Which it couldn’t be. Could it? Ugh. Was I this girl now? The one who overanalyzed every word and action of guys? Apparently so.
“Hi yourself,” he said, his voice low and sexy and turning my insides to mush. Seriously, how did people with dreamy boyfriends stay alive when their organs were in a constant state of disintegrating? “What are you up to?”
“I feel like I should say something exciting here, but just doing homework.” Sort of. I wasn’t about to admit the whole sitting around thinking about him thing.
“I wish I could come over,” he said. “I need to see you.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried about the dean changing her mind about us before I even got the chance to talk to my father.
“Nothing. Just that I’m dying to continue that kiss from the other day. You’re my new addiction, Brooklyn.”
Good thing I was already sitting down. If I’d thought his stares were intense before, the way he spoke to me now was killer. God help me next time I was with him; if he put the two together, I was toast. “I...I...”
“Sorry...” he chuckled, which was just even sexier. “I’m being creepy.”
“No,” I said quickly, afraid he was going to stop. “Not creepy.”
“Are you sure? I feel like I don’t know what to say to you. This feels...I don’t know...”
Surreal? Amazing? Perfect? Crazy? I couldn’t come up with the right word that encompassed everything I was feeling.
He went on, seemingly not bothered by my silence. “It’s weird. I...I’ve waited so long for this and now that it’s happening, I don’t know what to do or say that doesn’t sound ridiculous. I feel jittery inside, like I want to run a marathon and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
“You really shouldn’t be running, Brady,” I joked to break the tension, but my voice sounded breathless to my own ears. “But I know what you mean.”
“Do you? Are you feeling this way, too? Please say yes. Please tell me I’m not losing my mind.”
I laughed. “Well, you might be, but I’m right there with you.”
He didn’t say anything for several long moments, but I could hear him breathing. It should have been weird that we were just sitting there silent, but for some reason, it wasn’t. Like we were okay with just being together, if only on the phone. Finally he spoke. “Can I take you on a date this weekend? Like a real date? We can go into town for a movie or dinner or something.”
I wanted nothing more than to see him. Going on an actual date was exactly what we needed so I could really get to know him and let him get to know more about me—at least my personality, if not my name. Inevitably, though, I thought about the dean. “I think we should stay on campus. At least for now until your mother calms down a little.”
He sighed. “You’re probably right. Okay, backup plan: What do you have going on Saturday?”
“Let me check my calendar,” I said, flipping through my notebook for the sound effect before saying, “Uh, looks like I’m busy hanging out with my boyfriend.”
Dead silence. I panicked for half a second and then he chuckled again. “You mean me.”
“Uh, yeah,” I said.
“Sorry, it’s just new and...never mind. I’m being stupid. I guess that makes you my girlfriend.”
I smiled “That’s usually how it works.”
“Girlfriend,” he drawled. “I like it.”
I like you.
“So...” I said. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but I’m thinking we should probably avoid the bunker. You know, if that was on the agenda.”
“Option three it is,” he said, the smile obvious in his voice. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not about the bunker, but I loved that he was thinking it.
The dorm room door beeped. “Emmie’s coming. I should go. Text me about Saturday.”
“I will. Goodnight, Brooklyn,” he said in that low voice that coated me like warm honey.
“’night, Brady.”
~ ♥ ~
My father did call me back, but not until Friday when I was in class so I missed talking to him. I was relieved and then angry at myself for being relieved. Which meant I needed to get over myself and call him back, being clear about what I wanted.
At lunch, I had to run up to my dorm room to grab a notebook I’d forgotten, so while I was there I dialed him, expecting voicemail, but still feeling very mature about calling him.
Except that he answered. “Hi, Honey, you have perfect timing; I just got out of a meeting. What’s up?”
I smiled instantly, because no matter how much I didn’t want to talk to him about things, it was great to hear his voice. As much as I loved Rosewood, I had to admit sometimes I still got a little homesick. “What? A girl can’t call her father just to hear his voice?”
“Are you out of money already?” he joked.
“Not yet,” I laughed. “How’s the job?”
“It’s good. Not quite as fast-paced as what I’m used to, but it’s fine. Good.” He’d made sacrifices when he’d come back to the States, but he did sound okay with it. That was good. I mean, I preferred him in a less risky job, but I didn’t want him to hate his life now.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his tone serious now. “You didn’t call me to ask about my job.”
“No, I guess I didn’t. Everything’s fine,” I said. “I know to call the other number in an emergency. It’s just...”
He waited patiently for all of three seconds. “It’s just what?”
“I met a guy,” I blurted out.
“You met a guy...” There was a silence and then a very curt, “Wait. Are you in trouble?”
The emphasis on those last two words made my heart lurch in my chest as I figured out his meaning. I’d heard him joke with Robert about how he was too young to be a grandfather but he was a bit old school and I couldn’t imagine he would actually find anything funny about me calling to tell him I was pregnant. Not that there was any possibility, but I suppose he couldn’t know that for sure.
