Page 14 of The Nook for Brooks (Mulligan’s Mill #6)

CODY

The heavens opened.

One minute it was just a low growl of thunder, a curtain of clouds sliding across the sky. The next it was a full-blown downpour, sheets of water hammering the forest like the gods had tipped over a bucket the size of Lake Superior.

I loved it.

Ever since I was a little kid growing up in the tropics of North Queensland, I adored summer storms. I was a child of the monsoons.

The rains would bring life to everything.

The humidity would crack like an egg, the green frogs would bellow with joy, and the creeks of the rainforests would swell to the size of rivers.

As the rain drenched me now, I laughed at the sky, shouting into a roar of thunder. “All right, Wisconsin! Show me what you’ve got!”

Above the trees, lightning streaked the sky.

Thunder followed, so close it rattled in my chest.

I could feel the intensity building… the sheer power… the force that was nature.

But I’d also learned to respect the unpredictability of a summer downpour. I didn’t know this area. I didn’t know whether a flash flood would come tearing down the river at any moment.

As a boom of thunder shook the ground, I knew it was time to move.

The path I’d followed to the falls had already turned to mud, sucking at my boots, slippery with every stride.

Water cascaded down from a ridge, cutting small gullies that tried to trip me.

My shirt clung heavily to my shoulders, my knapsack sodden against my back.

My compass knocked against my chest, telling me there was only one direction that mattered now—shelter.

Branches whipped in the wind. I ducked my head and pushed on, pushing the soaked hair out of my eyes as the rain streamed down my face.

The outline of the old mill came into view, almost beckoning to me.

I skidded through the mud as the rain pummeled down even harder.

Thunder quaked through the blackened sky.

I reached the mill door and put my shoulder into it. It was like pushing a stone slab, but eventually the sodden door groaned open.

I slipped inside, water dripping off me in steady rivulets, the storm’s roar muffled the moment I shut the door behind me.

I staggered against the nearest wall, catching my breath, grinning despite myself. My heart was hammering, my shirt clinging, mud streaked halfway up my legs. But I was in one piece.

“Bloody hell, that was intense!”

I shuddered the waterlogged knapsack off my back. I peeled my sopping shirt off and let it slap to the ground.

A second later, I heard the last thing I was expecting.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Someone was thumping on the door.

It was followed by a voice.

“Open up! Is anybody in there? Cody, are you in there?”

“Brooks?” I gasped.

I slid across the floorboards back to the door.

With all my strength I hauled it open.

As I did, an utterly soaked Brooks Beresford burst inside and fell against me.

He instantly knocked me off balance.

My boots slipped on the wet boards.

We went down hard, the two of us hitting the floor in a tangle of limbs, leaving him sprawled on top of me.

For a heartbeat all I could hear was the storm battering the walls and the ragged sound of Brooks trying to catch his breath. His bow tie was soggy and limp, his hair plastered to his forehead, his shirt so wet it had become transparent… and I kinda liked what I could make out.

That’s when he realized he was splayed on top of me, his hands pressed against my bare chest.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“Make such a grand entrance?” I joked.

He jumped off me like I was contagious, slipping on his feet till he found his balance. For a moment he fussed with his wilted bow tie like everything was normal, then said—“Oh there you are. Good. You’re safe. No need to send out a search party, then.”

I barked out a laugh as I pulled myself to my feet. “Search party? What for? To find me?”

He twitched anxiously. “Well, I wasn’t sure if you were safe or not.

There’s a storm outside if you hadn’t noticed.

” As if to reiterate his point, a crack of thunder rattled the entire mill.

He paused a moment, then continued. “Of course, I knew you’d find shelter.

After all, you’re tough as nails… strong as an ox…

quick on your feet… smart as a fox. I just wanted to make certain…

” He paused, took a breath, then said, “I wanted to make certain you were all right.”

A wave of emotion washed over me at the realization that the nerdiest, smartest, sexiest recluse I have ever met had just come down from his tower… to rescue me .

I inhaled, smiling, trying to hold all that emotion in. “Are you… are you my search party?”

Soggy Brooks Beresford flicked the hair off his forehead. “I suppose I am. Not that you need one. Not that—”

Before he could finish his sentence, I stepped forward, took his soaking wet face in my hands, and planted my lips on his.

I didn’t plan for the kiss to happen. It was just a spontaneous moment, a spark, a thank-you, a way to tell Brooks I saw what he’d done—that he’d come for me, storm and all.

But once it started, neither of us could stop it.

The storm rattled the mill walls, rain lashed through the cracks while thunder made the boards tremble.

The wild weather seemed to release something untamed in Brooks too.

He pressed harder into me, his lips hungry, his fingers fisting my wet hair like he’d been waiting his whole life for this. I could taste rain on his tongue.

His bow tie hung sodden from his buttoned-up collar, his shirt was plastered to his chest, his breath hot and desperate.

“Brooks,” I gasped, laughing against his mouth. “You’re totally drenched.”

“You are too,” he shot back, then kissed me again, harder.

Another crash of thunder rattled the rafters. Rain cascaded through the holes in the roof. Beneath us, the river surged, water spitting up through the gaps in the warped floorboards. The great wheel outside gave a groan, shifting a few inches as though the storm was trying to bring it back to life.

Brooks startled at the sound, then grabbed my hand. “Up,” he said breathlessly. “Let’s get to higher ground. Just in case.”

