17. Lucky Rabbit’s Foot
Chapter seventeen
Lucky Rabbit’s Foot
Chloe
My throat’s tight like I swallowed a cactus. Panic creeps in, sharp and cold.
Holy shit, what the hell did I do?
I take slow, steady breaths. Okay, more like panting.
I’m basically auditioning for Bluepeak’s Most Wanted, with terrible lighting and no time to fix my hair.
I can’t believe the damn balcony stunt I just pulled.
Not exactly my finest decision. I should’ve stayed inside, waited. Why do I always let my impulses win?
Finally, once I’m hidden like the professional escape artist I am, I check the cut on my ankle.
A scrape. That’s it? I risked my life climbing down a goddamn balcony like I’m an extra in some cheesy action movie, and all I get is a tiny, stupid scrape.
Not even worth a bandage. Where’s the dramatic injury to go with my new action-hero status?
No gushing blood, no bone sticking out. Only me, being dramatic.
I actually laugh. What the hell was I thinking? Climbing down a building like I’ve got a death wish. I have never been so scared in my life.
Hearing Brody’s colleague call out for him was the worst thing that could’ve happened, and at the worst moment.
My legs had turned to jelly from my explosive orgasms, and I almost lost my footing twice while clambering over the railing.
My ‘ great escape’ could have been a viral video-worthy disaster.
Brody tried to stop me, obviously. Mid-flail, pants half-on, eyes wide with panic, spitting out, “Are you crazy?” and “This is a terrible idea,” like suddenly he’s the voice of reason.
Sure, because waiting around for your colleague to walk in while we’re half-naked sounds like a stellar plan. Yeah, no thanks. I’d rather die than be found in such a compromising position.
News like this would travel like a virus in Bluepeak, which means everyone would’ve known about us by the time dinner rolls around.
I lick my finger and run it along the scrape on my ankle. It stings a bit. Apparently, I’m not that tough after all.
“Do I need to give you a superhero name now?” Brody pops out from behind the bushes, a shit-eating grin on full display. “You scaling that balcony? 10 out of 10, would binge-watch again.”
“Glad to see at least one of us is having a good time,” I respond, wincing a little as my pants fall back over the fresh scrape. Guess I should’ve stuck to boring instead of sexy spy at Stirling Tech.
“Shit, did you get hurt?” He drops to his knees, oh, for fuck’s sake—not that kind of ‘on his knees.’ “You should probably get this looked at.”
“You’re kidding, right? It’s a scrape, not a damn mortal wound.”
“You’re bleeding.” he says it like it’s a tragedy. You’d think I’d been shot.
I wave him off me, giving my leg a shake for extra measure.
He stands and dusts off his pants—the same ones that were around his ankles. Naturally, that image decides to make a comeback. Deep breath. There are more important things to deal with.
“It’s a scratch,” I argue, and start walking away. “I’ve had worse from shaving my legs.”
He trails after me, full-on Mr. Concerned, like this post-hookup patrol through the woods is part of his CEO duties.
I can feel his presence. Impossible to block out, the way my spine straightens, how every nerve perks up when he’s near.
“What are you doing?” I glance at him. “Why are you following me like a golden retriever?”
He shrugs, clasping his hands behind his back. “Making sure you don’t get hurt again.”
“I’m a grown-ass woman. I can handle myself.”
“A grown, stubborn-ass woman,” he shoots back, giving me a sideways glance. Okay, fine. He has a point, but still. “Can you let me share this little nature walk? It’s a beautiful day, and I’d much rather be out here with you than stuck in that stuffy office.”
With me or with nature? My brain does that thing where it starts overanalyzing, which is stupid considering he’s literally with me. Shit. I’m failing miserably after Laney and Harper’s intervention, and I only have myself to blame.
We walk in silence for a while, my mind hyper-focusing on the fact that my underwear is ruined and uncomfortably damp from earlier events that we are absolutely not going to talk about. And by ruined, I mean ruined. Brody’s balcony shenanigans definitely did a number on them.
“My parents are going to love being back here.” He breathes deep, like he’s trying to inhale the natural wonder of Bluepeak in one go.
The trees begin to thin out, opening into pockets of wildflowers and nature’s finest social media backdrop. Benches and picnic spots are scattered everywhere, all of it so perfectly charming.
A winding cobbled trail takes over from the uneven forest floor, making the walk easier. Not that it helps. After what he said, it’s like someone dropped a backpack full of bricks on me. Hard to believe he’s from here when he’s so determined to wreck it.
