My stomach plummeted, but I took a deep, inconspicuous breath. “He’s just somebody I went to high school with.” I turned away.
Brax stood there, though, staring at Kelsy through his dark shades, his body rigid and still, and right then I knew that my dirty little secret, the one I’d hoped to keep hidden from a school filled with brand new people, would not be kept for very long.
The guy was a douchebag. A fuckin’ prick. I was one, too, so hell yeah, I could tell that about him. An arrogant fuck, by the way he’d stood with his chest bowed, next to his big hillbilly pick-up while smiling at Gracie. That alone was pissing me off. He’d rattled her in the restaurant; that much was obvious. I immediately saw the change in her. He was a lot more than just some douche she knew in high school. She came back from the bathroom on edge. Damn, she was skittish as hell when I’d first picked her up at the dorm. But then I’d turned on the charm and coaxed her into relaxing a little. Gracie was pretty damn funny when chilled and not on constant guard. I gotta admit—I actually enjoyed her company. Usually there was a game involved, where the girl was coy and pretended she wasn’t flirting but she really was, and thought I didn’t know it. I’d known Gracie less than two days and I could tell she was as real as they came. But when she came back, after that drink spilled on her? Scared shitless and nervous as hell, if I had to label it. Her gaze darted all over the place, and she wouldn’t look me in the eye. Now? She wanted to get the fuck out of there. Away from him.
And that pissed me off even more. Made me curious. And that grin on his face? Made me want to drag his sorry hillbilly ass behind the dumpsters there and beat the living fuck out of him.
I stared at him through my shades, just long enough to let him know that I thought he was a prick. A silent challenge between two dudes. I didn’t say a word, just looked, and took inventory. Rich pretty boy, that much was obvious. Pricey clothes and a ride he probably didn’t have to pay for. My height, maybe my weight. But no fuckin’ backbone. Well, except when it came to intimidating girls. He got off on that. Pussy.
Finally, he ducked his head, climbed into that ass truck and took off.
“Brax, can we go now?”
Her voice shook a little, even though she tried to steady it. She stood next to me, still as a goddamn statue, waiting for my answer. When I looked down at her, with those wide soft eyes of hers staring back at me, I was reminded of what a douchebag I truly was. What in the hell was I doing with her? What in the goddamn hell? Sweet and innocent, with her little freckled nose, flawless skin and full mouth made for hours of slow kissing. Not fast like the first one I’d taken from her. Christ, I’d thought about nothing else since. That white scar in her lip was fuckin’ sexy as hell. I took advantage of my shades and just stared at her. Innocent, but … not. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about her, something she was hiding. Naïve, maybe a little, but she wasn’t stupid. Far from it. Yet I felt protective over her for some reason, and that shocked the hell out of me. Kenny about lost his goddamn hand, just for touching her hair. It’d made her more than uncomfortable. And it’d scared her. The thought of Kenny or that rich idiot or anyone else bothering her boiled my fuckin’ blood.
That thought made me take one last long look at Gracie Beaumont’s questioning face. I’d introduced her to the guys as Olivia because Gracie was my name for her. I didn’t want anyone else to call her that. Just me. I stared at her through my shades. Her head tilted toward the sun, her skin was the color of honey; healthy and alive. She’d trusted my sorry ass enough to climb on my bike and leave the school. Part of me felt lucky that she’d given me that trust, because I got the feeling she didn’t hand that out too much. The other part of me, and the larger part? Felt like a bum. A goddamn bastard bum.
But hey—who was I? Who the fuck was I? I’d only just slammed into her the day before. And she’d never know what an unlucky meeting that was. For her, not me. Not until it was too late. So I guess it really didn’t matter what I was doing with her now ’cause I was doing it regardless, bastard that I was. Regrets were a bitch, and I’d worry about them later. I could no more control my selfish streak than I could my Southie mouth. Regrets? Hell yeah, I’d have them. No doubt. But I could tell something about Gracie Beaumont. She was strong. Kick ass strong. And that, for some reason, made my regrets suck a little more. And retreat a little more, to a place far in the back corner of my fucked up mind. But like I said. I’d worry about that later.