Authors: Rose Wulf
“Great, thanks!” Georgia beamed before quickly
disappearing.
Brooke took a second to make sure she was still
presentable, as she had been getting ready to go home, and then stepped out of
the changing room and headed for the kitchen. She found the food easily and
swept it onto a tray before expertly maneuvering her way out of the kitchen and
towards the main room.
She was halfway to her destination before she recognized
the people whose food she was carrying. Emma Matthews and her younger brother,
Eric. Emma was one of Georgia’s friends from high school, and since they were
still fairly close, Brooke was on good terms with her as well.
“Hey there,” Brooke greeted with an honest smile as she
lowered the tray. “Georgia’s a little busy, so I’m helping her out.”
Emma returned her smile. “Hi, Brooke. I don’t think I’ve
seen you in a little while. How are you?”
“I’m doing all right,” Brooke replied. She picked up the
larger of the plates and paused. “Who’s got the appetite?”
Emma laughed and pointed at her brother. “He says his
appetite’s growing with age.”
Eric grinned as the plate was set before him. “It is, I
swear.”
“Funny,” Brooke teased as she lifted the other plate and
set it in front of Emma, “I’ve heard exactly the opposite.”
“Then I must be getting younger on the inside,” Eric
replied.
“Yeah,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “Because you’re old
enough to have to worry about your age.”
“I’ll be eighteen in a couple of weeks,” he reminded her
even as he stabbed his fork into his food.
“Oh, wow,” Brooke said after she’d shifted the tray to hold
it sideways against her body. Other hand on her hip now, she added, “You know,
he’s right. He’s getting ancient. I mean, what would it be like to be
eighteen?”
“I can’t even imagine,” Emma laughed.
Around a mouthful of rice, Eric grumbled, “I hate to break
it to you, but you’re not nearly as funny as you think.”
Emma cringed, leaned across the table, and flicked her
brother’s forehead. “What happened to your manners?”
When Eric only grinned tauntingly at his sister, Brooke
looked over at Emma and said, “I cannot express how happy I am that I didn’t
get saddled with a younger brother.”
Eric looked up at her then and, with a completely straight face,
said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m an angel.”
Brooke smirked. “For future reference, that claim will work
a lot better after you file those horns down.” Emma and her brother both
laughed lightly, and after a moment Brooke added, “It’s been great to see you,
but I’m technically off the clock, so I probably shouldn’t be dawdling.”
Emma waved one hand in a shooing gesture. “Of course, of
course. Go home already!”
Brooke bade them good-night and once again made her way to
the back of the diner. When she was done transitioning back from
Brooke-the-Waitress to Brooke-the-Woman, she slipped her purse over her
shoulder and stepped out of the back room. She was barely parallel with the
entrance to the kitchen when she was waylaid by Paula.
“And what are you still doing here, young lady?” Paula
demanded in a strangely motherly tone.
Smiling, Brooke adjusted her purse and explained, “Georgia
needed a little help, so I ran the food out to Emma and her brother.”
“That was very nice of you,” Paula complimented her.
“Tomorrow’s your early day, right?”
Brooke nodded. “I have to be in the classroom by eight
o’clock sharp. Which means up at six, maybe six-fifteen.”
Paula frowned. “The college isn’t
that
far from town.”
“No, but the parking is horrible after seven-thirty,”
Brooke stated.
Paula shook her head exasperatedly. “I praise your
motivation, sweetheart. If it were me, I’d have quit by now. That’s too much
trouble.”
Brooke laughed sympathetically. “Tell me about it! But I
really have to run, Paula. I have another chapter I have to read tonight.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? Don’t let me keep you!”
Paula insisted, taking Brooke by the shoulder and physically guiding her toward
the sitting area. “I better not see you in here before tomorrow night, understand?”
“Good-night, Paula,” Brooke replied with a wave before she
turned and continued on her way.
The people at table two, who had been causing Georgia
problems, were gone already, which meant that the only table occupied besides
five was a booth far in the back. Brooke didn’t know the old man in the booth,
and for a beat she wondered why he was sitting by himself, but she moved on
just as quickly. She looked back towards the Matthews siblings to smile at them
again, but they weren’t looking in her direction.
Shrugging it off, she went to continue forward and nearly
bumped into a chair. Mentally shaking her head at herself, she angled to walk
wide of the threatening piece of wood, and unexpectedly found herself in
ear-shot of Emma and Eric’s conversation.
