Unexpectedly You (9 page)

Chapter Ten

Nate

Mom’s still primping for dinner, but it takes me like ten minutes to get ready so I’m sitting in front of my computer, torturing myself with
Facebook. I told myself I was just catching up with friends, but really I’m checking up on Viv. Again.

She’s tagged in one of her girlfriend’s pictures, dark hair hanging to her waist, mouth open in laughter. I don’t even know if it hurts any less now than it did. Thinking about
Viv makes me think about Darrian. Did she ever tell her boyfriend? Or am I something she’ll keep to herself until...who knows when.

A message from Celeste pops up. I pause and stare at her photo because she is exactly my type. Tall, long dark hair, gorgeous eyes…

Lunch was nice. Thanks again.

Lunch was nice, but that’s all it was. I guess that’s the purpose of date one.

Yep. Sorry I can’t chat. On the run.

I can’t be pulled into a
Facebook message marathon right now. Viv has added a load of new pictures.

“Oh, honey.” Mom kisses her fingers and pats my head. “Stop. Please. Stop.”

I slap my laptop closed. “Just checking up on the gang.” Only “gang” is a word I’d never use, and I hate that I was just caught.

“Let’s go celebrate.”

“Yeah. Ready.”

I stand up to see
Morsten, in his custom tailored suit, smiling widely at Mom. I think this marriage will stick because that man worships her.

The only good thing about the night is Brooke getting some recognition for the kickass job she does, and my classic Impala. Well… Mom’s since she bought it from me so I could move to New York, but still. I did the work on the car so she’s mine.

It feels like seconds of me being buried in my own thoughts before we’re sitting at the restaurant, Brooke looking every bit as smooth and polished as I expected. She probably did some Google research on what to wear on a dinner out with your boss. And she did perfect—simple little black dress that’s snug enough to be sexy but covers enough to… Actually, she just looks pretty damn sexy.

“I invited your brother to join us,” Mom says as she flicks a page in her leather bound menu.

Big dinners out aren’t my thing. I get it, and Brooke’s taking in the restaurant with big eyes, so that’s good. I want her to enjoy it.

And then Xavier comes around the corner with his dyed black hair spiked around his head
and a red tuxedo jacket over a T-shirt and too skinny tux pants. He’s such a show-off prick. Has to make sure people know who he is, and by the blond on each arm, he’s playing it up a little too hard tonight.

He pauses at our table as a waiter scrambles to get another chair (seriously, he said he was bringing a date, not
dates
) and looks down on us.

I give him a thin smile but I’m sort of pissed. Tonight was supposed to be about Brooke, not about him. The only reason Mom invited him is because he’s enough of an ass to never drop in to see her.
Morsten shifts in his seat and smoothes a hand over his bald head.

“You brought your assistants,” I say.

“We’re not his assistants, silly.” A blond waves me off, her boobs half falling out of the top of her dress.

“Oh, sorry. My mistake.” I manage to hold in my eye roll.

Brooke looks both slightly star struck and disgusted at the same time so I pull out my phone to snap a quick picture of her, and because she’s still staring I capture her expression perfectly. I’m still watching her raised brow and tiny mouth on my phone when Xavier clears his throat.

“I met them after my show.” Xavier sits, letting the girls pull their own chairs. Serious ass.

“Wow.” I fold my hands on the table. “Such an unusual way for you to meet girls.”

Both Mom and Brooke tap a leg under the table and shoot me a look. Oh. Great. Next time I’ll make sure I’m not sitting between these two.

I take a glance at Brooke, who’s holding in a laugh or probably a snort, and then at Mom, who’s frowning. At least Brooke thinks I’m funny.

Two courses in and Xavier hasn’t shut up about how the Discovery Channel is going to do a show on him if TLC can’t come up with a good counter-offer.

Mom interrupts a few times to talk about her and Morsten and their upcoming wedding. I don’t think she’d have given him a second glance if it weren’t for his money, but I also know it turned into more than that fast. He only takes a hand off her to eat. It would be sweet if it weren’t so sickening, but I’m happy for her just the same.

