Chapter 13
Biology Class
Day 18
“So, you and Mr. Class President himself, huh?”
I froze, not wanting to discuss anything regarding guys I was seeing with Dax.
“We’re just going to the dance.”
“Aren’t you, like, the class manager-secretary-cheerleader or something like that?”
I gave him a look. “I’m the class Vice President.”
His eyebrows raised in excited shock, mocking me. “Maybe one day you’ll have little politician babies.”
I pushed against his arm and scooted my chair up to the desk, intent on ignoring him. For some reason, Dax was bent on unnerving me at every turn, and I wouldn’t allow it.
“Will you guys talk about politics and the weather the whole time you’re together, or do you think you’ll branch out into the stock market or global warming?”
“Look at all those big words you’re using.”
“I’m not wrong, though,” he said, smiling like a cat toying with a mouse.
“No, you aren’t wrong. You even used the words in just the right context.”
“Shut up, Books.”
“You’re not wearing that.” My dad’s eyes trailed down my clothes, from my cutoff shorts to an old school volleyball t-shirt rolled at the sleeves, before giving me a look of disgust from his place at the kitchen table.
“Hey, Dad. Nice to see you too.”
“Hi. Go change.”
Earlier that day, I had finished my morning shift at the cafe and let Cat and Jane convince me to skip out on Legos and hit up the farmers market and the beach. I couldn’t really say no without it seeming like I wanted to hang out with Dax. But as it turned out, a few hours at the beach, recharging under the warm island sun, did wonders for my outlook on life. Of course, now that I was about to be a high-class babysitter for a politician, showing up smelling like sunscreen and contentment wouldn’t be tolerated.
I raised my hands. “I don’t have clothes here.”
“Well, you can’t wear that. Go put on the bridesmaid’s dress from Mariah’s wedding. You need something nice.”
Mariah’s dress had been beautiful, but my boobs could not pull it off. It left too many gaps where there shouldn’t be gappage. Not to mention, there were probably still glass shards stuck in the fabric.
“It doesn’t fit. I’m just taking him to Beach Break, right? I’ll be way overdressed.”
“I don’t care.” My dad’s tone became clipped. “You are representing me, and the Foresters are here to potentially donate a lot of money. If they like what I’m about and they like the island, it could be tens of thousands of dollars for my campaign. So, yes, you can put on something nice for your date.”
“It’s not a date,” I seethed.
“She can search through my closet,” Angela said, striding in from the kitchen, her brown hair tied up in a high ponytail, looking impossibly beautiful in joggers and a fitted t-shirt.
Dad looked at me and nodded toward Angela. “See?”
My chest grew tight, and any coherent words seemed to vanish from my head. I knew he would win. He always won. I had already agreed to this date. Angela and I shuffled through her closet, but nothing would fit. She was at least a size smaller than me, and her boobs were a couple sizes larger. The bridesmaid’s dress was my best option.
I flung my closet open and pulled out the blue dress. The soft silk felt good on my skin, though I’d never admit that to my dad. I added a few more curls in my hair, taming the sun-ripened mane into something soft and presentable before applying some of Angela’s blush and mascara and walking back downstairs. My dad wore gray suit pants with a white shirt and tie and was leaving to meet Mr. Forester at the resort.
“Thank you. You look nice.” My heart stalled at his compliment while my body filled with reluctant warmth at his words.
But alas, he wasn’t finished.
“Ivy. I can’t have you screwing this up. You need to be nice and charming. No alcohol and no sleeping pills.” He opened the garage door, sending one more icy blast over his shoulder as he crossed the threshold. “I can’t afford to lose another sponsor.”
The door slammed shut.
Another sponsor.
It was the way he would build me up only to slam me down. Casually throwing out knives instead of words, always insinuating that I was the problem. Never yelling or shouting. His words were quiet. Controlled. Matter of fact. It was soft how he bit and quiet how he shattered.
But he couldn’t break me anymore. I wasn’t going to let him. The second his golf cart was out of sight, I ran back upstairs and changed into my ratty shorts and old t-shirt that smelled like coconut sunscreen .
When I passed by the kitchen, Angela gave a quiet gasp as she took in my new outfit.
“I don’t think your dad will?—“
“It’s fine,” I cut her off and moved into the family room at the front of the house to wait. It would be fine. He wouldn’t know I was wearing this. I wasn’t coming back to the house. I was planning to have Lucas drop me off at the duplex.
A moment later, I sat across from the faux fireplace, waiting for my date to show up. My attention drifted toward the fake fireplace. My mom had been big into interior design, and she loved to comment on how it centered the room. More than that, it provided a mantel for our family’s trophy pictures in various frames. And suddenly, our fake mantel became filled with images designed to impress. The pictures looked different now with my mom gone, but there were still moments I recognized from my childhood.
