Читать книгу The Closer You Come - Gena Showalter - Страница 12
ОглавлениеBROOK LYNN LIFTED her arms overhead, arched her back and extended her legs while pointing her toes. As she stretched, the heavy ache of slumber gradually receded from each of her limbs. Sunlight spilled over her, warming her. The seductive scent of masculine musk mixed with the pleasant fragrance of honey and oats enveloped her, fusing with the very fabric of her being. The softness of the sheet beneath her paired with the comforter above her made her feel as though she’d been swathed by clouds. It was, quite simply, heaven on earth. Something she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. If ever.
The only thing that would have made the moment better was a bowl of her French toast casserole, baked with layers of fresh bread, heavy cream, brown sugar and the pecans that fell from the tree shrouding her front porch.
Her stomach rumbled, all get up and prepare this now.
She blinked open her eyes. An unfamiliar—no, slightly familiar—setting greeted her. A single window was draped by navy blue curtains. Minimal furnishings: a bed, two nightstands and a dresser. The wood floor was scuffed. Realization struck, and she frowned. She’d been here once before—and it had not been an enjoyable experience.
Realization struck a second time. This was Jase’s bedroom.
She jolted upright, her heart a wild cascade against her ribs as she zeroed in on the damage she had caused here. The nightstand with a crack, nothing more looked ready to crumble. The “ugly” lamp was a porcelain beauty marred by a crater.
The dark brown comforter on the bed—moved.
Gasping, she scrambled back...falling off the edge of the bed and hitting the floor with a loud thump. She jumped to shaky legs, ready to defend herself from—
“Jessie Kay?”
A soft, sleepy moan registered, followed by a breathy sigh. Relief poured through Brook Lynn as her sister rolled to her side, soon returning to a sleep coma anyone suffering with exhaustion would envy.
A quick scan proved the girl was unharmed and fully dressed, missing only her shoes. Brook Lynn was fully dressed and without shoes, as well, wearing the same T-shirt and shorts she’d worn last night. But though she searched, she found no sign of their footwear.
Bits and pieces of memory teased the fringe of her mind. Searching bar after bar with West and Beck while Jase opted to guard the car. At some point she must have fallen asleep. She had a vague recollection of Jase carrying her to his bedroom. For a moment, she’d thought she was floating. Then she’d felt a strong heartbeat against her temple...steel-hard arms undergirding her...the most delicious heat wrapping around her.
Why hadn’t Jase taken her and Jessie Kay home? To their home? And dang it, where was her cell phone? If she didn’t call Edna soon, there would be hell to pay. Who was she kidding? There was already hell to pay. The clock beside the bed proclaimed 10:03 in bold red numbers. Brook Lynn was seriously late. And if she lost that job...
She stalked into the bathroom, took care of business and washed up quickly, brushing her teeth with paste on her index finger. It wasn’t ideal, but the only other option was using Jase’s toothbrush, and she would rather die than allow his mouth to come that close to hers, even by proxy.
Her reflection revealed a bedraggled mess with rosy cheeks and eyes sparking wildly. With anticipation? Excitement? No, no. Of course not. More like frustration and annoyance.
In the hallway, the scent of bacon and eggs saturated the air, causing her mouth to water and her stomach to rumble all over again. She hadn’t had a decent meal in... Crap, when was the last time she’d had a decent meal? There was rarely enough time to shop or cook, even though she loved to do both, so she usually snacked on bread and cheese at Two Farms.
Won’t be able to do that anymore.
Before she could work up another cry over the loss of a major source of income, the sound of banging registered. She followed the noise to the kitchen, where two plates piled high with food rested on the table. Somehow she found the strength to keep walking without snatching a piece of bacon—or twelve.
Hinges creaked as she pushed her way outside. The temperature instantly rose...oh, if she had to take a guess, she’d say seven hundred degrees. Bright rays of sunlight burned her eyes.
