Dare to Kiss (The Maxwell Series Book 1) (3 page)

Oh, my God.
He was watching me? A shiver crept up my spine. Why was I surprised? We usually had a lot of people observing from the stands. Most of them were girls watching Tyler, although we hadn’t had any spectators last night.

“You mean a wicked hook,” Dad said matter-of-factly.

“Da-a-ad.” I couldn’t believe my father had just said that. Okay, I needed to break up the love fest, or at the very least get Kade to leave before he said anything about the gun. “Did you fix my car, Dad?”

“I’m James Robinson, by the way. Nice to meet you, son. You go to school here, I take it?”

“Yes, sir. I love your Impala. Did you restore it? Let me guess, 1964, six-point-seven liter engine.”

“Correct. You like old cars, Kade?”

“I do, sir. My dad has a 1965 Shelby GT350 Street. One of the first Mustangs made.”

Dad’s brows shot up. “I would love to check it out sometime.”

“Anytime, sir.”

I had no idea what model Mustang I was driving, or I should say not driving. The one I was resting my butt against was a piece-o-crap. Still, these two were gushing like two girls talking about shoes. I didn’t know if I should be happy about it or not. If they were talking cars, at least they weren’t talking about a certain gun I shouldn’t have had in my car.

“I need to go. I have a meeting to get to. If there’s anything I can do to help, Mr. Robinson, please let me know,” Kade said, glancing my way.

“Sure thing, son.”

Kade held out his hand. “Great to meet you, sir.”

Dad shook his hand. “Next time my daughter hits you, please call me.”

Horrified, I stalked over to Dad as Kade walked past me. Our shoulders brushed and an electrical charge zapped me. I cast him what I hoped was a snarky glare over my shoulder, but he didn’t even turn around.

“Nice boy,” Dad said as he fished the keys to my car out of the front pocket of his faded jeans.

I harrumphed and crossed my arms over my chest. “Really, Dad. You want him to call you if I sucker punch him again. He deserved it.”

“Everyone deserves to get punched—because that’s what you’ve been doing since the funeral. I told you already, you need to learn restraint.”

I dropped my head, looking at my black flats. I hated that he was right.

“When is your appointment with Dr. Davis?”

Since we’d moved, we had to find another psychiatrist. Dr. Meyers had recommended Dr. Larry Davis, who had an office in Lancaster, which was the next town over. Good thing—I wasn’t all that tickled about being seen walking into a psychiatrist’s office. This was a small town. I didn’t want to have my name on the lips of everyone who lived here as they talked about how crazy the new girl was.

Blowing out a breath, I lifted my head. “At the end of the week.”

Dad folded his bulk into my car and started the engine. It turned over like the well-oiled machine it was. He gave it more gas, and the engine purred. “Let’s let it run for a few minutes. Actually, why don’t we take it around to the front of the school? I’ll follow you over there,” Dad suggested. He jumped into the Impala, and I got into my car.

It only took two minutes to pull into the visitor parking at the front entrance of the two-story brick building. Grabbing my book bag, I slid out of the car and threw my keys into my purse. I didn’t think students were allowed to park here, but I was new, after all. I walked up to stand at the flagpole and waited for Dad. He’d parked two spaces over from me.
What was taking him so long?
I was about to go over to his car when he jumped out, flattening his lips and biting on the bottom one.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing, Lacey,” he said, sauntering up to me.

“Are you sure? I know you don’t like to tell me things because of my…”
Geez, I didn’t know what I had anymore
. I was beginning to believe I was nuts. Maybe something other than PTSD festered inside me. Whatever it was, I had to get it under control. After yesterday and this morning, I really did need help. I prayed my new psychiatrist would help me like Dr. Meyers had.

“You worry about school and baseball. After all, that’s why we’re here, right? Your future and to get a fresh start.” I didn’t like the sadness in his voice. He made it sound like it was my fault we moved three thousand miles away.

“Dad, we both agreed to this.” Tears threatened. The last thing I wanted to do was be the cause of my father’s unhappiness.

He threw his arm over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sweet Pea. The club is just a little out-of-control right now.”

“Why did you even buy another club?”

“We’ll discuss it later.”

Cars were slowly filling the parking lot in the distance. As we made our way into the school, Dad and I talked about my classes and what was expected of me. I had to hunker down and make sure my grades were top-notch—otherwise ASU wasn’t even going to consider me for a baseball scholarship. The problem was I still had to take a few junior classes that I hadn’t had a chance to catch up on since we were moving, not to mention my senior subjects, too. I had a tough year ahead of me.

