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She placed her hands on the ground behind her and leaned back, tilting her head, eyes closed, toward the sky. Who knew eating dinner on the ground could be exactly what she needed? Suddenly, she felt the need to really open up to him.
“I’ve been thinking about my family back home. I always felt like I had to prove something by succeeding. My father wanted me to stay close by. My mom supported me but was worried… But you know what the weird thing is?” She opened her eyes and looked over at him. He was watching her intently, that warm, yet intense gaze making her feel like she mattered.
“What?” he asked.
Brooke straightened and turned to face him, folding her legs behind her. “Now that I have the title of marketing director for a big-name company, I don’t even care about that. I think I know why.”
“Why?”
“Because this is my home now.” She laughed when she remembered they weren’t exactly home right now. “Notthis, but San Francisco. Our office, my condo, the people around me…you.”
The last word was whispered. She still felt hesitant to imply they were in more of a relationship than they actually were. It was tough to shake the perception she’d previously had of him as some sort of womanizer. He’d never given her any reason to think that way. It was just a stereotype she’d fallen for.
“And everyone here—there—believes in you.” He reached over and rested his finger and thumb on her jawline, moving closer to her. “But it can’t hurt to go back home and show everyone just how much you’ve kicked butt. Maybe we should schedule a private jet to take us there.”
Brooke laughed. “That does sound appealing, but no.”
He leaned over and gently grazed her lips with his. “No?”
She shook her head. Her concentration was waning here. “It’s…I just don’t care what they think anymore. In fact, let’s rent an old junker when we visit.”
Eyebrows arched, he leaned back and looked at her. “Are you inviting me home to meet your parents?”
Her first instinct was to backtrack. No. He’d freak out if she said “yes” because it was too soon, right?
But then she realized that was the old Brooke. The new Brooke wasn’t afraid anymore. She’d lay it all out on the line and have faith that he’d return it.
“Yes, I am. I want my parents to meet the man I love.”
Now she had his attention. She waited, breath held, for his response, and nearly let out that breath in a big gush when his mouth slowly spread into a smile.
“As the man who loves you, I accept.”
They sealed the pronouncement with a kiss, followed by a loud rumble from Brooke’s stomach. With a laugh, Justin dug into the picnic basket while Brooke leaned back again, taking a moment to be thankful for everything great that had come into her life.
* * *
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Livingabove a coffee shop sucked when you suffered from insomnia.
Grumbling to herself, Alyssa Kennedy sat up, swinging her feet to the floor in the process. Her best friend’s sofa was her bedroom for the foreseeable future. It was necessary while Alyssa struggled to build her own marketing firm after being suddenly laid off from her job at one of the city’s top tech companies.
Alyssa looked at the coffee table, already reaching out for her laptop. Her hand was met with empty space, then the table surface. Her laptop wasn’t there.
“Ugh,” she said as she remembered exactly where it was. Downstairs.
Careful not to wake her roommate sleeping on the other side of her closed bedroom door, Alyssa crept toward the door to the apartment, grabbing her keyring from the hook near the kitchen. She’d just retrieve her laptop and return to the sofa, catching up on some work in the two hours before they had to get ready and open the coffee shop.
The closer she got to the store, the stronger the smell of coffee was. They could close this place up for six months and she was pretty sure the scent would still permeate this entire area. It had permanently soaked into the floors, walls, ceiling, and furnishings.
Alyssa unlocked the door and stepped inside, flipping the lock behind her before entering. Over the past couple of weeks, she’d gotten used to entering a dark coffee shop every morning. Usually, she came down and started on opening duties while the café’s owner, her roommate, showered and got dressed. She found it amusing that she could be thought of as the early bird when Emily had been opening this store at four a.m. for two years.
The laptop was right there, on the counter. Alyssa headed straight toward it, eyes on the prize, and was just about to grab it when a sound caught her attention. It was coming from the direction of the front door to the café. Her heart began racing as she turned, seemingly in slow motion, to check out the source of the noise.
There was a man outside that door. He was dressed in all dark clothing, like a burglar, and even had a black beanie on his head. Burglars wore black beanies, didn’t they? She was pretty sure she’d seen that on cheesy TV shows. Alyssa quickly looked around for something to use as a weapon, realizing at the same time that the wise move would probably be to run. She could call the police from her cellphone upstairs and—
A loud click drew her attention back to the door. The burglar had figured out how to pick the lock, even though it was a super strong deadbolt. But that door was opening and the man in the beanie was entering. If she didn’t find a weapon fast, she’d be toast.
“I called the police!” she shouted.
It was too dark to make out the face of the burglar, but she could confirm he was wearing a beanie. And he had a fairly thick winter coat on, which was odd for San Francisco-area weather. He probably had all his burglary tools secured in the pockets or something.
“Alyssa?”
That voice. She’d know that voice anywhere. It was the grown-up version of the voice of the boy she’d heard in her head every day and night of her adolescence. It was the voice of Jeremy Owens.
* * *