Squinting, she padded onto the cement. “Ow, ow, ow.” It burned, too! She jumped onto the soft grass, two black birds taking flight in front of her. She scanned the yard—and finally found the source of the banging. Jase, with a hammer. Shirtless Jase. Muscles honed from intense manual labor bulged as sweat glistened and trickled down tanned skin and more tattoos than she’d realized. One of his arms was fully sleeved, the colorful ink wrapping over his shoulder and covering his pectoral. On his other side, his rib cage and torso were etched with intricate designs. A handful of what looked to be letters rose above the waist of his shorts.
Am I drooling? I’m probably drooling. Wow. Just wow. He was major man-candy. Gourmet. The house specialty. He radiated the most sublime sex appeal, the kind that shattered the most ingrained resistance and battered the staunchest inhibitions, and he would definitely satisfy even the most intense sweet tooth. He worked the hammer with masterful expertise, as though he could fix anything, anywhere, anytime, and she had to admit it was total girl porn.
How she longed to close the distance and study every inch of him more closely. Study, yes...
Perhaps touch...
He paused to wipe his face with a rag, and she almost moaned at the increased deliciousness of him. If almost was the new word for loudly.
He looked up and stilled.
“Brook Lynn.” His sunglasses were light enough that she was able to watch his gaze travel over her slowly, leisurely.
Her body reacted as though physically caressed, tingling and aching in her most intimate places. Heat flash? Maybe. Probably.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice a husky rasp just as sexy as the rest of him.
“Morning.” She gulped and wiped her hands on the side of her wrinkled shorts. Don’t gawk at his chest. Certainly don’t glance lower. “My phone. My keys. Shoes.” Making words should not be this difficult. “Do you know where they are?” Better.
“Phone and keys are in the kitchen. Shoes are in your car.”
She must have been too focused on the noise—and then the food—to notice the phone and keys. “Well, then. Thank you. For everything,” she added, only to hesitate. “But, uh...I’m a little confused about why you didn’t just take Jessie Kay and me to our home.”
“Two reasons.” He set the hammer aside. “I didn’t have permission to enter your residence, and Jessie Kay had had too much to drink. She needed to be monitored, so...” He shrugged.
So he’d acted like the gentleman he’d once claimed he wasn’t. “Well, thank you. Again,” she said and turned to retreat inside. Only then, with her gaze off him and a little distance between them, was she able to breathe.
How did he affect her so strongly? And how could she make it stop?
“You didn’t eat,” he said, coming in behind her.
Her eyes widened as she rounded on him, her breath hitching when she discovered he was close enough to touch. Close enough to press against, male hardness to female softness, if only she leaned forward the slightest...little...bit. No! Bad Brook Lynn! Bad!
Then his words hit her. “That feast is for me?”
His nod was slow, and his gaze hot on her, as if he’d sensed the direction of her thoughts. “Your sister, too.”
Needing no further encouragement, she sat at the table and dug in, soon caught up in a whirlwind of different tastes and textures, moaning with rapturous delight. Yes, she would have added a few other spices to take the flavor to a whole new level, but all in all the meal rocked her socks.
When she finished, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. Oh, now I’m ladylike? She looked up to find Jase had removed his sunglasses, but hadn’t pulled on a shirt...and he was staring at her as intently as she’d stared at him. It was disconcerting. Especially since his features were blank, and she couldn’t read him.
A blush burned her cheeks, and she cleared her throat. “Don’t judge me.” Or my new food baby.
He arched a brow. “Is that what I was doing?”
Surely. “Well.” She cleared her throat again. “Anyway. My compliments to the chef.”
“That would be Beck.”
Never would she have guessed the pretty boy had a skill that didn’t involve a mattress and a panting partner. “Did he train at the Institute of Divine Cuisine and Hellish Addiction?” Jessie Kay had often accused Brook Lynn of sneaking into classes.
