Gravity (19 page)

“And where is that, oh wise one?” Brady mocked.

I turned to look at Trace.  “Your mom.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“He’s just using this as an excuse to get you alone, Peyton.  Why can’t you see that?”

I was hooking dangly silver earrings through my pierced earlobes, trying my best not to physically attack my infuriating brother.

“No he’s not, Brady!” I exclaimed, spinning around to pin him with my stare.  “How many times do I have to tell you?  He’s taking me to his house so that I can ask some questions about Trace’s dad.  She won’t think anything about him bringing a girl home and her asking things like that about a guy she’s interested in.”

“I still don’t like it,” he grumbled, scowling down at me.

“Well, fortunately, you don’t have to.  I’m going.  I’m gonna find out what I can and that’s that.”

“Peyton, if he lays a hand on you, so help me God…”

“Brady, stop it!” I shouted, curling my fingers into fists of fury.  “Did it ever occur to you that I might actually like him?  Or that your issues with it might be coming from the fact that both of you are…something else?  You need to get a grip before you get someone hurt or get us all into trouble.”

If it was possible, Brady’s frown appeared to deepen even more. “You
like
him?”

Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable with where the conversation was going.  I fiddled nervously with the ring that matched my earrings.

“I didn’t say that.  I just asked if you’d ever considered the possibility, instead of just trying to impose your will on everyone else.”

 Brady raked his fingers through his sandy hair.  “No, to be honest, the thought never occurred to me.”

“But why not?  Why would it be so inconceivable that I’d like Trace?  I mean, he’s smart and funny, he plays football and he’s popular.”  I paused, looking down at my shoes.  “He’s good looking,” I finished quietly.

“Ohmigod, you
do
like him,” Brady spat, backing away from me as if in disgust.

“So what if I do?  Does it matter?  Would it be the end of the world?  Why couldn’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because, he’s all wrong for you for one thing.”

“How so?”

“He’s…he’s just…he’s not good enough, P.  It’s as simple as that.”

I snorted.  “But Adam was?  You didn’t have a problem with me dating him.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t like him like this.”

“What do you mean ‘like this’?”

 “I just meant—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Brady Alan!” I warned.

“I just meant that you didn’t act this way over Adam.”

“Act like what?”

“Like this,” he said, indicating my body with a sweep of his hand.

“What?  Putting on earrings?  I put on earrings to go to
school,
Brady!  That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not just that.  It’s everything.”

“Everything,” I repeated.

“Yeah.  Lots of stuff.”

I paused, looking closely at my brother’s face.

“You always were lousy at poker,” I stated flatly.  “How long have you known?”

Brady pursed his lips and I thought at first he wasn’t going to answer.  But then he did.

“For a while.”

I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation.

“Why didn’t you say something?  Does Trace know?”

“No, I don’t think he ever suspected.  He was always too wrapped up in picking through the rest of the hot girls in school.”

“He’s not like that, Brady, and you know it.”

Reluctantly, Brady nodded.  “I know.  I guess I always thought he was, and that he was just holding out on me by not telling me…everything.  But I suppose I knew deep down that he wasn’t a player like that.  Now that I think about it, he always did seem to be looking for something.”  Brady looked at me with a concerned yet defeated look etching the planes and angles of his face.  “I guess he finally found it.”

I schooled my expression as my stomach squeezed with pleasure over the implications of what he was saying.  Even though I already had some idea of the connection between us, it somehow made it more real and more meaningful when my own brother could look at Trace and me and see that there was something special.  Or at least acknowledge that there might be.

“Look, Brady, I appreciate what you’re doing.  I really do, but it’s not necessary.  We’re both all grown up.  You can’t interfere in my life this way.  Especially now.  Something serious is going on around here and we all need to stick together.  Can you act like a civilized person when Trace gets here?  Please?”

After a brief hesitation, Brady nodded.  Then, without a word, he bowed his head and left my room.  I felt oddly upset by his departure, as if I’d somehow betrayed him in favor of Trace.  But that wasn’t the case at all.  I wasn’t making a choice.  I should never have to.  Still, it felt as though I’d let Brady down, like I’d mortally wounded him and that didn’t set well with me.

Pushing those disturbing thoughts aside, I focused on finishing my grooming before Trace arrived to pick me up.  I was sliding my feet into some platform sandals I’d never worn before when I heard the bell ring.  I grabbed my shoes and bolted for the door, not wanting to risk Brady answering it.  Trace hadn’t used the bell for years, so it told me all I needed to know about how uncomfortable he was with the Brady situation.

Throwing my shoes down and quickly sliding my feet into them, I jerked open the door. 

“Hi,” I said breathlessly, wobbling a bit in my tall heels.

