About Face (Love in the Suburbs Book 1) Page 10

  Guess I’m not wanted here. “Fine,” I tell Brodie. “I’ll go.”

  “Remember, she doesn’t have a curfew,” Grandma shouts. “Feel free to bring her back any time. Tomorrow morning is good.”

  Oh my god! The woman is the bane of my existence. “Let’s get out of here before they try to sell me to you in marriage.” I’m still in the clothes I wore to the office, so I grab my coat and purse and I’m ready.

  We don’t talk as he drives to the movie complex. Brodie glances over at me a few times, looking as if he wants to say something, but he keeps his mouth shut. Smart man. I am in no way no how ready to talk to him about the humiliation I suffered this morning. Not happening.

  He parks about a mile from the entrance to the building. I glare at him. His response? He smiles. And is there a challenging gleam in his eyes? Date your physical therapist, they said. He’s hot, they said. It will be fun, they said. No one mentioned walking miles on crutches to get to a stupid movie you don’t want to watch anyway.

  “What do you want to see?” I manage to wheeze out my question when we finally make it the ticket counter.

  “There’s a new romantic comedy playing I thought you might like.”

  I make a face of disgust. “Romantic comedy? What do you think I am? A girl?”

  Brodie rubs the back of his neck as a light shade of pink colors his cheeks. “Um… yes? But we can see whatever you want.”

  “I’m yanking your chain. I love romantic comedies. The cheesier the better.”

  He chuckles as he buys tickets for the romcom. I pull out my wallet to pay my share, and he glares. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Fine.” I shrug. “I’ll buy the snacks.”

  But when it’s time to pay for my popcorn, Twizzlers, and Milk Duds – I had a bad day. What can I say? – he pushes my wallet away and pays again. “I asked you out. That means I pay.”

  Not in my experience, but fine. Whatever. I smile and thank him. For the next two hours, I forget my crappy life and enjoy the movie. It’s hilarious and exactly what I needed. Darn it. I hate it when Grandma’s right. The woman can gloat for days!

  “So,” Brodie starts when we’re seated at a bar having a drink after the movie. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  Ugh! I thought I’d gotten away with not talking about my day. Guess not. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, I kind of figured that out. But maybe you should.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you sure you’re a physical therapist and not a ‘therapist’ therapist?”

  “Stop avoiding the question.”

  I stick my tongue out at him. He ignores my admittedly childish behavior and stares at me until I give in. “Fine. But it’s not a pretty story.” I proceed to tell him about my day. “My career is totally ruined,” I conclude. Slight exaggeration? I think not.

  “Hold up.” Brodie lifts his hand in the universal signal to stop. “You’re jumping to conclusions. You don’t know your boss agreed with that bitch Tara.”

  I’d smile at him calling Tara a bitch, but I’ve got a score to settle. “Seriously? He heard what she said and he left. He left. He didn’t come to my defense, he didn’t correct her. He just left.”

  Brodie nods. “I admit it looks bad, but you don’t know for sure. You need to talk to your boss. Find out what he thinks.”

  Ugh. I hate it when he’s right. “Fine. I’ll call him.” Some day. When I’m ready.

  He smiles. “Good.” His smile fades. “Now, let’s talk about Tara.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Tara,” I pout. It’s possible my bottom lip is sticking out.

  “You realize she’s jealous of you, don’t you?” I roll my eyes. Yeah, right. If he’d seen her, he’d know how ludicrous his statement is. “She wants your job, but your boss and your clients want you.”

  “One client,” I interrupt. “And my boss doesn’t want me back. He wants me to consult.” I spit the word ‘consult’ out as if it’s the dirtiest word in the entire freaking world.

  “Whatever. He wants you. Not Tara. And that’s not the worst part for her.” He looks me up and down. “You’re absolutely beautiful. No wonder she tries to put you down and makes a nasty comment about your scar every time you see her.”

  My hand automatically moves to cover my cheek. “Stop.” Brodie grabs my hand and pulls it away. “You don’t need to cover your scar. In fact, you should get rid of the bandage. It’s obvious you don’t need it anymore.”

