Last True Hero (7 page)

H
e's either crazy, or he's insane.”

Mea's statement is so matter-of-fact, I almost miss its absurdity.

“Mea. You do realize both of those words mean the same thing?”

She waves me off. “Well, what other explanation is there? He's had a meal with you at your place of employment every single day you've worked for
two weeks.
What other explanation is there?”

It's true. Dare has turned up during every shift I've worked, whether I'm working lunch or dinner. If I'm waitressing, he's there. At first, I didn't know what to make of it. He'd come in, and we'd talk. Lenny would push me to sit down and eat with him, and I didn't fight it.

Then, I grew to expect his visits. I looked forward to them. When the door of See Food opened, I would look up expectantly, because I kind of couldn't wait to see Dare's gorgeous face as he entered.

Now I'm just confused. I don't know what he's doing. Hell, I'm not sleeping with the guy. We only kissed once. And maybe that kiss meant more to me than any other kiss in the history of kisses, but he couldn't feel the same way. He's a dude, for one.

And he's an
army dude
, for another!

That's one topic we haven't discussed. I haven't brought up the army, and neither has he. I'm smart enough to know that he's not still in, or he wouldn't be here. So the army is his past.

Does that change anything for me? I swore off dating military men. But technically, Dare isn't a military man anymore.

I say as much to Mea, and her face gets all scrunchy, like she smells something bad. “He's still a big fat red flag, Berk. You don't even
know
him. And he's so…mysterious. And dark. And sexy. All of those things make for a very, very bad combination. You could never introduce him to your parents. And if Grisham lays eyes on him…World War Three might break loose.”

All valid points. Mea's absolutely correct on all counts.

But still…

Tonight I'm off work, and I haven't seen Dare today. I glance wistfully at my phone. Our lunch and dinner dates haven't morphed into texting or calling, and I'm missing him.

Shit. I've fallen into seriously dangerous territory here.

My bedroom door flies open, and the Admiral is standing there, filling up my doorway in all his domineering glory.

“Berkeley.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I counter, glancing at Mea.

“We need to talk.” He glances at Mea, too. “Alone.”

She turns to me and rolls her eyes, facing away from the Admiral of course, and rises to her feet. “Call me later, Berk.”

When she's gone, the Admiral comes to stand beside my bed, and I give him my full attention, a stone sinking to the bottom of my stomach.

“Grisham's downstairs.”

“He is?” That's not terrible news. I haven't seen Grish in a few weeks. Hanging out with him tonight will be fun, take my mind off of the army-man-who-shall-not-be-named.

“He is,” the Admiral confirms. “He's leaving in a few weeks for California, you know.”

I nod. “I know.”

“I think he expects you to go with him.”

I sigh in exasperation. “Really? On what planet—”

The dark look in the Admiral's eyes has me recanting and changing what I was about to say. “I mean, I don't think so, sir. Grisham and I are just friends. I've told you that before.”

“Friendship is for children, Berkeley.” The Admiral's usual booming voice is subdued tonight. “You don't have time for it anymore. It's time to start your life. And your life is in San Diego, with Grisham. It's what's best for you.”

I can feel the flush forming in my neck, rising quickly to my face as I grow more heated. “And don't I have a say in what's best for me?”

He closes his eyes, as if he's having an argument with a petulant child. I want to growl, I want to throw something. But then I would be acting like the petulant child he thinks I am, so I simply glare. “I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions.”

“Go down and see Grisham.” The Admiral turns and walks out my bedroom door. “We'll talk tomorrow.”

The growing sense of dread in my stomach should have abated with his exit, but it didn't. It keeps growing as I change out of my ratty old gym shorts and throw on a jean skirt and a tank top and join Grisham downstairs in the foyer.

He smiles, but it's not a normal Grisham smile. Grish's smiles are always warm, tender, and full of understanding. They light up his whole face. This smile is nervous and wobbly and doesn't quite reach his eyes.

He holds out his hand. “Walk?”