“More like the Institute of That Was Fun, But Now It’s Time for You to Go.”
Nice. “You guys and your one-night stands,” she said and rolled her eyes.
“Is that judgment I hear, angel?”
Angel? The endearment proved a thousand times more personal and tantalizing than “honey,” shocking her to the core. Of course, he’d meant nothing by it. She figured he probably used the words interchangeably with every female he encountered—even with her sister. But...
I’m still reeling.
“No judgment,” she said and stood. “And now it’s time for me to jet.” Before I do or say something more stupid. “I’m late for work, so...this is goodbye.”
His gaze still locked on her, he stepped closer to her, too close for comfort. She should have backed up, if only out of a sense of propriety, but she remained in place. He crossed his arms over his massive chest, those green eyes heating, burning. A sign of...arousal?
The provocative scent of him filled the air between them; it was masculine, sultry and heady, and it fogged her thoughts. It must have. Why else would she have continued to gaze up at him instead of running away?
“Jase?”
“Brook Lynn.”
Her heart must have heard music her ears couldn’t pick up, because the treacherous organ whipped into a frenzied beat, perhaps even doing cartwheels. Her breaths began to come faster, and shallow. I’m panting. I’m freaking panting. She shifted from one side to the other. He took another step toward her, as if compelled, then another, the last whisper between them vanishing.
He’s the predator, and I’m the prey.
Need more space. Now!
Finally, the synapses in her brain connected, and she hopped backward. As one minute ticked into another, relief remained just out of reach. In fact, she’d just made everything worse, her body aching...desperate to be close to him again...determined to hold on to a strength unlike any she’d ever encountered...to be held on to, as if she were precious, as if she were worth anything, worth everything.
The distance had the opposite effect on him. He snapped out of...whatever they’d been doing and gave a clipped shake of his head. He massaged the back of his neck and even took a step backward on his own, asking, “How much money do you make at the jewelry store?”
No way. No way he’d gone there. “What size is your penis?” she snapped.
He didn’t miss a beat. “Ex-large.”
His balls were that size, too. “Well, my paycheck isn’t your business.” It was so pathetic, she almost wished it wasn’t her business.
She carried her empty plate to the sink, at last spying her phone and keys...right next to a check for two thousand dollars, made out to her. She nearly hyperventilated as she clutched the small piece of paper to her chest. It was more than she’d ever had in her possession.
“I don’t...I can’t...”
“Don’t even think about refusing,” he said.
“I...I won’t.” She couldn’t. And she couldn’t face him, this man who’d just saved her from certain financial ruin. She’d finally do what her body wanted and throw herself at him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her phone vibrated, signaling a text had just come in. She checked the screen to find three missed calls and four texts, all from Edna.
You’re late, Brook Lynn. I’m going to assume you meant to call and alert me?
Edna had never learned to abbreviate.
Where are you??????? the second text read.
Third: Are you coming in today or not?
Fourth: THIS IS VERY UNPROFESSIONAL MISS DILLON. PERHAPS YOU AREN’T SERIOUS ABOUT WORKING HERE OR BUYING THE SHOP.
Just peachy. “I’ve got to go,” she said on a sigh. “If you could give Jessie Kay a ride home, I’d appreciate it.” Brook Lynn continued to do her best to avoid looking at him, although her reason for doing so had changed. Reminded of her sister...reminded of what this man had done to Jessie Kay, with Jessie Kay, a flood of guilt swept through her.
I shouldn’t want to hold him or be held by him. I should want to slap him.
Jase opened his mouth, closed it. He ran a hand through his hair, the thick muscles in his arms knotting, his body radiating a frustration his facial features failed to project.
“I’d...like to offer you a job,” he finally gritted out.
That was what bothered him? The thought of offering her a job?
Wait. Back up. He actually wanted her to work for him? Shock forced her to meet his gaze once again. His eyes were darker, deeper...infinite. She shivered, her tone breathless as she asked, “A job?”
