“Well, now we’ve cleared things up, let’s get back to the scrumptious physical therapist. Is that how you met? He’s your physical therapist?” Bailey immediately jumps in to change the topic of conversation. I could kiss her.
“Yeah, who is this Brodie guy?” Suzanne asks. “He’s not your type at all.”
My hands release their death grip on the chair as I chuckle. Brodie may not resemble the guys I usually date, but the man is every woman’s type. After all, what woman doesn’t want a man who looks like he would take the world on to keep you safe?
“I think he’s dreamy,” Bailey sighs. She would. Look up the word romantic in the dictionary and you’ll find Bailey’s picture. She’s on a continuous cycle: meet a man, fall in love, get heartbroken. Rinse and repeat. She wouldn’t know how to pick a good man in if he came up and slapped her in the face. It’s like she sees a red flag and Bam!, she’s a bull charging after a matador’s red cape.
Suzanne and Becky are looking at me with interest now. I struggle to open up about my relationship with them after the whole Tara-thing, but in the end, these are my girls. I can’t not tell them about Brodie. “He was my physical therapist, but he’s not anymore.” I keep my description of our relationship light. After the words Tara said and their defense of her, I hesitate to bring up my scarring and how it’s messing with my head and our relationship. They don’t know the extent of the scarring on my leg, and I have no plans to tell them.
When Grandma interrupts a few minutes into my story, I could kiss her. “Do you girls want to stay for dinner? I’m making spaghetti and meatballs.” My stomach growls.
“We’d love to,” Bailey immediately responds.
Becky glares at her. “But we can’t. We need to get back to the city.”
“We do? We don’t have any plans.”
Becky and Suzanne glance at each other. They must have plans without Bailey. I hate it when they do that. They don’t need to include Bailey in everything, but ignoring her and being all secretive is just plain wrong. Bailey always ends up getting her feelings hurt.
Becky stands. “We do need to go. Thank you for the cookies. See ya, Frankie.” She walks out with Suzanne hot on her heels.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Taylor. I’m sure your spaghetti is delicious. The cookies were yummy.” Bailey walks to me and kisses my cheek. “Bye, Frankie. See you soon.”
“I don’t see why you’re friends with those girls,” Grandma starts the moment the front door closes. “They’ve got no manners.”
Manners is the least of their worries. I’m starting to wonder why I ever made friends with them in the first place. I give myself a mental head slap. I’m not being fair. We used to have a great time going to parties and hitting up dance clubs. I guess I never realized how superficial our friendships are. Of course, I never had time for anything besides work before the accident. Huh. Was I shallow, too?
Chapter 24
A lady should be plan for her future.
Make sure you bring a bag.
A bag? Like an overnight bag? Brodie is out of his freaking mind if he thinks I’m spending the night with him. Not happening.
He doesn’t respond to my refusal. Instead, he tells me he’ll be here in a few minutes. I’m a bit disappointed he doesn’t put up more of a fight about the bag thing. Doesn’t he want to have sex with me? I slap my forehead. Stop it, Frankie! You don’t want to have sex with the man. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
The doorbell rings ten minutes later and I slowly make my way to the front door to discover my Coach overnight bag sitting next to the door. “Grandma!” I shout.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shouts back before I hear a door bang and know she’s escaped into the back yard. Darn woman! I’m deleting her contact information from Brodie’s phone if it’s the last thing I do. With a growl, I open the door.
“Hey, beautiful,” Brodie leans down and places his lips gently on mine. I groan and lean into him totally forgetting I’m a one-legged pirate who has yet to figure out how to use her peg leg. Naturally, I lose my balance and nearly fall on top of him. He steadies me before both of us land with our butts on the porch.
“Whoa there,” he says as he steadies me.
My face goes nuclear. Ugh! I’m such a dork. I can’t even make out with a man without falling flat on my face. Brodie kisses my forehead before making sure I’m steady on my feet and releasing me. He reaches down to grab the overnight bag.
“I didn’t pack that!” I exclaim. He chuckles and shakes his head at me.
“Come on,” he says before turning to walk to his truck parked at the curb.