  Maybe not. But then everyone would see the scar underneath. I’m not ready for people to see my scar. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. I try to pull my hand away from Brodie’s, but he’s not letting go. “You’re still beautiful. A scar does nothing to diminish your beauty.”

  “Easy to say when you haven’t seen the scar.”

  Brodie smirks. “Then, show me. Prove me wrong. I dare you.”

  I glare at him. He knows I never back down from a dare. But there’s a first time for everything. I lean forward and hiss, “I can’t.”

  Brodie pulls me forward. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “A little scar doesn’t make any difference.”

  I drop my head. “I’m not ready.”

  “Okay.” He lifts my chin and his lips descend on mine. The kiss starts as a gentle comforting touch, and I sigh. Brodie takes advantage and his tongue invades my mouth. My tongue duels with his, and he groans into my mouth. His hand fists my hair, and he tilts my head for better access. I lean forward and hit my crutches leaning up against the table. They clack to the ground, but not before smacking me upside the head. I grunt in surprise.

  Brodie immediately backs off. “What’s wrong?”

  I blush and indicate my crutches, which are now scattered across the floor. He smirks before reaching down to pick them up and then announcing, “You’re coming home with me.”

  What? “I don’t think so.” The kiss was hot. H-A-W-T! But I’m not ready to get intimate with anyone yet. Maybe never again. Joining a convent is still an option. If I go home with him and he kisses me like that again, I won’t be able to resist stripping him down and licking him like an ice cream cone. My pulse quickens. Oh yeah, licking him all over sounds like the best idea ever.

  “Nothing is going to happen.” Wait. What? He doesn’t want anything to happen? Did our kiss mean nothing to him? “I know you’re not ready, but I’m not happy with leaving you alone right now.” I start to protest, but he stops me with a finger on my lips. I snap at his finger. He grins and pulls his hand away. “I know you. You’ll lay awake all night, worrying about your job.”

  “What’s to say I won’t lay awake all night at your place?”

  His smile becomes absolutely wicked. “I’m sure I can help you fall asleep.”

  My face heats up as my mind conjures up the multitude of ways I can imagine him ‘helping’ me fall asleep. “You said nothing would happen.”

  He shrugs but doesn’t bother responding. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He takes off to pay for the bill.

  “Hey, wait! I didn’t agree I’d go home with you.” Oops! I may have shouted.

  “You don’t want him. You can come home with me,” an older man at the bar shouts and wiggles his eyebrows at me.

  “I’m game, as well,” the man next to him adds. His words are a bit slurred as he has no teeth.

  “Um, thank you?”

  Brodie laughs as he returns and helps me stand. “Not looking so bad now, am I?”

  Oh, please. Brodie always looks good and he knows it. Why he’s spending time with me is a riddle. I won’t complain, though.

  Chapter 20

  A lady should never talk badly about herself.

  The sun streaming across my face wakes me the next morning. I’m not ready to move, though. I’m super comfortable while being cocooned in warmth. I sigh, and Brodie’s arm around my middle tightens.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” he whispers before nuzzlin
g and kissing my neck. Goosebumps break out over my body at the feel of his beard scratching my neck. I wiggle closer to him but freeze when I feel something hard against my backside.

  “Ignore it,” Brodie orders as his arm pulls me even tighter. Ignore it? How does he expect me to ignore the largest erection I’ve ever felt? I can practically feel his hot and hard length pulsing against me. I reach back, but as soon as my hand touches his pajama bottoms, Brodie releases me and jackknifes out of the bed. Darn.

  He takes one look at my pouting face and chuckles. “I promised nothing would happen.”

  I roll my eyes, unwilling to start that conversation again. When we arrived at his place last night, I discovered Brodie has a one-bedroom apartment. No way was I letting the six-foot-plus man sleep on his sofa, and there was no way he was letting me sleep on his sofa. I tried to call an Uber and go home, but Brodie grabbed my phone, threw me over his shoulder, and somehow we ended up sleeping together in his bed. But only after he reiterated his promise – several times! – about nothing happening. I felt offended until I fell into bed wearing his t-shirt and he wrapped his arms around me.

