was a product of the streets and she was a product of a textbook.
“Since we’re sharing things,” he said softly, “I find myself wondering what it would take to make you scream.”
April leaped to her feet. Brandon, who knew his weakness for pushing buttons and boundaries, sensed that he’d pushed all of hers. But he refused to move out of the way.
He smelled the heat of her skin, her shampoo, the fabric softener from her dress. The air between them had a kind of violence to it. Her eyes were huge and she was breathing hard and he could see all the feathers he’d ruffled.
So many shiny feathers.
“I’m filing a report in the morning,” she said furiously. “You are unbelievable. I may not know a lot of things, but I know one thing. You hate women. And you wouldn’t hate them if you weren’t afraid.”
“File your report,” he said. “File a bunch of reports. I don’t live by your rules.”
“Oh, so you’re not afraid of going back to jail for harassing an officer of the court? For refusing to make your brother go to school? You’re ruining his life. I’m going to do whatever it takes to save it.”
Since he towered over her, April tilted her head back to see him. He didn’t hate women. But in just this one moment, he might’ve hated her.
Hated her and wanted her.
Brandon gave her what he knew to be the devil’s own smile. “Guess I’ll see you back on my doorstep with a court order,” he said as she wrenched herself away from him and huffed off toward the patio. “Next time, ditch the cop. If he can’t save you from yourself, April, he sure can’t save you from me.”
* * * *
“Beer,” April told the bartender. “No, make that two beers. Don’t bother with a glass.”
She perched on a stool and tried to take a nice recovery breath, but her lungs wouldn’t do it. This was exactly why she never went to places like the Double Aces. There were men in them.
In the mirror behind the bar shelves where all the good liquor was kept, April spotted Jacey making her way over. For the first time ever, April didn’t want to talk to her. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. All she wanted was to get quietly drunk, wish she were someone else, someone normal, and then go home and pass out.
“Hey, where were you?” Jacey stared at her with a mixture of hurt and concern. “Tessa opened your gifts and you weren’t even there.”
“I ran into a client.” April nodded to the bartender when he brought her beers. She pushed a ten-dollar bill toward him, started on the first bottle and almost gagged. Why did anybody like beer? It still tasted just as bad as it had in college—like something out of a litter box.
Now Jacey looked really concerned. “April, what are you doing? You don’t drink.”
“Don’t you think it’s time I started? I’m the most boring person I know. I bore myself even.”
“Yes, but beer isn’t the answer to your problems. You just need a boyfriend.”
April barked out a laugh. A boyfriend. What would that fix? “Don’t worry about me, Jacey. I’ll be fine. Go back to the party.”
Jacey grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her to the table where everyone was laughing loudly and smelled like too much perfume. April sat down and took another gag-worthy swallow of cat urine. When did beer start working?
Brandon knew her secret. Shame squirmed inside her stomach. Even her own sisters didn’t know she was a virgin or how afraid she was of sex.
To the world, April had always been careful to present that part of her personality she found acceptable: the honest concern, the talent for listening, the heartfelt desire to help others. But inside, she just wanted to be like everyone else, like Jacey even—fun loving and uncomplicated. Instead of worrying about starving children, she wanted to worry about boys, shoes and vacations.
April took another determined gulp and set her bottle on the table.
Okay, warmer.
Seated across from her, Roxanne raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “What happened to the root beer?”
“I drank it,” April said. “Now I’m drinking this.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be the designated driver? Aren’t you always the designated driver?”
“I un-designated myself.” April liked the sound of that. It was a declaration of sorts.
April Lynn Roby: un-designated.
See? I can be fun, too, she thought. I’m not the boring virgin Brandon said I was.
Well, not boring, at least.
Jacey dropped into the chair next to Roxanne and leveled her gaze across the table at April, who sat up a little straighter and tried to smile. Could Jacey see what a mess she was?
“Leave April alone,” Jacey said to Roxanne. “And don’t bitch at her about the driving. I already called for backup.”
What backup? April found that she had trouble focusing both her eyeballs at the same time. Oh, and her life still sucked. But she did feel a sudden rush of love for Jacey and Tessa and for all the girls she’d grown up with. The first time she met Jacey in Mr. Abel’s class, Jacey was the new kid that no one would be friends with because she talked funny, but April had liked her right away. They both had a crush on Ricky DeMaris, who didn’t know either one of them existed. They also loved bedroom karaoke, cute vampire boys, Disney movies and chocolate.
The difference was Jacey grew up and eventually dated Ricky DeMaris, who turned out to be a giant douche. Whereas April grew up, went on dates, and leaped out of the cars as soon as they pulled up in front of her house.
“I love y’all,” April said, choking up a little. “I really do.”
Jacey laughed. Even Roxanne laughed.
“You are such a lightweight,” Jacey said. “One beer and you’re a disaster. Wait ’till you rip your dress off and start dancing on the—” Jacey’s gaze focused on something or someone over April’s shoulder and her eyes grew huge. “Good Lord, who is that?”
Whatever pleasant lightheadedness April had managed to achieve went splat. She knew who was on the patio behind her because she recognized the glazed hungry expressions on her friends’ faces.
Brandon McBride was the only man in Cuervo who had the raw virility to make women drool.
“Wow,” Roxanne purred, flushing a little.
April didn’t want to turn around, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. The blond woman from earlier, the one who’d been sitting on Brandon’s lap, now followed him out of the Double Aces with a smug, triumphant smile. And even though April hated Brandon with a passion she usually reserved for serial liars, compulsive cheaters and people who weren’t kind to animals or children, deep down there was a tiny flicker of envy for that woman.
In