“And I’m not having sex with you!” I shout to his back.
The neighbor, who has been not very subtly checking out Brodie’s fabulous behind, shakes her head at me. “If she doesn’t want you, I’ll take you for a spin,” she yells at Brodie’s retreating figure. I stop and stare at the brazen old biddy. Oh my god, that would be like him having sex with my grandma. I shiver. Wrong. In so many ways – wrong.
“Keep your mitts away from him, Martha! He’s mine!” What am I doing? Brodie’s not mine, and I don’t want to have sex with him. Such a liar.
“Where are we going?” I ask once we’re in his truck and I’ve managed to wrestle my mortification into submission.
“I thought you might enjoy the French market in Bensenville.” An entire day walking around on crutches in a crowded market? I thought dates are supposed to be fun and not another circle in Dante’s Inferno. I open my mouth to protest, but Brodie continues before I get the chance to whine like the big fat whiner I’ve become. “I’ve never been, but I understand it’s a shopping paradise.”
“And you assume because I’m a girl, I’m into shopping?”
“Babe.” His eyes skim over my outfit before he returns his attention to the road. I’m wearing a yellow wraparound maxi dress. Its length cleverly hides my scarred-up leg but showcases some of my newly discovered cleavage. Cleavage being the benefit of gaining some weight due to Grandma’s cooking. Good thing this dress has some elasticity to it. He’s in jeans and a t-shirt. The t-shirt stretches tight over his chest and shoulders. I’m a bit jealous of the t-shirt. Hugging his muscles sounds like a great place to be. “I’ve seen your wardrobe.”
I snort. He has no idea. He has most definitely not seen my wardrobe. The clothes I’ve been wearing since I’ve been at my grandparents are but a mere fraction of my wardrobe. Having to limit myself to clothes able to hide my scarring means the vast majority of my clothes are gathering dust in my apartment in the city. Brodie is right about one thing, though. “I do love to shop. Not sure about a farmer’s market, though.” I like vegetables as much as the next diet-obsessed woman, but shopping for vegetables? Um, no. Grocery delivery was invented for a reason.
“I’ve heard they also have jewelry, clothing, books, everything you can imagine.”
That sounds more like it. “I guess I can suffer through it, then.”
Brodie chuckles and reaches over to grab my hand. He places our entwined hands on his thigh as he continues to drive. Warmth spreads from where his hand touches mine throughout my body. My eyes wander to the bag Grandma packed sitting at my feet. Is this really going to happen?
The drive to the market takes an hour. Brodie starts by asking me how my physical therapy with Carrie is going. I’m not Carrie’s biggest fan, but – to be fair – I’m not what you could call a fan of physical therapy. I’ve discovered therapy is a complete misnomer for ‘let’s torture this person and tell her it’s good for her’. Not fun at all. As Brodie is a physical therapist and Carrie’s colleague, I try to tone down my animosity. I think I fail since he chuckles. Unfortunately, his tone then becomes serious, “What did your colleague have to say?”
My colleague? What’s he talking about? “You mean Jackson? How did you know he stopped by? Let me guess, Grandma.” I’m going to kill the nosy busybody!
“I love your grandma.”
&
nbsp; “Of course, you do,” I mumble.
“Don’t avoid the question. What did Jackson want?”
My face heats as I remember Jackson’s confession. I still find it hard to believe he has a thing for me. He never let on. Heck, he never even hinted there were any problems with his relationship with Debbie either. I can’t count the number of times we talked about wedding plans. Brodie squeezes my hand and I realize I must have spaced out. Oh crap. If we’re dating or in a relationship or whatever it is, I need to tell Brodie about Jackson. I try to pull my hand away, but Brodie holds on tight.
“What’s going on?”
I sigh. “Look, it’s no big deal.”
“Words every man wants to hear.”
“Seriously, it’s not a big deal. It’s just… well, Jackson kind of confessed he likes me.”
Brodie glances over at me and raises his eyebrow. “Likes you how?”
“He said he’s into me.” His hand squeezes mine. “Ouch! Let up, will you?”