I didn’t immediately take in Trace’s appearance, as his slow appraisal of me was somewhat disconcerting.  I saw his mouth drop open the tiniest bit as his eyes zoomed all the way to my toes and then started a slow ascent. 

I felt warmth and color blossom on my skin as his eyes raked over my various body parts—my toes, painted deep red; my legs, shaved smooth and shimmering with lotion; my black shorts, feeling smaller than they had when I’d put them on; my modest cleavage, what little could be seen in the scoop neck of my deep red baby doll top; my throat, where my pulse beat erratically; and finally on my mouth, which I’d stained a dark red as well.  His eyes lingered there for a moment longer before he met my eyes.

“You look amazing,” he declared in a low tone. 

I couldn’t help but smile at his expression, which clearly gave credence to his words.  I had wanted Trace to see me as the girl-turned-woman I was and not the slightly younger sister of his best friend.  Now, watching him look at me, I was satisfied I’d made just that impression.

Cheeks still burning from his inspection and compliment, I gave Trace a cursory glance, taking in the embossed white t-shirt he wore under a pale blue button-up shirt.  The sleeves of the dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms.  His jeans fit his long legs to perfection and he was wearing cowboy boots that no other guy in creation could wear with such swagger and style.

“You look amazing, too,” I replied, cursing my nerves and utter lack of imagination in merely repeating what he’d said.  I laughed, reaching deep for the snarky girl that I normally was.  “Good thing you didn’t tell me I’m beautiful.  Or virginal.”

One of Trace’s tawny brows shot up and I felt all the blood from my floundering brain rush to my cheeks.

“I didn’t mean…I mean, I wasn’t…um…”

Trace’s other brow shot up and all I could think was,
Please God, make it stop!
Finally, I snapped my lips shut, ceasing to stammer over correcting the humiliating faux pas.

“I’m gonna shut up now.”

Trace laughed, that low rich sound that made me want to purr like a cat.  “You always could make me laugh.”

For some reason, that made me feel like a million bucks.  I was thrilled!  He might as well just have come out and told me that he loved me, my reaction was so inordinately inflated. 

“Well, you know,” I said, tossing my hair over my shoulder dramatically and flicking my fingernails.  “I try.”

Trace laughed again, his eyes sparkling with something wonderful as he watched me.

“You ready?”

I nodded, opting for silence until we got to his house.  Trace stepped aside to let me pass and I turned to yell back over my shoulder, “I’m leaving Brady.”  Quickly I shut the door behind me and hurried past Trace.   I was praying Brady would just hide until we were gone.

After we descended the three steps that led to the walkway, I felt the warm presence of Trace’s hand at my lower back.  I bit my lip to keep from sighing or bursting into song, neither of which would make me look any saner. 

When we got to his truck, which apparently he’d gone and gotten at some point after the party, he opened the passenger side door and grabbed my elbow to help me inside.  My skin tingled where he touched and I couldn’t help but smile as he closed the door behind me. 

I felt just like Cinderella.  Minus the dress.  And the coach.  And the party.  And the fairy godmother.  And the sisters.  But I did have the Prince Charming.  And the shoes.  Sort of.  And hopefully I’d have the happily ever after. That would be fine with me.  Disney could keep the rest.

I’d never been to Trace’s house.  There had never been a reason.  He seemed to be a perennial fixture at my house, hanging out with Brady or picking him up or helping him with something.  His continual presence had just made it that much easier to fall in love with him.  He made a great first impression, but he made an amazing one-hundredth impression and an even better one-thousandth one.

I knew where he lived, though, so I expected him to pull into the driveway in front of the modest brick ranch, and he did.  He slowed to a stop and cut the engine, turning toward me in his seat.  When he didn’t say anything, I began to get nervous.  I wasn’t quite sure why we weren’t going inside.

“I’ve never brought a girl home to meet my mom,” he confessed, finally breaking the silence and worsening my nervousness.

“What?  Why?”

Trace shrugged.  “Well, for one thing, I never found a girl I liked enough to bring home.  But also, my mom’s kind of…” he trailed off, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips as he searched for the appropriate word, “eccentric.”

I laughed anxiously.  “Eccentric?  What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means strange and sort of kooky.  Unconventional.”

“I know what it means
technically,
silly.  I mean why do you think your mom is eccentric?  What makes you say that?”

Trace was wearing a mischievous grin.  “I know you know what it means.  I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“You’re the smartest person I know.  I’d be surprised if there was any word in my vocabulary that I could confound you with.”

I couldn’t stop the big smile that stretched across my face.  It wasn’t like hearing that he thinks I’m beautiful, but it would definitely do.

“Thank you.  And that means a lot coming from you.  Brady says you get straight As.”

Trace shrugged again, humility painted all over his face.  “I do okay.”

That made me love him even more.

“So, are you trying to warn me about your mom then?”