Page 9

9

M ichelle

Stress was not a good look on me. It made my skin paler, the bags under my eyes darker, and my poor neck would surely break from tension. It didn’t matter that I slept with a chair propped up under the lock or that I cuddled with a baseball bat.

It wasn’t the first time the asshole had wanted something from me, and it wouldn’t be the last. Relying on Brooks would provide an escape and needy wasn’t something I could afford. But he would help.

I shook my head to clear thoughts like that. They were dangerous. The morning sun hit my bedroom just right, and I used the momentary peace to catch up on schoolwork. The restaurant had given me the day off for the wedding, and clinicals weren’t until Monday, so a slow morning was welcome. My study routine involved hard rock music and caffeine, and I almost cried at the empty bag of coffee. “Fucking shit.”

I rubbed my forehead with my hands and accepted my reality. I’d have to go out to get coffee if I wanted to function today—I didn’t have a choice. Tossing on clean leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, I ignored the ball of nerves in my stomach. There wasn’t any cash lying around to be stolen, and I always hid my laptop behind cleaning supplies under the sink. If he wanted to break in again, there was nothing for him.

The taste of escaping my family was so close. I had to finish school and graduate, get a full-time nursing job, and move out of this shithole place. Reaching my goal was closer than it had ever been, and staying focused on that was essential. Despite the joy and happiness Brooks radiated—wait. I locked the front door and frowned at the familiar car parked on the street. It was way too similar to Brooks’s and what the hell?

A large man was slumped over the wheel, and my heart hammered to the point that it hurt to breathe. Is he hurt? He can’t be. No. I sprinted toward the car and pounded on the window, desperately trying to open the door.

A few people on a walk looked my way, but I didn’t give a shit. If he was hurt because of my family…

“Brooks, get up. Get up!” I tried the door again and about cried when he jerked into an upright position and opened his eyes. He fumbled with the lock and pushed open the door with a panicked expression on his face.

“What is it? Are you okay?” he asked, putting his hands on my face and shoulders, searching the scene behind me as I rested my head on his chest. “Michelle, what…what happened?”

“I thought… I thought my brother hurt you. You were slumped in the car and… Why are you here?” I asked, looking up. Relief flowed through me. It was inexplicable as to why I felt this fucking happy that he was okay. My knees shook at the weight of it.

“Look,” he said, moving one hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “Brigs was fine. I went out, but I wanted to check on you after seeing your door broken.”

“So you slept in your car?” My voice came out an octave too high.

“I didn’t mean to.” He moved away from me, and the loss of contact made me colder. Stupidly so. “Christ.” He cleared his throat and tilted his head from side to side, stretching his neck until he cracked—that was in no way supposed to be attractive, but it was.

“Brooks,” I said, unsure what I wanted to tell him. Thank you seemed stupid and touched felt too mushy. “I’m fine,” was all I could get out without jumping on him and hugging him for three hours. “Really.”

He made a noncommittal face, and his gaze went to my apartment door. “Let me get your door fixed, at least.”

“I left a work order for my landlord.” I crossed my arms over my sweater, unsure what to do with my hands because the more I stared at Brooks, the more I wanted to throw my rules out of the goddamn window. “He’ll get to it.”

“Mm.” He didn’t look convinced, and he eyed his watch. “Where are you off to this early?”

“Caffeine.” I laughed. “I meant, coffee. I need caffeine, and I like to consume it via coffee.”

The corners of his lips turned up, and that smile combined with his just-woken-up look was too much for me to handle. He let out a soft chuckle and jutted his chin toward his car. “Can I tag along? I’ll drive.”

“Sure,” I said, unsure of how to manage the butterflies overtaking my stomach. It felt like my first crush before my dad had gotten into all his shit and ruined any sense of normalcy. “My treat, though.”

We drove down the road to Annette’s, a hole-in-the-wall coffee place. Annette was eighty years old and had worked there every single day I had ever visited, and the chipped red wallpaper comforted me instead of put me off. Service was her specialty, not appearances, and I waved at her when Brooks ushered me through the door. “Hey, Annette.”

“Michelle,” she said, smiling as her gaze landed on Brooks. “Who is he?”

“Brooks Madsen, ma’am,” he said, reaching over the counter to shake her hand. “Nice setup you got here.”

“Thank you, handsome.” She beamed at him, and I swore she pulled her shirt down to show cleavage. I couldn’t help but snort. “What can I get you? Anything you want, the menu be damned.”

Brooks winked at me when she turned to point at the board, and I nudged his hip with mine. He knew exactly what he was doing. “I’ll take a black coffee. Thank you.”

“Same for me.” I reached into my wallet and handed her my stamp card and a five. “Keep the change, please.”