We were on our way to meet with the principal and guidance counselor to see if they would allow me to test out of trig and calculus. I’d always been good in math, and I needed those two subjects to graduate. I’d been teaching myself both all summer. If I passed, I would have more free time for all my other subjects and baseball.

Dad opened one side of the double glass doors of the main entrance. The building stretched out on both sides. I wasn’t sure how many students attended. I knew from registering that the senior class alone had two hundred kids.

As soon as I entered, I bumped into a girl with bluish-black hair, wearing skinny black jeans, a yellow V-neck sweater that hugged her curves, and black patent leather flats.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She scrunched her perfectly manicured eyebrows at me, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder.

“Cat got your tongue?” I asked.

She stood frozen in the hall, sizing me up as if I was some idiot that dared to bump into her.

Dad had gotten stuck holding the door open for a few other students that trudged in behind us.

“You’re the new girl. The one that’s here to play baseball,” she said.

Ooookay.
How did she know that?

“Hi, I’m Becca. Becca Young.” She extended her hand.

I checked on Dad, who hadn’t moved, then turned back to Becca.

“Don’t worry. I don’t bite. I’m one of the few girls in this school that doesn’t.” Her pink lips stretched into a smile.

“Hi, I’m Lacey Robinson.”

We shook hands. Hers were colder than mine.

“How did you know who I was?” I asked.

“I didn’t. I took a wild guess, since you’re wearing an LA Dodgers T-shirt. And who comes to the first day of school with their father, anyway?” She tossed a handful of hair over her shoulder.

I loved the Dodgers and had several T-shirts with their logo. “Nice guess.”
God.
I hoped she wasn’t going to be like the girls at my last school, berating me for my appearance.

Dad finally abandoned his post as temporary doorman.

“This is my dad, James Robinson. Dad, Becca.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dad said. “So, Becca, can you point us toward the principal’s office?”

“Sure. I’ll walk with you.” Becca’s shoes clicked on the tile floor as we headed to see the principal.

“I’m so glad girls are trying out for baseball again,” Becca said.

Dad and I exchanged a perplexed look.

“Oh, you don’t know,” she said. “We haven’t had a girl play since Mandy Shear was killed two years ago.”

I stopped in my tracks, Dad and Becca walking ahead.
She was killed? How?
I had just freaked out over my battery cables coming loose.
Don’t freak. Breathe.

Dad turned, holding out his arm. “What happened?” he asked, waiting for me to join them.

“Hey, Becca,” a boy’s voice came from behind us.

“Yo, Scott. How goes it, dude?” she yelled over her shoulder.

The exchange between her and the boy allowed me to take a few deep breaths.

“We should keep walking. The halls will be crowded soon. And we’re not allowed to talk about Mandy’s death on school grounds,” she said in a hushed tone.

“Why?” I asked, even though she’d just said the topic was all but closed. Dad placed his hand lightly on my arm.

She glanced up at the wooden sign above the frosted-paned door. “Here’s your stop.” She waved me off. “I’ll see you around. You’re a senior, right?” she asked, backing away.

“I am,” I said.

“Then I’m sure we’ll have a class or two together.” She bounced on her feet and sauntered over to Scott, a short blond wearing black-rimmed glasses.

“Why do you think the topic of Mandy is off limits on school property?” I asked Dad as we stood in the admin office. A counter separated the room into halves. Behind the chest-high glass counter stood a metal desk. Three windows separated by thin pieces of wood were built into the gray walls that overlooked a small grassy area outside with decorative trees.

“It’s probably still a sensitive subject. You should know that, Lacey.” Dad sauntered up to the counter.

Even though Dad was right, I couldn’t help my curiosity or my trepidation.

The red-haired lady behind the counter was busy with paperwork.

Dad cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said in the softest voice. It wasn’t even seven thirty in the morning and this lady looked as if she had worked an entire day already. Black circles marred the area under her blue eyes, and her pale skin had a sheen to it as though she had been sweating. “I’ve been working non-stop, getting things in order. I just hate the first day.” Her eyes met Dad’s, and I swear all stress left her face.

Dad flashed his winning smile, and the woman looked like she had one of those moments that I had when I laid eyes on Kade. Sure, my dad was ruggedly handsome. He had brown wavy hair like me. His green eyes usually sparkled when he was happy. These days, though, I hadn’t seen any glimmer in them. He always kept a five-o-clock shadow on his face like he had now. My mom had loved him with “that scruffy look,” as I called it.

“No problem,” Dad said. “We have an appointment with Principal Sanders.”

“Oh, yes. Please take a seat. She’s busy at the moment. I’ll let her know you’re here.” She scooted around a desk and the counter before opening the door to the principal’s office. “Your seven thirty is here.”