He inclined his head, saying more easily, “As my assistant.”
“Your assistant?” When had she become an echo?
Another incline of his head.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why do you need an assistant? What do you even do?”
“I live.”
“You live.” Echoing again. “What does that mean?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I have to fix this place up, make sure it’s safe. Habitable. I can’t do that if I’m always leaving to buy supplies.”
“So you’d want me to buy supplies?”
“Among other things,” he muttered.
“What other things?” Love-shack cleanup? Finding all the panties stuffed in his mattress?
“This and that.”
“Wow. You’re so informative.” But she needed another job. Desperately. Her Rhinestone Cowgirl wages weren’t enough to survive and thrive. “How much would you pay me? What hours would I work? Monday through Saturday, I wouldn’t be able to start until sometime after noon. And why do you want me?”
The words reverberated in her head, the burn returning to her cheeks. “I mean,” she added, “what skills do you think I bring to the table?” She’d graduated high school, sure—barely. After her mother died, she’d stopped caring about her grades. And after Uncle Kurt left, she’d been too busy working any odd job she could find, trying to make money and remove some of the burden from Jessie Kay’s shoulders. Delivering newspapers and running errands for her neighbors hadn’t exactly allowed her to build a sought-after skill set.
Jase thought for a moment, sighed. “You’re loyal and dedicated, two of my favorite things. In an employee,” he was quick to add.
Her brow furrowed as she considered his words. “How do you know I’m loyal and dedicated? This is only our third conversation.”
His expression said do we really need to get into that?
No, she supposed they didn’t. The answer was simple. The way she chased after Jessie Kay.
“I’ll pay you five hundred dollars a week,” he said.
What! Did he expect her to hand over a kidney, too? Did she care? The greatest opportunity of her life had just presented itself on a maple-syrup-soaked breakfast platter. And, really, the job would be easy. A basic fetch and carry, with a little of this and that on the side. Baking? Getting rid of one-night stands?
Done, done and done. With a smile.
But she couldn’t rush into anything, had to chat with her sister, weigh the pros and cons. “I need a day to think about it,” she said.
He nodded, as if he’d expected such a response. “Call me tomorrow.”
“I’ll need your—”
“My number is already programmed into your phone.”
Uh... “How is it programmed into my phone? I didn’t add it.”
“No, you didn’t. But I did.”
How— Oh! There was no pass code to safeguard her list of contacts—because she couldn’t afford a new phone and had to make due with an old flip.
Her hands curled into fists. “You had no right to do that.”
“Delete it, then,” he replied, shrugging. “Whatever.”
“Delete what?” Jessie Kay strolled into the kitchen, looking as fresh as a daisy. No sign of a hangover, which hardly seemed fair. She patted Jase’s behind as she passed him, saying, “Hey, handsome. You sure are looking good this morning.”
His lips almost—almost—deepened into a scowl as he backed away from her. Did he ever feel anything? Really feel?
“What?” Jessie Kay asked with an unrepentant grin. “Just appreciating the machinery. Nothing wrong with that.”
Brook Lynn battled an intense surge of jealousy at the thought—
Jealousy? No, no. Indigestion. Almost definitely for sure there was a chance indigestion was all it was. “There’s food for you on the table,” she said, and her sister immediately changed directions. “After you eat, Jase will drive you home.” The indigestion grew worse. “Stay there. Please. After my shift at Edna’s, we need to talk.”
You were supposed to go see your doctor and ask out Brad today.
Well, crap. Forget the doctor and Brad. Forget the fun list. Opening lines of communication with Jessie Kay was far more important. How would her sister react to Jase’s job offer? Happy for her? Envious?
“Dude,” Jessie Kay said. “Don’t we have a shift at the restaurant tonight?”
As if she cared. Heck, as if she really would have shown up.
“News flash. We got fired.”
“What?”
