Last True Hero (16 page)

I
put my phone down on the workbench beside me, smiling as I imagine spending the night on a dance floor with Berkeley in my arms. I texted her to ask what she was doing with herself today, but I haven't heard back yet. She has the day off work, and I hope she's spending it relaxing and not worrying too much about her parents and their lame expectations.

Berkeley is such a free spirit. I've learned that about her in just the short time I've known her intimately, and her parents should be slapped in the face repeatedly for not respecting that. Trying to make Berkeley into something she isn't is almost criminal, and I'm going to have a hard time keeping my thoughts to myself at that garden party in a few weeks. My mind flies away from me as I think back to the art she'd shown me at her university. She is so damn talented, and everything she touches becomes beautiful and perfect.

“Oh, God,” says Drake. He slides up next to where I'm sitting on the garage floor on a little red stool. “You're thinking about Berkeley, aren't you? Shit, Dare, there's heavy-ass machinery you're working with in here. Get your head on straight.”

His tone is half-teasing, half-serious. “I got this, Drake. Mind your own business. And if you're jealous of Berkeley, you can just say it. You don't have to pretend you're worried about me dropping a Chevy on my head.”

I shoot him an understanding smile, and he slaps me in the back of the head. “Not jealous. She can keep you, for all I care.”

“I love you, too, Drake,” I say with syrup in my voice. “Hug it out?”

He shakes his head as he rolls away to where he's rotating the tires on a Fiat. “There's something seriously wrong with you.”

“I'm getting therapy,” I promise him. “Her name is Berkeley, and she's hot. Hey, you want to go to some club called Smash with us tonight?”

He narrows his eyes. “Just you and Berkeley?”

I shrug. “I bet Chase will want to come. And her friend Mea will be there. I'm guessing some other girls, maybe.” I raise my voice a little. “Hey, Will! Bring me a monkey wrench, will you?”

Drake cocks his head to the side. “Is her friend Mea hot?”

Considering, I think of Mea's light brown skin and exotic, almond-shaped eyes. Her wild curly hair is similar to Berkeley's, but a dark chocolate brown instead of honey-blond. It's hard for me to see past Berkeley when I'm with her, but I'm not blind enough to have missed Mea's contemporary beauty.

I nod. “Yep.”

Drake gives me one of his enormous grins, and I picture Mea being blinded by it. It could be good, him meeting her tonight. “Then I'm all over it.”

“Okay, but you're not going to be all over
Mea
, right?” I'm suddenly nervous that Drake alienating Mea with a love-her-and-leave-her magic act might be dangerous for my own relationship with Berkeley.

“Right.” If his grin could get any wider, it just did. Shit. Now I'll have to babysit not only my wild-card brother, but also my commitment-phobic best friend. The upcoming night is looking less shiny and fun and more tedious already.

“Can I come?” asks Will from where he's searching the drawers of the tall tool cabinet against the nearest wall.

“Fuck, no!” answer Drake and I in unison.

After work, Drake and I shower, change, and grab a quick bite in the kitchen with Chase before we all head out in my F-250. It means I won't be able to drink more than a beer or two, but it's better than folding my long body into the Challenger.

“You know you're being ridiculous about my car, right?” Drake flicks a glance in my direction from the front seat. “It's big enough for your tall ass.”

I keep my eyes on the road as I reply. “You're just saying that because you're short.”

He chokes, and I reach over and pound his massive chest with my fist. “I'm not short, Dare. Six feet tall isn't short.”

I humor him with a smile. “Okay, big guy. Chase, you good back there?”

Chase has his long legs stretched out behind the passenger seat. I glance in the rearview, and he gives me a thumbs-up.

“What does Mea look like?” asks Drake, redirecting my attention.

“You'll see in a minute,” I reply. “This isn't a double date, Drake. Be cool.”

“This is funny. You, telling me to be cool?”

I ignore him as I pull into the packed parking lot at Smash. I inspect myself before we walk toward the line wrapping around the front of the building. I've chosen a plain black T-shirt and dark jeans and a pair of charcoal-colored boots with a light dusting of scuff marks on the toes.