“Tell Mr. Robinson I’ll be right with him,” the principal said.

“Yes, ma’am.” Then the lady turned to Dad, with a distant expression. “She’ll be right with you.”

“I didn’t get your name,” Dad said.

We were still at the counter while she made her way back to her desk. “I’m Barbara. Everyone calls me Barb, though.” Her cheeks turned red to match her hair.

Oh, geez.
Dad was making this lady flush.

“Everyone calls me James,” Dad said, leaning forward on the counter.

It was like I wasn’t even in the room. I didn’t know if I was happy about that or not. True, Dad needed to move on with his life. Eventually, he needed to find someone he was interested in. Still, it might be too soon, but then again, did love ever have a timetable, or was there ever a good or bad time for romance?
Oh, shit.
What the hell was I thinking? I had my father already in love with this woman and married off before I even started my first day of school.

“This is my daughter, Lacey,” he said, looking at me.

“Pleased to meet you, Barb,” I said.

She nodded. “I’m sure I’ll get to know you over the next year, Lacey. Anyway, Ms. Sanders will be with you shortly. I need to get back to class schedules.”

Dad nodded to Barb before guiding me over to the empty chairs that lined the wall. We both sat down. Aside from Barb tapping the keys on her computer, the room was eerily silent. Dad and I were lost in our own thoughts when the door to the principal’s office opened, and I couldn’t believe it—Kade Maxwell stalked out, looking all badass. My heart stopped, my mouth became dry, and my hands clammy. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, and when our eyes met, a voice in my head screamed to run.
Yep, this was going to be one hellish senior year
.

Chapter 3

P
rincipal Sanders sat behind her mahogany desk, writing on a notepad, when Dad and I entered.

“I’ll be right with you,” she said, not looking up.

As we waited, I took in the spacious room. Beside the expensive looking desk, several bookcases lined the left wall. Just behind Principal Sanders, a bank of windows brought in bright sunlight, showing the specks of dust floating in the air. A small sink with an under-counter refrigerator abutted the bookcases, with a loveseat against the right wall. No guest chairs. Normally, there would be two in front of the desk. How odd
.
The principal’s office at Crestview had chairs for guests. Even my dad’s office at Eko Records had chairs.

Standing next to Dad, I checked my phone for messages—I didn’t have any. I didn’t expect to, but I was nervous all of sudden and needed to do something. Dad stood with his hands crossed in front of him like he was a bouncer at his own nightclub.

Setting her pen down, Principal Sanders rose, smoothing her skirt. Her long black hair cascaded down around her shoulders, and her gray eyes had dots of blue in them, coordinating with her gray suit. I bet they looked different when she wore different colors. Brad’s greenish-blue eyes had seemed more blue when he wore a green shirt.

“I don’t believe in chairs for my guests. Please take no offense. When my guests are usually out-of-control kids, I don’t want them relaxing in chairs. However, since neither of you is here to get reprimanded, please have a seat on the sofa.” She revealed bright white teeth behind red lips, enhancing deep laugh lines.

Turning, I took a few steps and sat down. Dad did the same.

Ms. Sanders collected her chair, rolling it over to the sitting area.

The door creaked open, and a blond-haired lady carried in a straight-backed wooden chair.

“Thank you, Mrs. Flowers, for joining us.”

Did all staff members come with their own chairs? Then something tumbled through my brain. Had Kade been in trouble? He hadn’t walked out with a chair. But the first day of school hadn’t started yet, so how could he be in trouble? I quickly dismissed the thought. I was here for me and not to think about Kade.

After everyone was settled, we went through the introductions.

“Okay. We have about twenty minutes before the first bell.” Ms. Sanders crossed one leg over the other then flipped open a notepad.

“Very well, then.” Mrs. Flowers opened a file. “Lacey, I’ll be helping you throughout the school year to stay on track with your goals. Prior to this meeting, I was able to get all your former school records together.” Her short bob fell forward as she scanned a piece of paper in the file. “I will say I’m impressed with your grades until…anyway, you have a tough schedule this year.”

I guess she didn’t want to bring up the funeral or whatever it was that she was about to say.

“So if you’re set on trying out for the boys’ baseball team, then you’re going to have to put your nose in the books during your free time,” Ms. Sanders added. “We’re all about sports here at Kensington, but we’re strict when it comes to academics. We want our students to be well prepared for college. We have several competitive academic clubs that have won awards every year. I understand from Mrs. Flowers you’re extremely good in math. Maybe an academic team would suit you.” She tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear.

An odd noise rumbled from Dad. I glanced at him to find he had a scowl on his face. “What is this, Ms. Sanders? Are you trying to steer my daughter away from something she’s dreamed about all her life?” Dad’s nostrils flared.