“—much longer, anyway?” Eric was grumbling, sounding for
all the world like a frustrated child on a road-trip. “I’m sick of waiting.”
Emma’s voice was lower, as if she were over-aware of her
surroundings, when she said, “That’s his decision, Eric. Just do what you’re
told and be patient.”
“But it’s been—”
Emma suddenly interrupted him when she realized that Brooke
was nearby, though Brooke hadn’t been watching them, and she loudly called,
“Oh, good-night, Brooke!”
Brooke turned to smile awkwardly at them and replied,
“Good-night.” But as she turned forward once more, she couldn’t help but think
that that had been entirely too strange.
Or
maybe Emma was just tired of listening to her brother’s whining,
she told
herself. Either way, it wasn’t any of her business.
Chapter Three
It was raining heavily Monday morning. Brooke, like
everyone else, felt and looked not unlike a drowned rat as she sank into her
seat before class. Shoes squeaked irritatingly along the linoleum floor, and
most of the conversations Brooke could hear were not unlike her own thoughts.
Who wanted to deal with rain at eight in the morning?
To say she was confused when Blake eased into the seat
beside hers with an easy smile and an undeniable vibrancy in his eyes would be an
understatement. Not only did he
not
look like the requisite drowned rat, he actually seemed to be in a better mood
than he’d been in the last time she’d seen him.
I thought he said he wasn’t a morning person?
“Good morning,” Blake said, smile still in place, as he
easily pulled out his notebook and set it on the desk. Today their desks were
facing forward, though still in pairs, so it was probably safe to assume they’d
need the notebooks.
“There’s hardly anything good about it,” Brooke grumbled as
she draped her sopping-wet raincoat over the back of her chair.
“Don’t like the rain?” Blake asked conversationally even as
he shrugged out of his own coat.
“I like the rain just fine,” Brooke corrected him. “Just
not when I have to be out in it, and especially not when I have to be out in it
so early in the morning.”
Blake chuckled and, as their professor moved toward the
front of the room, whispered, “I suppose that’s understandable.”
At this point, Brooke desperately wanted to ask him why he
was in such a good mood, because she was sure she remembered him saying he
wasn’t a morning person. Not to mention, even if he was, who was in a
good
mood when it was pouring outside?
And he was absolutely in a better mood than anyone else in the room at that
moment. But, as her luck would have it, the professor chose that very moment to
begin class, meaning her inquiry would have to wait.
****
Her luck hadn’t improved by the time her final class was
done for the day. She stood at the lip of the overhang, barely a dozen yards
from the main parking lot, and stared up at the sky. The temperature had
dropped, but the rain had not stopped, and now the lightest of snow was falling
from the sky. It wasn’t cold enough yet for the snow to stick on the ground,
for which Brooke was grateful. She absolutely hated driving in the snow. In
fact, she suddenly recalled, that was one of the reasons she’d moved to
Darien—it never snowed there.
It’s
amazing what a difference thirty minutes makes,
she reflected.
“You have seen snow before, right?” Blake asked as he came
to a stop beside her, hands in his pockets and trusty backpack slung over one
shoulder.
Brooke jumped visibly, as she hadn’t realized he’d been
standing there, and turned to look at him. Her retort died in her throat,
however, when she realized something else. His hood was down.
Blake looked over at her and raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“Are you crazy? Or do you
want
to get sick?” Brooke asked incredulously, completely ignoring
both of his questions. Before he could do more than give her a confused look,
she added, “Why in the world is your hood down?”
He stared at her for a long beat, blinking slowly, before
his lips twitched just slightly. “I’m not crazy, I won’t get sick, and I don’t
like hoods. I like to feel the rain.”
Holding one arm out for emphasis, Brooke exclaimed, “That’s
not rain,
it’s
snow!”
Blake shrugged calmly. “Snow is just frozen rain. And this
is practically more sleet than real snow, anyway.”
Brooke gaped at him for a long moment before pulling her
arm back beneath the overhang and shaking her head. “Snow, rain, sleet,
whatever. You’re not supposed
let
yourself get soaked in it.”
Blake’s lips twitched, threatening another grin. “Come on,
the snow’s not going to stop just because you’re standing here. I’ll walk you
to your car.”
