[Barley Cross 01.0] Being Brooke

by Emma Hart

  I do as she wishes, launching it across the park. She shoots off like a bat out of hell after it, yapping excitedly.

  “That’s it?” Carly stares at me. “He just left?”

  Slowly, I nod. Our work schedules synced up well today, so after running home to get changed, we agreed to meet back at the park and, as women do, evaluate absolutely everything that happened this morning.

  “He just left,” I confirm.

  She purses her lips and drags her gaze from me to where Delilah has just collected the ball.

  “I told you. You need to tell him how you feel.”

  “No, I don’t.” I look away from her when she turns back to me. “I don’t need to do anything.”

  “So you’re just gonna keep having awkward little moments until what, you either kill your friendship or fuck it out?”

  I roll onto my front and bury my face into my arms. “It’s not that easy, Car, and you freaking well know it. It’s not like I can just tell him how I feel. So he’s attracted to me. I’m attracted to him. Hell, you’re attracted to him.”

  “Well, he’s hot, but he’s more like my brother. So yes and no. I don’t want to take a ride on the Cainmobile if that’s what you’re asking me.”

  “Cainmobile! Oh my god. There’s something wrong with you.”

  “Are you talking to me or the grass?”

  I groan into the blanket I brought with me. “You. How am I supposed to face him at his mom’s on Saturday? Not to mention my mom stopped by work today. Grandpa wants to join a dating site and wants me and Cain to help him. Do you know how messed up that is?”

  “He wants to what?” Her lips quiver as she fights a laugh.

  “Join a dating website! The man is seventy-five, for the love of god! What’s he gonna do if he finds a girlfriend?”

  “Take her for dinner? Watch a movie? Watch TV? What do you think he’s going to do?” She throws the ball for Delilah. “Oh god.” She turns to me. “You were thinking he wants a…”

  “Well, this is my grandpa we’re talking about. Would you be surprised if you found a pot of Viagra in his bathroom cabinet?”

  Carly opens her mouth, pauses, and then says, “No. No, I don’t think I would be.”

  “See? You can understand my feelings. He puts his hip out walking down the freaking stairs, never mind any other kind of vigorous activity.”

  “Maybe he’s lonely,” she reasons, tapping her finger against her chin. “Right? He could be lonely.”

  “Lonely? Have you seen his diary?” I sit up and cross my legs beneath me. “He’s got more of a life than I have!”

  “That’s not hard.”

  My heart jumps into my throat at the sound of his voice. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

  Cain laughs and drops to the grass between us. “I was, but I finished putting together Mrs. Mayfair’s bookshelf, and the wood we need for her desk still hasn’t been delivered, so Dad told me to go away and do something productive.”

  Carly blinks at him. “And you count this as productive.”

  “If I’m keeping you out of trouble, it is.”

  Just then, Delilah comes leaping back. She takes one look at Cain and yaps behind the ball. She steamrolls past me and Carly and launches her tiny self at him.

  Cain laughs and catches her pretty smoothly. “Well, hello to you too, Delilah.”

  The dog drops the ball in his lap and licks his cheek to death.

  “Great, yep, hey, I love you too,” he mutters, trying to keep his mouth out of the way of her tongue.

  I tilt my head to the side and smirk. “I don’t know who the bigger bitch is. Your ex-girlfriend or your new one.”

  Carly buries her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake, and she’s clearly laughing.

  Yep. I can hear the tiny, snuffly snorts she does when she’s fighting it.

  “You’re not a bitch are you, Delilah?” Cain coos when she finally stops licking him. “No, you’re not. You’re lovely. Unlike Brooke. Yes.” He nods. The Jack Russell cocks her head at him. “Brooke’s horrible. Yes she is. Here. Get the ball.” He throws the ball farther than either of us have been able to so far.

  “Seriously? You’re bitching about me to a dog?” I smack his knee.

  He shrugs. “You’re the one who called her a bitch. I don’t see what she’s done to you.”

  “Don’t.” Carly quickly sobers. “Delilah might have almost bitten her purse when we got here. Brooke had to throw her ball to distract her.”

