Chapter 15
brOOKES
Standing by the front door, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve checked my watch.
“Fuck’s sake.” I drag a hand down over my face with a frustrated sigh.
When I knocked on Poppy’s door to tell her to be ready in twenty minutes, I didn’t actually expect her to be ready to go in twenty minutes.
And I’m not an asshole. Us men have it easy; we throw on a suit, run some product through our hair, and we’re ready.
Women have to deal with lipstick and bras, and, fuck, I don’t know, eyelash curlers.
I knew Poppy would take longer than twenty minutes.
But now we’re edging closer to forty minutes, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s taking her sweet ass time on purpose.
As if on cue, I hear the telltale click-clack of heels against tile, and I spin around ready to give her a piece of my mind because we are so late and it’s all her fault.
But then I catch sight of her, and I snap my mouth shut, forced to grab hold of the wall to steady myself before I fall flat on my dumbstruck face.
Dressed in a long, white, floor-skimming gown with bright watercolors splashed all over it, the silky material gently traces the hourglass outline of her waist and hips without being tight, the strapless top subtly hinting at the generous curve of her breasts, pretty shoulders, and gentle slope of her neck.
What the fuck? This wasn’t part of the deal.
She’s not supposed to look like… that. Goddammit.
“Sorry I’m late. I had a whole underwear situation I had to deal with!” Poppy says with a heavy exhale.
I clear my throat, rubbing at the sudden knot pinching painfully in the back of my neck. “Uh… it’s… fine. Let’s… um… get out of here.” I stumble over my own words like a jackass, averting my eyes and reaching for the door.
“You look nice.”
I glance sideways at Poppy. She’s smiling at me, looking me up and down.
“Uh, thanks,” I mutter, clicking the fob for my car.
“Oh, wow. This is yours?”
I turn to see her eyes wide as they take in my Ferrari parked in front of the house.
“Yeah…” I snap my head back when I realize I’m, yet again, checking her out. Dammit, Brookes, eyes forward.
As we approach the car, I hesitate, momentarily deliberating whether or not I should open the door for her. But then, when I’m buried so deep in my own head, I miss the last step and almost go head first into the goddamn hedge, catching myself at the last second.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” Poppy gasps, her hand wrapping around my forearm.
It takes me a moment to collect my wits.
More than a moment. An embarrassingly long moment.
When I finally snap back to reality, I move so fast I almost trip over my own feet.
Again. Thankfully, Poppy lets herself in the car, and I make my way to the driver’s side with gritted teeth. Get your shit together, man.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I don’t chance even a sideways glance across the car. I can’t risk it. Not now. Not when she looks like that. Fuck, her scent is bad enough. Has she always smelled like this, or is it new? Whatever it is, it’s fucking unfortunate, that’s for sure.
“So, are we going to go, or are we just going to sit here in the driveway?”
I startle from my thoughts, turning without realizing and meeting Poppy’s big midnight eyes with those long, thick lashes. Fuck me. Snapping my head back to face forward, I clear my suddenly tight throat.
“Uh, yeah…” I start the engine and pull out with a slight skid of my tires.
I swear to God. Of all the stupid-ass, half-witted fucking ideas I’ve ever had…
“I love Lori,” Poppy says after a few silent beats.
I glance sideways to see the soft smile tugging at her lips.
“Yeah, she’s… cool.” I close my eyes a moment. Smooth, loser.
“How long have you known them?” Poppy asks. “Lori and Jonesy?”
“Um…” I think for a moment. “I met Jonesy a few years back.” I can’t help but chuckle at the memory. “Man, I was like a crazy fangirl when I got paired with him in a friendly tournament we played for charity. I grew up studying old footage of his. He’s the GOAT.”
“I thought you were the GOAT?”
I snap my head to the side, balking. “Me?”
“Yeah. That’s what people say…” She shrugs, suddenly uncertain. “Or maybe I just don’t know what a GOAT is.”
I chuckle again. “Nah, I’m not the GOAT. Some people think that, and hell, maybe I was, but then I… fucked it all up. Besides, you gotta have at least one green jacket to be a GOAT.”
“A green jacket?” Poppy ponders out loud. “Wait, is that what the G in GOAT stands for?”
I snort. “No.”
“Well, maybe you can finally get your green jacket and be the GOAT.”
