Awaken Me

by Farrah Rochon

  She brought them upstairs first, where eight of the twelve offices were located. Brooklyn was disappointed to discover the French doors leading to the balcony were faux. Why have a balcony if you couldn’t use it?

  The Realtor then led them back downstairs, giving them a quick tour of the kitchen space, the smaller of the two conference rooms, and what would likely be Alex’s spacious corner office. They ended the tour in the second conference room.

  “So, what do you think?” Shania asked.

  “It fits Alex’s criteria. What about parking?”

  Based on the grimace that flashed across her face, it was obvious Brooklyn had asked the one question Shania-Like-the-Country-Singer had hoped to avoid answering.

  “I’ll be honest, parking may be a bit tricky,” the woman answered. “There’s a small lot behind the building with four designated spots for this suite, but there’s ample street parking in the residential neighborhood behind us. I frequent this area and have never had a problem finding parking, even during the lunch hour.”

  Brooklyn nodded. “I like it, but I’m not the one who will be making the decision.” She looked over her shoulder to find Reid perusing the space, a thoughtful expression illuminating his face.

  “Reid?” she called.

  “What?” he asked, startled, as if he hadn’t heard a word they’d said. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

  Well, guess that answered that.

  He walked over to them and, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking around the conference room, said, “Knowing Alex’s style, I’m pretty sure he’ll like this one.” His lips tilted up in a smile. “It’s amazing to think that the little construction company he ran out of his kitchen for so long has grown to the point where he needs something like this to house it.”

  Brooklyn’s heart swelled at the admiration she heard in his voice. She naturally had a soft spot for family run businesses. Witnessing Reid’s pride over his cousin’s success tugged at the part of her soul that would celebrate every small achievement her dad was able to accomplish with LeBlanc & Sons.

  Some of that animosity she felt over the online dating thing started to subside. It was foolish to hold it against him just because he didn’t have the reaction to her that she wanted him to have. In the end, if all she could have is Reid’s friendship, she would take it.

  “I’m going to take some pictures and video to bring back to Alex,” Reid said.

  “Absolutely,” the Realtor replied. “There’s also a 360-video online for this listing, which I emailed to Mr. Holmes. But you two understandably have a better idea of what he would like to see.” She turned to Brooklyn. “You should also take pictures so we’ll have all our bases covered.”

  As Reid used his phone to record virtually every square foot of the building, Brooklyn went around snapping pictures and trying to get a feel for how the office would be set up. Given the nature of her job, she would be stuck in a trailer most of the time, but Alex informed her yesterday that her home base would be in the new office space.

  She’d visited the place that served as Holmes Construction’s headquarters when she interviewed for the job. At the time she’d thought the two-hundred square foot room attached to Alex’s house—about ten minutes from where they were right now—was nice, but it wasn’t sufficient for a company that was growing at the rate in which Holmes Construction was growing. His assistant, Jennie, and HCC’s official project manager, Derrick Lawson, were the only people who worked there, but according to Alex, he was planning to hire two additional project managers and an in-house quality control expert. He also hoped to add a small engineering department so that he no longer had to rely on contractors.

  It was exciting to come into this company just as it stood on the precipice of this massive growth spurt. Yet another reason why she could forget about taking time off to attend a several-weeks-long comics writing program. She couldn’t leave now, not with everything happening at Holmes Construction.

  Shania thanked them both for coming to view the rental space and promised to be in touch with Alex later in the day. They followed her out of the building and Reid started for his truck, but Brooklyn stopped him.

  “Hey,” she called, still standing on the sidewalk in front of the building. He looked back over his shoulder, one brow spiked in inquiry. “You up for some ice cream?” she asked.

  He turned around fully, and by the serious look on his face, Brooklyn was certain she was about to get a lecture about them being on company time. But then he said, “What kind of question is that? Of course I’m up for ice cream.”

  She burst out laughing. “Good, because I rarely get over to this part of the city, and one of my favorite ice cream parlors is just a few blocks away. Alex wouldn’t mind if we take a few minutes to grab a couple of cones, would he?”

  Reid closed the distance between them, and with the most delectable twinkle gleaming in his brown eyes, said, “Who says Alex has to know?”

  * * *

  As they stood waiting for a utility truck to pass at the corner of Chestnut and Upperline Streets, Reid strove to temper the thrilling charge that raced along his skin. A damn near impossible feat. He’d spent the better part of the last hour pushing back against the urge to touch her every time she came near him.

  Apparently, Brooklyn’s confirmation that she wasn’t seeing anyone was the green light his brain had been waiting for. All those excuses he’d drummed up over the past two weeks had crumbled away like the corroded thread on a rusted-out pipe. He was through pretending he was okay with this “let’s just be friendly co-workers” bullshit. He wanted more.

  His new goal: convince Brooklyn that he deserved more.

  He couldn’t rush this. And he couldn’t be stupid about it either. He would have to rethink his usual method of pursuing a woman. If he went with his normal approach—a smile, a wink, and a quick invitation to his bed—he would either get a) a slap, b) a knee to the nuts, or c) both.

