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“That’s not who you are anymore though, right?” She surprised herself by asking. It wasn’t judgment in her voice, just curiosity about the man sitting across from her, who seemed both familiar and unknown.

All she’d ever had was assumptions. Something in her hoped he’d found peace with his past and a safer way to make money. They’d already lost their father to that life. No way her friend could live with Brooks facing the same fate.

“Nah,” he said after a moment. “But some people still deserve the gift of an ass whooping. And I don’t like sleeping on my gifts.”

Their food arrived, interrupting whatever was building between them. Taylor was grateful for the distraction, for the chance to process how easy it felt to sit with Brooks and let him take care of her in this small way.

Chapter 3

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” she said suddenly, popping a piece of turkey bacon in her mouth.

If they were going to be here sharing a meal, the least she could do was get to know the man who’d stepped up for her. Plus, she was curious about what lay beneath that guarded exterior.

Brooks raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at his lips. “Like what?”

“Anything. We’ve known each other for years but we don’t really know each other, do we?”

He studied her for a moment, deciding how much to share. “I’m a black belt in Taekwondo,” he said with a shrug. “My momma put me in it when I was a kid.”

Taylor’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “No way.”

“Way.” His smile grew, it was beautiful and bright. “Your turn.”

“I sing in the church choir,” Taylor offered, matching his revelation with one of her own.

“I know.” At her surprised look, he shrugged. “I heard you sing before. You got a beautiful voice.”

She felt her cheeks warm because she couldn’t remember the last time she received a compliment. “Your turn.”

“I hate wearing suits,” he said also popping a pieceof bacon in his mouth. “But image is everything in business, so here we are.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You always look comfortable in them.” Among other things. Brooks could dress his ass off. When she did allow herself to look his way he was always put together.

“Nah, give me sweats and a t-shirt any day.” He studied her for a moment. “What’s something nobody would guess about you?”

Taylor took a sip of coffee, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I know every word to ‘Blow the Whistle.’”

Brooks nearly choked on his drink. “Hell nah. Taylor Bradshaw, the reverends daughter, listens to Too $hort?”

“Faithfully,” she said with a grin. “Something about that bass line just does it for me.”

“I wasn’t expecting that.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“See? I contain multitudes.” She pointed her fork at him with a laugh. “It’s Martin, you know. You keep calling me Bradshaw.”

Something darkened in his eyes, that easy warmth from earlier was replaced by stone, as he leaned up getting way too close. “Taylor, I ain’t calling you that shit. If your marriage was so important to that nigga he would’ve picked you up. Come hell or high water. No excuses.”

His voice wasn't harsh but it held an edge that made her pause.

“You were Taylor Bradshaw when I met you. That’s who you are until it’s changed to something wit’ some respect behind it.”

She sat dumbfounded, feeling slightly humored but also annoyed by how easily he dismissed her marriage. He was erasing that part of her life with just his words. As if it could be that simple.

“It doesn’t work like that Brooks.”

“It does for me though.” She could see him wrestling with something bigger than just her name. “I thought you didn’t wanna talk about that nigga. Because we can get into it if you want. The nigga is a fuckin bum, a puppy, and he should be ashamed for putting anything before his responsibilities. Before you. A man doesn’t leave his woman stranded. A man doesn’t put his wife in a position to rely on another nigga. I don’t respect that shit at all, I could never play games with or about what’s mine.”

He’d been holding that back all night.