“Appreciate it, Michelle.” She handed us two steaming cups and pulled out a stamp. Instead of just two, she gave me eight and wiggled her eyebrows at Brooks. “You into older women?”

“If I was, you would be first on my list.”

“I’m single and live above the place. If you get drunk and want to be daring, stop by. Anytime.”

“Annette,” I said, giving her a look to make her stop. She ignored it and made a loud popping noise with her lips. “My god, woman.”

“If you don’t ride him, I reserve the right to refuse you service.” She picked up a towel and started wiping down the counter, and I had no choice but to meet Brooks’s highly amused gaze. “Not a word, handsome. Not a word.”

He laughed hard when we got into his car and I tried to stop it, but it felt good to get it out. He wiped under his eyes and leaned back into his chair with a loud groan. “I’m equally mortified and amused. It’s an odd combo, that’s for sure.”

“She’s never spoken like that around me. Ever,” I said between giggles. “So inappropriate.”

“Must be why she owns the place. She is a walking HR violation.” He cringed and pretended to shiver. “Think she meant her word?”

“Her word?”

“About riding me?” he had the audacity to ask with a passive, innocent face.

I scoffed and shook my head. “She probably meant it. Good thing I already have, so she can continue to be my main source of caffeine.”

He narrowed his eyes, but that was the only sign he didn’t like my answer. He started the car and drove me back to the apartment, all sign of stiffness gone from his neck. I was impressed. My body would be hurting like hell if I’d slept like that, and I couldn’t stop myself from prying. “Your muscles are all okay? That can’t have been comfortable for you. It won’t mess with your playing ability, right?”

“Worried about me?” he teased, putting the car into park and smiling way too widely at me. “It’s cute.”

“I’m not… Well…just answer. Are you okay?”

“I’m sore here.” He pointed to the spot where his neck met his shoulder. “It’s my throwing arm, and I’ll do some stretches when I get back to my place. Shouldn’t be anything too bad.”

“Good. Good.” I chewed on my bottom lip, unsure how to depart. He was charming all the fucking time, and it exhausted me. He was so happy and kind and loved his mother… Time for me to stop.

“I should let you go.”

“No plans except our date tonight.”

“Friend date, you mean,” I corrected him and hated the slight shift of his smile. The longer I was around this man, the more the reasons I needed to stay away from him disappeared. “See you then?”

He nodded, and I jumped out of the car way too fast, spilling coffee on my shirt. I expected to see him laughing or making fun of me, but the longing on his face caught me off guard. And instead of facing it like an adult, I avoided it and walked as fast as I could to my apartment.

* * *

Having a cheap glass of red wine while getting ready for the wedding helped with two things—my nerves at seeing Brooks again and the undeniable attraction I had to him. But it wasn’t just about attraction anymore. That was the easy part, the part I understood.

What I didn’t understand was how he kept slipping past my walls, how he made me feel like I wasn’t just the girl barely holding everything together. It scared me. Wanting him wasn’t the problem—I could handle that. But needing him? Trusting him to stay? That was dangerous.

I smoothed my dress over my hips, rolling my shoulders back. Deep blue chiffon, thin straps, and a neckline that balanced elegance with just a hint of daring. It was my armor tonight, the way my perfume was, the way my carefully tousled hair sent a message—confident, in control, totally not overthinking anything.

A knock sounded on the door.

I inhaled sharply, pressed my hands to my stomach like I could quiet the nerves, and opened it.

Brooks.

My breath hitched. He looked…God, he looked better than he had any right to. His suit fit him too well, his grin was too easy, and something about the way he filled my doorway made my heart stutter in my chest.

“You’re gorgeous,” I said before I could stop myself.

His smirk deepened as he held out a bouquet. “These are for you. Or for Annette. I couldn’t decide on the way here.”

Bright yellow. My stomach flipped, my throat tightening unexpectedly. No one had ever given me flowers before. Not for a birthday, not for a holiday, not for any reason at all.

I swallowed hard. “No one’s ever…” I trailed off, blinking at them like they might disappear.

Brooks’ smirk softened into something quieter. “Then they’re definitely yours.”

I stared down at the bouquet, fingers brushing against the delicate petals. Why was this making me feel like this? He’d given me things before—stolen fries, borrowed hoodies, a million dumb nicknames. But this was different. This wasn’t teasing. This was just…kind.

I turned, placing the flowers in a chipped vase on the table, and that’s when Brooks’ eyes landed on the stack of books beside them.

“Nursing textbooks?” His voice was curious, not mocking. He flipped one open, scanning the notes I’d scribbled in the margins. “Jesus, Michelle. Some of these words don’t even look real.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Try memorizing them.”