“Mr. Calbert fired us. He said he couldn’t rely on us anymore.”
“Us? Or me?”
“Both of us. I got looped in because I couldn’t hack double shifts all the time.”
“Well, he did us a favor. I did us a favor.” Her sister shrugged. Actually shrugged. “That job sucked donkey balls.”
“Maybe, but we needed it.” Brook Lynn sighed. “Just...make sure you’re home when I get back from Edna’s. We need to talk about things. I mean it.”
“Sure, sure.” One slice of bacon vanished, then another, and her sister moaned with delight.
“I don’t think you heard me. You go home, you stay.”
Jessie Kay rolled her eyes. “I’m not a total slag. I said I’ll be there, so I’ll be there.”
“Like yesterday at work?”
“Extenuating circumstances.”
“Such as?”
“I’d lost most of my stomach lining and probably a lung.”
That was fair. “All right.” Brook Lynn allowed herself a final glance at Jase—those dark eyes were still locked on her. She shivered, cursed herself and her apparent weakness for the forbidden and left the house.
* * *
BROOK LYNN PARKED her car in a lot a few blocks from Rhinestone Cowgirl. Edna claimed the spaces in front of the shop needed to remain free for customers, but the truth was she considered Rusty an abomination.
She wasn’t wrong.
As the sun glared, Brook Lynn raced down the sidewalk. People she’d known her entire life waved and hollered out greetings.
“Running late?” Virgil Porter asked from his rocker. Though he owned Swat Team 8—we assassinate fleas, ticks, silverfish, cockroaches, bees, ants, mice and rats—he often sat with the owner of Style Me Tender Salon across the street from the jewelry store, playing checkers.
“Unfortunately,” she replied. In a town this small, everyone knew everyone else’s schedule.
“Explains why Edna was pacing the sidewalk, telling everyone who passed you’d broken her heart,” Mr. Rodriguez said. He gave the best buzz cut in a twenty-mile radius. His only competition, Rhett Walker, gave what Mr. Rodriguez referred to as “bootleg butchers” in his mother’s garage.
“Edna’s going with a broken heart?” Peachy. Usually, whenever Brook Lynn messed up, she went with betrayed trust.
Brook Lynn flew through the shop doors so late she’d missed more time than she would actually work, a horror of horrors for a perpetual early bird.
“I’m so sorry, Edna.”
The owner of the RC leaned against the counter and crossed her arms.
Brook Lynn expected to be scolded, wanted to be—deserved it—but in the ensuing minutes Edna somehow made her feel as if she’d dropped an H-bomb on the town.
Oh, the guilt trip.
“Do you know how many frantic calls I had to deal with this morning, people wondering if I was going out of business?” Edna asked.
“No, ma’am.”
“Two!”
Wow. That many?
“It ruined my entire morning, Brook Lynn—you ruined it. And after everything I’ve done for you.”
“I’m sorry, Edna,” she said again. “I promise to bring you a Swiss enchilada casserole tomorrow. Your favorite.”
Edna dabbed at eyes that weren’t even close to watery. “You were once my favorite, too. I loved you like the daughter I never had.” Edna had always been one of those people who craved the sympathy hardship bought her and milked every situation to her advantage. “It’s like my heart is breaking right inside my chest.”
“You actually have a daughter,” Brook Lynn pointed out.
“Yes, but she’s such a disappointment. You never were...until today.”
Ouch.
Edna puttered around the shop, dusting display cases that didn’t need to be dusted. She was a short, round woman with miraculously unlined skin and a pretty crop of silver hair. Her cheeks were always rosy, and to be honest, she could have passed for Mrs. Santa Claus...until she opened her mouth.
“Caroline moved to the city to attend massage school, you know,” Edna continued, stuck on the topic of her daughter. “Never mind the fact that I have back pain and could use a healing touch every now and then.”