  Brodie kisses my forehead, and I jolt. I must have fallen back asleep because he’s dressed and going by his wet hair, he’s showered as well. “Come on, I’ll make you breakfast before I take you home.” Ugh. Home. Where I have to deal with Grandma’s gloating. And questions. There will definitely be questions about my night.

  Brodie grabs my hands and pulls me up. “Get dressed.” He hands me my crutches. “Are you stiff?” He nods to my leg. “Do you need me to work out the kinks?”

  “If working out the kinks means a massage, then yes. But if by working out the kinks, you mean your physical therapist idea of a massage, then no thank you.”

  He doesn’t bother answering the question. Guess that’s no to the massage then. “Pancakes, okay?”

  “Do you have to ask?” He chuckles.

  I throw yesterday’s clothes on before making my way to the adjoining bathroom. I quickly do my business and throw my hair into a messy bun. I don’t bother looking at myself in the mirror. I know I look like hell, I don’t need visual confirmation.

  I follow the smell of coffee to his kitchen. “Mmmm…coffee.”

  “Have a seat.” Brodie indicates a barstool. He hands me a cup of coffee, kisses me entirely too quickly, and then goes back to the stove. I take a gulp of coffee and sit back to watch my man work. Wait! He’s not my man. I shake my head. Nope, I am not going to worry about the status of our relationship.

  “Come here.” Brodie motions me towards the stove after he’s prepared the pancake batter and poured some into the griddle.

  “Um, dude, I don’t think you want me anywhere near the stove.” My grandma has done her best to teach me to cook, but it’s impossible. I can look at a piece of bread in the toaster and it burns. It’s my superpower.

  “Come here,” he insists.

  “Fine.” I roll my eyes. “If the pancakes suddenly start a grill fire, it’s not my fault.” Using the counter, I hop his way.

  Brodie chuckles, not realizing I’m serious. He grabs his phone. “I want a picture of our first morning together.”

  I back away. “No way. I haven’t showered. I haven’t put on any make-up. My hair isn’t even brushed!”

  He grabs me and pulls me close. “You look beautiful.”

  I lean in. “You. Are. Delusional.”

  His eyes flicker to my lips before he leans in closer. As soon as his lips touch mine, I forget about my hair and lack of make-up. The man’s kisses put me in a fog. He kisses me like he’s trying to prove how beautiful I am. And he’s darn good at it. He breaks the kiss and smirks. “Say cheese.” My eyes widen as I notice the phone he’s holding in his hand. Click.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” I can’t help shouting at him. Sneaky bastard.

  “One more.” This time I manage to burrow into Brodie’s side before he takes the picture.

  Brodie flips through the pictures on his phone. “Here. See how beautiful you look for yourself.” He hands me the phone.

  “Oh my god! Why didn’t you say something?” I scream. My scar is clearly visible in the picture. Where the heck is my bandage? I narrow my eyes at Brodie. “What did you do with my bandage?”

  Brodie holds his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t do anything to it. It must have come off when you were sleeping.”

  I grunt, not willing to admit he’s right. I’ve never slept with the bandage before. Never needed to. But I wasn’t taking it off to sleep in Brodie’s bed last night. No way! I try to reach up and cover my face, but Brodie pulls me close before lifting me up and walking to the couch where he settles with me on his lap.

  “It’s time to talk about this.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes at him. “You do realize you’re not my therapist, right?”

  “No, I’m not your therapist. I’m the guy you’re dating.” He waits for me to protest but I can’t really deny I’m dating him after spending the night. “You haven’t had the bandage on since we woke up. Have you seen me act any differently towards you?”

  “No, but you knew I had the scar. You were prepared.”

  “And? What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You had time to prepare. To hide your disgust.”

  Brodie’s body stills. “Hide my disgust?” he asks in a low voice.

  “Yes,” I nod. “At how disfigured I am.”