“You think they’ll love the changes you’re planning too?” I ask, and this time, I’m not shying away from the question. Because he needs to hear it, even if it pisses him off.
Brody stops and takes my hand. My traitorous body reacts before I can stop it. He leads me to a flat rock by the gardens. We sit, surrounded by the hum of nature, the gentle trickle of water in the distance and soft croaks of frogs. And yet, all I can focus on is how his hand feels in mine.
“I’m not touching any of this,” he says quietly.
“It’s as important to me as it is to you.
” His voice is low, almost like he's letting me in on a secret. It’s strange, hearing him talk like this.
Not the brooding businessman, not the guy with an agenda, but someone who might actually care about this place. About what we want here.
Did he actually say that?
“What?” he asks, noticing the look of pure shock on my face. Probably because my jaw is unhinged at this point.
I shake my head, trying to get my thoughts in order, but my brain shut down.
“You told me about your dream before,” I begin, my words tiptoeing out carefully, though my heart’s doing full-on aerobics in my chest. “You left Bluepeak and lived the big city life. I bet you were in some Ivy League club with stiff collars and old money, right?”
He gives that sheepish nod, eyes dropping to the nearest flower at his feet.
“You followed your dreams out there. Had the fancy job. Made all the money. Collected all the rich-people friends who order champagne without looking at the price…”
“It’s not like that.” He meets my eyes again, shaking his head.
“Maybe not.” I continue, “but you get my point. Ever since you were a kid, nothing could stop you from chasing what you wanted. Right?”
He nods again, gaze locked on mine. That’s all the green light I need.
“Well, Brody, I have dreams too.” The words come out fast, gaining momentum like I’m rolling down a hill with no brakes. “It’s… this is it. Bluepeak.”
His brow furrows, lips curving slightly. “Bluepeak.”
“I wasn’t that girl dreaming of bright lights and the big city.
” I place my hand on his thigh, rubbing it gently.
It feels good to touch him like this, anchoring in a way.
“All I’ve ever wanted is to be here. The lakes, the wildlife, the forests…
That’s my dream. To protect it, to make sure it stays as magical as it is now.
The kind of place where pe ople fall in love with nature every single day. ”
He sits up straighter, a serious expression washing over his face as he places his hand over mine. Right as I think he’s about to say something deep, some kind of soft mewling interrupts us.
We whip around to find the source of the sound, Brody circling the rock garden on the left and me on the right. Behind a patch of long grass, a little rabbit is hunched down.
“Poor thing looks hurt.” Brody doesn’t hesitate. He crouches down faster than I can blink.
The rabbit lets out a series of distressed squeaks and protests when Brody touches his hind leg. It’s clear he’s been hurt.
“Must’ve been a fox.” I kneel down beside them. “There’s a family of them here in the park, and some more over on the west bank forest.”
“A skulk,” he says, scooping up the little guy with way more gentleness than I’d have expected from someone whose hands are usually all about signing contracts.
“A what now?”
“A skulk,” he repeats, flashing a small smile. “That’s what you call a group of foxes.”
“Well, aren’t you a walking wildlife encyclopedia,” I mutter, still processing this gentler side of him.
His touch is careful, caring, nothing I’m used to seeing from him. He’s cooing down at the rabbit like it’s the most fragile thing on earth.
My chest tightens, Laney’s voice echoing in my mind.
Double shit. I’m in trouble.
“This little guy’s a fighter,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off the rabbit. “Probably needs a vet.”
I reach out to take the rabbit. “Here, I’ll take him…”
“I’ve got it.” Brody shifts, blocking me, suddenly playing personal bodyguard to a rabbit. “You’re probably busy, and, uh, my afternoon’s free, so… I’ll take him.”
Before I can think it through, I’m kissing him. My head’s a mess, my body knows what it wants. I don’t know if this is smart or impulsive, but he feels like the one thing that makes sense. So I follow my heart, and right now, it’s very into the feel of his lips on mine.
The kiss is reckless, sure, but it feels too good to second-guess. I’ve been fighting this, tiptoeing around it, pretending it wasn’t real. But his warmth sinks into me, silencing every doubt. For a moment, it’s not complicated. It’s only us.
When I pull back, he watches me with that open, soft expression that strips me bare without trying.
“What was that for?” he asks, still dazed.
“For being outrageously sweet.” I wink, stepping back. “Send me a progress report once Darcy checks him out, okay?”