Page 9 of The Scent of Happiness

“We squeaked by,” Derek said. “We passed.”

Theo took a sip of beer. Of course Derek was happy with middling grades. Brooke probably was too. She’d never been one to take school seriously. Parties and popularity were more important.

“I know you think those three were stuck-up bitches,” Derek said. “But Brooke wasn’t bitchy at all. She was actually nice if you gave her a chance.”

Ha. Like she’d ever give me one. They’d been friends as kids, in that “my parents know your parents” casual way, but by the time they got to high school, they traveled in such different social spheres, he might as well not have existed.

Derek scratched his belly over his t-shirt and then pushed off from the table and stood. “Speaking of bitchy, that’s what I’ll be tomorrow if I don’t get some sleep.”

“Night, Derek.”

“Thanks for the slice.” Derek wove his way to his bedroom and shut the door.

Theo finished his beer while looking at his phone and thinking about high school. He’d graduated ten years ago, but in some ways, it felt like yesterday.

Maybe it was because he was living with his buddy in a student apartment, eating pizza after dark. Derek had never finished college and was kind of a permanent adolescent himself.

Derek was a good guy, but Theo was looking forward to the day when he could get his own place. He could bang around the kitchen at all hours cooking whatever he wanted, watch a movie without headphones, let a date spend the night without constantly shushing her. But that would have to wait until he’d made a dent in his student loans, when he moved up in his firm, when he was practicing law the way he wanted to, instead of filing paperwork for the higher-ups and dealing with bullshit cases like Brooke Nesbitt’s.

He pitched the sad pizza crusts into the garbage and shut off his phone for the night.

Chapter Five

After work the next day, Brooke borrowed her dad’s car and drove to the offices of Walker Blue and Associates on the far south side of town. Unlike downtown Cannondale, which was cute, compact, and walkable, the south side was generic and sprawling, with prefab buildings, chain stores, and a six-screen movie theater hugging the highway. Beyond it were the new developments—three thousand square foot houses on winding streets with baby trees squatting in the yards waiting for the neighborhood to mature.

Brooke parked in the back of the law firm’s lot. She approached the door carrying a basket with four soaps from Mixed Suds, beautifully wrapped and surrounded by colorful tissue. At the reception desk, she gave her name and was told to wait.

She checked her phone, making sure she had the time and date correct. Friday, five o’clock. She was right where she was supposed to be.

As she sat in the reception area, she looked at her soaps through the clear plastic covering the gift basket. Brooke had freaked out when Dixie complained, terrified that she’d made toxic soap. She’d pulled all of it off the shelves and broke open one bar from each batch, testing it with pH strips. When it all tested normal, her fear turned to anger and seething resentment that Dixie had tricked her into wasting so much soap.

At least she had Theo on her side. He’d always been smart. He’d take one look at this situation and see that she was right, Dixie was wrong, and she shouldn’t pay a single dime.

Footsteps made her look up as Theo came down the hall toward her. At least, she thought it was Theo. The man moved with a confident determination she didn’t remember him having. He was several inches taller than she was, and his height was carried on an athletic frame—broad shoulders, trim waist—accented by the V of his suitcoat. He wore the suit with the kind of ease that said it was his everyday uniform.

Theo’s face seemed to have settled into adulthood. When they were kids, she’d thought of him as almost pretty, with his wide eyes and full lips and creamy skin, as if he’d come from a world where everything was softer and easier. But that ethereal beauty had vanished, and Theo had matured into deliciously masculine features, with high cheekbones, a strong jaw accented by designer stubble, and an intelligent gaze.

Brooke stood and tugged at her cardigan, wishing she hadn’t come straight from work, or at least had worn something other than a jumper dress and chunky shoes. Worse, she was wearing her most unflattering glasses today, the black square ones she wore when she meant business.

Theo looked past her, then did a double take before approaching her with an outstretched hand. “Brooke, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“I don’t usually dress like this,” she blurted. Gah! Stupid. Faced with a lawyer and the first thing out of her mouth was a lie. She dressed like this all the time. “It’s because of my job. I work in a library.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Sorry.” Her mouth hadn’t quite caught up to her brain. Because now that he was standing in front of her, shaking her hand, Brooke had a problem. The problem was Theo, and his looks were only a small part of it.

Theo Chambers smelled amazing.

It wasn’t the sticky floral of laundry soap, or the overpowering punch of junior colognes like Axe. And if it was a high-end bodywash or aftershave, it wasn’t like anything Brooke had smelled before. Whatever Theo had applied that morning had combined with his skin and his chemistry to produce something intoxicating. He smelled like a sultry summer night, drinks under the stars, and bodies glistening with sweat dancing to a heavy drumbeat. A night when everything was blooming and all of nature was calling out love me, love me.

Brooke’s body tingled and everything between her legs was heating up. She blinked and touched her fingertips to her lips as if he’d kissed them. The only thing on her mind was sex. Not the rom-com kind where everything was soft and dreamy. One breath of Theo, and all she could think about was the kind of overpowering lust that made people push each other into walls and tear off each other’s clothes and break beds.

She gulped back a giggle. It came out as a small squeak. She smiled at him and inhaled again.

“My office is down the hall,” Theo said, snapping her out of it. “We can talk there.”

He ushered her through the door and indicated the guest chair as he sat behind his desk. It was spotless, with only a closed laptop and a blank legal pad on it. Bookshelves lined most of the walls except for the wall that had—thank goodness—a window.