I glance at her again, taken aback by her smile and just how convincing it is, like she actually believes what she’s saying. “Not after the way I was hitting today…” I scoff, shaking my head to myself. “Christ, I’ll be lucky to make the cut in Oklahoma.”
Silence settles between us, but the longer it goes, the more I can feel eyes on me. I cast a sideways glance to find Poppy studying me, and when we stop at a red light, I turn, meeting her surprisingly scrupulous gaze.
“What?” I ask, curious and kind of nervous with how intensely she’s staring at me.
“You’re too uptight,” she says matter-of-factly.
Honestly, all I can do is shrug, because tell me something I don’t know. “Okay…”
“When was the last time you did something… a little nuts? Something crazy. Something where you’ve not been in total control.”
I consider her question, racking my brain a moment. “I mean, I was an alcoholic for a few years, so probably when I was last black-out drunk.”
When she doesn’t laugh, I offer her a rueful smirk. “That was a joke, by the way.”
She narrows one eye like she’s trying to figure me out. “Truth or dare?”
I blink at her. “Are… you actually asking me that?”
Poppy nods, her smile mysterious and coy.
I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know. Truth, I guess.”
“What’s your biggest fear? Like, I’m talking a full-on phobia, makes you sick to your gut kind of fear.”
“The ocean,” I answer immediately.
“The ocean?” Her tone is suspicious, like she doesn’t fully believe me.
“Yeah. There’s literally no beginning. No end.
” I scoff. “You know only five percent of the ocean has ever been explored. Five percent. And there’s this trench, in the Pacific, off the coast of the Philippines, the Mariana Trench, and it’s deep.
Deeper than Mount Everest is tall. Man will never be able to go down there to explore it.
Who knows what the hell is living down there?
Some people say the Megalodon shark was made extinct millions of years ago, but I think they’re still down there, and they’re just waiting, biding their time… ”
“O… kay,” Poppy says, drawing the word out. And I snap my mouth shut when I realize I’ve just been rambling utter nonsense about the ocean for the last few minutes.
I look at her to find her eyeing me dubiously, like she’s wondering whether I might be certifiable. “So, you’re scared of the ocean, but you live on the beach?”
I shrug a shoulder. “I like the sound of the waves at night.”
She says nothing, and I glance at her to find a small smile ghosting her lips as she looks at me from across the car. My brows tug together. “What?”
She shakes her head, smile still remaining. “Nothing.”
And neither of us says any more as we drive in a companionable silence the rest of the way, and I find myself smiling in a way I’ve not smiled in a long fucking time.
When we pull up to the valet outside the hotel, the red carpet is in full swing, hordes of people milling about, cameras flashing and lighting up the darkness. It’s utter chaos.
My gut churns. Man, I hate this. I didn’t used to.
I used to live for this shit. I’d strut into these things like a goddamn wrecking ball and thrive off the attention, good or bad.
But now, without the veil of liquor or drugs to dim the glare, this is hell on earth.
My heart thunders almost painfully against my sternum, and I can’t quite catch a breath.
“Brookes?”
I startle from the feel of a hand on mine, and I snap back, my eyes widening when I see Poppy, as if I’d somehow forgotten she was sitting right there. Blinking hard a few times, I force myself back to reality.
“Are you okay?” she asks gently.
I swallow hard, and with a nod, I unfasten my seatbelt, throwing her question back at her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m a little nervous,” she admits with a sheepish smile. “I’ve never been to anything like this before.”
“We’ll just go in, shake a couple hands, I’ll say a few words…” I can’t help but grimace at the thought. “And then we can get the fuck out of here.”
“You’re being honored for a donation you made, right?”
I nod, my jaw ticking at the thought. “Yeah. It was supposed to be an anonymous donation, but fucking Blake...” Trailing off, I shake my head to myself.
“So, now, here I am, the washed-up has-been junkie, donating a couple million bucks to a children’s charity in some sad attempt at cleaning up his image, or at least that’s the way the media will spin it. I can read it like a fucking book.”
“I’m sure nobody thinks that, Brookes.” Poppy tries to reassure me, but she has no idea, and all I can do is huff a humorless laugh at her cluelessness.
Poppy narrows her eyes then, looking in thought a moment. “Blake’s a dick, right?”
And then I laugh, genuinely this time. “Yeah, Pops. He sure is.”
