“Of course he does!” Brooke laughed out loud at such a ridiculous question, waving goodbye a little too fast.
Ben thumbed to the east. “Off Urbandale Avenue, right?”
“You got it! Twenty-nine hundred, forty-fourth street.”
Ben snapped his fingers. “It’s been too long.”
Will held up a hand. “Tomorrow at seven?”
“Sounds great.” Ben waved back and watched Will join his friend in the booth.
“Are you mental?” Brooke whispered. “You can’t come over to my house tomorrow night.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a trap. He’s obviously plotting to kill you.”
Ben looked down at the leather coat hiding his sleeves of ink. “He has no idea I’m the guy from Mandy’s closet.”
“You never know with him. He’s sneaky like that.”
Ben watched her father like a hawk. “He just thinks I’m some guy named Tony. Apparently, you’ve had so many boyfriends he can’t keep track.”
“That is not true!”
Ben watched Will and Jason place their orders with the waitress. His eyes thinned. “My plan is working all too perfectly.”
“Plan? What plan?”
“The one to steal your heart.” He turned to her and smiled. “And it shall be the greatest heist of all time, my lady.”
A low groan rattled loose from her lungs, making her shrink.
Ben tipped his cap to her. “See you tomorrow night, shortcake.”
Brooke watched him strut out the front door, trying not to notice the juicy butt filling out his jeans. She sighed, knowing she had better get a good night’s sleep tonight because tomorrow she was about to be homeless.
Chapter Thirteen
Brooke was thankful Mrs. Randall was preoccupied with three different meetings scattered about town this morning. She was a sweet old lady but her prying eyes could be a real pain in the ass – as if Brooke’s mom wasn’t bad enough already. Brooke could just imagine what her mother’s interrogation would turn up when Ben (Tony!) showed up tonight. If he showed up. She prayed he wouldn’t and guessed that, in the end, he wouldn’t have the balls to go through with such a charade. Why chance it? He probably has a hundred girls in his contacts.
She flipped on the industrial-sized dishwasher and went to the silver workspace to open a new bag of flour. Another groan (maybe the twenty-third or fourth one of the day) rolled from her lips as she scooped measured cups of flour into a large mixing bowl. She should’ve told Ben about her dad’s nine millimeter he keeps under the bed in case of a home invasion. He clearly didn’t know what he was getting himself into, and it wouldn’t take Will long to sniff out the truth either. Sooner or later, he always did.
Brooke stopped scooping and stared off into space. Maybe he suspected nothing. Maybe he was just eager to have a son-in-law around to help fill the void of the son he never had. She snorted. No, he was probably onto them. She went back to scooping out cups of flour, confident this was all a big mistake. Her laugh echoed off the walls. How could anyone start a relationship with someone who had cheated on his girlfriend with another woman in said girlfriend’s closet? Brooke did her best to paint herself as the victim in her mind, which felt much better than being labeled an accessory to the crime. After all, she didn’t know he was Mandy’s boyfriend. And he had conned her with that look in his eyes, the one that stole her breath.
She imagined Ben at the dinner table tonight, struggling to hide his tattoos and win everyone over with his charm and witty conversation. A light laugh slipped out as she pictured it clear as day.
“What’s so funny?”
Brooke screamed and shook a cup of flour all over the place. “Evy!”
“Jeez, jumpy much?”
She looked down. In addition to resembling a ghost, she also realized she had unknowingly scooped a mountain of flour into the bowl. “What’re you doing here?”
Evy sauntered closer, swinging one high heel in front of the other like a runway model, her eyes roaming the place as she went. “Where’s Mrs. R?”
“Meetings.” Brooke scooped flour off the table into her hand.
“So, what were you laughing at?”
She dumped the powder back into the bowl. “Nothing. What’re you doing here?”
Evy set an oversized purse down on a stool and unzipped a brown leather jacket. “You remember those messages I found on Richie’s Facebook page? The ones with the blond named Emma?”
Brooke brushed her hands together and looked up. “Yeah.”
“I confronted him about it.”
“He was cheating on you, wasn’t he?”
“No, he says he was…”
Brooke stared at her through impatient eyes as Evy tried to spit it out, wiping her hands on her apron. “He was what?”
“He says he was going to apologize to every girl he had dumped before. Says it came to him in a dream and that if he doesn’t do it bad things will happen to him.”
Brooke inhaled a prickly breath, her eyes bulging. “Shut! Up!”
“Right?”
“Who makes up stuff like that?”
“Apparently, he has a list.”
A short laugh slipped from Brooke’s mouth. “Oh, I bet he does.”
“And he can’t rest until he’s: corrected his wrongs.”
“Oh my God, he is so cheating on you, Evy. No one does that kind of stuff in real life.”
Evy flattened her lips and scanned the room through glassy eyes. “Maybe I wasn’t servicing him enough.”
Brooke took a staggered step back. “Servicing him? What are you a Jiffy Lube?”
“You know what I mean.” She turned to look out a window overlooking a grassy area out back with a red picnic table and a yellow umbrella planted though its middle. “It’s just that sometimes when I get home from work I’m tired and hungry and just want to slip into my sweats and I’m not always…”
“Don’t start making excuses like you’re the one in the wrong here, Evy. You have to dump him. How many times do I have to tell you this?”