There was a younger version of my dad dressed in his usual suit and tie with a wide grin on his face shaking the hand of the governor of Florida as a state representative years ago. There was me in a cap and gown, graduating with my doctorate. But it was the picture of my dad and me smiling on our vacation to Myrtle Beach years ago that held my gaze. I had been in middle school at the time. My mom had orchestrated the photo, telling us to awkwardly press our cheeks together while the sun lit the backdrop behind us. A gust of wind had blown sand in my eyes seconds before the shot. But the picture had been great of my dad, so my mom paid someone to photoshop a happier face onto mine—one where it didn’t look like I had been crying and wiping at my eyes. Only the photoshopped edges didn’t quite line up. And my dad’s eyes didn’t quite shine.
My mom had been the first to shatter the illusion of our family by leaving. Her departure and request for divorce had shocked the island. My dad had been in a horrible mood for an entire year after that. It felt strange to be here without her, to have another woman occupy her space, but our broken family seemed more authentic than the image we’d shown the island when my mom was still here.
The doorbell rang, and I opened the door to a medium-built body and a good-looking face with a smooth smile. He was over-dressed in slacks and a white shirt and tie, and upon seeing me, he stepped back to linger appreciatively at my tanned, bare legs.
“Hi,” I said, feeling relief when his eyes finally met mine.
“Hey there.” His voice was low with a deep Southern drawl.
“I’m Ivy.” I held out my hand, which he held, not shook, in a way that sent my skin crawling.
“Lucas Forester, nice to meet you. I heard you’re going to take care of me tonight.”
Ew.
I pulled my hand from his and smiled tightly. “I’ve been assigned to show you the island and take you out to dinner.”
“My kind of woman.” He smiled and stepped aside, his arm sweeping toward the driveway. “Shall we?”
I closed the door and stepped in front of him on the small sidewalk leading to his parked golf cart. A quick glance over my shoulder told me he was indeed checking me out from behind. Perhaps I should have gone with the plunging neckline of the dress.
“You driving or me, darlin’?”
“It’s Ivy ,” I told him again. “And you can drive.”
I spent the next half hour politely pumping him with useless information about the island. To be fair, I did make an attempt at being charming. I pointed out the nature preserve, our beautiful town square, my own Sunrise Cafe, mentioning that it was a local favorite and home of the famous Gator n’ Eggs breakfast platter. I channeled my dad’s salesmanship and became an expert at flourishing statements with very little substance. The more I spoke, the less he attempted to speak, which suited me fine. A few minutes into our drive, my phone buzzed in my purse on my lap, and I snuck a peek.
DAX
Where you at, Books?
ME
On a date.
DAX
Larry finally convinced you?
I smiled and glanced up to see Lucas watching me.
“That a boyfriend?” Lucas asked, nodding toward my phone.
“Sorry. No. I was supposed to be somewhere tonight, but I forgot to let them know I wouldn’t make it. I’m almost finished.”
“Do what you gotta do.”
I picked up my phone once more, angling away slightly so Lucas couldn’t glance down and see what I was typing.
ME
I wish. A politician’s son needed a babysitter tonight.
DAX
You wish it was Larry? I’ll be sure to pass that on.
ME
Maybe we can double with you and your old lady friend next door .
A smile tugged at my lips as I pressed send before Lucas cleared his throat, and I immediately remembered myself. I put the phone back in my purse and forced a smile at him.
“All done. Thanks.”
I was in the middle of telling him how the island was founded when Lucas held up a hand and stopped me.
“Listen, we’re both here because of our dads, right? You don’t have to tell me all this. I get the same tour everywhere I go. I think we can just hang out and go to dinner without all the fuss.”
I looked at him in a form of shock. Maybe I had misjudged him.
I sunk into my seat, lifted my legs so they lounged on the dashboard in front of me, and sighed. “I’d love that.”
With a lingering scan of my legs, which I immediately set back on the floor, he smiled and said, “Great. Now where’s this bar at?”
“You don’t have to walk me up,” I said, sliding out of the golf cart when we arrived at the duplex.
“I’m a gentleman, though. That’s what we do.”
I seethed out a silent breath of protest as he slid from the cart—alarmed when he slipped the keys into his pocket. He wasn’t coming in. I would murder him well before he entered my apartment. Earlier, once we’d arrived at the bar, he had relaxed too completely, revealing an arrogant, spoiled man, telling me all about the places he’d been wined and dined by hungry politicians—and their daughters. I only saw him have one drink, but it had been enough to loosen his tongue. The ride home was enough to loosen his hands.