When Poppy’s car door is suddenly yanked open, I notice the way she flinches at the inundation of loud, shouting voices, the bright glare of camera flashes, momentarily blinding.
“I’ve got it!” I yell, hopping out of the car quickly and jogging around the hood. I gently shove the attendant out of the way and lean into the open passenger door, meeting her fearful eyes. Holding my hand out, she looks down at it, and I see her shoulders sag with an exhale.
“Just follow my lead, okay?” I say under my breath.
With a tremulous exhale, Poppy nods once, forcing a smile as she takes my proffered hand and allows me to help her out of the car. When she’s on her feet, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her flush up against me, keeping her close as I lead the way down the red carpet.
“Brookes!”
“Brookes, over here!”
“Brookes, how are you doing?”
“Brookes, will you be at Oklahoma?”
“Brookes, what do you say in response to the comments made by Jackson Taylor?”
“Brookes, who’s the girl?”
I ignore every question being barked at me, keeping my chin held high, not chancing even a sideways glance at anyone as I repeat over and over again in my mind exactly what the team of expensive PR specialists have been drilling into me ever since my release from rehab last year.
Show no emotion. Back stiff. Head up. Eyes locked straight ahead.
Do not, under any circumstance, let the whispered words of judgement get the better of you.
Taking it all in stride, I follow the red carpet, waving to a few of the fans yelling my name from across the street, stopping every few feet to allow the photographers to get a shot of me.
Of us. I make sure never to let go of Poppy.
Right now, I’m the cool, calm, collected PR version of Brookes Devereaux that I need to be.
At least, I am on the outside. On the inside, I’m dying a slow, painful death.
When I look down to check on Poppy, I’m taken aback by the way she’s gazing up at me, a look of awe in her dark blue eyes, and with a tight smile, I lean in and press my lips to her ear, whispering loud enough for her to hear over the din of the chaotic crowd, “Maybe stop staring at me and smile for the cameras…”
Poppy startles, and I don’t miss the way her cheeks flush as she focuses out over the sea of photographers, offering them her most brilliant smile. She’s kind of a natural. Who knew?
By the time we make it into the ballroom, I lead the way, removing my arm from Poppy’s waist and instead, finding her hand so I don’t lose her as we navigate the crowd.
Inside is fancy, all dim, romantic lighting, white linen, fresh flowers, and pretentious assholes with too much money, just here for the photo op, as far as the eye can see. I’m immediately on edge, unable to breathe, and I fucking hate it.
“Brookes Devereaux!”
I turn to see an older man with white hair beaming up at me, a woman at least a quarter of his age hanging off his arm.
“Oh my goodness!” The man gasps, his eyes blowing out. And I know this look. Fuck’s sake. “Brookes, I’m a… a huge fan.” He stumbles over his words, clearly awestruck.
I force a smile, but before I can interject he continues and it takes all I have not to roll my eyes because I really, really do not want to cause a fucking scene tonight.
“I stayed up until four a.m. watching you at the Dubai Cup last year. That albatross on the par five was…” The man shakes his head, laughing incredulously, at a loss for words, it seems.
“Um, thank you,” is the best I can do, pressing my lips together in a tight smile, hoping he picks up my vibe.
Something squeezes around my hand, and I startle, remembering that Poppy is right here next to me. When I meet her eyes, she offers me a knowing smile and steps in.
“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but you wouldn’t happen to know where the restrooms are, would you?” she asks with a saccharinely sweet smile.
“Oh, yes,” the man says, correcting himself. “Just past the bar, to your left.”
“Thank you so much!” Poppy beams.
We turn, and I continue holding her hand tightly as we navigate the maze of people. When I catch the dead giveaway of heads snapping in my direction, eyes laser-focused on me, I focus on my breaths. In… out. In… out.
Poppy squeezes my hand and I glance down at her.
“You’ve got this, Brookes,” she says with a soft smile. “But, if at any time you feel like you need to leave, just say the word.”
“What’s the word?” I quirk a brow.
Poppy glances up in thought, a soft smile ghosting her lips before she leans in and lowers her voice with a whispered, “Megalodon.”
Biting back my smirk, I nod and we continue through the party, Poppy’s hand in mine like a comfort blanket I didn’t know I needed, one I don’t know I’ll be ready to let go of come October.