even show up at
work that Monday. According to Shane, Nick was kicked out of the fraternity
after they found a load of drugs—that hard, crazy shit that can kill faster
than rat poison—in his car. But that was all Shane said about it. Not long
after, I’d found out William was also kicked out and got arrested on drug possession charges. That,
coupled with Denise’s and my reports on her attempted rape and assault, gave him quite a
long rap sheet.

We’d
gone on with our lives as best we could in those weeks. Finals week was upon
us, so we tried staying focused in our classes. But memories of that night
never went away. I did everything I could to help ease the pain: took her to
the movies, took her out riding around Cougar Mountain, let her cry on my
shoulder, lent her my ear—anything and everything to make her feel special.
Because she was very special to me.

I
can’t deny that I think I love her.

Denise
set up sessions with my old counselor. To be honest, I wasn’t happy to go back
there. But I did it for her. She needed it. She eventually told Lauren what was
going on, and, at first, Lauren went crazy, but her knowing that I was the one
who saved Denise made her a little nicer to me. Just a little. I really think
she just has a problem with trusting guys. Can’t blame her. She’s probably met
too many Williams in her life.

I
was hesitant about telling Frank what happened. But I knew I had to tell him at
some point. To my surprise and relief, he didn’t go off on me. But that didn’t
mean he wasn’t pissed. Our workload went back to being crazy again. Larry
didn’t say much to me after I told him. In fact, he acted as though nothing
happened. It was weird.

It’s
another Sunday afternoon, and Denise and I laze on the couch, studying for
finals tomorrow. She’s been coming over more often, sometimes spending the
night. It’s been cool. This time, she’s spending the entire weekend over.
Curled up next to me, Denise wears another one of my pro-football jerseys that
fits her like a nightshirt.

I’m
anxious for Chris and Adrienne to get back from grocery shopping. I have plans
to make that chicken florentine tonight. It’s been on my mind since Chris
mentioned it last month, and I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to
make it for her.

The
muffled sounds of car doors slamming makes me start. Chris and Adrienne are
back. I want this dinner to be a surprise for Denise, so I have to be careful
and work fast. The front door swings open, and Chris and Adrienne trudge inside
carrying armfuls of grocery bags and disappear into the kitchen. Denise shifts
on the couch, but I stop her before she decides to get up.

“No,
stay here. I’ll help them unpack. Why don’t we take a break and watch a movie?
You pick.”

Denise
furrows her brow, and then nods. “Okay.”

I
get up from the couch and hand the movie binder to her. Her eyes go wide as she
flips through the pages. “Holy … This one came out last week! I can’t believe
you have it already.”

I
idly scratch my after-five-o’clock stubble. “Yeah, Chris got the hookup.”

She
slides the disc out of the sleeve and hands it to me. “Let’s watch it.”

I
take it and pop it into the player. I don’t really know which movie she chose,
as my mind is mulling over dinner. I should get started. But I don’t want her
to know what I’m up to. “Okay, get comfy. I’ll be right back.”

Reaching
the kitchen, I find Chris and Adrienne unloading the bags of groceries sitting
on the table. Adrienne wiggles her eyebrows as she pulls out the Chardonnay
bottle from one of the bags.

“Planning
a hot night, are you?” she says.

I
swipe the bottle and stuff a wad of cash in her hand. “Just dinner,” I say,
sliding it in the fridge.

“It’s
never ‘just dinner’ when there’s wine involved.” She flashes a grin, sticking
the money down her shirt.

I
manage to fight down a smile. Adrienne’s been more tolerable since she learned
of the incident. She’s actually pretty cool once I got to know her a little
more. Quite the flirt and likes to have a good time. And she’s head over heels
for Chris. No wonder he likes her so much.

“I
don’t have any plans,” I say.

As
Chris is reaching up to place a box of cereal in a cabinet, Adrienne nudges him
in the ribs, making him start. “Babe, your roommate is all sorts of weird. What
kind of guy buys expensive wine if he doesn’t intend to make a night out of
it?”