  “You threw her ball? Holy shit. Are you ill?” Cain turns to me, laughter in his eyes.

  I stare at him flatly. “You’re at the top of my shit list, buddy. Do you want me to make your life hell?”

  “You say that like you don’t already.”

  “I hate you.”

  “There’s a fine line between love and hate.” He winks.

  Carly looks between us, her dark eyes flitting side to side before she blinks and gives the barest shake of her head. I frown at her, but if she notices, she doesn’t acknowledge me.

  “How far did you throw Delilah’s ball?” Carly squints out in the direction her dog was running in a moment ago.

  “Too far?” Cain guesses.

  “Ugh.” She drops her head back. “You’re a shit.” She gets up, tosses me a wink without him seeing, adjusts her shorts, and runs after Delilah.

  Bitch!

  I’m putting an ad in the paper for a new best friend. Requirements: no dog, no attitude, no inner asshole.

  “She did that deliberately, didn’t she?” Cain asks, grimacing.

  I keep my eyes trained on some guys playing soccer. “Mhmm.”

  It’s awkward now she’s gone. She was the buffer between us.

  “She needs to get better at winking. That was as discreet as a freight truck in a shopping mall on Christmas Eve.” I hear his laugh rather than see it.

  She needs to get better at a lot of things. Like being a friend.

  “Did you really get off work early?” I ask, still not looking at him.

  “I really did.” He plucks a daisy from the grass and flicks it away. “I actually came out to get some stuff for Mom for the party when I saw yours. She said you and Carly were here, so I thought I’d come down too.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “What?” I peer at him out of the corner of my eye. “No. Why would you say that?”

  He raises his eyebrows, lips tugging up on one side. “Because you don’t exactly seem comfortable with me being here right now.”

  I let go of a long breath, look up, then turn to him. “Honestly? I’m not. This morning was, well, really awkward, and I’ve been awkward all day and now you’re here I’m even more awkward and can you please stop me saying awkward?”

  “Are you done?” His smile widens.

  “Awkward!”

  “Wanna cracker there, Polly?”

  “Ugh!” I shove him in the arm. “You’re such a dick.”

  “Still feel awkward?”

  I purse my lips to combat the smile attempting to break out across my lips. Because yes, I do, but I also feel a hell of a lot more normal now. This is the Cain I know. The Cain I’m comfortable with. The other Cain…The one from this morning…He’s a wild card.

  And wild card Cain is terrifying.

  “Smile,” he goads me, a smug glint in his eyes. “You want to. You know you do.”

  I shake my head.

  “Smile, Brooke.”

  I look down, shaking my head again.

  “Come on, Hot Mess. Smile.” He accompanies that demand with a tickle to my side.

  I squirm away and bite the inside of my lip. Again, I shake my head, this time harder, and he obviously takes that as a challenge, because he reaches for me for a second time.

  I scramble away from him, releasing my lip but still desperately fighting to keep my smile in check. He’s faster than I am—as he always is—and grabs me. He digs his fingers into
my sides, right on my most ticklish spots right above my hips, and goes to town.

  My laughter erupts out of me. Still he doesn’t stop, not even as I trash left and right and bat at his hands. He’s not only faster, he’s stronger too. I do the only thing I can do—I fight back with my own hands. I run my fingers up one of his sides until he jerks, and then I tickle him right back.

  “Truce!” he breathes through his hard laughter. “Brooke!”

  “No! You started this, you douche monkey.”

  He drops down onto his back, holding his stomach and fending me off at the same time. My assault lasts all of ten seconds before I give it and drop my head onto his chest. Both of us are laughing so hard we’ve passed the healthy laugh. He probably doesn’t need to work out for two days now, and me, well, I can put it off for another day at least.

  I wheeze out one final laugh as he pushes my hair from my face. “That was dirty, Elliott,” I tell him, planting my hand on his chest and pushing up.

  Whoa.

  His heart is beating so frantically I can feel it thundering against my palm. The vigor of each quick beat makes me pause, and it’s pausing that makes me realize: Mine is beating just as quickly and just as harshly.