  He stands and, keeping me cradled in his arms, stalks to the bathroom. He sets me on my feet and makes sure I’m steady before grabbing my head and forcing me to look in the mirror. I immediately slam my eyes shut. “Open your eyes,” he whispers in my ear. I shake my head. “Come on. Don’t be a wimp.”

  I snarl but open my eyes. I stare at Brodie in the mirror. “There. My eyes are open.”

  “Don’t look at me. Look at yourself.” I inhale deeply to gather my courage before looking at my reflection. “Look at how beautiful you are. No, don’t say anything. Just look. Why would anyone notice a tiny scar when those blue eyes pull you in? They sure pulled me in. Nearly knocked me flat on my ass the first time I saw you. I’ve never seen eyes that shade of blue before.” He sifts his fingers through my bun and pulls out the elastic. “And this hair? My god, it’s such a deep black it’s nearly violet in color. How you can’t see you’re beautiful is beyond me. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you’re not conceited.”

  My mouth hangs open as I listen to his words. He speaks with such utter conviction. His words are the truth – the truth as he sees it at least. “I—” I stop myself, unsure of what to say. My hand sneaks up and I touch my scar.

  Brodie spins me around. His lips replace my hand on the scar. “This.” Kiss. “Is.” Kiss. “Beautiful.” He pulls back. “This scar tells me you’re not just a beautiful woman, but an incredibly strong one as well. You’ve fought demons, and you’ve won.”

  I snort. “Not yet.”

  “But you will, beautiful, you will.”

  And, for the first time since my accident, I start to think he’s right.

  Chapter 21

  A lady should always be discrete.

  After Brodie drops me off, I try to sneak into the house, but my crutches bang against the door as I struggle to make my way inside without getting crushed by the door. Why is it whenever I try to be quiet, I only seem to make more noise? Like it matters. Grandma has probably been sitting in the kitchen waiting to pounce on me the moment I arrived.

  “Yeah!” Grandma claps as she runs towards the front door. “I knew Brodie wouldn’t disappoint me.” Disappoint her? By taking me home, he didn’t disappoint her? She’s crazy.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” I say as I push past her.

  “But I want to hear all about it.” I shiver. I am not talking about my sex life with my grandma. Never ever. “If you need me to buy condoms, let me know. Forget that. I’ll buy some and put them in your bathroom. You know,
just in case.”

  “We didn’t have sex,” I shout at her.

  “How disappointing.” She stomps off to the kitchen. I hope she’s not calling her friends to find another grandson to set me up with. The woman’s matchmaking skills leave much to be desired.

  I’ve finished my shower and am hobbling into my room when my phone beeps.

  Hey, beautiful. Let me know what your boss says.

  Subtle, Mr. Russell. Very subtle.

  Before I got out of his car, Brodie kissed the daylights out of me and then made me promise to call my boss. Kissing me until my brain turns into mush and then forcing me to make a promise is one-hundred-percent-no-doubt-about-it coercion. His lips could force any red-blooded woman to do whatever he wants.

  You need to hear his side of things. Good or bad. It’s better than driving yourself crazy with made-up scenarios.

  Maybe I like driving myself crazy.

  Call him. Don’t make me call you a chicken.

  I growl and throw my phone on the bed. Brodie is freaking infuriating. Even more so since he’s right. As I get dressed, my eyes keep wandering to my phone. I know I need to call my boss because if he does agree with Tara, I’m quitting. I’m not looking forward to my career going down in flames, but I need to know, so I can start making decisions and putting plans in place.

  “Hey, Frankie,” Devon answers on the first ring. “What do you say? Are you going to come back and help me with the Just You account?”

  My mouth drops open. I cannot believe him! Does he think he can ignore what happened yesterday? I think not. “Nooo,” I drawl. “I didn’t make a decision. We have something else we need to talk about.”

  He sighs. “You called about Tara.”

  “Damn right, I called about Tara. Her behavior was unacceptable. And your behavior wasn’t much better.”

  “Wait! Hold up. My behavior? What did I do?”