  But he’d already acknowledged that his normal approach wouldn’t work this time, because there was nothing normal about the way any of this felt.

  He didn’t do relationships. He’d never wanted to. Not until the woman who’d just invited him to join her for ice cream had crashed into his world and tempted him with her beguiling smile and array of superhero T-shirts. As he glanced over at her and took in the mass of thick, crinkly curls he’d been dying to shove his fingers into as he held her head steady against him, Reid realized what he had to do.

  He would court her.

  He’d never made much of an effort to win a woman over, but when he thought about the look that would come over his mom’s face when she talked about how his dad courted her back in the day, Reid knew he had to at least try. Brooklyn was worth it. He would take the time to get to know her, to learn her likes and dislikes, and actually listen when she talked. But he would take it slow and give Brooklyn the chance to determine if her feelings mirrored his own.

  God, please don’t let me mess this up.

  They turned onto Prytania Street and, moments later, came upon a green building that looked like a throwback to the 1960s.

  “Wait, this is the old McKenzie’s Bakery, isn’t it? When did it become an ice cream parlor?” Reid asked.

  “Years ago,” Brooklyn said. She huffed. “And you call yourself a real ice cream lover. You can’t really love ice cream and not know about The Creole Creamery.”

  He reached over and held the glass door opened, motioning for her to go ahead of him. He leaned in close as she walked by him and said, “I guess you really love ice cream.”

  She looked at him over her shoulder. “Like most parents love their children. Probably more. Kids can be little shits sometimes, but ice cream? Ice cream never, ever disappoints.”

  He couldn’t control the laugh that shot from his mouth.

  “I’ve never met someone who takes their ice cream this seriously. I’m fascinated.” He slid onto the seat next to her, perching on one
of the vinyl barstools that lined the old-school counter. “How does this obsession compare to the superhero T-shirts and stickers? Does it come close?”

  “No,” she said, her dark brown cheeks darkening even more as an adorably abashed grin stole across her lips. “The T-shirt obsession is worse, but only because too much ice cream would pack on the pounds.”

  Reid let his eyes drift over her curves. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and turned toward the ice cream display, but not before Reid glimpsed the heat that flared in her eyes.

  The air arrested in his lungs as a wave of cautious hope rippled through him. That touch of awareness he’d caught in her gaze had to mean something, right? Like maybe she wasn’t all that interested in keeping up this friendly co-workers charade either.

  Reid sucked in a swift breath.

  It would be hard enough sticking to his vow to take this slow. If Brooklyn showed him even the barest hint that she was interested in moving quicker, there was little hope he’d be able to resist the temptation to make a full-court press.

  Slow down, Reid reminded himself. He would not rush this.

  “So,” Brooklyn started after clearing her throat. “Since you haven’t been here before why don’t you let me order for you?”

  He nodded, his gaze falling to her mouth. “I think you’d know what I like,” he answered, his tone dipping to a low, sensual timbre.

  What. The. Fuck?

  Didn’t he just vow to scale back the aggressive come-ons?

  But how could he when that alluring blush flared yet again on her cheeks? Reid knew damn well he was coming on too strong, too fast. He would have to go against every single one of his instincts if he didn’t want to mess this up?

  He stood. “It’s a nice day out. How about I go outside and grab the bench.”

  He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, but Brooklyn shook her head.

  “No, the ice cream is my treat. Consider it payment for the offer to look at my transmission.”

  “Do I actually have to explain that the car stuff is free of charge?” Reid asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Just go outside.”

  He did as he was told, leaving her to buy the ice cream while he snagged the bench that sat in front of the green and white storefront. Even though it was nearly October, the last of the summer’s heat lingered in the air. It made the forthcoming ice cream a welcome treat on this sultry afternoon.

  As he parked himself on the bench, a number of things clawed at his attention. Two birds squabbling over a piece of bread someone had dropped on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant next door. A mother singing nursery rhymes to the baby she pushed in a stroller. But eventually Reid’s eyes moved to the ice cream parlor’s huge window, and the woman standing in line at the counter.

  He studied Brooklyn as she pointed at the curved glass display case.

  A month ago, he would have said that she wasn’t his type. He would have said it two weeks ago. But Reid now realized he didn’t have a type, at least not one that was based on anything other than the most superficial qualities. He’d never had a serious girlfriend. Not one.

  Oh, he’d had his share of women. His share, his friends’ share, enough to share with an entire football team. But when it came to getting to know a woman, the most thought he’d ever put into it was deciding whether or not he trusted her enough to share his real name. Who in the hell lived that way?

  Apparently, he did. But he didn’t want to live that life anymore.

  If he bought into any of that weird woo woo shit, Reid could almost believe the universe had placed Brooklyn in his world at this precise moment as a remedy to the sense of restlessness that had been building inside him for months now. She was the breath of fresh air he’d been seeking, a welcomed contradiction to the kind of women he’d grown so weary of. Given his indefensible track record with members of the opposite sex, Reid wasn’t sure he even deserved her, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He would just be grateful that she hadn’t yet figured out she was too good for him.