“But what if he really is trying to atone for his…”
Brooke raised a hand. “Stop. You have been dating the wrong guy for your entire life.” The low, constant drone of the dishwasher filled the quiet between them. “I keep telling you to get out there and see what else is available.”
Evy discreetly dabbed at the corner of her eye. “There’s no one else out there for me.” She turned from the window to face Brooke. “No one like Richie.”
“You won’t find out if you never try, sweetie. For all you know, there could be a guy out there right now who would love you so much he’d walk on fire just to be with you, a guy who would sacrifice everything to put you first.”
Evy laughed her off. “I don’t know about that.”
Brooke took her hand and squeezed. “Of course there could be. His name is probably Luke or Ramsey or something sexy like that.” She looked down to their hands and took a moment to pick her next words before looking up. “My gut says Richie would run the other way at the first sign of trouble, and you know my gut is always right.”
Evy tilted her head to the side. “The same gut that told you low-rise jeans were cool?”
“They were cool.” Brooke dropped Evy’s hand and returned to the stainless steel table, which now looked like it had just been dusted for prints. “So what did you end up telling Richie anyway? About the IMs.”
A coy grin pulled at the corner of her lips. “I told him to stock up on batteries for his electric cock-ring, because I’m going to make him forget all about his ghosts of girlfriends past.”
Brooke stood shell-shocked.
Evy nodded with a confident gleam in her eye.
“Well, hello, Evy.”
Evy whirled on her heels, her face already flushing. “Hey, Mrs. R, how are you?”
Mrs. Randall set her purse and a stack of mail on a nearby chair. “Apparently not as good as you.”
>
Evy covered her mouth, face beet red now. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. I didn’t see…”
“Don’t be sorry, dear.” She plopped onto a stool with an exhausted sigh and rested her bony elbows on the table, getting flour on her sleeves. “Sit down and tell me all about it. I wanna know everything. How does this cock-ring thing work? What kind of batteries does it take? How long do they last?” She stared at Evy through expectant eyes.
Evy swapped a helpless look with Brooke, who got back to work on her almost famous maple bacon cupcakes.
“First you have to have a cock,” Brooke muttered, grabbing some cupcake pans.
Mrs. Randall winked at Evy. “It appears I have my work cut out for me already.”
Chapter Fourteen
After smoothing her hair and taking a heavy breath, Brooke opened the front door. Butterflies launched in her stomach like firecrackers had just scared them into flight, a knot of need tightening inside at the sight of his smile.
“You look beautiful.”
The simple compliment made her blush, a rarity for her that only added to her state of unease. She followed his eyes to her top, which was showing off just enough cleavage to not give her dad a heart attack. Brooke was certain Ben wouldn’t show up tonight, but had dressed for the part just the same.
She stepped to the side and whispered out the corner of her mouth. “You’ve got some nerve, Tony.”
He stepped inside, toying with the buttons at the end of the long, black sleeves hiding his tattoos. “Nice place.”
She shut the door, the smell of his cologne making her want to throw her arms around him and smother him in kisses. “What are you thinking?” she whispered, trying not to notice how handsome he looked in a dress shirt, jeans and black boots. “You’re going to get us both killed.”
He craned his neck to see down the hall into the kitchen, where the smell of garlic bread wafted in the air. “I’m thinking I’m going to win you and your father over in the same night.”
Her brow crumpled. “You really do live in a dream world don’t you?”
“Ever since you came around, sassafras.”
She stuck a finger in his face. “You eat and then you leave. Got it?”
“Yes, mam.”
“And stop calling me sassafras.” She took a step back and scanned him from top to bottom. “That being said, you look very nice.”
“Thanks,” he said, pulling on his collar to let some heat escape. “Dress shirts make me nervous. Hope I don’t screw it up tonight.”
“Oh, I doubt that’s possible. Look how well you’ve done so far.” She rolled her eyes and turned for the kitchen.
He grabbed her by the wrist and twirled her into his arms while no one was looking. “How are you?”
“Sore.”
“Sore? From what?”
She tilted her head and hit him with a dull expression.
His cocky grin returned, sparking an explosion between her legs. He pulled her closer. “Next time, I’ll be gentler.”
She struggled against his powerful hold until he laid a wet kiss on her lips that tasted like watermelon. Then, she melted into his arms, unable to stop it from happening in her own damn house. She was a ruined woman, forced to raise the white flag no matter how dire the consequences may be.
They pulled apart and locked eyes.
Brooke tried rounding up her breath. “I think I need a drink.”
“Me three.”
“Tony!”
They jumped apart and Ben ran a hand over the brown fuzz blanketing his scalp. “Mr. Burnett, good to see you again.”
“Please,” Will said, shaking Ben’s hand, “call me Will.”
“Okay, Will.”
“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you two lovebirds but dinner is just about ready.”
They followed him into the kitchen, where it was about ten degrees hotter.
“Honey, you remember Tony from last summer?” Will said, grabbing a beer from the fridge and passing it to Ben.
“Last spring,” Brooke corrected, pulse racing.