“Oh my God! No!” I said quickly, my entire body flushing from embarrassment. “No. nothing like that. Ugh, no, Dad, I promise.” And anyway, he had to know I would have called my mother first if anything like that ever happened. I mean, seriously. Although now that he’d thought the worst, and I easily denied it, I didn’t feel quite so panicked about what I needed to ask him; maybe it would seem tame in comparison to what he’d assumed.
He blew out a breath. “Okay, sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. Just...what is it?”
I opened my mouth but before I could speak, he said. “Wait. Where would you meet a boy? This school is girls only.”
Yeah, so. Here’s where it got a little dicey. Do I start with the fact that he’s the dean’s son? Or my coach? I quickly decided to go with the least offensive answer before I eased him into the rest. “He goes to the all boys’ school. We have dances and events together.” Still one-hundred percent true.
“Oh. Okay then,” he said, his voice was tense but not nuclear like before.
“He’s really nice and um...he’s going to the Olympics!” I figured that had to make Brady look good. Serious athletes were committed and focused: attributes my father respected.
“Olympics? Really?” Bingo: Dad was obviously impressed. “What sport?”
“Dressage. Riding.”
“Wow. Okay,” he said and then there was a long silence. I tried to think of what else to say but I wasn’t ready to spill the other stuff yet.
“All right. So I appreciate you telling me, but I have to think there’s more to it than telling your old man you’re dating someone,” he said, his voice having that suspicious edge to it.
I took a breath. “There is. I...I want to tell him the truth.”
Dad paused. “Which truth?”
“About who I am.”
Another pause, then just one word. “No.”
Crap. “But...”
“No. Absolutely not.” Thre
e words but still the same answer. I could even imagine him standing there shaking his head and holding his hand up like a stop sign.
“The d...” I broke off. I had been about to say the dean wasn’t going to let me get away with not telling her who I was, but in that split second I realized if I did, my father would pull me out of the school faster than you can say homeland security. “Dad...” I said, trying to cover. “I can’t start a relationship based on lies.”
“We sent you to that school for just that reason. You weren’t supposed to start any relationships.”
So that pissed me off, like he’d sent me to Rosewood thinking it was basically a convent? “I thought I was here for the security?”
“That, too,” he said.
“I’m eighteen now.”
He laughed at that. “I’m not likely to forget how old you are; you’re my daughter.”
So much for that threat.
“Look, I understand your life is more complicated than most teenagers’, but you know why it has to be this way. We’ve had this conversation and I don’t need to rehash it ad nauseum. We constructed your name and backstory very carefully to keep you safe. Just stick with that for now. I know it’s not ideal to have to lie to people you’re getting close to...” he trailed off, obviously thinking about something.
“What?” I asked, knowing that when he thought about things, my life could change on a dime.
“I’m just wondering if we should move you to a school closer.”
“No,” I said, trying not to be shrieky, even though panic was bubbling up from my gut at that. “I’m doing well here. I like the people and I’m getting good grades. Did Mom show you the picture of the ribbon I got in the competition? I’m happy here, Dad. Please let me stay.”
“How serious is it with this boy?”
“We only just started dating,” I said, which was true. “He hasn’t proposed or anything yet,” I said, hoping a joke would ease his mood.
Crickets.
He seemed to be thinking, the silence on the line going on long enough that holding my breath was getting uncomfortable. “All right. But you have to promise me you’re not going to defy me on this. It’s for your own safety. You know that.”
I took a breath and uttered, “Fine,” because there was nothing more I could say. He wasn’t going to bend, that much was obvious. I just had to figure out what to tell the dean.
Tales, Trails, and Tails
By Friday night, I was starting to worry he’d forgotten (or worse: had changed his mind) about me when Brady’s text finally came in. I was in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed: tomorrow 1pm at the stables.
I smiled at that and finished up at the sink before I turned off the tap and typed my response. Ok. What are we doing?
Can’t tell. You’ll like it.
How can you be so sure? I teased.
I’m sure.
Something about those two words tied my stomach in knots.
What should I wear? I sent back, hoping it would give me a clue as to what we were doing. Although, let’s be honest, making out in a stall had worked for me that last time and I wasn’t above doing it again. Though I’d told myself we needed to get to know each other better and while getting to know the inside of his mouth and every dip and ripple of his chest sounded like a fine plan, talking was the key to us really learning about each other. As much as we could, I guess. I still hadn’t figured out what to do about the dean, but was determined to enjoy Saturday with Brady and figure it out after the weekend.
I’d thought about asking my friends for advice on how to deal with the dean, but they didn’t know all the particulars of my situation either. And while they knew I had to keep parts of my life secret, I didn’t want to have to tell them the dean was pretty much demanding I tell her who I was—the fewer people who knew about my mess of a backstory, the better. Although I had a feeling if I had asked my friends, most of whom were now in relationships, they’d all tell me to be honest. It seemed like the right answer where Brady was concerned. But deep down, I knew my dad was right in this—I was still at risk and could put everyone in danger by admitting who I was. Once I started that ball rolling, there was no telling who might find out.
As I thought this, his response came in: Something warm for outside. Gloves and hat. Boots, too
I glanced out my window at the lazy fat snowflakes falling outside. Building snowmen?