“Mr. Robinson, please. I didn’t mean anything other than to say that she has gotten excellent grades in the past. I was just suggesting another alternative,” Ms. Sanders responded.

“Lacey will not be competing on any academic teams. Baseball is it,” he said.

“What happens if she doesn’t make the team?” Mrs. Flowers asked.

I didn’t want to think about that. I wanted to stay optimistic. “Regardless of baseball, I’m still going to ASU,” I said. “So how can I test out of the math subjects?”

A pregnant pause filled the room. Ms. Sanders jotted something down on her notepad, and Mrs. Flowers sifted through my file. Dad and I exchanged a look. His stress level seemed to have evened out. I only knew that because the pained expression on his face had softened.

Was there something wrong? Why wasn’t the answer straightforward?

Thankfully, Dad spoke. “Is there a problem, ladies?”

Mrs. Flowers swallowed, a sound that grated on me in the quiet room. Ms. Sanders, on the other hand, stood, rolled her chair back behind her desk and dropped the pad on top. It made a snapping sound like someone had popped a balloon.

“Mr. Robinson, I’ll be honest with you.” She came around and leaned against the shiny piece of furniture, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s going to be hard for Lacey to meet her goals this year.”

“What does that have to do with testing out of a few subjects?” I asked. Did she have other plans for me?

Dad pushed to his feet. I caught his wrist before he moved away. His grimace told me to back off, so I let go of him. I liked that he was taking control to support me rather than apologize to the principal for my bad behavior, which was what he’d done a few times at Crestview.

“Principal Sanders, I respect your position, and what you’re trying to do here. But my daughter has been to hell and back this past year. I don’t expect you to understand, and for certain, I don’t want your pity. You assured me on the phone more than once that you would work with us to ensure Lacey worked toward her goals. So aside from telling us that she can’t test out, I don’t want to hear that you’re not going to allow her to try out.”

“Mr. Robinson, the boys on the baseball team are tough. So much so that I had to reprimand them when the last girl that was on—”

“That’s not my concern,” Dad said. “You don’t know Lacey at all. If you did, you would know that she doesn’t put up with anything, especially bullies. My daughter is probably tougher than most boys in this school. Regardless, she always sticks to her goals. If it weren’t for…anyway, she can handle herself.”

Way to go, Dad!

Mrs. Flowers’s mouth was agape and her eyes were wide. Ms. Sanders had a completely blank expression on her face.

After several agonizing seconds, the principal broke the silence. “Please forgive me. You’re right, Mr. Robinson,” she said. “Mrs. Flowers, please set up a date and time for Lacey to take the tests.” She smoothed out her skirt. “Mr. Robinson, I appreciate your candor. My staff will help, but Lacey, it’s up to you to put in the work. I expect two things from you. One, you do not cause any trouble while a student here, and two, you maintain good grades while playing sports. Is that understood?”

I went to stand next to Dad. “Yes, ma’am. But…I’ll also protect myself.” Just like I had at my last school. I wanted her to know that regardless of tough boys or girls in this school, I wouldn’t let anyone bully me.

She eyed me up and down for a moment. “Very well then. This meeting is over.”

Mrs. Flowers didn’t move.

“Thanks for your time,” Dad said. We both headed for the door. I was out in the admin office when Ms. Sanders called to Dad.

He turned back toward her office and stabbed his thumb behind him at Barb’s desk. “Go. I’ll talk with the principal. I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

I shrugged then inclined my head. I had no idea what the principal was going to say to my father, and frankly, I didn’t want to know. Between the night before and that morning, my life seemed to have taken a turn for the worse.
Was she really trying to steer me clear of the boys’ baseball team? If so, why? She said she had to reprimand the boys for the last girl on the team. Had the team had something to do with her death? I’d had a dose of naysayers at Crestview from a couple of boys on the team. They didn’t think a girl helped their chances of winning games—until they saw me pitch. So whatever the boys at Kensington had to dish out, I would be ready.

The first bell rang just as I was weaving into a crowd of students in the hall. Anxiety pangs from being a new student ate at my stomach when I merged into traffic. I didn’t know where I was going. I had my schedule, I had my locker number, but I had no clue where anything was.

“Lacey,” a female voice called.

Scanning the hall, I saw Becca standing against a locker up ahead, waving at me.

I slipped out of the herd of students and stopped beside her.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Fine.” I wasn’t about to tell her that my father almost took off Ms. Sanders’s head.

“Do you know where you’re going?” she asked.

“No. I have English first. Well, after homeroom. I need to find my locker, too.”

Her dark eyes sized me up.

