Which is a mistake, because now I’m going to be eating dinner with a hard-on. Because she’s wearing my clothes. My favorite pair of sweatpants covers her lower half and the hoodie I live in during the fall is rolled up at her wrists.
I’ve seen her in my clothes before, but that was when she was sick. I liked it, but the sight didn’t cause the reaction I’m fighting now. Maybe it’s because I’m a decent enough human not to pop a woody over a sick woman.
I hope that’s it. But in all honesty, if Brooke had asked me to fuck her while she was sick, I’d have handed her a box of tissues and made her scream between bouts of blowing her nose.
So I’m going to guess that what I’m facing now is an amalgamation of everything I’ve been fantasizing about staring me in the face. A quiet night at home, eating dinner with the woman I was willing to wait on forever.
When you add in that dinner is tacos, she’s wearing my clothes, and I’m pretty sure the dessert she made is that chocolate pudding cake Mariah brought to family dinner? I don’t see how Iwouldn’tbe hard.
The oven timer goes off while Brooke is melting ourcheesy tortillas, so I grab a couple hot mitts and pull the baking dish out. While her back is turned, I dig a spoon from the drawer and scoop out a pile of molten chocolate goodness. I want to immediately shove it in my mouth, but I also want to be able to taste the rest of the dinner Brooke made me.
Blowing across it like my life depends on it, I manage to get it cool enough I’ll keep the skin on my tongue just as Brooke turns around. I’ve got no choice but to shove it right in my face, hiding the evidence as fast as I can.
Brooke’s mouth drops open. “Are you already eating dessert?”
I quickly chew, managing not to collapse at the rich, slightly bitter flavors, before swallowing the mouthful down. “You seemed worried it wasn’t right, and I was just trying to make you feel better.” I turn back to the dish, grabbing another spoonful. “I think two bites is the standard for taste-testing, though.”
Brooke rolls her eyes. “I got ice cream to go with that, you know.”
I’m not regretting my choices, but I have to admit ice cream would be perfect right now. “What kind?” I ask around a mouthful of decadence.
“I’m not telling you, because then you’ll want to try it too.” She shoves a plate at me. “And I worked really hard on these tacos, so you have to at least eat one before you jump into dessert.”
I take the plate, grinning at Brooke’s slightly bossy tone. I think I did the right thing by getting at least part of the elephant out of the room. “I will eat whatever you put in front of me, ma’am.” I wait for her wide eyes to snap to mine. “Any time, any place.”
I’m being forward, but I’m hiding it behind humor, so she can pretend I’m kidding.
I’m not.
There’s nothing in this world I want more than for Brooke to spread her pretty thighs and demand I follow through with my claim.
Well… That’s not entirely true. There are a couple things I want more than that.
Both of them also involve her.
Carrying my plate to the spot where I normally sit at the island, I scoot onto the stool, waiting to eat until she’s situated next to me. I watch as Brooke assembles her own taco, adding a little bit of everything before taking a bite of my preferred combination.
I lift my brows as she chews through the collection of cheese, meat, and tortilla. “Good?”
“Delicious.” She takes another bite, tongue slipping out to collect a smear of sour cream from her lip. “Almost as good as a strawberry Pop-Tart.” Her eyes spark with amusement. “Maybe I should have thrown yours at your head.”
I laugh so hard I almost snort out the mouthful of beer I’d just poured in. I barely manage to swallow it down without choking as she grins at me, looking proud as punch over her joke.
She should be proud. She’s come through a lot.
And I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault. At least partly.
If I hadn’t been such a dumbass, Brooke would have never even met Matt. She would have been here in Willow Bend, being loved and appreciated and adored.
Or I would have been in California, loving, appreciating, and adoring her there.
“Seriously.” I lean toward her, making sure she sees the lookon my face. “Thank you for making dinner. It’s nice to come home to something besides an empty house and dog pee in my shoes.”
Brooke’s eyes go to where Copper is doing her best to ignore Bruno while he tries to drag the bed she’s sleeping in across the floor. “Did she really pee in your shoes?”
I tip my head in a nod as I shove in the last bite of my first taco. “Regularly.”
Brooke scoffs, her mouth dropping open. “Copper. You bad girl.” Her eyes come to me, filled with remorse. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she was going to be like this.”