Not knowing what to say to that, or even if she should,
Brooke nodded mutely and watched as he casually stepped out into the snow. For
a moment, she just stared, watching with strange fascination, as the fragile
white flakes dusted his dark hair and the top of his dark blue rain coat. She
shook herself out of it and took a deep breath before following him.
“You’ll have to lead the way,” Blake pointed out as they
stepped off of the sidewalk and into the parking lot.
Pretending she had already thought of that, Brooke easily
stepped ahead of him. “You know, you don’t have to walk me to my car. What if
you’re all the way on the opposite side of the parking lot?”
A teasing grin apparent in his voice, Blake replied, “Then
I guess I’ll be spending a little more time in the snow.”
“Or I could drive you to your car,” Brooke offered
guiltily. She was, at the moment, questioning his sanity, but he was being nice
enough to walk her to her car, so really it was the least she could do.
“That’s very nice of you,” Blake began, “but you don’t have
to. Like I said, I enjoy this kind of weather.”
“Well, that explains your good mood this morning,” Brooke
declared before she could think better of it.
“What do you mean?” He moved a bit closer to her.
“Just that you were, I don’t know, glowing or something
when you got to class earlier,” Brooke replied awkwardly. That really hadn’t
come out the way she had wanted it to, but it wasn’t exactly wrong, either, so
she didn’t bother to correct herself.
“Glowing, huh?” Blake repeated with a tone that indicated
curious amusement.
She had the distinct impression he wasn’t actually going to
elaborate at all, and even as her lips curved into a frown, she found herself
wondering what she had really expected him to say.
He likes the rain,
she reminded herself.
What more does he
need
to
say?
And then she realized she had nearly walked past her own
car.
Abruptly turning, she pulled her keys from her pocket and
stepped up to her silver Honda Civic. “This is me,” she declared as she
unlocked the car. Turning a smile up to her escort, she added, “Thanks. Are you
sure you don’t want that ride?”
Blake’s grin was automatic, and he shook his head as he
said, “You’re welcome, and absolutely.” Jerking a thumb at the
somehow-still-shiny, dark-blue newer-model Mustang in the parking space behind
her Civic, he added, “That’s me right there.”
The jealousy she’d felt when she’d first seen his phone
flared to life again when her eyes settled on the sports car. She’d always
wanted a Mustang. “Well, that’s fortuitous. Guess I’ll see you on Wednesday,
then?”
Shoving his hands back into his pockets, Blake replied, “At
the latest.” Then he turned and began calmly walking towards his car.
As much as she wanted to stand around and ogle the car—and
the man—she really wanted to get out of the slurry-snow, and so she yanked open
her door and practically dove inside. She could’ve sworn she heard him chuckle
as she jerked the door shut again in her effort to keep the inside of her car
somewhat dry. Grumbling, she adjusted herself properly in the seat, deposited
her bag in the passenger seat, and then cut a glance to her rearview mirror.
She watched as Blake beeped his car unlocked, easily opened
the door, and then casually tossed his backpack inside. Then, and only then,
did he angle himself inside, and it was several more seconds before he pulled
the door closed. Watching him move so casually, Brooke almost thought she was
hallucinating the wet weather. Never, in all her life, had she known someone
who loved rain and snow
that
much.
****
Blake was ten minutes out from Darien when his cell phone
rang. It was Dean’s ringtone, and so he switched it easily to his earpiece and
hit the appropriate button. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” Dean replied grumpily. “I need a favor.”
“What kind of favor?” Blake asked skeptically. With his
brother, the favor was just as likely to be some harmless errand as it was to
be some outrageous request.
“I’m out of coffee, and I’m dying,” Dean replied.
That explains his
extra-grumpy tone,
Blake reflected. “And you want me to go to the coffee
shop for you?”
“No,” Dean said with obvious irritation. “I want you to go
to the store and pick me up a can of Folgers or something. And don’t take your
good mood out on me.”
Blake rolled his eyes and did his best to bite back his
grin. “You do it to me and you know it. But yeah, I can pick you up some
coffee, as long as you don’t mind waiting. I’m still a few minutes from town.”
“I can handle that,” Dean assured him as his microwave
dinged in the background.
“Lunch?” Blake asked curiously.
“Leftover pizza,” Dean replied. “It sounded good. Hey,
aren’t you supposed to be in class still?”
Blake could only laugh at Dean’s belated realization.
