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“Still have to pay taxes though,” he quips and we both laugh.
This man here is world’s away from what I’ve read online. He’s a completely different person which makes me wonder how much of what I read is even true. Was I wrong to judge him without giving him a chance?
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he says, slipping his sunglasses off his face and onto his head so I can see his expressive eyes. We stop and he turns to face me, giving me his sole attention.
“I may have looked you up online,” I admit sheepishly and he grimaces. Guilt floods me and I wish the ground would swallow me up.
“Did you learn anything interesting?” he attempts to joke but I know he’s nervous. That surprises me too. I didn’t think Brody would care what people thought. Part of me thought he might even be proud of his reputation, but he seems almost embarrassed and I hate that I’ve soured the mood.
“Not really. Just that you’re the best driver in the world.” His face lights up at that and his cocky smirk makes a brief reappearance. That thing is dangerous, it makes me forget that I’m trying to protect myself. “And that you are never short of dates.”
He sighs and rubs a hand over his stubbled jaw, before taking one of mine in his and playing with the rose gold ring on my index finger.
“Honestly? Relationships aren’t really my thing. I don’t have time to deal with all the drama that comes with them. My focus is on my career. Being the best driver in the world. But there are expectations, you know? My sponsors expect me to play a certain role.”
“That must be kinda exhausting. Constantly playing a part.”
“Sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to tell you a sob story. I’m a lucky son of a bitch. I get to drive the best car, go to great parties, date beautiful women. But there is more to me than that, you know?” His tone is sincere and I nod. I’m beginning to see that.
Chapter Eight
“You’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning,” Maggie glances up at me from the documents she’s reading at the breakfast bar.
The scent of freshly baked pastries fills the air. But it’s the hint of sweet almond from Maggie’s favorite croissants that has me smiling back, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m like this every morning.”
“Sure, sure, you keep telling yourself that.” Although she’s grinning, there’s an edge of worry to her tone. “Did you have a good time?”
“I did.”
“Rosie?” she asks, taking a sip of her vanilla French roast.
“Obviously,” I chuckle, making myself a green tea to start off my day. “She was with me. How could she not have a great time?”
A whispered scoff escapes from her while she goes back to the paperwork Rosie dropped off yesterday. Maggie’s had it hard enough that normally her sad or worrisome ways don’t bother me, but today there’s something else that’s got her on edge. Although I know I haven’t been the best brother in the world, I do care for her. A part of me always feels guilty that I had it easier than her in the end when Dad stepped in and took me away. It doesn’t matter that he’s always done what he can to look out for Maggie and Holly, in spite of them not being his kids. There’s always that thought that I won the daddy lottery and abandoned them. I’ve had more opportunities than they have. More privilege, even.
Pouring the freshly boiled water into my cup, I take it over to the island and watch it brew for a moment, waiting for her to say something more. When she doesn’t, I ask, “Everything okay?”
A distant smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she nods, but a second later she’s asking, “You’re being good to her, right?”
“Rosie?”
“Yeah,” she breathes, her eyes meeting mine with a worried haze shadowing her dark brown gaze. “You’re being good to her?”
“Maybe I’m inexperienced with relationships, but you don’t have to worry about her. Not with me, I like her and we’re…”
“You’re…?”
“We’re…I don’t know,” I murmur, steeping the tea bag while I try to figure out what exactly it is I’m doing with Rosie.
This whole time I’ve been caught up in her, I’ve never given much thought to why. Not really. She’s pretty and there’s something about her that draws me in. Rosie is unlike anyone I’ve ever met. When she smiles there’s kindness in her eyes and a sweetness that makes it hard to breathe, but there’s also a shadow there that tells me she’s been hurt. And for the first time in my life, I want to fix something more badly than I want to fine-tune my game.
“Brody?”
“Maggie…I like her.”
“Enough that you won’t hurt her?”