Brooke smiles and eats and takes it all in like this dinner turned out the way it was supposed to—as a big thank you to Brooke
instead of a Xavier show-off party.

“So.” Xavier points to Brooke. “Mom doesn’t normally hire girls as hot as you.”

“Oh.” Brooke flushes bright red.

I scoff and wish he was close enough for me kick him under the table.
“Don’t be a dick, Xavier.”

“It’s
X
, and I was just giving her a compliment. Chill, bro. If you were tapping that, you just had to say so.”

Before I think I’m standing. “Seriously, Xavier. This night isn’t about you. It’s Mom celebrating with Brooke over the massive account Brooke landed today.”

Xavier leans back knowing it makes me insane when he doesn’t react to me being pissed. “Man. I’m so glad you’re finally getting some. I just… I wish it made you less uptight.”

Mom grabs one arm and Brooke grabs the other, pulling me back into my seat.

“It’s fine,” Brooke whispers. “It’s fine. I’m sort of…flattered.”

“Only because you’re nice.” I give her thigh a squeeze and man her workout schedule has done some nice things to her legs. It takes me a second before I remember this is Brooke, and I should move my hand already.

Mom pulls my arm next to say something, and Xavier leans back in his chair. “I get it. You’re talking about me.”

“Stop being a prick for ten seconds, please.” He’s not like this when he’s not with girls, but this side of him comes out in full force when he is. It’s like he follows every douche-bag rule there is.

Mom taps my leg. “Morsten and I want to catch up with your brother. Why don’t you and Brooke take the car and enjoy yourselves.”

It takes me about a half second to take Mom’s keys and Brooke’s arm.

“Sorry we’re leaving before dessert,” I say as she stands.

“Great to meet you
, Xavier.” She nods at him and gives Mom a smile. “And thank you.”

“Thank you, Brooke,” Mom says with the sincerity that comes so naturally to her. “What you did today was big. You two celebrate, and come in to work tomorrow whenever.”

Brooke beams and I resist the urge to tug one of
X’s
spikes on our way out.

***

The second we’re in the old Impala, I pull the top down. “Anywhere you want. Anywhere we can drive. Anything for dessert.”
Anything to get away from my brother.

She laughs as she stretches her arms up and tugs on her dress. “I want a
Piña Colada Icee from Taco Bell and maybe one of those Caramel Apple Empanadas, and I want you to
drive
.”

“You’re a kickass girl, Brooke.” I stare at her for a minute longer, her girlish face in a huge smile as she breathes in the night air and jerks the pins out of her hair letting it fall down
in a mess around her ears.

“I can be.” Her bright eyes meet mine and I hit the gas as we pull out of the parking lot.

“There’s a great Taco Bell in Mesquite, if you want to go for a drive.”

“You’d go that far?
” Her brows rise. “For me?”

“You said you wanted to drive somewhere.”

“I did. Thanks, Nate.”

“And if you crawl in the back, you can change into your backup outfit.”

She freezes. “How did you know I—”

“The size of your bag.”

She slides between the seats with a grin of pure satisfaction. “I even wore the right bra, so it wouldn’t be weird…”

I don’t hear any more because I’m laughing too damn hard. This girl…

“Whew!” She slips back over the seat a few minutes later in shorts and a tank.

“That’s…” I wrinkle my brow.

“Every girl needs to be good at the quick change, Nate.” She pokes my shoulder. “Otherwise there would be no point in the extra outfit.”

“I guess not.” We smile at each other before I look back out at the road.

There’s an odd relaxation that comes over me as we head out of town. Brooke cranks up the oldies station and sings at the top of her lungs while the wind whips her hair around her face. I’m doing something nice for her, and I get the very distinct feeling that doesn’t happen for Brooke very often. It makes me wonder how anyone could be around her and
not
want to see her smile.