Chase's attire is similar, but Drake's decked out in a long-sleeved button-down with blue-and-white pinstripes and designer, faded blue jeans. His crisp white Steve Madden casual sneakers are accented with navy blue, and the cologne he wears could probably be identified by name by most of the girls in this club. I shake my head at him, amused. Drake takes style very seriously.

“What?” he snaps when he catches me looking.

“Nothing,” I say innocently. “I just wonder if you're going to punch in the face the first guy who steps on your shoes.”

He scowls for just a second before it's replaced with a grin. “Hopefully a girl will step on my shoe. Then I can just tell her she owes me a dance.”

I nod. “You always have all the answers, Drake.”

A tiny arm grabs mine just as I'm about to walk past the front of the line, and I turn to find Mea gripping me tightly. She smiles up at me, and then tugs my arm again. I follow her, beckoning the guys to follow me.

“These guys are with me, okay, Dan?” She addresses the bouncer standing beside the door with his arms crossed. He raises his eyebrow at her, and then scans each of us in turn. Finally he shrugs.

“Okay, Mea.”

She reaches up on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek, and he grins. Then, nodding at me, she gestures inside. “After you, boys.”

“Thanks.” We file past her into the club.

Inside, it's bigger than the nondescript building gave it credit for. We pass an enclosed coat-check, and then it opens up to a cavernous room with a bar curving along the back wall and a stage closer to the front. The stage is empty, and a DJ is taking up residence in a booth a few feet away from it. I'm assuming that since there's no band, girls will be dancing on that stage once things really get going. The lighting is dim, but not dark, and I'm able to see faces clearly as I look around. Following Mea to the bar, I spot a head of wild, blond curls. She doesn't turn as we approach, and I'm able to close the gap before she knows we're here.

“We're back!” sings Mea.

Berkeley whips around, and I'm right
there
in her personal space. Her nostrils flare slightly as she looks up at me, and her eyes burn into mine.

“Hey,” she says breathlessly as the electricity crackles between us.

“Hey,” I whisper, bending in to take her lips. I can't help it. She makes me weak for her, and I can admit it.

When I pull back, she smiles. “I missed that today.”

“Yeah? What'd you do today?”

Her eyes fall, but before she can answer, Drake elbows me in my ribs.

I swear, then turn deliberately toward where he and Chase are standing behind me. He flicks his eyes toward Mea and then back to me.

“Mea,” I announce formally. “This is my friend and roommate, Drake. And this is my brother Chase.”

From her significantly lower vantage point, she eyes Drake and Chase carefully. “Hey. Nice to meet you both.”

They nod. Chase shoulders his way closer to the bar to ask for a beer. I hold up a finger, indicating that I want one, too. I eye the cup in Berkeley's hand. “What's that?”

“Screwdriver,” she says. “Have I told you I'm kind of obsessed with orange juice?”

I laugh, spacing out over the way her lips wrap around her straw. “No. But I'm not surprised, considering how much you love breakfast.”

I look her over, finally able to tear my gaze away from her eyes and her lips. She's poured into a tight, black dress with a lace overlay. Her shoulders are bare, and there's a pair of pink heels on her feet.

Holy. Shit.

If she was aiming for “Give Dare a Coronary” when she got dressed this evening, she's damn near achieved her goal.

She catches me eyeing her and smiles almost apologetically. “Yeah, this? Mea made me wear it.”

“You look…amazing,” I manage to choke out. “Uh…where's the rest of that dress?”

She rolls her eyes, glancing at Mea and jerking a thumb toward me. Mea smiles cheerily. “I told her when she dressed me that I can barely breathe.”

I nod slowly. “Me neither.” I lean closer, letting my breath linger somewhere near her ear. “Are you coming home with me?”

Her answering smile is flirtatious. “Maybe.”

I groan a little as my muscles clench. “When you know how I can turn that answer into a firm, resounding yes, let me know.”

She nods. “Will do.”

I scan her body again, and my eyes land on the purplish bruise darkening her thigh. “What the
hell
happened to your leg, Berkeley?”