I nod, taking it and letting him lead the way outside and down to the sand.

We walk, silently absorbing the darkness around us, the twinkling stars above us, and the ocean's dull rumble beside us.

“What's up, Grish?” I finally ask.

He stops, shoving his hands in the pockets of his ridiculously expensive jeans. He doesn't meet my gaze, instead focusing his eyes out at the invisible horizon.

“Berkeley.” His voice is quiet, so quiet I almost can't hear it over the crashing of the waves.

Oh, no. Oh, God. This can't be good. Grisham has never been as lively and as surly as me, but he never sounds this serious, either.

“What, Grish?” I whisper.

“God, Berk. I know, more than anything that you aren't ready for this. But our parents…they think it's time, Berkeley. The pressure from our dads is almost killing me. I can't go off to San Diego in a few weeks without at least honoring their wishes. I don't want to lose you—”

His voice breaks on the last word, and instant tears spring to my eyes. I haven't thought about what our fathers' pressure must be like for him. He must feel it so much more strongly than I do, because he's a man, and they have stringent expectations for his life. Probably more so than they do mine. I just thought that since he's basically followed every directive they've ever given him that he was doing what made him happy.

“I thought I would have more time. More time to help you see that, in the end, this really is what's best for both of us. Because I love you, Berkeley. I always have. I always will. You're my best friend, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. On our terms, not on theirs.”

He finally looks at me, and my heart is squeezed to a pulp in my chest. His eyes are anguished, because he knows. He
knows
I'll never be able to give him the answer he wants.

He pulls out the ring anyway, right out of his pocket. And gently takes my hand, closing my fingers around the warm metal circle. “Just think about it, Berkeley. Okay? You're it for me, and I could be it for you, too. You just haven't thought about me like that yet. Start thinking about it now, Berk.”

Tears are in danger of pouring out of my eyes, but I take a deep, shuddering breath.

No. No, I can't marry you, Grisham. You know I can't.

That's the answer I should have given him.

But looking into Grisham's eyes, the boy I've known since I wore diapers, I can't do that to him. I can't break him that way, not when he's already cracking under so much pressure from our dads. So instead, I say, “I'll think about it Grish.”

The music pounds in my ears, and the tequila flows like liquid fire in my veins. It only took one call to Mea, during which she could barely understand me, for her to have a car waiting outside of my house to take me to where she was.

It turns out, she was at a bar.

“Another.” I indicate my empty shot glass and gesture to the bartender.

He shakes his head, frowning at me. “Switch to a mixed drink. No more shots.”

I place my hands on my hips, and sway with the minimal movement. Sighing, I nod. “Give me whatever.”

I grab my drink from him and stick my tongue out. Childish, yes. Satisfying, yes.

When I turn around to face the sea of people in the bar, Mea is there, tugging on my arm. “Come on, Berk! Dancing is therapy!”

So I dance. I drink, and I dance. I do both of those things until the look in Grisham's eyes as he proposes to me no longer burns a hole in my brain. And the only face I can see is Dare's.

I pull my phone out to check it, but of course there's no message from him.

“What happened to my life?” I wonder aloud.

Mea frowns and shakes her head. “Not tonight. No mopey Berkeley tonight. We'll tackle this problem tomorrow, I promise.”

I nod, and sway on my feet again. “I gotta go home. I'm trashed.”

She nods, concern flickering across her gaze. “I'll get Mikah.”

I shake my head. “No. I'll just call a cab. I don't want to make anyone else leave.”

“Berk, it's one in the morning. It's not like our night just started.”

I shake my head again. “Cab. Come see me at a decent hour tomorrow, 'kay?”

She huffs out a sigh and crosses her arms. She really is such a cute little pixie. “'Kay.”

I give the cabdriver directions and lay my head against the window as I ride. The cool glass soothes my hot, sweaty skin, and I close my eyes. I'm going to have to fix this situation with Grisham tomorrow. He has to know that I can't marry him. Our fathers bullied him into asking me, anyway. Right now, I kind of hate both of them.

