Sworn to Protect (9 page)

Game on.

Drew walked into third-period English and took his seat just before the tardy bell rang. He typically didn’t stress about being Mr. Punctual, but he didn’t want to stand out too much. Not before he’d scoped out this place.

So far, he wasn’t impressed. The building had to be fifty years old, and it reeked of the musty smell of dirty socks. It was clean enough, but it was shabby, in need of new paint and carpet. And a lot of the teachers were so freakin’ old, they must’ve worked there since the dawn of man.

The worst thing of all was the kids here sucked. They were loud and rude, shoving each other, insults flying on a regular basis. Okay, not all of them, but plenty. The ones that weren’t assholes just kept their heads down and tried to present a smaller target.

Fuck that. Drew Cooper wasn’t about to play anybody’s bitch.

But the whispers were getting to him, and it was early yet. By third period, word had gotten around. Didn’t matter that the teachers must’ve decided not to make a big deal of Drew’s arrival—everybody knew who his dad was and what had happened. He hated feeling like a circus freak.

Even at his old school, he was just one of a crowd of rich kids. Everyone had idolized his dad, even though most of them were the children of sports figures, politicians, scientists, and famous musicians. He wasn’t stupid—he knew the real world wasn’t made of the elite. But it was what he knew. He wanted to jump on a bus and get the hell away from here.

“Hey, Cooper.”

Two desks over to his right, a boy with shaggy brown hair was sneering at him. Tall, built. Drew pegged him as a jock. The Big Man on Campus, from his football-field-sized attitude.

“That’s me.” He kept his tone uninterested in whatever the jock might be about to say. But that didn’t stop the jerk.

“You’re not such a big shot now, are ya?” A few of his buddies snickered. “You like slummin’ with the rest of us?”

The taunt wasn’t too far off the mark, so he said nothing.

“You’re livin’ with some cop now, right? What’s up with that? You his little butt buddy or something?”

“Why, you want to watch?” he shot back.

The jock’s face reddened as his friends laughed. It obviously pissed him off that he’d lost the advantage. “Figures that Brad Cooper’s son would be a faggot. Hey, did he drop dead when he found out his kid is a little homo? Is that what happened?”

He sucked in a breath. Guilt stabbed him in the gut, made him sick. No one knew it was Drew’s fault his dad was dead. But he never forgot for a minute.

Rage boiled, slow and dangerous. It shocked him how much he wanted to physically hurt this prick. “Why don’t you drop your pants and bend over for your friends so they can see who’s queer?”

Now his buddies cracked up. The jock bolted to his feet, ready to lunge for Drew, but the teacher’s sharp reprimand halted him.

“Alan, sit down and stop making a nuisance of yourself.” The teacher glared until Alan did as he was told, then pointed to the board. “Open your literature books to page one thirty-eight.”

Groans sounded all around, but most followed the directions, including Drew, but that didn’t mean he planned to listen. After twenty minutes of lecture, the teacher assigned the class to read the story and answer the questions at the end. Then he parked his skinny ass behind the desk and started grading papers.

“That was pretty impressive, how you smacked Alan down,” a voice said from his left.

Glancing over, Drew eyed the speaker. His shoulder-length hair was straight and dyed jet-black, to match his death metal T-shirt and skinny jeans. He wore silver studs in both earlobes, and a strip of black leather around his neck with a silver skull dangling from it. His dark eyes stared impassively back at Drew.

“He seems like a real dick,” Drew ventured, testing the water.

“Class A. He’s like a stray dog—feed him scraps and he’ll keep comin’ back.” The kid smiled, and his teeth were straight and white. “But you handled him fine. I’m Ty Eastlake. You?”

Seriously?
“You don’t know who I am?”

“Uh, no,” he drawled. “Am I supposed to?”

“I’m Drew Cooper.” Nothing. “Brad Cooper’s son?”

“Who?” Ty’s brows furrowed.

Now, there was a refreshing change. But the explanation still hurt like hell. Always would. Especially when he could’ve prevented it. He swallowed the guilt.

“My dad played for the Titans. He died, like, a week ago.”

“Oh, man. I’m sorry to hear that.” He seemed sincere. “I’m not a sports fan, and I don’t watch the news ’cause it’s all just depressing shit. Ya know?”

“I
do
know.”

He regarded Drew for a minute, and Drew got the strangest impression that for the first time, someone his own age saw
him
, not the famous player’s kid. “What do you have seventh period?”

Opening his notebook, he glanced at his schedule. “Physics with Mr. Brenner.”

“Me, too! Hmm. Well, I’m not planning on being a rocket scientist, are you?”

He gave a short laugh. “Hardly.”

“Me neither. I’m in a rock band and we’re gonna be famous, so screw science. What do ya say we meet after sixth and walk to my house? I’ll show you my guitars.”

A slow smile spread across Drew’s face. It felt alien. And damned good.

“I say you’re on.”

•   •   •

On Saturday afternoon, Daisy changed clothes four times before settling on black capri pants and a black-and-purple patterned blouse. The outfit was nice enough to pass muster in a pricier restaurant, but not too dressy for most casual places. It would have to do, since Shane hadn’t said where they were going.

Pausing, she studied herself in the mirror. Was she being an idiot? Probably. As excited as she was about their date, she had to admit to being afraid.

I’ll call you. Maybe we’ll go to dinner sometime.

That’s what he’d told her, months ago. And he had called—to tell her that he couldn’t see her anymore. Just like that. And his rejection had hurt so badly, she’d cried for days. She’d believed they had something real, and he’d dumped her.

