Unexpectedly You (10 page)

“Like that ever stops things from biting me in the ass.”

He
scoots even closer. Or am I scooting closer? I don’t even know anymore, but we’re almost touching. “Friends, Brooke.”

I breathe out and tuck a loose hair behind my ear. “Okay, I need to have something that pays well, or better than what you guys are payin
g me now. And I know that’s stupid, because I think I get paid plenty…but it won’t be enough for them. I know it.” I shrug and hope I didn’t just screw up that part of my job because it’s really important that I don’t. “So, I plan on working my ass off for this wedding business so I can work my way up. If I don’t lose any more microphones.”

He shakes his head like it’s ridiculous for me to still be worried.

“So, there’s that, but I also have to be in a nice stable relationship with a guy who’s got a Ph.D or who’s going into law, or something incredibly successful. And of course, hot as hell who will give them beautiful grandbabies.”

He doesn’t laugh like I expect him to. I was sort of joking, but that
is
who I’ve mapped out. Even have a date with Mr. Law Student this week. Nate scratches the back of his neck and lets his eyes drift up to mine and stay there.

“Is that why you have your levels?
To please
you
? Or to please your
parents
?”

Oh, I see what he’s getting at. Nice try, buddy. My dating system is still just fine, thank you.

I sit up straight and look him dead on. “Both.”

We have an uncomfortable staring contest, but I’m not backing down. Eventually he drops the serious face and goes for his signature lazy smirk. “Well, I guess I understand it now… a little bit.”

“Understand what?”

He nods to my hip where my phone sits. “Your need to plan and organize. Sounds like it’s a lot to live up to.”

“I’m trying.”

He leans back against the windshield, tucking his arms behind his head. My eyes automatically wander down his dress shirt and his slacks,
then skate back up to his rough chin. After a moment I blink and turn my gaze to the city lights because not once during that once over did I care about that button being open. In fact, I kinda wish I’d seen them all open and his dress shirt was hanging off his sides so I could see his undershirt.

Damn, I need sleep.

“Just remember…” he says, jolting me out of my head, “not everything you plan for is worth getting. Sometimes you think it’s what you want, but then you realize it’s just… not for you.”

Now it’s my turn to ask.

“What do you mean?”

Chapter T
welve

Nate

What do I mean?

“I mean that sometimes life goes to total shit, and telling yourself it just wasn’t right is sometimes the best way to deal with it.”

“Spoken like a man with experience.”

I let out a breath. “Too much.” But I wonder about Brooke, too. Mom may get frustrated with me, but I’ve always known she was proud of what I do.

“Sorry, Nate.”

I want to tell her I’m sorry about her parents too, but we’re already digging into personal territory, and I’m just not… We’re already friends. No need to push it too far. “Yeah, well, how else do you play the tortured artist, right?”

She
touches the pocket with her phone, and I’m just about to give her crap when she pulls her hand away. “It helps to write stuff down. It’s another reason I keep a list. I find it cathartic, even when I don’t do anything with it.”

Writing is doable, but I’m still not sure if it’ll help.

I relax a little more as the sun starts to peek above the horizon. Brooke is easy to be around. I relax more and our legs touch. My smile is totally involuntary, and I glance at her leg and nearly run the back of my hand up her thigh before I freeze. This is Brooke. The annoying girl I work with,
Brooke
.

Wait. “Is that hair? Fur?”
I ask, pointing to the waistband of her jeans. There’s a small amount of orange hair resting by one of her belt loops.

“I have a cat.”

“And does he like your phone as much as you do?” I tease.

Brooke wrinkles her nose. “He does rub against it often.”

“And I’m sure that rubbing has nothing to do with him trying to capture your attention.”
Though, I'm sort of surprised that someone as organized as her has a pet. It makes me like her more.

Brooke laughs this happy, open laugh
and I find myself watching her again. Her tank has ridden up by her hip enough that I catch skin, and I blink to the hood of the car so I don’t start thinking about running my hand over her again.

“I need a nap before I start my day,” I say
, breaking the mood.

She holds out her arms. “Hoist me back in the car then, Mr. Macho Man.”

I almost snort. She’s so hilarious, especially when she only sort of means to be. “Thanks for the drive.”

