Dream Lover. Stacey Keith
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Grief counseling. Brandon heard the words. He just couldn’t make sense of them. The urge to taste her made him sweat. He wanted to chase that brisk, impersonal professionalism out of her eyes and replace it with a look of delirious surprise.
But why her? Why an annoying, know-it-all virgin like April?
“Are you even listening?” she asked him. “It’s like I’m talking to myself all of a sudden.”
“I’m listening.”
“You were the one who wanted to discuss this.”
“I’m discussing.”
She waited, clearly expecting him to say something. He wondered if she wore sexy girl stuff underneath that skirt. Was she one of those women? Prim and buttoned-down on the outside, but once the bedroom doors were closed…
“Matthew’s great at motocross,” Brandon said. “He’s won some important races. I’m trying to get him sponsors.”
“Two-fifty cc’s or four-fifty?” she asked, shocking the hell out of him.
“Two-fifty,” he replied. “How do you—”
“My dad,” she explained. “Dirt bikes, muscle cars, vintage rebuilds, you name it. I grew up smelling motor oil.”
Man, it was weird having a conversation with a woman he had such mixed feelings about. Usually chicks wanted one thing from him. And it wasn’t friendly chitchat.
April looked at him with those big blue eyes, which made him lose his train of thought again. “Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Sure.”
“How did your mom die?”
He couldn’t tell her because he didn’t know himself. Matthew had been there, but Matthew wasn’t talking about it. When Brandon started getting in trouble as a teen, Celia had decided to let him rot in foster care. She and Monroe had just had Matthew, so it seemed as good a time as any to cut Brandon loose. For over a year, he was shuttled around. Then Celia let him come home, mostly because she needed a babysitter for Matthew. And Brandon had come home for Matthew. Also to get the hell out of foster care. But not because of his close relationship with his mom.
“I don’t know,” he said. “To be honest, there’s a lot I don’t know.” In fact, his brain didn’t seem to be functioning at all. Not with this tightness in his chest and this trapped yearning feeling because he wanted what he couldn’t have. Not with her looking at him. Not with those lips.
He launched himself away from the porch fast enough that she couldn’t see what she’d done to him. What better way to scare her off, to guarantee that she’d nail him in court for sexual harassment or being a shitty guardian or whatever the hell she wanted to. All because he had some sick craving for her that didn’t make any sense and wasn’t going any further than this.
“Wait,” she called to him. He looked over his shoulder at her, all radiant in the light of late afternoon. Her beauty was angelic. April was a window into a world he’d never known, not even in his dreams.
She moved closer, still a little wary, arms crossed. “I know you think I’m a lightweight. But what I really am is a messenger. Matthew’s school attendance is no laughing matter. If he won’t go to school, you should ground him or limit his motocross. Because the state of Texas will intervene. And I promise you neither one of us will like what happens after that.”
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