8. Sydney
Chapter eight
Sydney
My music came through the truck speakers as we made our way back to the farm.
How the hell did this happen? How was I now stuck staying in Brooks house? And what was I supposed to make of what Preston said? Did he really have incriminating evidence? I had no way to prove it, but something told me he wasn’t lying. I didn’t tell anyone I did this—my friend was the only one who knew—and my name was kept out of it. That was meant to keep me safe.
I couldn’t let it get out.
I couldn’t help but continue to glance at Brooks, who occasionally tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of my music. I'd been really into a specific artist lately and hadn't realized I'd been playing her on repeat.
The truck pulled up to one of the coops, and I looked at him, confused.
"Give me one second."
He hopped out of the truck, and I watched as he went inside and came out with something in his arms. His door creaked open, and I realized he was holding his duck, Chicken.
"I hope you don't mind," he started, "but if I leave him, he'll just find a way to get out and end up on my porch." I let out a small snort at that. "It's fine."
Brooks settled Chicken in the seat between us. He shook a bit before settling down, acting more like a cat than a duck—but then again, what did I know about ducks? The sun had set as we pulled into a small cabin-looking home. It wasn't as large as the farmhouse, but it looked well-built and cared for.
Brooks grabbed Chicken, and I hopped out after them. My eyes caught on all the small details: the stepping stone path, the flower beds that currently had small sprouts in them, the bird feeder that sat on the edge of the large porch.
I followed Brooks up the stairs and inside, which was just as nice as the outside. It wasn't like the bachelor pads I'd been to in the city with a mattress on the floor and a TV balanced on old shipping boxes. There was a put-together living area, with a couch, TV, and coffee table that looked to have been carved out of a tree. I could also see a dog bed in the corner I assumed was Chicken's.
"I'll show you to the guest room," he said, leading me down the hall. He stopped at the second door, and I could see another straight ahead that I assumed was his.
The room wasn't fancy, but it was warm and inviting. The walls were a neutral cream color, and the bed looked big and comfortable. Not a floral pattern in sight, whichw as very welcomed.
He set my bags down. "If you want to hop in the shower, the bathroom is right outside your room. I can get dinner going." "Thank you," I said. I had to set my camera bag somewhere safe and go take a shower. My clothes were mostly dry at this point, but they now stuck to my body uncomfortably, and I was chilled to the bone.
I tried to wash away the anxiety over Preston’s words as I did the cold, but it wasn’t quite working.
With a towel wrapped around me, I reached inside my suitcase for some clothes and paused, realizing they were mostly wet.
I cracked the door open and stuck my head out. I was about to ask Brooks for something to wear when I saw a stack of clothes already next to the door, so I took them.
Brooks thought of everything.
It was a worn T-shirt and sweatpants, and as I pulled the shirt over my head, I was hit with notes of freshly cut grass and something else earthy. It wasn't a smell I was used to. Stonebridge didn’t have a lot of trees and even fewer patches of grass, so it was a new but comforting fragrance.
I slid the gray sweatpants on next. Brooks was so tall I had to roll them multiple times to get them to stay on, and the T-shirt was so large it fell to my thighs. I decided to tie it, so a bit of my midsection was now showing, but it wasn't too much.
Now that I felt more put together, I sprayed my favorite perfume and headed out. Even though I was in borrowed sweats and a T-shirt, I felt better than I had in days and comfortable enough to go into the kitchen.
My mouth dropped open when I got there. Brooks looked like he'd showered as well, his hair shiny and wet, his slight curls even wilder. He wore a pair of sweatpants that hid everything except for his hooves and was shirtless, showing me his wide, toned shoulders and back again. I couldn't help but stare, going as far as ignoring something delicious sizzling on the pan.
Noticing my entrance, Brooks turned. As he did, his eyes widened a fraction as he took me in. His lips parted, and something flashed in his eyes—something hot that made my middle warm. I mentally shook myself. I had to be mistaken. There was no way Brooks was looking at me that way.
He cleared his throat. "I'm making some stir fry if that's okay. Something easy." "That's perfect." I sat down at the small kitchen table, watching him continue. He poured some sauces in, making it even more fragrant. "Can I help?"
"Sure. Would you mind grabbing the plates from that cupboard?" he asked, pointing to the one behind him. I moved to the wooden door and grabbed a few. They weren't in a set at all—in fact, nothing was. His mugs, cups, bowls… They were all different, and something about the chaos of it all just worked.
It was nothing like my apartment. I’d just gone to the nearest box store and bought a set of four of everything in the same, boring black ceramic. I had never wanted to call the place home, so I didn’t do much to make it so.
"Forks are in the drawer right there," he said as he took the plates from me and loaded them with food. With cutlery in hand, I followed him over to the dining table. It was still odd to be here. I knew I shouldn't. I should have gone up to the ski resort and put as much distance between us as possible, but here I was, sitting at his table and eating dinner with him.
The man I was insanely attracted to.
The same man who owned the farm I was going to have to fuck over.
I just couldn’t see a way out of it. I couldn’t let Preston ruin me.
"This is really good," I said as I took a bite. The vegetables were so fresh, better tasting than any I'd ever had.
"Thanks. The carrots are coming in really well this year."
We didn’t really do much small talk. I figured he was tired, and so was I. We simply ate, and being full and clean made me feel refreshed. He took both plates before I could blink and washed up as I took the chance to admire his toned ass.
"Do you want to do your laundry?" he asked, snapping me out of my gawking. “I noticed your suitcase was wet when I picked it up, which was why I left you some clothes.”
I looked away quickly, glad he hadn't turned around to ask. It was all just so… thoughtful. I didn’t know how to react. "That would be great, thanks." He dried his hands and gestured for me to follow him to the laundry room, with a quick stop for me to grab my stuff.
He opened the washer so I could throw everything in, and when I checked the backpack for any clothes I might have thrown in there, I noticed the vibrator.
I looked back at Brooks, whose eyes snapped up to my face, his cheeks slightly pinked.
Did he see it in there? And had he been... checking me out too? No. I had to be imagining it. And even if he had, we couldn't go there. There was too much at stake. I was here to do a job and leave. That was all.
He added some soap and started the washer, the whirling sound filling the space.
I didn't realize how small the room truly was with the two machines. And Brooks was larger than he had any right to be, taking up most of the rest. He gazed down at me just as I gazed up at him. It was as if electricity was in the air. It sounded absurd, it felt absurd, but it was so real.
Quack, quack, quack.
I jumped as flat feet slapped the floor beneath us, and Chicken stepped between our feet. It broke the spell, and I could think straight again.
Brooks seemed to feel the same as he flicked his gaze down and picked him up like he was a cat.
"Can you just lift him like that?" I asked.
He nodded. "He likes it. Go ahead and pet him if you want."
I held my hand out like you do to dogs to let him smell me, but he didn’t seem interested, so I rubbed my hand over his head. His feathers were soft, and he ruffled a bit, preening under my touch.
"He really likes you," Brooks said.
"You think?"
"Yeah. He likes people, but he seems to really like you." Something about that made me feel warm, and it was better if I kept some distance. So I pulled away and stepped back. "I think I'm going to go to bed," I said.
"Of course. I'll be up for a little while, so let me know if you need anything."
I nodded and left, retreating to the spare bedroom and snapping the door shut. I crawled into the bed and snuggled up, trying to push this day and whatever this was between us out of my head.
I was here to do a job. Nothing else.