Page 17 of Big Girl Panties

Chapter 7

The Midnight Knight

Standing outside Brooke's twelve-story apartment building at midnight, I couldn't help but wonder if this was the exact moment I'd officially crossed the line from persistent romantic interest to guy who definitely needs a restraining order.

My hands were shaking, not from nerves, but from what I was choosing to call anticipatory enthusiasm. Brooke had stood me up tonight, which could only mean one thing: she was so overwhelmed by our chemistry that she needed time to process her feelings. Obviously.

I squinted at the building's call button panel like it held the secrets of the universe. Spoiler alert: it didn’t, just a bunch of unlabeled buttons that might as well have been a game of apartment roulette. I could either ring every single buzzer until I found her, definitely crossing into stalker territory, or admit defeat and try the café tomorrow like a normal person.

That's when the universe decided to have a sense of humor.

The front door burst open, and out stumbled Brooke in all her midnight glory, oversized t-shirt sliding off one shoulder, sweatpants that had clearly given up on life, and sandals that screamed I wasn't planning on leaving my apartment tonight. Her hair was piled on top of her head in what I generously called a messy bun but was probably more accurately described as gravity-defying chaos.

She was absolutely beautiful.

Her sleepy blue eyes locked onto mine, and I watched in real-time as her expression shifted from confusion to horror to the particular brand of mortification reserved for moments when you realize you look like you just wrestled a pillow and lost.

"Matt?" she squeaked, her voice hitting a pitch that probably summoned neighborhood dogs.

Time for damage control.

"It's not what it looks like!" The words tumbled out so fast they practically tripped over each other. "I mean, okay, it's exactly what it looks like, but I have a perfectly reasonable explanation that doesn't involve me being a creepy stalker person!"

Her brows pulled together.

"You didn't show up tonight, and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"At midnight?" She crossed her arms, which only made her oversized shirt slide further off her shoulder. I heroically kept my eyes on her face.

"When you put it like that, it does sound a little…" I paused, searching for the right word. "Unhinged?"

Her gaze dropped to my black suit, and I suddenly remembered I was still dressed for our non-date. "Why are you so dressed up this late?"

"Because I had a date tonight that never showed up." I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice, but judging by the way her face crumpled, I'd failed spectacularly.

"Matt, I'm so…"

Her phone buzzed, distracting her, and she glanced at it, her face paling. "The security alarm in my café is going off. I have to go. Now."

My protective instincts kicked in so hard they practically did a backflip. "Are the police there?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, but I really have to go."

"I'll drive you." It wasn't a question.

"Matt, it's late, and you've already done enough…"

"Nope." I held up a hand. "I'm not letting you go alone to a potentially dangerous situation at midnight. You can either ride with me willingly, or I can follow you in my truck while playing Eye of the Tiger at full volume. Your choice."

She stared at me for a long moment, probably calculating whether I was serious about the soundtrack threat. I absolutely was.

Sighing, she nodded. "Okay, let's go."

The two-minute drive to her café was filled with the kind of loaded silence that practically hummed with unspoken words. Words about tonight's missed date were dancing on the tip of my tongue, but it wasn't the right time. My fingers tapped an anxious rhythm on the steering wheel.

When we rounded the corner and saw her café, we both sucked in sharp breaths.

"Oh my God," Brooke whispered, and before I could even put the truck in park, she was out and running toward the destruction.