I didn’t slow my walk to wait for him and practically ran up the steps. When I arrived at my door, the keys fell from my jittery hands, hitting the ground with a clank. Swearing under my breath, I reached down and grabbed them, shoving the key into my door handle before I felt his body behind me and his hands on my shoulders, turning me around.
“What’s the rush?”
“I think we’re done here.”
“It’s early. I figured we could watch a movie or something.” His fingers lingered at my shoulders before trailing down my arms.
Instinctively, I moved backward, but the door blocked my escape. I reached for the doorknob behind me when he stepped forward, trapping me against the door. He laughed and crowded me further.
“Get the hell away from me,” I spat, panic boiling as I pushed against him. He hardly moved. I raised my leg to knee him in the groin, but he inched closer, blocking the movement of my legs.
His laugh was dry, with a teasing lilt at the end, as though we were wrestling for fun. “If you’re going to kick at me, I think I’ll stay right here.”
It was his strength against mine that startled me the most. I tried again to push him away, but my legs and hands were pinned.
“Easy, girl. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want a little kiss. You were cool at dinner. I thought you’d be more fun than this.”
If I had been coming off as a fun person on this date, he had completely misread all the get me out of here signals I had been throwing him all night.
He adjusted his footing, which, for a moment, caught him slightly off balance. I threw my weight into him, feeling gratified as I watched him flail backward. Before I could take a step, though, he was back, pressing into me .
“Get off me!” Alarm spread like wildfire through my veins as he leaned close, his breath hot and wet against my ear.
“If my dad and I have a nice time on this island”—he stopped, taking a second to pin himself against me even tighter—“then my dad is going to give your dad a lot of money.” He nipped my ear, sending chills rolling down my spine. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t really had that nice of a time yet.”
All of a sudden, two hands attached to a pair of arms, one of which sported a car tattoo I’d grown quite fond of, grabbed the back of Lucas’s shoulders and yanked him away from me. I sucked in a breath as I watched in relief as Dax chucked Lucas down the three stairs leading up to our shared house. Lucas’s body slammed against the wood handrail before he landed in a clumsy heap at the bottom of the stairs. With dark eyes pulsing with anger, Dax strode back over, bending down to look at me.
“You okay?”
I nodded, glancing past his shoulder at Lucas attempting to stand, yelling expletives as he did so. He narrowed in on Dax as he charged up the stairs. Dax turned around, blocking me and the unruly punch thrown his way. He attempted to push and redirect Lucas back down the stairs, when Lucas jerked out from under Dax’s grip, attempting another wild punch. I saw the moment Dax’s patience was spent, and he sent a blow to Lucas’s face that had him clutching his nose and stumbling off the porch.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Lucas shouted, turning to yell at Dax now that there was space between them.
“You want me to come and show you?” Dax yelled back, taking two steps toward the stairs.
Lucas blanched before striding toward his golf cart and shouting one last parting shot my way. “Your dad can kiss his money goodbye!”
He slid inside and glowered, flipping us off with both of his middle fingers before backing out of the driveway. The sight of his nose bent in the middle and his face streaked with red provided me with a small glimmer of satisfaction.
Dax looked over at me. Whatever he saw was enough to move him closer, his careful eyes taking in every detail.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
I could only blink and stare at the spot where Lucas had been moments ago as I attempted to make sense of what had just happened.
“Ivy.” His body now stood in front of mine, but he was a blur in my vision. I couldn’t move. The gentleness in his voice might unravel me. The sympathetic look on his face would no doubt make me cry. I had to look away. My hands covered my face as I held as still as I could and tried my best to hold back the tears. I was fine. Nothing had happened. Lucas was gone. I wasn’t sure why my limbs felt so stiff.
“You need to breathe. Put your hands on your knees.” With soft fingers, Dax held my arm, guiding me to bend over. He was careful not to get too close, like he knew I wouldn’t want to be touched.
With deep breaths in and out, my nerves began to subside. Eventually, I straightened and met his gaze, which proved to be a mistake. Those eyes brought to memory a softness I’d only ever seen years ago in my garage. I tore my gaze away to keep myself from leaping into his arms.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Just a little shaken up. Thanks for your help.”
“I told you three knocks when you’re in trouble is stupid,” Dax said lightly, his hand still holding my arm. “You sure you’re okay?”
Nodding, I reached for my doorknob, needing to be alone. “Yeah. I’m okay. Thanks.”
“I’m going to call Beau and tell him to go look for that guy. Is he at the resort?”
I nodded. “Yeah. His name is Lucas Forester. ”
“Did anything else happen?”
I shook my head. “He got kind of handsy, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Dax stared at me for a long moment before looking to where Lucas’s golf cart had been only moments ago. Finally, he swore and muttered something under his breath as he turned away, his phone pressed to his ear. He whipped back around. “Lock your door.”
I would definitely be locking my door.