  She came outside carrying an ice cream cone in one hand and a long dish piled with six scoops of ice cream in the other.

  He laughed as she handed him the dish. “Did you buy every flavor?”

  “You’ve never been here before, so I wanted you to get a good sampling of what the Creole Creamery has to offer.” She grinned. “Don’t worry, whatever you don’t finish I’ll be more than happy to help put away.”

  He ate a spoonful of his treat, then stopped.

  Reid had no doubt he would spend the rest of his life wondering why he hadn’t prepared himself for the sight of her licking ice cream. The moment her tongue connected with the creamy concoction, his mind damn near imploded with enough filthy thoughts to make a sailor blush. He sat there, mesmerized. And it wasn’t as if she was doing anything overly sexy. She was just eating freaking ice cream. But as far as his mind was concerned, she was eating ice cream while sliding down a stripper pole and losing her G-string on the way down. That’s just how turned on he was.

  “So, do you think Alex will like the office space?” she asked.

  He heard the question, but his mind was still too focused on her mouth to completely register it. Somehow he managed to tear his eyes away from the most innocent porn flick he’d ever seen in his life and he asked, “Sorry, what was that?”

  “The offices we just toured,” she said. “Do you think Alex will go for it?”

  Reid nodded. “Probably.” He concentrated on his own ice cream so he wouldn’t get distracted, scooping up a spoonful of what he thought was vanilla, but he swore he tasted a bit of rum in there.

  “For one thing, the place on Magazine Street is a steal compared to how much the same amount of space is leasing for downtown. It’s also closer to his house and to the school where his wife, Renee, is principal.” Reid shook his head. “I still can’t believe he’s at the point where he needs to move into a place like that.”

  “You sound like my dad,” Brooklyn said. “He’s so proud of him, you would think Alex was his son instead of someone who worked for him well over a decade ago.”

  “The respect is mutual,” Reid said. “I’ve lost count of the number of times Alex has reminded me that Holmes Construction wouldn’t exist if not for everything Warren LeBlanc taught him back in the day.”

  The smile that appeared on Brooklyn’s face brighten every corner of his day.

  “It would make my dad so happy to hear that. He truly does think of Alex like a son. He thinks of many of his old employees that way.”

  “Do you have brothers?” Reid asked.

  She shook her head. “Only child.”

  He tilted his head in question. “So where did the ‘sons’ in LeBlanc and Sons come from?”

  “Ah, the burning question that’s always on everyone’s mind,” she said, her musical laugh flowing over him like a warm breeze. “My dad is actually the son in LeBlanc & Sons. Well, he and my Uncle Roland. My grandfather started the business when my dad and his younger brother were still in high school. It was always his intention that Dad and Uncle Roland would take over, but my uncle joined the Navy instead. He lives in Maryland. And, like dad, he only has daughters.” She looked down at her ice cream cone. When she looked back up, her smile had dimmed. “I guess this was destined to be the end of the road for LeBlanc & Sons no matter what.”

  There was a mournfulness to her voice that immediately stirred up his protective instinct. He felt the need to reassure her that all would be okay. He hadn’t thought of how the closure of her family’s business had affected her.

  Reid started to ask her why her father decided to close the business instead of just scaling back his personal workload, but before he could, she gestured to his bowl and said in an overly sunshiny voice, “Try the purple one.”

  He decided to let it go for now. Maybe one day she would be open to sharing a li
ttle bit more about what had to have been a difficult reality to accept.

  Reid stuck a spoonful of the purple ice cream in his mouth and tried his best to keep his expression as neutral as possible.

  She looked expectantly at him, then grimaced. “You don’t like it.”

  He made himself swallow it down as he shook his head. “No. Sorry.”

  “Your tastebuds are messed up,” she said. “The honey lavender is one of my favorites.”

  Reid held the dish out to her and tried to hand her his spoon.

  “As if.” Brooklyn regarded the spoon with repugnance. “I don’t even want to imagine where your mouth has been.”

  “Hey,” he balked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She leveled him with a look that told Reid exactly what she meant by that.

  He listed toward her, and despite the voice in his head reminding him of his vow to ease off the heavy flirting, whispered, “Just what do you think I do with my mouth?”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth again. God, she couldn’t possibly know what that did to him.

  “I don’t even want to speculate,” Brooklyn answered.

  Reid’s brow tilted up. “You sure about that? You trying to figure out all the different things I can do with my mouth sounds like a fun time to me.” Reid looked at his phone. “By the way, we’re no longer on the clock, so you can’t sue me for sexual harassment.”

  She grinned. “I think I can still make a case.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, shoving a bit of false contriteness into his voice. “I’ll try to behave.”

  Her eyes dropped to his lips. “Want to hear something really crazy? I’m not sure I want you to behave.” She looked up at him. “What’s going on here, Reid?”

  He eyed her with skepticism. “Was that question rhetorical, or do I really have to spell it out for you?”

  “I think you have to spell it out. Is this just typical flirting for you, or is it…” She released a bewildered laugh. “It’s too ridiculous to even finish the sentence.”