Page 9

“Well, damn. Been a minute since I’ve seen you in here, Brooks,” Their waitress, Millie, said as she strolled up to the table, placing cups of ice water down for them. She didn’t even bother to pull the pen from behind her ear before cocking a hip against the counter.

He smirked, nodding. “Been busy.”

Millie’s eyes drifted to Taylor, and something flashed across her face, interest, maybe. Or curiosity.Taylor noticed the woman called him by his real name and not his nickname. They’d been intimate, or she was family. And she knew all their family, and she’d never seenor heard of Millie before.

Taylor cleared her throat, surprised by the hint of jealousy creeping up her neck. The way she was staring at Brooks as if she wasn’t there irritated her. Brooks caught the slight change in her demeanor and had to hide his smile. He hadn’t expected her to get territorial. And for what?

“What can I get y’all?” Millie asked, giving Taylor a look that said she understood.

“Coffee,” Taylor said quickly.

Millie arched a brow. “What about food, babe?”

“No, just coffee.”

“Bruh, she’ll take a stack of pancakes, two eggs scrambled hard, and turkey bacon,” Brooks said smoothly, not even bothering to glance at the menu or ask. “And I’ll take the same but with regular folk bacon and cheese on my eggs.”

Taylor shot him a look.

Millie just giggled. “Got it, babe. You’ll thank him later.”

As soon as she walked away, Taylor folded her arms on the table and leaned in.

“Did you just order for me?”

Brooks took a slow sip of his water. “Yes, you acting all weird and shit like this is a proposal dinner. I’m just tryna feed you.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re a lot.”

“Yeah? But you ain’t left yet.” His voice was low, amused. “Why you trippin’?”

“I’m not. It’s just… late. I don’t normally eat at this time of night.”

“You not goin’ to bed hungry on my watch. Try again.”

She blinked, “How’d you know I eat turkey bacon?”

“Blake fussed about it one time,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t know, just… something I remembered.”

Taylor tried to hide her smile, but her mind was blown.

He played it cool, but that was the thing about Brooks—he always noticed. Even when you thought he wasn’t watching.

In the diner’s bright lighting, she noticed things about Brooks, she’d never let herself observe before. Sharp brows, clean beard, tattoos, Rolex glinting—Brooks was quiet control. Quiet wealth.

He took up space without apology. He belonged wherever he chose to be.

The silence between them should have been awkward. But somehow it wasn’t. They were just a man and a woman in a late-night diner, finding something unexpected in each other’s company.

“You want me to beat his ass?” He asked, leaning up and looking her square in the eyes, his gaze turning cold slightly. He’d break Tyree down piece by piece, leave him breathing but wishing he wasn’t. He’d do that for her, beat his ass and tell him to man up or step aside and let a real nigga give his woman the kind of life these half-stepping, mediocre men couldn’t even imagine.

Tyree was just a nigga in the way, and Brooks had cleared paths before.

“No,” she said finally, wrapping her hands around her coffee mug. “I don’t want you getting your handsdirty or into any trouble over him. Tyree is not worth all that.”

With Brooks, the line between teasing and truth blurred like breath on glass. One word from her and he’d handle it, she wouldn’t have to ask twice. But she wasn’t that type of woman. She wanted to leave her marriage in the Black, like the Tyler Perry movie. She didn’t want anything lingering threatening to disturb her peace later on down the line.

Brooks leaned back, something dangerous flickering in his eyes. “My hands been dirty before, T. Ain’t no pressure about a little dirt. Some men only understand one language, and I’m fluent in it.”