Chris
looks over to me, and then laughs. “Guys like Dom, that’s who.”

“What
a flake,” she mutters, but I can hear the amusement in her voice.

“Yeah,
he’s a flake, but he’s my best friend. Had to put up with his sorry ass since
high school, after all.” He smirks at me.

I
shake my head. “I don’t know how the hell I haven’t gone insane by now, having
you for a roommate all these years.”

Adrienne
stifles a giggle.

Chris
rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude.”

We
finish unpacking the groceries, and I set aside the ingredients for dinner.
Chris and Adrienne leave the kitchen, and I get started. As I boil pasta on
the stove and chop up the chicken breast and place it on the electric grill, I
suddenly realize I’ve left Denise in the living room for far too long. Fearful
of her coming in the kitchen, I fill up a glass of water and take it to her.
She looks up from the couch’s armrest as I approach.

“Well,
there you are,” she says.

“Sorry,”
I say sheepishly. “I was … uh … looking around to see if we had any more
packs of popcorn, but I couldn’t find any.” I hand her the water. “Here’s some
water, though.”

“Thank
you.” She sniffs. “Is something cooking?”

Shit.
The chicken. “Oh yeah, I
think Chris is making something. Let me make sure he’s not about to burn the
place down.” I give a small chuckle. “Be right back.”

“Okay.”

Returning
to the kitchen, I tend to the chicken, adding the seasonings, and start on the
spinach sauce. I want this dinner—this night—to be absolutely perfect, because
tomorrow is Monday, finals week, and once we get to campus, Denise
and I will be going our separate ways.

Chris’s
door opens, and I ignore the sound. I rush to and from the stove and the grill,
finalizing the meal.

“Just
dinner, huh?”

Cringing,
I spin around and see Adrienne and Chris standing at the kitchen doorway.

“Now
that’s
what I’m talking about!” Chris
says.

“What
are you two doing? Get outta here before Denise sees you both!” I say in a loud
whisper.

“Dominick?
Is everything okay?” Denise calls from the living room.

My
heart pounds. “Uh, y-yeah. Just fine. I’ll be right there.”

Adrienne
walks into the kitchen, scrutinizing the food. “Wow. That looks and smells
good. Okay, so any guy who knows how to cook
this
good gets cool points in my book.”

Her
compliment flusters me—if that was, indeed, a compliment. “Thanks,” I say, and
then gently shoo her toward the exit. “Please, you guys, I really want this to
be a surprise.”

Adrienne
scoffs and brushes my hand away. “Yeah, yeah.” She links her elbow in Chris’s.
“Why don’t you ever cook something for me, babe?”

Chris
clears his throat, and I snort. Chris would probably burn ice cream, and he
knows it.

“What
are you doing in here?” Denise appears behind them, and I freeze.

“Oooh,
busted,” Chris says.

Fuck!
I shake my fists. “Damn it,
you guys.”

Denise
peeks around them. “What’s going on?”

I
sigh. “Everything’s okay, Denise.”

“Your
man cooked you dinner,” Adrienne says, nudging Denise in the arm. “Isn’t that
sweet?”

“What?”
Denise blinks.

I
throw my hands up. “Damn it, Adri!”

Adrienne
chuckles and wraps her arms around Chris. “Just playin’.” Smiling at him, she
gives him a tug back to his room.

Chris
licks his lips. “Damn. Round two?” He follows her and gives me a quick wink.

His
bedroom door slams, and I exhale a long sigh. Denise still stands at the
kitchen doorway looking dumbfounded.

“So
what’s all this about dinner?” Denise asks, narrowing her eyes. “Did I hear
that right?”

I
glance at the floor. “Yeah. I wanted to cook you dinner tonight. Do you like
chicken florentine?”

Her
expression slowly morphs into absolute amusement. She strides into the kitchen
and stands before me, hands on her hips. “Are you serious? Did you really cook
me dinner?”

Rubbing
the back of my head, I nod. I’m not sure what to make of her actions. Is she
offended that I cooked for her?

“Seriously,
Dominick. What’s up with that?”