  Cain pushes himself up onto his elbows. “Then you should smile when I tell you to.” He looks me dead in the eye, all traces of laughter and amusement and playfulness gone. There’s just a peculiar seriousness I’ve barely seen before shining back at me.

  “Why?” I let my hand fall away. I sit up properly and cross my legs again.

  My gaze scans the park for Carly, but I can’t see her anywh—oh, never mind. She’s by the football players. Being hit on by three of them. Wonderful. That’ll be another delightful disaster date.

  “Do you need a reason to smile?” Cain asks.

  Yes. The problem is, you’re it.

  “Everybody needs a reason to smile, Cain. Maybe I already have one.” I shrug a shoulder in a non-committal way.

  “Yeah?” He sits up properly now, his face drawing almost level with mine. “Then what is it?”

  “I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you. Sorry.” What? That’s not a lie.

  “Point taken.” His laugh is light, yet at the same time, it’s heavy. “Simon call you yet?”

  “Low blow.” I go to hit his thigh.

  He catches my fist and gently sets my hand back on my lap. His fingertips trail over my bare leg as he takes his hand back. “Was it? I was just asking.”

  “You know full well he hasn’t called me, so don’t be a jerk about it.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.

  “You’re right. I’ve been an ass to you enough today.”

  I turn my face toward him. He’s looking straight ahead, his face unmoving. His stubbled jaw is dirty with his unshaven dark hair, and I have the inexplicable urge to run my fingers down the curve of it just to feel the roughness against my skin.

  “Cain Elliott,” I say slowly and in a quiet voice. “Are you actually admitting being an asshole?”

  He inclines his head toward me but he doesn’t look at me. “I was an ass this morning. I should have gotten up when your alarm went off. And when I didn’t, I sure as shit should have left when you told me to.”

  “Wow. I’m not sure you’ve ever admitted being wrong before.”

  “Shut it, you. You’re the stubborn one, not me.”

  “Oh, please. You still think Harry Potter and the Prizoner of Azkaban is the best movie.”

  Now he looks at me. “That’s because it is.”

  I shake my head side to side. “No. It literally cannot be the best. Do you have any idea how much stuff they got wrong? How much stuff was out of order? It makes me mad.”

  “I didn’t read the books. You know that.”

  “I know, you filthy little half-blood.”

  “That’s discrimination.”

  “Then read the books.” I poke my tongue out at him. “But I suppose in this situation I’ll admit I was a little bit of an asshole this morning.”

  The slow upturn of his lips is ridiculously sexy. “As opposed to your usual lovely behavior the rest of the time.”

  “I don’t know how I put up with your shit.”

  “You give me shit,” he points out. “It’s mutual.”

  I sigh. He’s impossible. “Fine. I should have gotten out of bed and not freaked out about…you know.” I wave my hand in the direction of his crotch.

  “If I were a girl I’d freak too.”

  “You’re so big-headed.”

  He smirks.

  “Not like that! Shit. Crap. I quit. I need a re-do of today.” I slap my hand over my eyes.

  Cain laughs. “Obviously you’ve forgotten we need to set up your grandpa’s online dating profile tomorrow after work.”

  “Right…” I pause and look him dead in the eye. “What can I eat that’ll give me food poisoning?”

  He pats my cheek. “Just cook, Hot Mess. That’ll do it.”

  Asshole.

  Me: I hate you.

  Carly: Me? Why? What did I do?

  Ha! Like she doesn’t know.

  Me: You deliberately left me alone with Cain when you knew I didn’t want to be alone.

  Carly: Are you or are you not okay again?

  Me: I felt his penis against my back! I will never be okay again!

  Carly: I bet if you felt it somewhere else you’d be more than okay.

  Me: I really want to tell you that you’re sick, but yeah, probably.

  Carly: Stop being a giant baby and deal with it. So you felt his penis against your back. You want it in other places. If you’re not going to tell him how you feel, you don’t get to be a whiny bitch.