She’s so compact that lifting her is easy, and I try not to register how good it feels to hold a woman in my arms. Brooke and I make zero sense, and even if we did, I’m definitely not the guy that fits into her plan.

***

It’s noon and I’m just now rolling out of bed. Brooke has her date with Joshua, UNLV groomsmen, tomorrow and we’re also leaving for Tahoe for the
Heubert/Farone wedding event. I should be looking forward to the trip, but instead I’m sadly wishing I was sharing it with someone.

I open my email and decide it’s time to write
Viv a note. A real one. Brooke said I should write even if I did nothing with it, but that just seems like wasted time. This one is getting sent.

Viv –

I’m almost
laughing now because I wonder if you’ll bother reading any of this before hitting delete.

I hate what you did to us. I hate that your apologies never felt sincere. I hate that I lost my girlfriend and my best friend (yes, both you) and that douche, Shane. I’m mostly kidding about Shane. I just don’t… I don’t know what I want. I do know that I want you to start a phone conversation with
out yelling. Part of me wants to forget you and part of me wants us to be able to be civil. We have history. I just… I don’t know what I’m saying.

Nate

I hit send before giving it too much thought because I’d chicken out. It was a mess anyway, but it’s not like she doesn’t know I’m a mess. It’s that I finally felt okay to write her and that’s something. People who were friends as long as we were should be able to find a way back to that. Or maybe I’m still too hurt and pissed to be attempting this right now.

Chapter Thirteen

Brooke

“You look…different.”

I grimace at Nate because I’m already pissed at myself I didn’t have the chance to change into Business Brooke after my first date with Joshua. So here I am on the plane in my casual lunch date attire, hair still loosely curled around my face, and boobs a little more pushed up and exposed than normal. Not like they’re going to spill from my top, but it’s good enough that when I bend over to fix the strap on my shoe before I take my seat on this flight, I catch Nate’s eyes drifting south.

I’m also not ready to travel anywhere, but when your boss says she’ll pay you double for a weekend wedding event in Lake Tahoe, you do it. Even if you just packed up an impromptu wedding the night before.

Whoever invented “planned elopements” needs to die. It’s messing up my mojo.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to professionalize myself in the ten minutes I had to get here,” I say, slamming in the airplane seat next to him. Joshua was a little disappointed I had to reschedule to do brunch instead of a late night dinner, but Ms. Marks requested an earlier flight so her and
Morsten could schedule their
own
venue appointment.

Those two are so darn cute though, I can’t complain about that too much.

“I didn’t say you looked bad. Just different.” Nate adjusts his seat, knocking his arm against mine. For as much money as these people have, you’d think they’d fly us first class, but I guess you take what you can get when you have to fly…well, on the fly.

“Different usually means bad,” I argue, mainly because it’s fun with him, and it’s giving me something to do because I can’t look at my damn phone. The flight attendant told me about twenty times just on my walk to my seat to “put it away until the captain tells us it’s safe.” Then she gave me an overly
sweet smile. I wanted to fix the unbuttoned button on her shirt, but instead I reluctantly tucked away my non-stop buzzing cell.

Nate leans his head back, closing his eyes. “You always look good, Brooke. Stop thinking so much.”

I look down at my outfit, which I picked out for Joshua, but it’s slightly wrinkled from the cab, and I know I’m rocking some sweat along my hairline from rushing to the airport. I give Nate a sideways glance to see if he’s giving me crap, but he looks like he’s not in the mood to give or receive crap today.

“Thank you.” I lean my seat back to be level with him. “So, we have the bachelor and bachelorette parties tomorrow night starting at 7:00.” Oh, man, I’m
dying
to reach for my phone. “I think if we hit the bachelor party for a half hour, then head to the bachelorette we’ll be good. The bride will want more pictures than our groom. A few shots of the guys having fun for a bit, then we can get you to our bride and her girls before the guys start getting into trouble. We do not want to be the proof holders of assholery.”

He gives me a thumbs up, eyes still closed. I flick him in the forehead
, and he rolls his face to mine.

“We have a ton of stuff to go over for this weekend, Nate. Pay attention.”

He exhales loudly through his nose. “Look, I slept like hell last night finishing off details for this thing. I need one hour…just give me this one hour flight to sleep, then we can talk business all you want.”