His fingers traced over a highlighted passage, his expression unreadable. “I know you work your ass off, but seeing all this? Damn, I don’t know how you do it.”

I shrugged, suddenly feeling too exposed. “You just…do.”

Brooks looked up at me then, something steady in his gaze. “No, Michelle. You choose to. And it’s incredible.”

My throat tightened. No one ever said things like that to me. People praised me for working hard, for pushing through, for grinding it out—but they never looked at me like it actually meant something. Like I meant something.

I forced a smirk, trying to lighten the moment. “Look at you, saying nice things. Who are you, and what have you done with Brooks?”

His mouth quirked up. “Don’t worry, I’ve still got a few bad pickup lines left.”

He stepped closer, his large hands finding my bare shoulders, his touch warm and grounding. “You’re like a glass of water,” he said, his voice lower now, more thoughtful.

I blinked. “I think you mean a tall drink of water?”

“No. I meant what I said.” He leaned in, pressing the lightest kiss to my cheek. “Looking at you makes me thirsty.”

A laugh bubbled up, breaking through the thick tension. “Oh my God. That was terrible.”

He grinned, clapping his hands together. “Phenomenal. My plan is working.”

I rolled my eyes, placing my hands on my hips. “And what plan is that?”

“Well,” he said, puffing out his chest like he was incredibly proud of himself. “First, the flowers. Then, the worst pickup line you’ve ever heard. And now…” He pointed toward the door with a dramatic flourish. “A limo is waiting outside.”

I blinked. “A what?”

“A limo.” His grin widened. “I figured if you didn’t go to high school dances, you deserved the full experience—cheesy lines, fancy rides, and the chance to scream nonsense out of a sunroof.”

The laugh that escaped me was shaky, surprised. If I didn’t laugh, I’d sure as hell cry because these emotions were so damn new. I didn’t know how to handle this. Physical relationships made sense—flirting, teasing, bodies pressed together. But this? This quiet thoughtfulness, this kindness—it made my chest ache. It was terrifying.

It wasn’t something I could get used to. Because things like this? They never lasted.

Brooks must have noticed the shift in my expression because his forehead creased, his voice dropping. “Hey, hey. Why the long face? I thought you’d be excited.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to push away the thoughts clawing at the back of my mind. This was Brooks. He wasn’t doing this to mess with me.

And maybe, just for tonight, I could let myself believe in it.

“That sounds…perfect,” I said, reaching out and placing my hands on his face, grounding myself in the warmth of him. “I’m so in.”

His answer was a slow, easy smile before he took my hand and kissed the back of it. “You look incredible, by the way. But you look good no matter what you wear.” His smirk returned, teasing now. “Scrubs, jeans, a dress—hell, even your work uniform does things to me. You wore that apron that one time?—”

“Brooks!” I groaned, blushing furiously.

He laughed, tugging me toward the door. “Come on, let’s go make some bad decisions.”

He gave me a cheeky grin before motioning me to exit. His hand was on my bare back as we headed to the limo, and I stopped. “I can’t believe you rented a limo. If I didn’t know you, I’d say it was showing off. But it’s you, so…thank you.”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders from behind and pulled me into a backward hug. It felt incredible having his arm around me, enveloping me in his clean scent and protecting me from everything else in the world, even just for a few moments. “I figured you take care of everyone and don’t spoil yourself enough.”

“So you wanted to spoil me?”

“I wanted to see your smile, and I did, and you can’t take it back.” He kissed my neck, and I tensed, desperately wanting him to continue down my body and bite my collarbone and mark me so I’d see him on my skin for days. But he did no such thing. He moved to open the side door and paused when I stared at him. “What?”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s confusing?”

“This. You.” I let out a long breath and spotted a bucket of champagne sitting on the seat. “Thank Christ.”

“I knew that would reel you in.” He laughed, and once we were seated in the back, he poured two glasses for us. He didn’t say anything when we clinked our glasses together. It was intimate. Really intimate. He held my gaze and lowered his head like he was going to kiss me but stopped. “Are you ready for your first limo experience?”

I almost panted. “Y-yes.”

“Excellent.” He licked his lips, and every nerve in my body tensed as I waited for his lips to touch mine. But, instead of connecting our mouths, he wiggled his eyebrows and opened the sunroof. “We’re going to yell at people.”

“What? You’re not gonna kiss me?”

He smirked way too big for me. “Glad to know where your mind is, Mitch. But no, not yet.”

‘Yet’ being the key word that hung between us.

He downed the glass and pulled me up so we both stood looking out of the sunroof. Our chests were pressed tightly together, and my stomach swooped when he cupped the back of my head. But there was no kissing, and this was the best date I had ever been on.

And we still had hours together.