She sighs, holding out her leg so she can eye the bruise. “I landed on a rock.”

I open my mouth, but she tugs on my arm that isn't holding my Killian's. “Dance with me?”

I follow her wordlessly to the dance floor, but our conversation isn't over. She left me this morning without a scratch, and tonight she's got at least one bruise I can't account for. Nothing about that is okay with me. I set my mouth in a firm line.

As soon as she stops in front of me and begins moving to the beat reverberating around us, I spin her around with one hand and pull her back so that her ass is resting against my thighs. Then I lean down, speaking into her ear so that she can hear me clearly.

“Berkeley, where did that bruise come from?”

I don't know what I'm expecting her to say, but her actual answer nearly knocks me on my ass.

“Surfing.”

I rear back, looking down at her as she continues to sway against the front of me. I can feel my body answering to her writhing movements, but my brain is stuck on rewind and I can't make myself move with her.

“You surf?” The disbelief in my voice is evident.

She leans back, meeting my surprised gaze. “Unfortunately.”

She leaves it at that, and I reluctantly do, too. Or not so reluctantly, since my body finally begins to move against her like it's always been meant to do exactly that. There is so much more I want to ask her, but the questions dull to a whisper as I move with her, dance with her. The music changes, I lose count of how many times, and I'm still tethered to her by the fiery connection we've shared since I laid eyes on her that first night. The feeling that I was brought to Lone Sands for a reason, for
this
reason, nearly swallows me whole as I inhale the sweet scent of Berkeley swirling around me.

I'd put off Drake's offer to join him in North Carolina since I'd gotten out of rehab for my back, and if I'd come any earlier Berkeley would have been away at school.

I'm not used to being in the right place at the right time; it's a completely new situation for me. I'm feeling pretty damned lucky right about now.

Berkeley turns in my grasp, winding her arms around my neck as she gazes up at me. Her eyes are sparkling, two tawny diamonds glittering in the dimness of the club.

“Hey,” she says, her dimples creasing the smoothness of her cheeks.

“Yeah, hey.” I smooth my thumb over her defined cheekbone.

The little wrinkles in her forehead let me know she's pondering something.

“I can't wait to get you alone so I can ask you what you're thinking about,” she finally says. “You look very far away right now.”

I shake my head gently, staring at her. “Just feeling really lucky right now. For like, the first time ever. It's a pretty weird feeling.”

She nods slowly, dropping her arms from my neck and grasping my hand. She rises to her tiptoes so she can be heard. “I want you to tell me about a time in your life when you didn't feel so lucky. It's safe to talk about it, Dare. Your luck has changed. You have me now.”

A ball of emotion gets stuck in my throat. I thump my chest a few times, trying to clear it. When I can, I lean toward her, indicating her empty cup. “Another drink?”

She nods, and we head to the bar, where we walk up on a heated argument.

“Don't be stupid,” Drake is saying in exasperation. “Just take the drink. Shit, I was trying to be
nice.
”

“First of all,” Mea shoots back, “I don't take drinks from guys I don't know. Second of all, I can buy my own damn drinks. Third of all—”

I'm looking dumbfounded between the two of them when Berkeley breaks in. “Whoa, girl. Easy. I'm sure Drake was just trying to be a gentleman. What's up with you?”

“Nothing,” says Mea, glaring at Drake. “I've just had about all I can stand of guys like him, that's all.”

She turns on her stiletto and flounces away, leaving us staring openmouthed after her.

“I'm so sorry, Drake,” says Berkeley. “I don't know what that was about. She's not usually like that.”

“Yeah, but you've been away at school, right?” I muse. “Maybe she's changed.”

“No, she hasn't,” says Berkeley firmly, shaking her head. “She's still Mea. But maybe I need to find out what crawled up her ass while I was away.”

Drake nods. “Yeah. That sounds like a plan. You want her drink, B?”

Berkeley beams at him. “Sure. Thanks, Drake.”

I shoot Drake a glare. “Yeah, thanks Drake.”

He grins. “Hey, I'll always take care of your girl for you when you need me to, Dare. That's what friends are for.”