Could she trust that he wouldn’t do it again, even if he swore to it? True, he’d made no promises before. But the about-face had been so sudden, she had been left reeling. He had yet to give her a real reason for doing it, just some lame apologies.

Maybe tonight he’d come clean.

The doorbell interrupted her musings, and her heart jumped. “It’s stupid to be nervous.” Taking a deep breath, she went to open her door.

As always, Shane took her breath away. He was six feet of tall, lean, melt-your-panties yumminess in jeans that hugged his thighs and ass just right, and she was human. She wanted more.

“Hi,” she said, smiling at him. “Come in.”

“Been a while since I was here. The place looks nice.”

“Thanks. I painted and put up some new curtains. It seems to have helped some.”

“Well, maybe these will add a touch of color.” From behind his back, he brought forth a bouquet of flowers, grinning like a boy.

“They’re beautiful,” she said, taking them and inhaling the fragrant scent. “Let me put them in some water. Would you like a drink?”

“I’ll wait until we get to the restaurant, thanks. I’m cutting back some.” He trailed her to the kitchen, where she fetched a vase from under the sink.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to set a better example for Drew.”

Setting the vase on the counter, she began to cut the cellophane from the stems. “Well, I don’t think you drink too much, but that’s very admirable. Good for you.” He seemed pleased by the compliment. She eyed him as she arranged the flowers in the vase. “So, where are you taking me?”

He leaned against the counter. “There’s a brand-new seafood restaurant a few miles outside Sugarland, right on the Cumberland. It’s a little more upscale than the one here in town, and I heard it’s good. I thought you might like to try it.”

“Sounds great. Let me grab my purse.”

She locked up, and he rested a hand at the small of her back as they crossed to his truck in the driveway. He helped her in, then went around to his side, climbed in, and started it.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he said, gray eyes devouring her. “I’m going to be the luckiest man in the place.”

She warmed with pleasure from the inside out. “You’re looking pretty darned edible yourself.”

“Maybe you’ll save me for dessert?”

She grinned at him but didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. He winked and pulled onto the street, apparently not bothered by her silence. Getting along, not to mention being totally in sync when it came to sex, had never been their problem. Perhaps it was timing?

In part, maybe. But that wasn’t all of it.

The drive along the river was leisurely, and they chatted along the way, mostly about work. She figured they’d start light, get into the more serious stuff later. Which suited her fine. Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of a nice restaurant that was built in a rustic lodge theme, with the river-side wall made almost completely of glass.

Inside, Shane gave his name and they were whisked to a secluded table with a gorgeous view. The waiter immediately came and offered them wine lists along with their menus.

“Get whatever you want, sugar.”

Shane took one, so she did the same, looking it over. “I’ll have a glass of this cabernet, please.”

“Make that two.”

The waiter moved off, and she looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t think you were much of a wine drinker.”

“I like it now and then. A country boy
can
be cultured.”

She smiled. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

“Oh, I can think of one or two things about me that need work.”

She let that slide and changed the subject. “How’s Drew?”

“Quiet. Withdrawn.” He thought a minute. “The only time this week he’s perked up some is when he mentioned this new friend at school. His name is Ty. They’ve been spending a lot of time together, but I haven’t met the boy yet.”

“I’m glad he’s met someone he clicks with. Maybe you could suggest inviting the kid over?”

“Actually, that’s a great idea,” he said slowly. “I’ll suggest that to Drew when Tommy brings him home tomorrow.”

“Glad I could help.”

Their wine arrived, and Shane picked up his glass. “A toast. To new beginnings.”

“I like that.” After clinking glasses, they sipped. She observed him, thinking he seemed so sincere. Then again, he had before. She squashed the thought, determined not to let fear ruin the evening.

“Then what’s with the sadness on your gorgeous face?” he asked, setting down his glass.

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“That wasn’t very convincing.” He paused. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t get into this right now. . . .”

“I hurt you, and you want to know why,” he guessed. “Where my turnaround is coming from.”

If he was willing to open up, then she knew she needed to hear it. “Okay. Yes, I’d very much like to know. Was it something I did?”

“God, no.” He gave a rueful laugh. “You’re perfect to me. I was the problem.”

The waiter interrupted to take their order, and they quickly made selections. When he was gone again, she urged him to continue.

“So, is this the old ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech?”

“I promise it’s not a line. But for it to make sense, I have to start at the beginning, when I was eighteen.” He paused, fiddling with his menu. “That’s the year Shea and I lost our parents. But we’d already been through a hell of a lot of trauma as a family before they were killed.”

She took a deep breath. “I know your sister was date-raped when she was in high school and got pregnant as a result. She confided in me a few months ago.”

He looked relieved not to have to broach the subject and possibly break his sister’s confidence. “Then you know a little about what those months were like, she and my parents arguing all the time, and me in the middle, trying to mediate. Then they were killed, and she lost the baby.”

“And you were a heartbroken eighteen-year-old who was suddenly forced to become a man.” She began to see where he was going.

“It was the hardest thing I’d ever done.” Old sadness and regret shadowed his striking eyes. “Our parents had money, and we were left with enough from insurance and the sale of their business to be able to stay in our house and take care of expenses while we figured out what careers we wanted to pursue, but that wasn’t the biggest mountain we had to climb. Shea was almost destroyed by what she went through, and I took care of her. Got her back on her feet and into nursing school. For years, I was her protector, her champion.”

“And you never stopped being that for her. Did you?” she asked quietly.

“No, not really. Even when Tommy came along, I wasn’t sure how to relinquish the role I’d had in her life for so long. But somehow, I started to learn to let go. And gradually I found that it was nice, having nobody to take care of but myself.” The last he admitted with such guilt, as though it was the most terrible confession he could’ve made.