Chapter 15
CADE
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I swore at myself. Get yourself together, Cade. It was taking every bit of self-control I had to keep my hands off Brooke.
I knew she was struggling. I still had no clue what really happened—something with Brock, obviously—but I could see the pain and exhaustion written all over her face from the moment I’d picked her up in Boston.
But God, she was still so beautiful.
It had been ages since I’d spent this much time in the same room as her.
She hadn’t really left my head since the reunion, and I was loath to admit how many times I’d beat off in the shower thinking of her in that dark blue shimmery dress.
She was the source of pretty much all of my fantasies going back to high school .
. . which probably explained why I’d never let myself get serious with any of the girls I hooked up with in California.
And now she was on the other side of the house. My parents’ house. Last night when I’d rubbed her feet, she’d let out the softest little moan, and my brain went on a one-way track to all the other ways I could elicit similar noises from her.
I know, I was going to hell.
But this morning when she walked into the kitchen wearing those tight yoga pants—Well, it was probably good I had a frilly pink apron covering the front of me.
I was trying to do the right thing. She was fresh off a breakup.
She needed good food, fresh air, and comfortable company.
I wanted to make her laugh and forget about her troubles for a while, and I felt like I was doing a pretty damn good job.
She’d perked up significantly at the diner, at least. It was progress from the sad, lifeless girl I’d picked up in Boston.
When she’d stepped away from the booth to use the restroom, a grizzled white-hair man in a faded flannel shirt had approached our table.
“That the Meadows girl?” he asked gruffly. “Haven’t seen her around in a long time.”
Gotta love small towns and old busybodies, I’d reflected mentally.
I cast my eyes to where she’d disappeared. “Yes sir, that’s her.”
“Damn fine athlete that one was.”
I wondered if Brooke even knew the lasting impression she’d made on our small town.
When we’d settled in for movie night, I thought maybe it would feel like old times. But suddenly we weren’t a couple kids laying side by side a foot apart on a pull-out couch in the basement trying to throw popcorn back and forth into each other’s mouths.
We were two full-grown adults, sitting impossibly close to each other under the same blanket. And my body certainly recognized the difference.
I tried to ignore the scent of her peach shampoo wafting towards me each time she reached for the popcorn bowl which was, yeah, in my lap.
By the time she laid her head on my shoulder, my self-control was a tenuous thread ready to snap.
One move and I could capture those lips I’d so often dreamed of. I could claim her mouth with mine.
But it wasn’t what she needed.
So I’d stopped it.
I knew I’d startled her when I jumped up and began to clean up. She’d shuffled off to bed, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the bedroom door snick shut, the temptation out of reach for the night.
If I was honest with myself, I’d had a crush on Brooke since I was seven years old and she crashed her skateboard in front of my driveway. She was spunky and tough and larger-than-life, and instantly I knew I needed her as a friend.
For years that’s all it was with us—fierce, loyal friendship, punctuated by plenty of pranks, long phone calls, and inside jokes.
By the time the teenage hormones came along, I knew I’d been firmly placed in Brooke’s friend zone.
Still, I felt on top of the word each time she’d stick her feet in my lap during study sessions or lean her head on my shoulder at the movies.
I was her rock, her protector, her safe space. It was a badge I wore proudly.
By tenth grade, I wanted her in every way known to man. I wanted her smiles pointed at me. I wanted to lace our fingers together when she grabbed my palm and swung our joined hands back and forth, skipping along the bank of the creek behind my house.
I felt a near-desperate need to taste her glossy lips. I was a wiry teen, but Brooke was a goddess—lean, trim muscle with thick thighs and an ass that was sure to be every teenage boy’s fantasy. She was certainly mine. She was tall and athletic, and boy, did that do it for me.
Everything about her did it for me.
And by senior year, when her lips finally met mine after prom—I swore I’d died and gone to heaven. I knew then I’d never be the same.
In all the years since then, no girl of any shape or size had ever compared. I considered myself appreciative of all types of female beauty, but my heart and soul had long been stuck on the girl with the big brown eyes and long chocolate hair.
Obviously, this wasn’t the right time to make a move. I wasn’t going to exploit her emotional vulnerability. It had taken me over six months since the reunion to even get back to the friend level. No way would I jeopardize that.
In the shower and in my dreams, though . . . well, I just didn’t have control over that.
The next morning Brooke slept in, and I found Maple in the living room.
I assume Brooke had gotten up early to let her out, then returned to bed.
Sometime in the late morning I heard the shower running in the master.
I tried hard not to picture her in there.
I threw on basketball shorts and a hoodie.
Maple raised her head with interest as I laced my shoes.
“Want to come, girl?” I asked her, then grabbed her leash as she excitedly hopped up, tail wagging.
I let myself out the front door and went for a run to burn off some of my frenetic energy.
I brought back coffees and croissants for breakfast. I came in the front door and was assaulted by the smell of peaches.
Brooke emerged in a tiny strappy tank top and baggy sweats with her hair wrapped in a towel, freshly washed.
A sliver of skin at her waistline seemed to call out to me, taunting me. I jerked my eyes back to her face.
“Hey,” she said tentatively.
“Morning,” I smiled back, determined to regain our friendly footing. “Coffee and breakfast. I’m going to shower, too. Up for going to get more fresh food today?”
“Yeah. Hey, Cade?” she called, and I spun to give her my full attention. “Are we good to stay here all week?” She seemed nervous, like she feared I’d reject her proposition.
“Yeah, of course. All week sounds great.”
I swallowed down the anxiety that caused me.
A week was a long time to keep my hands off Brooke.
I called Val after my shower and checked on Echo, then got dressed in my favorite navy henley and some olive-colored khakis.
I walked out to see Brooke in another pair of fitted jeans—lighter than the ones from the day before—and a cream-colored sweater.
She looked so cozy, and I wanted to wrap her up in my arms. You’re her friend, you’re her friend, you’re her friend, I repeated mentally.
We hit up the farmers’ market first. Only the indoor one was open this late in the year, but plenty of stands inside provided fresh vegetables, preserves, and to-die-for loaves of fresh bread. Artisanal cheese stands were scattered throughout, plus little booths with homemade crafts.
I relished watching Brooke’s eyes light up as she sampled and explored. Life reentered those sad eyes as she admired the products people sold. We found a vendor selling mulled apple cider, and I purchased us each one so we could stay warm as we wandered.
I chuckled at Brooke’s wide smile when she pulled her cider from my hands. This girl was so easy to make happy . . . and I was thrilled to be the one to make it happen.
We stopped by the meat market as well to get some main courses that I’d plan on cooking for Brooke throughout the week.
I found a good cut of salmon that I’d be sure to use.
I had saved a number of meals that, according to my online research, had anti-inflammatory benefits and would hopefully leave her feeling her best.
The market also had some savory dog-friendly jerky we’d be taking home for Maple. She was about to be a very spoiled pup.
On the drive home, Brooke reached over and took my hand, stunning me with a dazzling grin.
“This is really fun. I needed it.”
“It is.” I smiled back, enjoying the feel of her soft skin against mine.
Vermont in full fall colors was stunning, but even now as winter approached, with the crisp wind and the mostly-bare trees, it had a picturesque beauty that was easy to admire. But nothing on Earth could compare to the beauty right beside me.