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I never forgot that scent.
When the elevator dinged and the doors started to open, he said, “Have a nice swim, Sunshine.”
I stopped in my tracks and glanced over my shoulder with a curious gaze. He just looked down, the faintest hint of a grin on his lips, as he stared at my butt. He walked around me, threw me a wink, and disappeared. When my eyes dropped, I realized I was wearing my bright yellow bikini with smiling suns all over it under a see-through pink swim cover. It was my first “adult” bathing suit, one that concealed all the necessary parts, yet left little to the imagination. My mom picked it out, not surprisingly, and it was nothing like the one-piece or tankini-style I had worn up until that point in my high school life.
And Brock Williams had noticed me.
I died right there, at the age of eighteen years old, in an elevator car.
Now, I’m standing in my brother’s kitchen and catch the same familiar scent. Clean, with a hint of sandalwood. “You all right? I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, setting the plates down on the table, yet still holding me in his arms.
“I’m… fine.” I try clearing my throat, but the thickness is still there.
At twenty-nine, Brock is just as fit and muscular as he was at twenty-two, and I’m not just talking about his arms and chest. There areotherthings that are not quite hard, yet no mistaking it through a pair of nylon basketball shorts as it’s pressed into my side.
After a few very long seconds, he finally helps right me, leaving me standing on my own two feet. I’m actually surprised they’re still holding me up. My legs feel like Jell-O. “What are you doing here? Where’s Caleb?” I ask, trying to glance around his impossibly tall shoulders and not finding my brother.
“He’ll be here shortly. The special teams coach wanted a word with him after practice,” Brock replies, still standing somewhat close.
I carefully walk the rest of the way to the table, making sure my legs do what they’re supposed to do, and set the table, only to realize I may be a plate short. “Are you staying for dinner?” I ask, glancing back at him over my shoulder.
He flashes me a quick grin. “I wouldn’t say no to that. What’d ya make? It smells amazing.”
“Stuffed chicken with creamy spinach sauce,” I answer, retrieving another plate and turning off the music.
“Damn, I’m gonna have to work extra hard in the gym living here, aren’t I?” he replies with a chuckle.
I stop, silverware in hand, and stare at him. “You’re staying here?”
He meets my gaze and nods. “Yeah, I got traded right before training camp. I’m crashing here with Caleb for a bit.”
“Oh.” My mind races. I was planning to talk to my brother tonight about staying with him for a while. Of course, he’s going to want to know why I up and quit my job with no notice at all and practically ran from Springfield, but maybe now isn’t the best time. He has a houseguest. Sure, he has plenty of room, but I don’t want to impose.
“Where’d ya go there?”
His question pulls me from my own head.
“Sorry,” I reply, covering my worries with a laugh. “Just thinking.”
Just then, the alarm beeps and the front door opens. “Something smells amazing!”
I instantly grin and throw myself into my brother’s outstretched arms the moment he walks into the kitchen.
“There she is,” he whispers, enveloping me in a tight hug. “It’s been too long.”
“It has,” I reply as he sets my feet back down on the floor. “I made dinner.”
“You didn’t have to. I could have ordered something, you know that,” Caleb says, grabbing three bottles of water from the refrigerator before taking a seat.
“I know, but I wanted to cook. I like it,” I state with a shrug.
We sit down, Brock taking the seat directly across from me, and I swear I can feel his eyes on me the entire time. The guys both take hearty helpings of both rice and the chicken and dive right in. They make appreciative little noises while devouring their food, grabbing seconds before I’m even halfway through my chicken breast.
“So, how long are you here for?” Caleb asks, while piling the food on his plate.
“Ummm… I don’t know. Two days, maybe three?” I mutter, avoiding his watchful eye.
He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he’s staring at me. Caleb and I have been close our entire lives, and if anyone can read me, it’s him. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to. Brock’s here, but we’ll be busy with practice, so you’ll have the place to yourself most of the day.”
