I let myself out the front door and went for a run to burn off some of my frenetic energy.
I brought back coffees and croissants for breakfast. I came in the front door and was assaulted by the smell of peaches. Brooke emerged in a tiny strappy tank top and baggy sweats with her hair wrapped in a towel, freshly washed. A sliver of skin at her waistline seemed to call out to me, taunting me. I jerked my eyes back to her face.
“Hey,” she said tentatively.
“Morning,” I smiled back, determined to regain our friendly footing. “Coffee and breakfast. I’m going to shower, too. Up for going to get more fresh food today?”
“Yeah. Hey, Cade?” she called, and I spun to give her my full attention. “Are we good to stay here all week?” She seemed nervous, like she feared I’d reject her proposition.
“Yeah, of course. All week sounds great.”
I swallowed down the anxiety that caused me.
A week was a long time to keep my hands off Brooke.
I called Val after my shower and checked on Echo, then got dressed in my favorite navy henley and some olive-colored khakis. I walked out to see Brooke in another pair of fitted jeans—lighter than the ones from the day before—and a cream-colored sweater. She looked so cozy, and I wanted to wrap her up in my arms.You’re her friend, you’re her friend, you’re her friend, I repeated mentally.
We hit up the farmers’ market first. Only the indoor one was open this late in the year, but plenty of stands inside provided fresh vegetables, preserves, and to-die-for loaves of fresh bread. Artisanal cheese stands were scattered throughout, plus little booths with homemade crafts.
I relished watching Brooke’s eyes light up as she sampled and explored. Life reentered those sad eyes as she admired the products people sold. We found a vendor selling mulled apple cider, and I purchased us each one so we could stay warm as we wandered.
I chuckled at Brooke’s wide smile when she pulled her cider from my hands. This girl was so easy to make happy... and I was thrilled to be the one to make it happen.
We stopped by the meat market as well to get some main courses that I’d plan on cooking for Brooke throughout the week. I found a good cut of salmon that I’d be sure to use. I hadsaved a number of meals that, according to my online research, had anti-inflammatory benefits and would hopefully leave her feeling her best.
The market also had some savory dog-friendly jerky we’d be taking home for Maple. She was about to be a very spoiled pup.
On the drive home, Brooke reached over and took my hand, stunning me with a dazzling grin.
“This is really fun. I needed it.”
“It is.” I smiled back, enjoying the feel of her soft skin against mine.
Vermont in full fall colors was stunning, but even now as winter approached, with the crisp wind and the mostly-bare trees, it had a picturesque beauty that was easy to admire. But nothing on Earth could compare to the beauty right beside me.
16
BROOKE
Fun Fact #43: Between 2004 and 2010, 15-25 romantic comedies or romance movies were released each year. The late 1980s to early 2000s are considered the “golden era” of rom-coms.
Being with Cade all week was like being on the perfect extended date ever. Not adatedate, of course. Cade cooked delicious meals that we enjoyed together. He was surprisingly skilled in the kitchen. We threw a ball outside for Maple until she got bored and took off to sniff all the new smells of the property. While I was being spoiled by Cade’s culinary skills, Maple was clearly enjoying taking full advantage of the Adlers’ massive yard.
Watching him cook dinner, I once again sat on a stool at the island. I couldn’t help but admire his competence in the kitchen, the smooth way he chopped veggies and the mesmerizing way he sautéed, grilled, and stirred. The food wasn’t the only thing heating up, and I crossed my legs under the island to try to relieve the ache I was feeling.
When the food was simmering, he turned and leaned back against the counter, his long sleeves pushed up to his elbows. My gaze lingered for a moment on the corded muscles on his forearms.Does he know how good he looks like this?I mused.Women would pay good money for this view.
Distracting myself from forearm thoughts, I asked, “Where did you find all of these recipes? I didn’t know you were into cooking.”
“We take turns cooking for everyone at the firehouse,” he explained. “And I found this great site, for anti-inflammatory recipes. I looked it up right after you told me about the diagnosis. I’ve been trying to perfect a few.”
He spoke plainly, like he hadn’t once again dropped an emotional bombshell in my lap.
“You learned how to make these—for me? Why?”
He gave me a grin and continued stirring. “Making you happy makes me happy.”
He had a way of saying these earth-shattering revelations with casual simplicity. It was hard not to swoon on the spot.