“You know what?” she yells over the sound of the music and the wind and the near constant traffic on I-5.

“What?”

“Tonight is second-date good without the pressure of a second date.”

“Good,” I say, even though part of me panics at the idea of being on a date with a friend. She’s not going to think this is a date, is she? This is a work celebration. We’re friends, so it’s a friend/work celebration. That’s not a date.

“Don’t worry.” She
pinches my cheek. “You’re so easy to read. We are definitely not on a date.”

Now I think I’ve hurt her feelings, and I definitely didn’t want to do that. “But it’s still fun, right?”

She grasps my arm with surprising strength. “It’s perfect. So,
so
, perfect.”

She lets me go and throws her hands up in the air again singing
Sugar Pie, Honey Bun
.

I laugh and feel lighter than I have in months—all because of a girl singing at the top of her lungs in the seat next to me.

Chapter Eleven

Brooke

This night is freaking
fab. I haven’t felt so awesome in so long, even with Nate’s brother hitting on me while simultaneously suggesting that Nate and I are sleeping together. It’s actually kind of amusing, and I’d be more amused if I didn’t see how upset it made Nate. I sense some major family tension there, and I know all about that, so I’m glad to be an excuse for him to get away. I’d rather him hang out with me then pull out another stress saving cigarette.

I turn down the music and lean the seat back. My throat is sore from singing
Take on Me
so loud I may have burst Nate’s eardrum. But how can you not sing that song without hitting that high note at the highest decibel you’re capable of?

Nate’s eyes skate to mine for a second before they dash back to the road.
He hasn’t stopped smiling tonight, and I think that gives me the courage to…
relax.
I toss my feet on the dash and fix the almost wedgie my shorts give me. Nate laughs, and I wrinkle my nose at him because I’m allowed to adjust myself. We’ve established this is not a date. If it were, then yes, I would’ve endured the underwear bunching.

“Two hours. I think that’s a record.”

My brow crinkles and I twist in my reclined seat to face him.

“Starting a conversation you had mostly in your head. I think someone is sleepy,” I lilt and poke him playfully in the arm.

He shakes his head and turns on his right blinker. As we exit the freeway, I admire what the wind has done to his hair and decide I don’t mind it being so unkempt.

“I meant your phone, smartass. It’s been two hours, and you haven’t touched it.”

Now of course I’m dying to. But I curl my fingers into fists to stop them from diving into my pocket.

“It’s nearly two
in the morning. Nothing I really have to check off at the moment.”

He smirks and I have an equal desire to smack it and take a picture of it. Which is so insane. He’s the photographer. Not me. Something I still have to get used to, since he snapped a picture of me at dinner and I have no idea why. But it’s seriously making me think I have to be super cute 24/7 in case of a Nate photo flash.
Hmm… maybe I shouldn’t be adjusting things around him.

“Here I thought you marked things off in your sleep.”

I know he’s joking, and I don’t know why I care all of a sudden, but after my date with Nick gone bad, a hard lump forms in my stomach that maybe I
do
have a problem. And I need to lighten the hell up.

“Does it bother you?”

“Your phone?”

I nod, noticing the wind has blown the hem of my tank up and I’m totally sitting there wi
th my stomach exposed. I smooth it down so it lays flat.

He laughs, shifts gears, and turns into a suburban neighborhood. “You’re organized.” His shoulders lift a little. “I may not understand it, but it doesn’t bother me.”

“What do you mean you don’t understand it? A lot of people are organized.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I was being polite.” His eyes move to mine for long enough that I freak out about the road in front of us not being watched, but I can’t seem to stop staring
at him. “If I was being honest”—eyes back on the road—“I would have said you’re a perfectionist. Maybe a little obsessive compulsive.”

He looks like I may kill him over that admission, flexing his arm and tucking it into his side preparing for a punch.

Instead, I flip in my seat, letting my hand fly over the car door and play with the night air. “I’ve heard that once or twice, so it’s not a surprise.” I let my eyes drift closed and breathe in and out, smiling. “At least it doesn’t bother you.”