Brook Lynn faded in and out of the ensuing lecture about giving being better than taking, offering the occasional “Mmm-hmm” and “You’re so right.” Heard this a thousand times before. But at least they were back on familiar territory.
Then the words “If you’re serious about buying this shop one day...” caught her attention.
“I am,” she rushed to reply.
“Yes, but if you’re truly serious—”
“I truly am.”
“I mean truly, truly serious, then you’ll show up on time,” Edna said with a sharp stare. “Every. Single. Day.”
“Absolutely.” Brook Lynn would offer no excuses for today’s tardiness. She’d heard too many over the years and had learned to hate them.
They had it coming, baby girl. Always courtesy of Uncle Kurt.
Dude. I had to. That beer was calling my name. Always courtesy of Jessie Kay.
So, even though this was one of Brook Lynn’s first official offenses at the RC, she made no effort to defend herself. “I promise you it won’t happen again.”
Edna released a long-suffering sigh. “We’ll see.”
“I’d be happy to stay super late to make up for it.”
“That might be a start.” Edna gathered her purse and strolled to the front door, saying, “I’m headed to my new book club. We’re deciding whether to call ourselves The Strawberry Bookcakes or Strawberry Fields of Books.” She gave another heavy sigh before saying, “I’m not sure I’ll recover if I missed the vote.”
More guilt. “Which one are you voting for?”
“Not sure yet,” she replied and disappeared outside.
“If you don’t know,” Brook Lynn muttered, knowing Edna would never hear, “why do you even care which name is picked?”
The next few hours passed without incident...or a single customer. As Brook Lynn gathered her tools to create a spectacular necklace for the window display case, sure to draw the eye of those passing by, she phoned Kenna to tell her about Jase’s job offer, keeping her phone on speaker to save herself from having to press the device against her implants.
“Are you going to take it?” her friend asked.
“Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know.”
“He’s offering a lot of money.”
“Yes.” She could be debt free in a little over two years. The impossible finally made possible.
“So what’s the problem?” Kenna asked. “Do you think there’s more to the job than he told you?”
“Like washing and ironing the clothes his myriad lovers leave scattered on the floor? Yes.”
Crackling silence over the line before Kenna chuckled softly. “What is that I hear in your tone? Is that jealousy?”
“What? No!” More calmly she repeated, “No. I’ve been battling indigestion today.”
“Indigestion. I see.”
“You see? What do you think you see, Miss Starr?”
Sweet, tinkling laughter echoed. “I see fun times ahead—for me. By the way, I’ve booked an appointment at some place in the city for you and Jessie Kay to try on bridesmaid dresses. And I will, of course, reimburse you for any time off work—” A gasp. A low, needy moan. A giggle. “Dane. Stop.”
Well, well. Her fiancé had arrived. Never far from her side.
A pang of envy as the man whispered, “I’ll stop when you’ve given me everything I want,” and oh, wow, his voice was so low, so hot, even Brook Lynn shivered.
I want a happily-ever-after like theirs. Surely I’ve earned one.
“Brook Lynn,” Kenna said, breathless.
“You’ve got to go. I know. Love you.”
“Love you, too. But oh, oh. Wait a sec. I meant to tell you I would be eternally grateful if you would make me a smoked chicken salad sandwich with fresh-baked bread...like, tonight for dinner, maybe? Because you love me and want me happy. I’ve got a craving.”
“You’ve always got a craving.” When they’d lived together, Kenna had left little sticky notes all over the house, begging for this or that sandwich.
“She meant to ask for two sandwiches.” Dane’s voice shot over the line.
“I meant two sandwiches,” Kenna said. “I can have the ingredients waiting at your house and pick the sandwiches up later...”
“You know I can’t resist your pleas,” she said.
“You’re the best!”
“I know.” Click.