“Sorry.” He releases my hand to rub the back of his neck. “How did you respond? What did you tell Jackson?”
I watch as he puts both hands on the steering wheel and squeezes. His knuckles turn white. Is he jealous? Wait. No. Don’t be ridiculous, Frankie. Brodie is all that and Jackson is … Oh shit, Jackson is the type of guy I usually go for. He wears a suit and is groomed to the teeth. And I may have mentioned to Brodie how suit-wearing men are my usual catnip. Oops. My bad.
“What did you say to Jackson?” Brodie practically growls the question.
“Cool it, big guy. I’m not into Jackson. If I were, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you, would I?”
“Can you stop evading my question, please?”
I shrug. “I didn’t really respond. I was shocked. I thought he was still engaged to be married.” Upon hearing of Jackson’s engagement, Brodie’s hands loosen on the steering wheel and his knuckles gradually return to their normal color. “The wedding is in a few months. I guess I should say was. What a mess! No wonder he keeps pushing me to start my own business.”
Brodie reaches over and grabs my hand again. “I know you initially said you weren’t interested in starting your own business, but have you thought any more about it?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t like the thought of having to deal with the administration side of things. I’m the ideas girl. Administration? Finance? No, thank you.” I shiver. “But Jackson has a business degree and said he’d help with that side of things. I don’t know, though. It’s more than starting my own business, you know? I’d be leaving the firm, which stood by me during my accident as well. Not to mention a boss who has helped nurture my career. And then, there’s the whole city thing. I’m not sure I’m ready to settle in the suburbs permanently. It’s a lot to think about.”
“Sounds like you are considering it, though?” He sounds hopeful.
Huh. I guess I am. I’m not sure when the seed was planted, but the idea is now firmly lodged in my head. Luckily, we’ve arrived at the market and I can stop thinking about my future. Something I’ve been an expert at avoiding since my accident. Oh sure, I’ve been wallowing in despair at my career being ruined. I totally rock at wallowing. But taking time to think about where I go from here if my career is ruined? I’ve actively avoided those thoughts. Do I continue with my career in the city – having to confront clients who knew me before my face was scarred? And knowing I will have to change how I tackle planning events? Or do I start a new business in the suburbs? I inhale deeply and exhale all those scary thoughts of my future out of my brain. It’s time for fun now.
Chapter 25
A lady should always play hard to get.
Today has been awesome! Brodie was right about the French market. I loved it. There were tons of stalls stuffed full of unique jewelry, clothing, and handbags. I found a lovely chunky necklace and matching earrings, which Brodie insisted on buying. We argued until I feared I was going to punch him in the nuts. Lucky for his manhood, the lady operating the stand stepped in and told me, “Honey, you’ve made your point. Let your man buy you something pretty.” She then took his credit card and that was that. Fortunately, Brodie didn’t try to buy the handbag I found. Smart man. He was also good about stopping for breaks. He didn’t baby me or make a big deal about my needing to stop every once in a while. Whenever he saw me flagging, he’d wordlessly steer me towards a food vendor for a snack or a drink before declaring, “I have to try this.” Sweet man.
Lunch was sushi in a Japanese tea garden. I was surprised to see the big and burly Brodie eat sushi. I didn’t think big and burly men ate sushi. But not only did Brodie eat sushi, he ate a ton of sushi. The man can lay waste to some sushi. He also ordered a bunch of tempura so he wouldn’t ‘lose his man card’. Cue eye roll.
After sushi, he took me for ice cream. And not any old ice cream. This place was to die for. To. Die. For. They make their own chocolates and ice cream. My eyes rolled back in my head when I tried their salted caramel ice cream. Somehow a pound of chocolate pralines ended up in a bag. Not sure how it got there.
And now we’re back at Brodie’s place. We had pizza for dinner while watching an action flick. Since I ate my weight in food today, I’ve pretty much lapsed into a food coma while absently rubbing my shoulders. They’ve had quite the workout today.
“Come here.” Brodie helps me shift so my back is to him and then he starts to rub my shoulders.
I moan. “Oh god, that feels good.”
