Chapter Twenty - Brooks
CHAPTER TWENTY
Brooks
Summer, standing in front of the people who raised me, grew up with me, wearing that little white dress, that bow in her hair, is nothing short of breathtaking. She’s not seen me yet so I can’t help but watch as she walks around the room, thanking each and every one of these people, my heart beating faster in my chest as she gets closer and closer to where I’m stood.
Even though I promised myself after that phone call to stop thinking about her, to quash this unspoken attraction between us — and to be honest we were doing well until she text me asking if I’d heard from Lennon — I couldn’t stop myself from being here.
She text me a couple days ago whilst I was at practice that the opening of the cafe would be on the 16th wondering if I could make it, I made it seem like I was busy in my reply, that it might be too hard to get the time away. But little did she know, Lennon told me the date a week prior and I’d already cleared it with Coach to fly out here after practice as long as I was back the next morning.
Everything looks great in here, I haven’t seen it for weeks and there’s been some updates. She’s filled the shelves with books, there’s a painting resting against the wall that I’m assuming needs to be hung, I make a mental note to do that before I leave. All the equipment behind the counter is in, the coffee machine, the cash register, some other things I have no idea what they do and most of all she’s added curtains to the front door and windows, I think they’re the same sheer ones she has in her apartment. Enough to keep out nosy people, but the fabric still light enough for the sun to filter through.
My heart fills with pride at how far Summer has come, even more so when I see Lennon eating a cookie at one of the tables in her apron.
Summer reaches the last table and I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for her to notice. As she hands a card out to one of Archer’s buddies, she finally looks up and sees me.
She pauses, freezes in place, her eyes traveling all over my body as if she can’t believe I’m here. I mean, I shouldn’t be and we both know it, but I doubt either of us can say we regret the decision right now, especially because she’s looking at me like she’s could never get enough, like I’ve hung the moon and stars as a grin grows on her face.
“Brooks, glad you could make it, kid.” I hear Fred talking, I hear others greeting me but the only thing I can think about is that Summer is making her way towards me, her eyes never leaving me and mine never leaving her.
That dress… I think its the one she wore that time I saw her through the window but it’s even better up close. The top showing off her shoulders and the tiniest bit of cleavage, the fabric at her waist hugging her body tightly leading to the slightly flared skirt.
As soon as she reaches me, she’s in my arms. Her arms are wrapped tightly around me, her face resting in my neck, I swear I can feel her lips on my skin and her breath fanning across the area. I lift her off the floor, my face in her hair. The smell of coconut hits my senses and I close my eyes, soaking in the moment. This is where I should’ve been instead of with that other girl in the bar that time.
“Hey, Princess,” I say, letting her feet hit the floor and pulling away.
“You made it,” She breathes, the most beautiful smile gracing her face.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sorry I couldn’t get here earlier.”
“Brooks!” Summer gets pushed out the way, and Lennon jumps in my arms. I should be ecstatic but there’s an irrational anger at Lennon for pushing Summer and I look over Lennon’s shoulder and see Summer immersed in a conversation with the Taylors. She’s fine, no harm, no foul, so I let myself give into the hug from Lennon. It’s not often she does this, she hasn’t been like this for nearly a year, so I take what I can get when it comes to her.
“How you doing, kid? Liking your new job?” My worry for her has decreased ten fold now, especially because I talk to Summer almost nightly, even though we shouldn’t, and she gives me regular updates on Lennon.
“Stop calling me that, I’m not a kid anymore. But yes…” she backs away, “it’s great. Summer’s great.”
Don’t I know it.
She checks the clock on the wall and turns her attention to Summer. “Summer! It’s time to wrap this up.”
I’m shocked by the way she just spoke to Summer and I’m about to mention it but Summer laughs and jokes, “Okay, you heard the boss, it’s time to go!”
Everyone joins in laughing and I kind of feel left out of the merriment. I’m assuming there’s some kind of inside joke that I’m not aware of about the two girls’ dynamic and it makes me feel some kind of way to not be part of it.
“The place looks great Summer,” I say.
After everyone left, I stayed to help with the clean up, taking Lennon’s spot which she was eternally grateful for. I’d just finished hanging the painting and it looks great. I read the inscription on the back, Fred really cares for Summer, that much is clear if he’s given her this painting; from what I remember his wife painted this years ago and he’s been keeping it ever since.
The place is very Summer, it’s calming, homely, a lot like her apartment, and the food and coffees that have come out today had everyone raving about them. I even got to try a cookie before Lennon took the rest home, they’ve always been her guilty pleasure, and I can see why she loved these.
I asked where Summer got the cookies from, assuming that she’d had them brought in from somewhere, but she told me that she made them from scratch and I think I fell for her even more then. I didn’t even know she could bake.
“Thank you, Brooks. You helped a lot, you know.” She’d just finished re-stacking the cups on top of the coffee machine and turns to me wiping her hands down her apron. It’s cute, the logo and name of the cafe written on the breast, ‘Clifftop Cafe’, it makes me smile remembering the conversation we had when she first got here about the town and it’s way of naming things.
She digs in her pocket and holds out her hand to me, one of the cards in her grasp. “Here, you get one of these too.”
I take it from her, it’s a discount card with my name on it. I turn it over. “Summer, I can’t take this.”