When we arrive, I glance out the window and my eyebrows knit together. Damn, I'm either more drunk than I thought or I'm just freaking pathetic. I reach in my pocket and pull out the contents of my pockets. Phone, ID. No cash.

Shit! I must have used it all at the bar.

“Um…” I stall, looking at the cabdriver as he glares impatiently at me in his rearview mirror. “I'll be right back.”

“Hey!” he shouts as I lurch out of the car. “You pay! You pay before you go!”

His thick Middle Eastern accent is difficult to understand, but I get the gist. He's not letting me out of his sight until he has his money.

So I run, I run for Dare's front door and start pounding on it.

Yeah, Dare's door. Apparently, my mind is so focused on this man, I gave the cabdriver his address instead of my own.

And now I'm here. At one-thirty in the morning.

On the fifth pound, the cabdriver has reached me, grabbing my wrist in a vise hold.

“You pay.” His voice is demanding as he hisses at me.

“Let go!” I scream, probably louder than is necessary.

The door flies open, and Dare stands there, looking sleepy, dark, and dangerous. His eyes widen when he sees me, and his gaze locks on my wrist where the cabdriver is gripping me.

He reaches out, grabs the guy's wrist, and wrenches mine free. The cabdriver protests, but Dare's cold voice cuts him off.

“Touch her again, and you lose that hand. I'll pay you. Wait here.”

I shiver at the authority and the quiet ferocity in his voice, and he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me inside with him.

I stand beside the front door and inhale a deep, shuddering breath while he jogs down the hallway. When he returns with his wallet, he shoves a wad of cash at the cabbie and shuts the door.

Then he turns to face me.

And I have a chance to fully take him in. Dare is shirtless and shoeless. Dark gray pajama pants cover his lean, muscular legs.

And
oh, wow.

He's a full-blown, darkly delicious
man.
My abdominal muscles clench as I stare. His pecs must be as hard as boulders. His tattoos are standing out in the dim light on cut, sculpted biceps, and I can't stop my eyes from finding the sharp, sexy lines of his obliques.

My eyes land on the long, shiny line of scarred skin running from his hip bone, along his ribs, and stopping just below his left pectoral.

Through the alcohol-induced haze in my brain, I realize that this scar is what he's been rubbing when his hand absently moves to graze his side.

I
will
kick myself if I remember this in the morning, but my mouth opens, and I say, “You're beautiful.”

His mouth turns up in that crooked smile that makes me shiver, and he opens his arms.

I run into them, resting my face against his chest. I inhale, and his scent envelops me. Fresh soap, musk, and darkness.

“What are you doing here, honey?” His voice is a murmur right at my ear, and I want to cry from the relief of just being with him right now.

Honey.
I melt like the endearment he just used.

“Do you want the long version or the short version?” I sniff.

He pulls back and looks at me. “You're loaded?”

Shit. I must be slurring. I sigh, nodding.

He frowns. “Usual occurrence?”

This time, I shake my head.

“Okay. Then you've had a bad night, and I don't need to know the details right now. I'm going to pick you up, okay?”

I nod again, biting my bottom lip, and I'm lifted into the air. I cuddle into his chest as he carries me to what I assume is his bedroom. He lays me gently down on the bed, and disappears.

I look around me. There's a lamp lit on his dresser, and the room is neat and clean. When I turn on my side and inhale, his scent envelops me and again, I have the urge to cry.

He returns, carrying a glass of water. “Drink.”

I do, finishing nearly the entire glass. He hands me two aspirin, and I take them.

Then I settle back on his pillows. “I'm sorry, Dare.”

His eyes darken until the clear sea-foam is more of a teal, and he's sitting beside me in one fluid movement. “I don't want you to ever be sorry for choosing to come to me when you need me. Ever. Okay?”

With wide eyes, I nod.

“Sleep,” he orders. “We can talk in the morning, if you're up to it.”

He retreats, and all I want to do is reach out and grab him. “Where are you going?”

“The living room couch.”