Maybe. See you tomorrow. Can’t wait.
Ditto, I sent back, not caring how eager it made me look. I was eager. He was, too.
Now I just needed to figure out how to get to sleep.
~ ♥ ~
It was chilly out the next day, and Brady hadn’t said whether to meet him inside or outside, so I went into the barn. The morning’s practice was long over and the horses were back in their stalls, some dozing, others grazing. Jerry was probably around somewhere, but the office door was closed.
I made my way down the first aisle, listening to the shuffling of hay and chuffs of horses as I passed by their stalls. Some had their heads out, watching me and I laughed at the welcoming whinny and head bob as I approached Charlie. I tugged my glove off and shoved it into my pocket, stroking his face as I waited for Brady. I was a few minutes early, but killing a few moments petting horses was never time wasted.
“How you doing, Charlie,” I whispered, watching his ears swivel around at my words. “Sorry I haven’t been around much this week. We’ll get back to training soon. Jumping. What do you think of that?” The horse leaned into my hand, less enthusiastic about my words than he was about my touch.
“Hey,” Brady said softly from behind me. I looked over my shoulder and smiled at him. He was smiling back, not one of his sexy smirks, but a genuine smile, like he was just really happy to see me. Kind of exactly how I felt to see him.
Under his winter jacket, he was wearing a flannel shirt that I ached to touch and well-fitting jeans. I really liked him in his riding clothes, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with Brady in jeans.
God, he’s so freaking gorgeous, my brain said. We know, my wobbly knees answered.
Brady’s smile somehow got a trifle wider as though maybe he was reading my mind. “Ready?”
Playing it cool seemed like the way to go here. I turned fully toward him and crossed my arms, like I wouldn’t have done anything in that moment as long as it meant I got to be with him. “I don’t know. What are we doing?”
He pursed his lips like he wasn’t ready to tell me.
“Come on, it won’t be a secret much longer. Put me out of my misery.”
He stared at me for several breaths, just long enough for me to have to fight the urge to fidget.
“Put me out of my misery,” he muttered. And then, before I could even figure out what he meant, with two long strides, he closed the gap between us. His warm hands landed on my face as his lips pressed to mine. I grunted involuntarily at the shock of it, but then softened into the kiss, my lips opening to taste him, my eyes rolling back.
He groaned against my mouth and edged closer, pressing his whole body into mine, pushing us against the stall door, making it clatter on its hinges. Charlie whinnied in protest which seemed to break the spell. He pulled back, his palms still on my face, his thumbs rubbing my cheekbones as he breathed hard.
“Sorry,” he said. But his eyes were smoldering as he stared down at me. He didn’t look sorry. He looked like he wasn’t done kissing me.
“Are you apologizing to me or Charlie?” I asked.
“Charlie,” he said without hesitation. “I’d never be sorry for kissing you.”
Footsteps sounded around the corner, causing Brady to quickly take his hands from me and move back away.
I looked up to see Jerry coming around the corner and tried to paste a casual look on my face. “Hi Jerry,” I said, my voice sounding strangled. I felt like I may as well have been wearing a t-shirt saying, “I just made out with Brady up against Charlie’s stall!
”
I glanced at Brady, his lips flushed and wet. God that was so hot.
“Hi,” Jerry said, dragging my attention from Brady. “Not much going on this afternoon. You around for a while?” he asked Brady.
Brady nodded. “Yeah, I’ll lock up.”
Jerry put up his hand and Brady grasped it, letting Jerry tug him into a one-armed man-hug. “Good to have you back on the payroll,” Jerry said.
Brady nodded. “Good to be back.”
Jerry nodded at me and continued on out of the barn as we watched. Two seconds later, we turned to each other. I lifted my eyebrows at him; he raised his right one back at me and smirked.
“We should go,” he said, instead of kissing me again. “Let me just get the door.” I watched him lock the door I’d come through before he turned back toward me and walked past, deeper into the building. “Come on.”
“I still don’t know where we’re going.” Not that I would have complained if we were going to hang out and kiss more, just that he’d said to dress warm. If we were going to settle in and make out here in the building, the last thing I needed was warm clothes.
He nodded toward the back of the barn and I followed him out into the side yard. It was snowing again, big flakes falling to add to the six inches of snow already on the ground. But I barely registered the weather when I saw two horses tied to the fence just outside the barn. They were both saddled up but with big western saddles, not the trim English ones I was used to.
“What’s this?” I asked.
Brady smiled at me. “I thought we’d go for a little trail ride.”
I glanced down at his foot. “I thought you couldn’t ride.”
He shrugged. “I can’t train; doesn’t mean I can’t ride. I just need to be careful.”
I looked at him sideways. “Are you sure?” If you hurt yourself, your mother will kill you and then me, I thought.
He nodded. “I’m fine, Brooklyn. We’re not going cattle-roping.”
I gave him a big frown.
“What?” he said, his eyebrows arched high on his forehead.
“If we’re not going cattle-roping, do I still get to yell out Yee-Haw?”
Hitting the Target Page 10