He chuckles. “I’m proud of you.”
Color me confused. “For what? Eating my weight in food today?” I rub my stomach. I’m now sporting a tummy pouch. A few months ago, the sight of anything other than a flat stomach would have caused a panic attack followed by days of starving myself. Today, I can’t be bothered to care.
“No, although finishing off half of the extra-large pizza was pretty impressive,” I grunt. Leave it to a man to be impressed by a woman scarfing down food. “I’m talking about the market. You didn’t complain once, and I know you were in pain.”
Damn straight, I was in pain. Heck, I still am. But I’m not complaining. Not when Brodie is kneading the muscles in my shoulders and upper arms. I shiver at the feel of his strong hands working out the tension in my upper body and goosebumps explode across my skin.
Brodie leans down and kisses my neck. I sigh and tilt my head to give him better access. He takes advantage and starts kissing a trail from my neck to behind my ear. I nearly melt into a puddle of goo. “Please tell me you want this.” He licks my earlobe before biting it. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever to be with you.”
I giggle. “Forever? We haven’t known each other that long.”
Brodie growls and teases my earlobe between his teeth. “You didn’t answer my question.” He kisses my collarbone before nudging the sleeve of my dress with his nose to bare my shoulder. “Do you want this?”
His lips have lulled me into submission, I don’t hesitate to answer. “Yes.”
I find myself airborne and cradled in Brodie’s arms. He marches towards his bedroom as if on a mission. I think I may be his mission. The thought causes a full-body shiver as all my female parts to wake up. He sets me on his bed, nudges my legs open, and kneels in the space he created.
“I’d love to keep these sexy as hell sandals on you while I make love to you, but I need to take your brace off.”
I freeze at the word brace. I can’t believe I forgot about my hideous leg. What was I thinking? I scramble away from him. I just need to make it to the other side of the bed, and then I can escape. Brodie puts his hands on my thighs and stops me. “Beautiful, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.” Easy for him to say. He’s a perfect specimen of manhood. He grabs my face between his hands and forces me to look at him. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid,” I manage to force the lie from my lips.
“You are beautiful. Every inch of you is beautiful. Please let me show you how beautiful you ar
e to me.” I’m not sure how he could possibly accomplish such a task, but – staring into his warm chocolate brown eyes – I’m helpless to do anything other than nod. His lips descend and meet mine in a searing kiss. He tilts my head to his liking and plunders my mouth until I can’t remember why I’m fighting this.
Far too quickly for my liking, he ends the kiss and pulls away. He smiles at me before reaching to remove my sandals. This time I don’t stop him. I watch as he slowly drags my dress up until my brace is exposed. He unfastens the straps while continuing to stare into my eyes. Then, he loosens the contraption and drags it down my leg and off.
Gazing into my eyes the entire time, he leans forward and kisses my scars. He peppers small kisses over the entire area before getting to his feet. “Time to get you out of this dress.”
This is really happening! My girly parts squeal in excitement while my head reminds me of the weight I’ve gained since being laid up. But then Brodie reaches behind his neck and tugs off his t-shirt. My mind goes blank. He is the definition of male perfection. Defined pecs? Check! A V of muscles leading to his manhood? Check! Six-pack? Check! Although I don’t stop to count. There’s entirely too much of fabulous male skin on offer to take the time to count.
My hands move of their own accord and I find myself petting his chest. His muscles contract as my hands go on a voyage of discovery. Brodie allows me to pet him, but I know his patience is done when he reaches forward to haul me to my feet. “Your turn.” He gathers the bottom of my dress and pulls it over my head. He throws it behind me without bothering to look where it lands. We’ll need to have a conversation about how to treat designer clothing at some point.
“Damn,” he says as he stares at my nearly naked body. “Even better than I imagined.” He leans forward and whispers into my ear, “And I spent a lot of time imagining this.” He picks me up and lays me in the middle of the bed. His body comes down on mine, but he keeps his weight off me by bracing himself with his elbows. “Now, I’m going to show you just how beautiful you are.”
About Face (Love in the Suburbs Book 1) Page 12