“Yes, you can. ”
I shake my head, sliding the card over the counter towards her. “Summer, I will not take things for free from you.”
“You helped me when you didn’t have to and you were injured the whole time. It’s the least I can do,” she says, pushing the card back to me.
I stand there, arms crossed, refusing to take it back.
“Okay, fine, but just take it, you don’t even have to use it.” She’s persuading, I’ll give her that, but I will never take anything from her for free. Not when I can pay for it so I take the card and slide it into my back pocket with no intention of ever using it.
Taking this opportunity though, I ask, “Okay, well the least I can do is take you out to dinner to say thank you, and congratulate you on your successful opening.”
She thinks for a minute, chewing her cheek, hiding a smile, “Hmm, I don’t know… I mean you are a customer now, I don’t think that’s wholly appropriate.” She teases, coming round the counter to me, her blue, doe eyes looking up at me.
“Oh shut up,” I say, gently pressing on the middle of her back, leading her out the door, untying the apron from around her waist as we go, dropping it on one of the tables.
I don’t think I ever had a chance when it came to her. Even when we first met and she annoyed the shit out of me and wouldn’t get in the goddamn car, I still thought she was cute but feisty. Even when I had that rant outside the cafe about her getting everyone’s help, I didn’t have an ounce of animosity against her, I was angry and stressed and I didn’t mean any of it, and truth be told, arguing with her and talking with her that day was a great distraction and I hadn’t had a better time with someone of the opposite sex than I had with her in a long while.
I drive Summer and I into town and take her to the pier. There’s a restaurant on the very end, somewhere I haven’t been in a long while because it’s usually flooded with tourists, and to me, tourists mean exposure, pictures, autographs, but the food is to die for. Today is a big day though, and Summer deserves a great meal so I’ll just wear my hat extra low, and ask the host for the private table in the back I know they have and hope for the best.
I know I should tell her about my career, but I can’t bear to lose the look shes giving me right now though as she says, “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never been this far up the pier before,” she says. She’s holding my arm, not wanting to lose me in the crowds as we reach the restaurant.
“No? What have you been doing? This is literally what the town is named after.” I laugh.
“I’ve been busy with the cafe, the only night out I’ve had is when we went to that beach movie.”
The host greets us, it’s a guy that’s been here a long time and he knows me, though before I can even ask for a table, Summer speaks, “Table for two, please.”
The host barely looks at Summer before reaching for menu’s, “Just this way—” He stops as he we lock eyes, “Mr Freeman, I have the perfect table for you.”
“Thanks.” I look at Summer and she’s got an amused, confused look on her face.
He takes us to the table I wanted, its in the window overlooking the sea tucked behind the kitchen and I know I’m safe here so I take the hat off.
We order drinks, I’m on a strict no alcohol policy, Coach’s orders as we start pre-season in 5 days, but Summer indulges in a margarita .
She takes a sip and moans. “I haven’t had a good drink in a while,” she says, her tongue peaking out to lick the salt rim on the glass and I have to look away.
I clear my throat and take a sip of water — my drink for the night. I need to change the direction of my thoughts.
“So, how did you learn to bake?” I ask, desperate for her to put that fucking drink down.
She sighs, and does, spinning it slowly on the table, “I feel like its a buzz kill,” she says.
I raise an eyebrow, gesturing for her to carry on.
“Fine, okay.” She lays both hands on the table and sits up straight. “I had a lot of spare time while I was with my ex.” Just the mention of that asshole causes a wave of heat to flood my veins. “I spent the days reading, baking, anything to keep the boredom at bay,” she finishes.
It reminds me of that film Lennon used to watch over and over again as a kid and I want to keep the mood light, “Like that girl with the really long blonde hair?” I ask, forgetting the name.
She looks at me incredulously, “Are you likening me to Rapunzel?”
I point a her. “Thats it! Yes! Lennon loved that movie!” I say.
She laughs and I’m happy that she’s taking it well and didn’t find offense. “I love that movie too and I guess she kind of does sound like me.”
“Well, however it happened, I’m glad it did. That cookie was delicious.”
She blushes. “Thanks, though I won’t be doing it for long, I’ve hired a pastry chef,” she says.
I can’t say I’m not thankful for that. She told me the amount of hours she’d be working the next month or so over one of our phone calls, and I was worried about her burning out and I tell her that. “I’m glad, I was getting worried you’d be working too much.”
“It’s okay, one of the perks of owning your own business,” she says sarcastically
Our food arrives to the table and my stomach groans; I haven’t eaten since training and I’m starved.
Summer moans again, capturing my attention. Her head is titled back, eyes closed, fork still raised. “This is the best pasta I’ve ever eaten.” She ordered a chicken alfredo and I have to agree its pretty damn good, but hearing that noise and seeing that face is so much better than the pasta.
“It’s one of my favorites for sure,” I say, not taking my eyes off her.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.” The early evening light coming through the window is casting a golden haze over her, highlighting the different colors in her dark hair, the blue in her eyes and my heart races. I’m a fucking goner.
Summer takes another bite and notices me looking, not having touched my burger and fries. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she says, her fork halfway to her mouth.
“Just looking at you.” I shrug, appreciating the frown that forms on her face. It’s cute, like when a puppy gets mad.
“Can you stop?”
“Absolutely not.” I grin.
I am absolutely, 100 percent screwed. There’s no way I can give this up.