We scrambled halfway up the crooked staircase, the boards creaking with each step. But we didn’t get far. Brooks suddenly spun, pushing me back against the stairs. His face was flushed, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his lips swollen from kissing.

He looked down over my bare chest, water running in rivulets between my pecs and down my abs.

“Brooks—” I started, but he cut me off with another kiss that knocked the breath from me.

He dropped to his knees on the steps, straddling me, his body pressed full against mine.

His hands fumbled at his bow tie, tearing it loose and flinging it aside.

Buttons popped on his shirt as my hands helped yank it open.

His pale skin was shiny and wet in the flashes of lightning that flared through the broken windows and holes in the roof.

“Brooks, are you sure you—”

“Shut up,” he said, then kissed me like he wanted to prove something.

I tugged his drenched pants open, my hand sliding inside. He gasped into my mouth as my fingers wrapped around his dick, the sound sharp, unpracticed, like he wasn’t used to giving anything away. His hips jerked, water dripping off both of us as I stroked him, slow at first, then faster.

“Fuck,” he whispered, forehead pressed against mine. His own hand shoved its way into my shorts, fumbling before finding my cock which was just as hard as his.

Thunder cracked.

Rain hammered.

The wheel groaned louder outside, as though the whole damn mill was straining with us.

Our hands worked in time, slick with sweat and rain, pulling and stroking until neither of us could breathe. Brooks was moaning, wild and unguarded, every ounce of control slipping away in my arms.

“Cody—” he gasped.

“Come for me,” I urged. “Let go.”

His whole body arched, and suddenly he gushed in thick hot spurts that spilled over my hand. His voice caught in short, clipped groans. The sound of it—desperate and raw—pushed me over the edge too.

I grunted into his mouth as I came, surges of cum flooding his fist, my hips bucking helplessly under his touch.

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of us—panting, clinging, trembling—and the hammer of the rain outside.

My hand was still sticky with him, his with me, and we didn’t even bother to wipe it away.

Brooks was pressed into my chest, bow tie gone, shirt hanging open, his breath hot and unsteady against my throat.

I kissed the side of his head, whispering, “You okay?”

He let out a half laugh, half groan. “I think so. Although my bow tie has seen better days.”

We both glanced down at the soggy bow tie slumped in a heap a few steps down and chuckled.

I held him tighter, and for once he didn’t wriggle out of contact. He clung back, as if surprised by himself.

“I’ve never—” he started, then shook his head.

“Never what?”

“I’ve never… let myself go like that… in a place like this… in the middle of a storm. It was all so—”

“Romantic?” I asked.

“I was going to say, like something straight out of a book.”

Another crack of thunder shuddered through the mill, making the beams above our heads shake. A low groan came from outside as the river pushed harder against the waterwheel, forcing it another few inches into motion.

Brooks stiffened in my arms. “The river’s rising.”

I glanced down. He wasn’t wrong—water was flooding in through the warped floorboards below, splashing up between the cracks.

“Okay,” I said, voice steady but low. “We can’t stay here long.”

Brooks pulled back, blinking like he’d just come out of a spell. His chest rose and fell in short breaths, his eyes darting nervously toward the gurgling boards. “Oh god, are we gonna die?”

“No, of course not. This place is old, but its bones are sturdy. Come on.” I gave him a quick kiss before tugging him up by the hand. “We’ll get higher. The upper floor should be safe enough. We’ll just wait it out till the worst passes.”

He tugged his damp shirt closed with trembling fingers. “Are you sure we’ll be okay?”

“Of course I’m sure.” I tightened my grip on him. “Trust me, Brooks. We’ll be fine.”

We climbed a few more steps together, soaked and trying not to slip on the boards, leaving his bow tie abandoned below like some drowned relic.

Outside, the wheel rumbled and lurched into motion several feet.

Inside, it sent a quiver through the cogs of the machine, jolting them to life if only for a second, sending puffs of years-old layers of dust into the air.

“Keep away from the gears,” I warned Brooks, although telling him to steer clear of danger seemed rather redundant.

We reached the upper level and snuggled safely into a corner. I wrapped my arms tightly around him and he nestled his head against my bare chest.

His damp hair clung to my skin, his breath warm and shaky against me. For a long moment we just listened—to the storm battering the roof, to the river roaring beneath the floorboards, to the faint groan of the wheel as if the whole mill was waking from a long deep sleep.

“Your heart’s racing,” Brooks murmured against my chest.

“So’s yours,” I said, pressing a kiss into his wet hair. “But I don’t think the storm is completely to blame for that.”

He gave a nervous laugh. “I’ve read scenes like this before. Lovers trapped in some gothic ruin while the elements rage outside. It always seemed like the author’s imagination was working overtime.”

“And now?”

He tilted his face up to me, eyes dark and glinting in the flickers of lightning through the roof. “Now I’m wondering if those writers knew something I didn’t.”

I stroked his cheek with my thumb. “That sometimes it takes a storm to lure a man out of his tower?”

He sighed, sinking further into me. “Exactly.”

A fresh surge of water slammed against the foundations. Dust sifted from the rafters, making Brooks jump, but I held him tighter.

“It’s okay. This place has been here for over a century. It’s not about to give up now.” I kissed the top of his head again. “We’ll wait it out together. Just you and me.”

Brooks gave the faintest nod, eyes fluttering shut, and for the first time since I’d met him, he looked… peaceful.