“Yeah, but my last professor lives in the mountains up north, and they got
snowed in, so class was cancelled. You got enough of that pizza for me?”
“Sucks for them,” Dean commented. “I might … but only if
you don’t make me pay you back for my coffee.”
“Right,” Blake replied as he slowed to take the necessary
turn-off, “
‘cause
you’re
broke. I’ll be there in about fifteen.”
“Sweet, later,” Dean said before disconnecting.
****
“Ugh, it’s roasting in here,” Blake declared as he stepped
into Dean’s single-bedroom house.
Rolling his eyes at his sibling, Dean snatched the can of
coffee from him. “What’d you expect? Anyway, I need your help with something
else, too.”
Blake shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the coat rack
Dean kept by the door. “My help?”
Dean gestured for him to follow and began walking towards
his kitchen. “I already called Logan and asked if he’d mind
patchin
’
it up for me, but he said it has to be dry first—which is where you come in.”
“Your window leaks?” Blake guessed as he came to a stop
beside his brother.
“Yeah. I hadn’t seen it yet when I talked to you.”
Blake moved up to the window over Dean’s kitchen sink,
spying the steady stream of water seeping in. “Piece of cake. Did you tell
Logan I was on my way?”
“Yeah, he said he’ll be here soon, whatever that means.”
As Dean’s front door eased shut from behind them, Logan’s
familiar deep voice called, “It means that we don’t all drive like a bat out of
hell. Now where’s this leak I’m patching up?”
Blake looked past Dean and lifted one hand in greeting. “In
here. If you’re ready, I’ll dry it up for you.”
Logan inclined his head, coming to a stop beside Dean. “You
realize that since it’s still raining, it might not stick? Unless Blake’s
gonna
stay overnight and keep an eye on it.”
Dean sighed. “All right, I have an idea. Make the area dry
for me and I’ll … go out and see what I can do to keep it that way.” Then he
turned and headed for his entry, where he pulled his slick raincoat from his
closet and shrugged into it.
After Dean had slipped—hood up and pulled tight—through the
door, Blake looked back at Logan again. “He always makes such a big deal out of
rainy weather.”
Logan shook his head. “Tell me about it. I just hope he
doesn’t set his house on fire.”
Blake chuckled, turning his attention back to the window
when he saw Dean’s huddled form on the other side. “I hear you,” Blake agreed.
Taking a deep breath, he lifted one hand deliberately and held it out.
Logan watched as the water that had leaked in began
retreating, seeping back into and then through the same miniscule crack it had
entered from. His gaze lifted to the window, and, as he watched, the rain that
was still steadily falling seemed to curve around Dean’s body, leaving a gap of
several inches. After another moment, Blake lifted his hand a little higher and
offered Dean a thumbs-up.
Dean returned the gesture and then reached out, toward his
wall, beneath the window.
“That’s probably your cue,” Blake said, stepping away from
the window.
“Yeah,” Logan replied, pulling the tube of caulking from
his jacket. He easily applied it to the crack along the window, and then moved
back. “He better not flash-fry it.”
Blake laughed and said, “Maybe we should move back, just in
case.”
Both brothers stepped backwards until they were standing on
the threshold of the kitchen, several feet from the window. When Dean lifted
his eyes from his work and saw this, he aimed a glare at them and lifted one
hand to flip them off. Then he stepped back as well and hunched his shoulders
forward to shield himself from the rain, before moving out of sight.
Dean slipped back into the house thirty seconds later,
kicking the door shut and shaking off as much of the water as he could. “It’s
freakin
’ wet out there!”
“That’s the general idea behind rain,” Blake pointed out
with a grin.
“You know,” Dean replied after he’d draped his coat beside
his brother’s and lifted his eyes back to Blake, “some days I wish it could
rain fire, just so you could know how I feel.”
“Thank God you’re not in charge of the weather, then,”
Blake exclaimed.
Dean sighed and looked to his other brother. “Anyway, I
heated up the area enough that it should be dry by now.”
Logan inclined his head. “With a little luck, it should at
least last you through the storm. And maybe next time when I offer to check
your house before winter sets in, you might let me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean replied, rolling his eyes.
****
“Thanks for picking me up,” Angela said as she eased into
the passenger seat of Blake’s Mustang. She easily tossed her backpack into the
backseat, beside where his still rested, and pulled the door shut.