Brook Lynn sighed, wondering if she should rethink her plan to stop by Brad’s auto shop after work and just do it, live a little. Her shoulders drooped. No, he still didn’t rate higher than her conversation with her sister. Or, for that matter, Jase’s job offer. Or her sister’s lack of employment. Or past-due notices. Fingers crossed she and Jessie Kay discussed everything without a single argument.
She still wasn’t sure how her sister would react to finding out her lover—her onetime lover—had asked Brook Lynn for help. As if she’d been rejected by him—again?
Can’t do that to her.
Well, then, decision made. As easy as that.
Tomorrow, she would find another second job. Virgil at Swat Team 8 had just lost Kenna and might be willing to take a chance on Brook Lynn. He wouldn’t pay nearly as much as Jase, but killing bugs might be better for her state of mind than killing the hopes and dreams of his scorned lovers. Plus, the job wouldn’t hurt her sister’s feelings. It also wouldn’t test Brook Lynn’s resolve to avoid the most delicious of temptations.
And he was delicious, wasn’t he? Still wrong for her, and nothing her life needed, but 100 percent melt-in-your-mouth delicious. And kind of emotionless. What was up with that?
Doesn’t matter. Not my problem.
At the end of her shift, she drove straight home, more convinced by the minute that she’d made the right decision. But Jessie Kay’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and she wasn’t inside the house.
Brook Lynn baked the sandwiches for Kenna and Dane, and chatted with the pair for half an hour when they came to collect the food.
She had made sandwiches for Jessie Kay and herself, as well, and wanted to eat them together, but as she waited for her sister to return, one hour bleeding into two, hunger got the better of her and she caved, devouring her own.
She watched two old episodes of The Walking Dead. She paced the living room, watched another episode of The Walking Dead and practiced severely cool head-chopping moves. And...still there was no sign of her sister.
Finally she could stand it no more and texted:
Where R U?
Duuuuude, her sister replied. Lost my phone. Will call U when I find it!
UR srsly telling me U can’t find UR phone? she texted back, wanting to scream You’re using it right now! How drunk R U?
Only had a few, swear! But sis! Sis! My liver was a bad girl 2day & NEEDED 2 B punished.
Attached was a photo of Jessie Kay and her favorite partner in crime, Sunny Day.
Sunny’s parents had probably thought “so cute” when they’d come up with the name. Brook Lynn’s verdict? So not.
The two were in quintessential selfie mode—Jessie Kay was bent over, lips parted in a perfect O, while Sunny held a paddle at her bottom. Sweat dotted both of their brows. From dancing? Probably. Men stood all around them, practically drooling.
Another text came in, the misspellings out of control.
Knw eve prom 2 all bt came we postpo? Plese?? Pleas???????
Translation: know we promised to talk, but can we postpone? Please? Please?
Beads of anger rolled through Brook Lynn. From the moment their father died, she’d done her best to protect her sister from any sort of emotional pain. She’d even upped her already stellar efforts after their mother died. And this was the result?
Brook Lynn had known she needed to change her ways, but this just cinched it. If she wanted different results, she had to do something different. And she would start by refusing to coddle Jessie Kay.
Yay! a part of her cheered. Finally.
She wouldn’t feel guilty about this. She wouldn’t! She’d had enough.
She scrolled to Jase’s number in her address book. After only two rings, he answered, the roughness of his voice greeting her, bypassing the usual hello, how are you and getting right to business. “Nice to hear from you, Brook Lynn.”
Shivers danced through her. This is stupid, dangerous for my peace of mind. But she said, “I’ll take the job,” before she could talk herself out of it. “Most days I can be there shortly after noon, but tomorrow I can’t make it till two. After my shift at Rhinestone Cowgirl I have a personal errand.” Her doctor was good about getting her in whenever she had a spare hour. Because yes, she was sticking with the birth-control part of her plan no matter what.
“Two is good.” His breath crackled over the line. “I’m looking forward to seeing you.” Something about his tone...
It was deep as always, but it sounded like...a promise? Or a warning?
“Me, too,” she whispered.