“But—
”

He pushes a finger to my lips, squishing them to the side of my face. “
Shhh…sleep now. Talk later.”

When his finger drops, I want to spout off the twenty-seven things I need to flesh out with him
before
we get to Tahoe, but he turns his head, pulls his beanie over his eyes, and becomes useless to me. How can he sleep on a plane? It’s the most uncomfortable thing on this planet. I could probably sleep on a bed of nails and be more comfortable.

I cross my arms and stare at the A/C controls above our seats. There’s a smudge on the cold side, and I reach up to wipe it off, but it’s a
perma-smudge. Oh, that’s going to drive me nuts. So I close my eyes and visualize my phone, and everything I need to check off on it. The last itinerary I put in there was
Date number 2 w/Joshua!

My first date with
the sexy law student rocked. I’m well on my way to second and third. I was going to follow Nate’s advice and loosen up, but that just made me freak out, so I went with
my
way. Sex is planned for date number three, because date number two is all set up for next Wednesday night. After our perfect date one, two, three…we’ll be exclusive and I’ll ask him to move in a year from now.

Sigh…it’s perfect.

I blink my eyes open to Nate. His eyes are still covered by his beanie and his lips are slightly parted. I wonder if he ever went out with Celeste or if his heart is still too broken to do that. He still seems so sad whenever we talk about love and relationships. I wonder how he deals with going to wedding events practically every day, yet he doesn’t believe that any of the couples will last. He’s romantic as hell—I saw it. But he’s so torn up. I don’t blame him, I just wish there was something I could do. Maybe tell him I admire his strength, even if he doesn’t see himself as strong.

He scares me when his arm moves, and I jump back in my seat, throwing my hand up to my heart. He lifts the beanie up over one eye and looks at me.

“You should sleep too,” he says with a smirk, then puts his hat back over his eye.

“I’m not tired.”

“You will be with all that thinking. I can actually hear your brain going over there and it’s keeping me up. Shut if off for an hour.”

I don’t think I can. Sleep isn’t scheduled until 1:00,
if
the rehearsal dinner runs smoothly and we’re out of there by 11:00. Then I can get in my nightly routine. I really hope so because I need at least six good strong hours of R.E.M. if I’m going to—

“Brooke… Stop. Thinking.”

I sock him in the shoulder, but I’m laughing. “I can’t sleep on airplanes. The seats are too uncomfortable, and I don’t have a pillow.”

He whips up the armrest between us and gestures for me to lay on him. I’d give him a look, but his eyes are covered.

After a few seconds of me not moving, he reaches for my arm and pulls me into his side. He feels up to my head, and I laugh when his hand accidentally brushes my right boob on the way and he says, “Shit, sorry.” But then he forces my head into the crook of his neck, and I breathe in his cologne and the scruff on his chin tickles my forehead, but in a relaxing way. My lips go automatically up while my eyes automatically close.

His arm falls to my waist and he says, “Now shut up, and sleep.”

***

I’ve never spent the night in a suite before. It’s 11:30
—the rehearsal dinner went completely awesome and right on schedule—and I’m buzzed. All I want to do is order movies on a giant ass TV. Any hotel I’ve been to had two queens, a bathroom two feet away, and an ancient A/C. This room is bigger than my apartment.

Sure, I have to share the suite with my boss, her boyfriend, and her son. But still.

Bouncing on the fluffy sofa in my silk pajama shorts and loose spaghetti strapped tank, I flick through the movies and wonder if they’d be okay with me ordering something that’s twelve bucks when I could very well go out and see a movie in the theater for cheaper.

I thought everyone hit the hay, but the smell of popcorn filters in, and I softly pad my way to the kitchen area. Nate
’s dressed in his pajamas, blue bottoms and a grey T-shirt that stretches across his back quite nicely. He’s facing the microwave, flicking through pictures on his phone with a spoon hanging from his mouth. He bobs his head like he’s got an ongoing playlist in his brain.

I tiptoe behind him, stifling the urge to laugh and give myself away. But before I can grab his sides to make him jump, he whips around
, and
I’m
the one who stumbles backward with a very high-pitched yelp.

“
Dammit!” I laugh, and he shakes his head, yanking the spoon from his lips.

“For someone who prepares for anything, you sure scare easy.”