“Well,
uh, nothing. I like you. A lot.” I close my eyes.
I love you.

She
exhales, and I open my eyes. She smiles softly, her cheeks awash with hints of
red. She draws closer and wraps her arms around my waist. I inhale the scent of
her hair. Her skin. Relish her warmth and the softness of her beautiful body
against mine. My cock stiffens as she tightens her embrace.

“You
are the most amazing guy I’ve ever met,” she says in almost a whisper. She
leans up and plants a soft kiss on my cheek.

Those lips.
My God, those lips. They’re
soft and feather-like, sending prickles of pleasure down my spine and to my groin.
“Denise … ” My voice cracks. Words can’t describe how fucking amazing she is.

She
slowly unwraps her arms. “Is the food ready?” she asks, peering around me at
the pots on the stove.

I
nod slowly. “Yeah. Let me set the table first and—” Before I can continue,
she’s searching the cabinets. She finds the one containing the plates and
glasses and takes two of each.

“Nuh-uh.
I can’t let you do everything,” she says. “Where are the forks?”

I
can’t help but smile at her willingness to help. I give in to her insistence
and point to a drawer near the sink. “There.”

While
she sets the table, I bring the pot of pasta over and fill both plates with a
modest amount. Then I pour the chicken and spinach sauce on top from the other
pot.

I
notice she’s gotten out water glasses, so I snatch them up and replace them
with wine glasses.

She
scrunches her face. “What? Those glasses weren’t good enough?”

I
shake my head. “Nope. Because … ” I retrieve the Chardonnay from the fridge.
“We need special glasses to drink this.”

Grinning,
she watches as I pop the cork and fill the glasses halfway.

I
pull a chair out for her before seating myself.

I
lift my glass. “We should do a toast.”

She
raises her eyebrows. “To what, this time?” She picks up her glass. “Not ballet
again, I hope.”

I
chuckle. “No, not ballet.” I gaze into her eyes—deep into her eyes. “To the
most beautiful and amazing girl I’ve ever met.”

She
bites her bottom lip. The red in her cheeks is a little more prominent.
“Dominick … ”

Smiling,
I shake my head. “Don’t say anything. Just toast.”

We
clink glasses, and I take a long sip, while hers is very brief. We take a few
moments to enjoy dinner, which turns out great. Nothing is overcooked and
everything is seasoned just right.

Denise
looks like she’s having an orgasm when she samples a forkful of pasta. “Holy—!
This is the
best
thing I’ve ever
tasted.
Ever
!”

I
grin. “I take it you like it?”

“Are
you kidding? I don’t even think my own mother can cook this good. You should
totally be on one of those network cooking shows or something.”

My
grin broadens. I always followed my mother around the kitchen when I was little
but never considered getting into culinary arts. “Well, I don’t think I’m
that
good, but thank you.” I smear some
pasta into a puddle of sauce and pop it in my mouth.

We
finish our first helpings and end up having seconds. We don’t leave so much as
a piece of pasta or a drop of sauce in the pots.

I
clear the table and wash the dishes. Denise helps out by drying them. It’s a
little cute how we do dishes together. Like the way I’ve seen it done in the
movies.

She’s
happy right now. And so am I.

Our
bellies full, we’re ready to laze around on the couch. It’s dark outside, but I
have no idea what time it is, and I don’t want to know. I don’t care. I pop in another
movie—an action-packed one—and we curl up on the couch. I nestle against the
back and armrest, and she lies between my legs, her ass rubbing against my
groin. My cock twitches from the contact. I wrap my arms around her, my hands
resting on her taut belly. She smells so good. Hell, she
always
smells good. I inhale her warmth, her scent. The movie
starts, but I’m not paying attention to it. I have a beautiful girl in my arms.

I
gently rub her belly with my hands. I can’t help it. I have to keep my hands
working. Damn mechanics’ twitches.

She
closes her eyes and exhales. She’s obviously not paying attention to the movie,
either. “Dominick, when are you gonna stop spoiling me?”

I
pause my gentle massage. “Never. You’re a very special girl. You deserve only
the best.”