“People being themselves
doesn’t bother me. Well, unless they’re assholes, and you’re not an asshole.”

Our laughs mingle together and it feels weird, but good because I don’t exactly laugh a whole lot.
And definitely not
with
someone.

“You don’t bother me either,” I say when our laughter dies down.

“Bullshit.”

I open my eyes and adjust my seat so I’m more upright. He’s shooting me a wide grin as I grimace. “What? Don’t believe me?”

“No.” He shifts gears and laughs to himself. I cross my arms and wait for him to explain why he thinks I’m lying my ass off. “I bet you anything when you first saw me smoking in our office you wanted to pop me over the head.”

Damn it. “Well, yes…”

“And whenever you see this…?” He pulls at his collar, showing me top button and oh my holy hell, the second to top button is also undone. He’s totally doing that on purpose. My mouth drops and he raises a knowing brow at me. “See… I can see it happening already. It’s driving you crazy. You want to button it, don’t you? Even though we’re chilling with the top down, cruising in the middle of the night without a care in the damn world, you want to button this button up.”

I had no idea how fast my breathing had become while he was talking. My eyes move to his shirt and I’ve stopped my fingers all night, but the second to last button, and the fact he keeps shoving it in my face… shit. I lean over the center console and get that one button, but I leave the top undone to prove something to him
and
to me.

“They wouldn’t put a button there unless it was meant to be used,” I say, then pat his chest and sit back in my seat. My breathing goes back to normal.

He smirks and rests his hand back on the steering wheel. “See?”

I let out a sigh, and it gets caught in the wind as we
drive down another unfamiliar—to me—street. “I guess I just don’t understand it either.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t understand organized. I don’t understand ‘going with the flow.’ I can’t imagine not planning out my day. Or not knowing what’s going to happen next.”

“What about tonight?” He nudges my arm, and I raise an eyebrow because I thought he hated me for being such a
tightass with his shirt, but when I catch his gaze, he’s still smiling the same old Nate smile he’s had on all night. “You didn’t plan on driving to Mesquite, did you?”

A guilty look smacks on my face, and before I can get rid of it, he calls me out.

“No way. You didn’t know it would happen.”

“Not exactly, but…” I reach in my pocket and pull out my phone. Tapping on the task I highlighted on the way to dinner, I show it to him. It takes him a couple reads, eyes going back and forth from my phone to the road.

“‘Anything Goes Night.’” He runs a hand over his windblown hair and shakes his head. “Care to tell me what that is?”

“You said we were going to celebrate. So I cleared my schedule for an all night celebration because I wasn’t exactly sure what would happen.”

“Did that scare you?”

I tuck my phone back against my chest and check off the task. “A little, I guess. Like I said, I just don’t understand letting things happen. You can do that, and I have no idea how.”

He shrugs. “It’s easy.”

“Maybe for you. You’re like The Big Bang Theory.”

“Uh… Come again?”

I twist in my seat and shove my phone down my pocket where I hope to set another record with it there to prove that I’m capable of not looking at it for an extended amount of time. “You know, you’re just floating around in space, la-
dee-da-ing, until that big BAM!”

He jolts back
when I clap next to his face and the car swerves a little. I stifle my amusement as I keep going with my analogy. “Everything falls into place perfectly and you didn’t even do anything. It just happened. Me? No, I can’t even think about just sitting around waiting for things in my life to fall into place. I
have
to plan for it. I have to find out how to achieve what and which way to achieve it, and use trial and error to come to the specific conclusion on every single goal I want in life. It eats at me. I need to find the perfect way to accomplish this thing and that thing and whatever thing...”

“Whoa there,” Nate says, reaching over and squeezing my knee. I had no idea how tense I’d become, how fast I started talking. His fingers on my bare skin do something funny to my stomach. Like he loosened it,
then tightened it in a whole different way. After a few seconds, I calm down enough he takes his hand from my knee and puts it back on the wheel. “There’s that word.
Perfect
. Why be perfect, Brooke? Some of the greatest things in life are great because of the
imperfections
.”