I bump my hip into his, shoving him out of the way of the microwave. “Nice of you to make popcorn for me,” I joke, listening to the tiny pops from the bag speed up as I watch the timer count down. Thirty seconds left. If the pops stop too soon, I’m taking them out before they burn…

“Are you watching the microwave?”

I nod, not taking my eyes from the timer. The pops are slowing down, and there are still twenty-two seconds.

Nate leans over the back of me, and my stomach gets a little bubbly, but it turns to an all out panic when he sets his hand over the timer.

“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to peel his fingers from the microwave, but once I do his other hand shoots out to cover it. The popping is
really
slowing down. Is it even popping anymore? Open the microwave stat and let me see what time it was at so we can shave off those seconds for the next bag.

“I’m making you chill out,” he answers, smirking as I try to wrestle him away. “And also, teasing the hell out of you.”

“Well, stop it.” Why am I smiling at him? This is not funny.

The buzzer goes off, and if the popcorn is burnt I’m blaming him.

He keeps his arms around me as he swings the microwave door open and pulls the bag apart. The smell overtakes us both, and we let out a synchronized sigh.

“Perfect.”

He’s right, damn it, and I try not to show how much it bugs me that I have to have a plan for everything. Even microwave popcorn.

His warmth leaves my back as he walks to the mini fridge and pulls out…

“There’s frosting in there?”

He tosses the Betty Crocker tub from hand to hand and kicks the fridge door shut. “I got it earlier. You can’t watch a movie without popcorn and frosting.”

I give him a look, because I’ve been watching movies for years without either of those things.

“Can you rent a movie in your room while someone rents one in the living room?”

“Uh… don’t have a TV in my room. I’m watching in there.” He nods to the sitting area, and I set my hands on my hips.

“But, I was gonna…”

“Brooke,” he says, tilting his head. “We can watch a movie together. It’s not like this is one of your pre-planned dates.”

He has a point. But why do I feel like it could be a date if I wanted it to be? I’m so not in date attire.
I’m not even wearing a
bra
. We’re having popcorn and frosting. And since we had Taco Bell in his office—date one—and then drove to Mesquite—date two—this could technically be date three.
If
we were dating. But we’re not, even though the things going on in my stomach tell me this could be…

“Stop over thinking. Damn, does it ever stop?” He pokes the center of my forehead and gives a slight push. I sock him in the arm, trying not to notice just how hard his bicep is. I’d compliment him on it, but he’s being an ass so I keep it to myself.

He grabs his spoon off the counter, sticks it back in his mouth, then kinks his head for me to follow. I snatch napkins up and walk after him. I’m always insistent on walking first so I can set the pace, but as I watch his butt in the pajama pants he’s got on, I wonder if I should rethink that policy.

His hand goes for the remote, replacing the popcorn.

“What makes you think you’re in charge of that?” I flop on the opposite end of the couch, kicking my feet up. I stick them under his thigh to keep them warm.

He doesn’t answer. He flicks through the movies and picks the one movie I
wasn’t
considering. Oh hell no.

“Don’t buy…”

You have purchased HALLOWEEN. Enjoy your movie.

“…that.”

He smirks, popping open the frosting tub. “You think you can handle it?”

“You’re such an ass sometimes.” I pull my foot out and kick him once. We laugh and I grab the popcorn and snuggle it to my chest. I’m going to need something to hold and something to eat if I’m going to make it through this.

The opening music plays, and I know I’m going to have nightmares right off the bat. I concentrate on how many popcorn kernels I eat, how many chews it takes before they are so mashed I can’t chew anymore. But that doesn’t stop me from jumping and screaming bloody murder when the first person is slaughtered in the opening scene. I’m surprised Morsten and Ms. Marks haven’t come running from their room to see if I’m still alive.

Nate throws his head back and laughs at me. I’d kick him, but I’m too squished into myself now to move. “I think I’ll go to bed now,” I croak. I pry my fingers from the popcorn bowl and slowly try to stand.

Nate’s hand on my knee stops me. “Don’t go to bed. Opening scenes are always scarier than most of the movie.”

“Most…not all of it.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, and I notice a small bit of chocolate there. Without even thinking about it, I wipe it off with my thumb.

“Tell you what…I’ll mute it during the scary parts. The music is what tells your mind it’s scary.”