  Me: I hope Mother Nature visits you at two am.

  Carly: That’s just cruel.

  Me: -middle finger emojis-

  THIRTEEN

  LIFE TIP #13: If your dirty-minded grandpa wants to online date, don’t let him do it unsupervised.

  “No, James.” Cain takes the wireless mouse from Grandpa. “That’s your height. Not your penis size.”

  I bury my face in a cushion.

  “Why do they want my height? My penis size is much more useful on this gosh-darn thing!” Grandpa sputters, indignation screaming from every word. “Who looks at a man and says, ’Oh, fuck me, he’s five foot five! Give me some of that!’ huh? Now if they know I have an—”

  “Your height, Grandpa!” I cry before he can finish that sentence. “It’s for your height. If you put your penis size on the internet, I’m disowning you immediately.”

  Cain flashes me a restrained smile. “James,” he says, turning to him. “Don’t you think you should keep something for a surprise?”

  He’s a fine one to talk. I can feel the imprint of his dick on my damn back.

  “I suppose.” Grandpa releases a dramatic sigh. “Although Jimmy is far more endearing that my height.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he’s real charming.” Cain answers so I don’t have to.

  Not that I could. I have my face in the cushion again. I can’t cope with this. I didn’t sign up for elderly debauchery. Mind you, I didn’t sign up for this at all. I was volunteered, and I’m not happy about it. My brother would do a way better job than us.

  Then again, my brother has a perpetual grip on his penis and an unhealthy addiction to PornHub, so maybe that’s not such a good idea after all.

  “Grandpa, can you just fill it out normally? Some of us have things to do.” I brave looking up.

  “Like what?” He looks over the back of the computer chair. “You have two friends, girl, and one of them is right here!” He cackles.

  “I have more than two friends!” I protest. “I just don’t happen to like the rest of them.”

  Cain laughs. “You don’t like me most of the time.”

  “True story.”

  “What’s this?” Grandpa leans in close to the screen. “Interests. Can I put Betty Rosenthal down in that section? She makes a mean brisket.�
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  Cain hesitates. “Putting another woman as one of your general interests might not work in your favor, James. I’d stick to bridge and things like that.”

  “But I’m very interested in Betty.” He looks at Cain and waggles his eyebrows.

  “I’m sure she’s very interesting.”

  “Her butt is in those stockings. Hooey!” Grandpa laughs again. “All right, all right. Behave. I hear you.”

  “Nobody said anything,” I say.

  He looks over at me again. “No, but I felt it in your look. You have your mother’s stares, you know.”

  I glare at him.

  “There!” He points one thick, wrinkled finger at me and adjusts his glasses. “Yep, there she is. Hi, Lou!” He waves his hand. “Can you see her, Cain? She’s right there.”

  I look away, clamping my lips together. “Can you both hurry up? I don’t want to walk home and I really do have things to do tonight.”

  “Why? You have a hot date?” Grandpa does the eyebrow thing for a second time.

  “Yes,” I say dryly. “I have a date with myself, Netflix, and a packet of margarita mix. Can we get a move on?”

  “All right, all right,” Cain says. “Come on, James. I think she has some lingering PMS.”

  I throw a pillow at the back of his head. He catches it, laughing, as it falls, and chucks it back to me. I catch it and hug it to my lap as I lean to the back of the sofa and watch them go through the sign up.

  For the record, I think this is a terrible idea. Mostly because nobody will be around to supervise Grandpa on the damn thing. He needs a keeper at the best of times, and I have no idea why Mom agreed to this. She has to know he’s likely to offend so many lovely old ladies that he’ll get arrested.

  Or maybe that’s the point.

  Not that him being arrested would teach him a lesson. He’d make them all laugh, they’d realize he’s harmless and let him go.

  No, someone needs to monitor Grandpa on this thing. And definitely no Facebook. The last thing he needs to learn about is the delightful world of unsolicited dick pics. Mostly because he’d be the sender of said pictures if he ever found out about that fun little practice.

  That, or he’d expect unsolicited but appreciated old lady boob pictures.