I angled my head. “You have a problem?”

“Not me. But the girls in this school will. I hear that you’ve been hanging out with Tyler Langley.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I don’t know what your last high school was like, but this one, the claws come out for anyone who pisses on their parade, if you know what I mean.”

I wasn’t naïve about the cliques in high school or the groups of cheerleaders who ruled the schools. Not that I’d had any problems with them at my old school. In fact, as a sophomore, my sister had cheered for Crestview. “I couldn’t care less. I’m not into cliques or groups or girlie shit.”

She smiled wide. “That’s good. We’ll get along just fine then.” She pushed off the locker. “Why don’t we head to English? I have class with you.”

“What about homeroom?” I asked.

“Homeroom is usually in the same wing as your first period. That way students don’t have to walk too far between the two since they don’t give us much time.”

Students congregated at their lockers and near windowsills as we made our way over to the English wing. I learned from Becca along the way that the school was sectioned off by subject. We had just turned a corner when Tyler sauntered up to us, towering over the crowd.

“Here we go,” Becca muttered, scanning the hall.

“Hey, Lacey,” Tyler said. “Everything okay this morning?”

The conversations in the hall stopped. An eerie silence reigned around us. If I listened hard enough I could probably hear Becca’s heartbeat. Like the audience, Becca’s gaze fixed on Tyler. I hoped it wasn’t the fact that the good-looking football player was paying attention to the new girl.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You know, last night.” His eyes softened. It was one of his looks that made the girls who’d watched us at practice melt into liquid. For some reason, I wasn’t melting. Sure, he was handsome, strong, tall, and had a quiet personality. In a lot of ways, he reminded me of my brother, Rob. Maybe that was why he didn’t appeal to me as boyfriend material.

One girl gasped, latching onto her friend. Even though I hated drama, I also hated when others were nosy. I decided to have some fun instead of biting their heads off for ogling.

“Oh, Tyler. You really were great last night,” I crooned. It wasn’t a lie—he was amazing at helping me with practice.

His mouth curled into a wolfish grin. He stepped into my little taunt without any hesitation.
Cool!
“It was great, wasn’t it?” he said, slipping his arm around me, dragging me to his broad chest. His lips grazed my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

A chorus of gasps resounded, mostly from the girls.

“You’re playing with fire, Lace.”

“Didn’t you know my middle name is fire?” I eased out of his embrace.

He chuckled.

Camera phones flashed. I’d bet the photos would be all over the Internet. I didn’t care. It wasn’t like I had a boyfriend. As for Tyler, he’d mentioned he dated, but no one steady at present.

Becca’s slightly open mouth closed. “How long have you two known each other?” she asked.

“Don’t worry. We’re not exclusive,” I said teasingly.

She leaned in to me. “Make sure you know what you’re doing, New Girl.” A streak of envy colored her tone.

“Thanks for the warning.” I knew how to handle myself.

“So what do you have for first period?” Tyler asked.

“English. And you?” The three of us had huddled near a locker, which to my surprise was actually mine. I grabbed the combination from my purse and punched in the code on the lock.

“English too,” Tyler replied. “So what about tonight? Do you want to do it again?”

Becca choked.

“Baseball,” he said, glaring at her. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” A hint of anger threaded through the last sentence.

“Chill, Tyler. It’s not like I’m still…whatever. Lacey, I’ll see you in English.” Then she stomped off to a classroom down the hall.

The crowd had dispersed with the exception of five girls. All of them were pretty, toned, with boobs that any guy would love, and every one of them was a brunette. What were the odds? Was that one of the prerequisites to be in that clique?

One glance their way and red sparks shot out of their eyes.
Oh, yeah. They hate me
.

“Ignore them,” Tyler whispered.

I hadn’t planned on giving them my undivided attention. “Who are they?”

“Cheerleaders. We call them Grace’s Posse.” Tyler relaxed against a locker next to mine.

“Which one is Grace?” I flicked my eyes toward them then back at Tyler.

“She’s not here.” He swept his blue gaze over me as he inched closer.

“What?” I stuck a couple of books that were in my backpack into my locker and shut it, the tinny sound of the metal door bouncing off the walls.

“Do you want to grab something to eat later? I still owe you a shake and fries.” His blue eyes darkened.

“As friends?” I needed to be clear on the subject.

“Isn’t that what we are?” He looked past me.

In my mind, yes. In his mind, I wasn’t so sure. We stood there in awkward silence. The cheerleaders had vanished. A girl and a boy sucked face at a locker farther down from mine.

Finally, I said, “Do you want to go to Roy’s? They have the best fries.”

“Six?” he asked as the bell rang.