Laura glanced at Ben while setting plates on the table in the adjoining dining room. “Sweetheart, you know I can’t keep them all straight.”
“Mom!”
“Oops, did I say that out loud?”
Will grinned at Ben and poured a glass of red wine. “Don’t worry, her bark is worse than her bite,” he said, handing Brooke the glass.
Laura set the last plate down and came into the kitchen, extending her hand. “Hi Tony. I’m just teasing. Brooke is a very sweet girl.” She shot Brooke a sideways glance. “And she would never do anything to embarrass her family or jeopardize her father’s career.”
Ben started to say something and then decided against it.
“I hope you like lasagna, Tony. It’s my grandmother’s famous recipe.”
“I do.”
“Good,” Laura replied. “All right everyone, grab a seat.”
They pulled out chairs and gathered around the long table, putting napkins in their laps. Laura sat down and let out a long I got it all done in time breath, proudly surveying the impressive spread.
“Looks great, mom,” Brooke said, taking a sip of wine.
Will snared two pieces of garlic bread and passed the plate to Brooke as an uncomfortable round of silence settled in around them, making every little noise ten times louder. They glanced at each other around the table with no one saying a word, the clock ticking extra loudly away in the kitchen.
“So you golf, Tony?” Will finally asked.
Ben took the plate from Brooke and set a single slice on his plate before passing it to Laura.
Will hesitated with a piece of bread hovering in front of his mouth. “Tony?”
Ben tipped his beer back and eventually realized everyone was staring at him. He swallowed and started choking. “Golf? Oh yeah, I love golf.” He wiped his mouth and cleared his throat. “Team Tiger all the way.”
Will stared blankly at him for a moment. “I love Tiger.”
“Guy can do no wrong,” Ben said, scooping up a square of lasagna.
“No wrong! And a hell of a family man, too.” Will’s face turned grave. “We could all learn a little something from Tiger.” He nodded confidently, meeting each one of their perplexed stares.
“So, what do you do again, Tony?” Laura asked.
This time Brooke kicked Ben’s leg under the table.
“I own a landscaping company.” He turned to Laura and pointed to his plate with his fork as he chewed. “This is so good.”
“Oh, thank you,” she replied, scooping some salad onto a separate plate.
Will’s face lit up. “I actually considered landscaping before getting into sales, but that was a long time ago. You push snow in the winter?”
“Oh yeah, hoping for the heavy stuff this year.”
Will stuck a forkful of lasagna into his mouth. “That makes one of us.”
“What kind of sales are you in, Will?”
“Advertising,” he answered, washing his food down with a cold drink of beer. “I sell commercial air time for a small cluster of radio stations downtown.”
Ben nodded, chewing with his mouth closed. “Sounds like a good gig.”
“Get free Bon Jovi tickets every time they come to town.”
“Nice.”
Will’s eyes roamed the table. “Too bad no one will ever go with me.”
“That’s because we’re not a hundred, dad.”
“And neither am I, Brooke.”
Brooke laughed and turned to Ben. “You should see the pictures of him back in the eighties.”
“Hair down to his butt,” Laura chuckled, taking a sip of her wine.
“Not true.”
“He had leather pants!”
Will twisted in his chair, looking uncomfortable. “Don’t listen to a word Brooke says, Tony. She’s had more to drink than I have.”
“I have not.”
“We should go golfing so
metime, Tony.”
Ben’s eyes snapped back to Will. “I’d love to.”
Will stopped chewing. “Really?”
Brooke kicked Ben’s leg again, this time harder, her pulse thudding in her neck.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
“Heat wave’s supposed to hold out through the weekend. You have any plans on Saturday?”
Ben’s lips pulled down at the corners. “I’m wide open on Saturday.”
Will brought a fist down on the table that made the silverware jump. “Fantastic! I’ll set up a tee time at Waveland.”
“Sweet.”
“Nine a.m. too early?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Will glanced at the clock on the wall. “Holy crap, almost time for Fringe! Gotta go!”
“You haven’t finished your dinner yet,” Laura objected.
“I will.” He whisked his plate and beer into the living room.
“So rude,” Laura whispered, angrily spearing a baby tomato with her fork.
“Why doesn’t he just DVR it?” Ben asked.
Laura snorted. “Cuz he can’t figure out how to do it.”
“Not true,” Will hollered from the living room, where the sound of the TV suddenly came to life. “I like to watch it live! I’m chatting with some friends online about it right now.”
Brooke leaned forward, horrified beyond all recognition. “He’s still using chat rooms?”
Ben couldn’t help but laugh.
“You should see him try staining the back deck sometime,” Laura sniped. “Now, that is hilarious.”
“He means well,” Brooke told Ben, pausing to give him a quick smile that she held onto a little too long.
“The tree house turned out okay,” Laura said unconvincingly. “Not counting the loose railing.” Laura smiled at Brooke. “And it only took one broken arm to get it fixed.”
“You broke your arm?” Ben asked.
Brooke nodded. “Luckily, it wasn’t my throwing arm.”
A puzzled look slipped across Ben’s face as a bout of tension-filled silence poured down from above.
Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted Page 12