I blink a few times,
then drop my gaze to my abandoned knee. It’s a good question, and I know the answer, but I’m not sure I’m willing to give all of it to him. I look at the trash bag full of our impromptu dessert, eye my shoes I slipped off the moment I got in the car with him, and remember the way he made my feet feel like they were on clouds of heaven when he rubbed them. This is Nate. My
friend
.

“There are about five or six things on my to-do list that I’ve never been able to check off. And I’ve been dying to.”

“Oh? What are they?”

A smile forces itself on my lips
, and I shake my head. “Nope, not going to tell you.”

“Oh come on. You can’t expect me not to poke at that hive.”

I shake my head again, teasing him.

He turns onto another road that takes us up and up and up. “I could just look in your phone.”

“You touch my phone, you die.”

We both laugh, and he loses patience. “Just tell me one. That’s it. Just one.”

I let that mull over till we get to the top of the hill, and he parks the car at a roadside stop. The lights from the city keep things pretty well-lit, even from this far away.

I bend down and reach for my shoes. “Your mom won’t mind if I sit on the hood, right?”

He shakes his head and unbuckles. “No, but you better not climb up there with those heels on.”

“Right.” I li
ft a finger then bend to my bag. I dig nice and calm for about three seconds, then go all out frantic. “Seriously, Brooke?” I scold myself. “You forgot your flip flops?” This never happens. I’m so on my game most of the time, I can’t believe I didn’t think to grab them. I dig some more, but Nate stops me with his hand. Raising a questioning eyebrow, I watch him open his door and cross to my side. He leans over me, unbuckles my belt, and before I can even reach up to do that top button, he grabs my waist and hoists me out of the car like I’m a two-year-old.

“Nate!” I yelp,
then slap a hand over my mouth since it echoes around us about ten times louder than it came out. He chuckles and walks me quickly but carefully to the hood of the car. I don’t notice till he inches me over and settles in next to me, leaving about a foot of distance between us, how flushed I am.

“Okay, one thing from your to-do list,” he says, like he totally didn’t just manhandle me.

“Fine.” I hold up a finger. “One thing.”

He sits back,
a triumphant grin on his actually well-groomed face—for today—and it makes me almost take it back. Almost.

“There are four words I’ve want
ed my parents to say to me. Four words, and I still haven’t been able to make it happen.”

Nate’s grin falls a little
, and he leans toward me. “And they are…?”

I try to smile as I say them. “
I’m proud of you.
”

It seems to cut our teasing air right out of the conversation, and I hate that, because I didn’t want to get too deep. So I force out a laugh and say, “I think I’m getting close on that one.”

It takes him a minute to respond, but when he does, it sounds like his laugh is forced too. “You should’ve called them today. Hell, I’ve only known you a couple months and after that kickass deal, even
I’m
proud of you.”

Now I give him a genuine smile. “Thanks, but it won’t be enough.”

“A fifty-thousand dollar client isn’t enough? Damn, what do you have to do? Become Pope?”

M
y stomach loosens and tightens in that weird way again. “Probably. You see, my brother is this medical genius who is with the Peace Corps at the moment, and my sister is this super mom who has a perfectly clean house, well-behaved children and a husband who makes millions—oh, who also treats her like a queen. So, landing a big time client for the job I’ve been at for…well, not long enough, just won’t cut it.”

He scoots closer, and I wonder if he realized it. “What
will
be enough?”

I lift my shoulders a little, opening my mouth at a loss. I’m not sure to be honest. But I know the plan, so I go with that. “Well, I’ll need to be at my job longer. Make it into a career. But not just any career, I need something that…” I pause remembering tha
t Nate is the boss’s son. Maybe I need to keep my trap shut.

He watches me struggle over my sentence and he holds his hand up. “How about for right now, we’re friends, not co-workers. Say whatever the hell you want.”