Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The Apartment
I opened the apartment door and unbuttoned my pants before even taking my shoes off.
“Oh, that’s better,” I murmured. “I think I ate an entire pig.”
Brooks grinned. “You sure did.”
I slithered out of my pants and folded them and put them away. “And yet, I’m dying for the banana bread.”
“I’ll cut you a piece, if you want,” Brooks said, not taking his eyes off me even as I put on a pair of sweats.
“Will you try it?” I asked. “I made it for you.”
“Made it for me?” he repeated in confusion. “Even though you know I don’t eat baked goods?”
“Please?” I pleaded. “Just a taste.”
“You’re trying to break down my rules,” he accused.
“Yes.” I nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Why?” he asked.
“You know why. The no drinking thing? I get that. I support that. But denying yourself a treat every now and then is not the same thing as I don’t like something.”
He peered at me. “This is important to you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I nibbled my lip. “Because I know this goes deeper, Brooks. You deserve enjoyment.”
He exhaled a slow breath and removed his cowboy hat and let it rest on the counter, but he didn’t say anything.
“Are you worried a bite of banana bread will shove you face first into hedonism?”
“I was face first into hedonism only a few days ago,” he remarked dryly. “I’ll taste it.”
I went to the loaf of banana bread and cut a slice. I put a pat of butter on it and then heated it in the microwave.
He’d taken a seat at the kitchen table, his leg stretched out.
I brought him the plate and set it down in front of him before taking the chair across the table.
“You have the first bite,” he commanded.
“All right.” I took the fork and cut a piece.
It was perfect. Warm. Moist. Delicious.
I put the fork down and pushed the plate toward him. He stared at it for a moment, like it was an adversary.
Finally, he picked up the fork and took a huge bite.
He didn’t chew right away; it almost looked like he was savoring the flavors on his tongue.
“Best banana bread I’ve ever tasted,” he said after he chewed and swallowed.
“Yeah?” I asked with an excited grin. “Really? It was Muddy’s recipe.”
He shook his head. “Recipe’s got nothing to do with it.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
He took my hand and laced his fingers through mine. “It’s the best I’ve ever had because you made it for me.”
I sighed. “Oh.”
He cut another bite and held it to me. I let him feed me. And then he fed himself. No hesitation.
“I had a routine. Work hard on the ranch. Fall asleep exhausted. Get up and do it all over again. I swore I’d never fall in love. But you messed it all up.” He smiled softly.
“I did, huh?”
“You yelled at me for calling you ma’am. And it was like my entire body had been electrocuted,” he said. “When I saw you for the first time . . . I was done for, Freckles. That was the moment.”
“The moment?”
“Where I was determined to make you fall in love with me.”
My heart drummed in my ears. “You didn’t make me do anything.”
“No?”
I slowly shook my head. “You were just you. And you’re perfect. For me.”
He leaned across the table and with his free hand grasped my chin between his thumb and forefinger. He brought my lips to his. He tasted like bananas, butter, and sugar.
He tasted like home.
“Take me to bed,” I whispered against his mouth.
Brooks rosed from the table and gently tugged me up. He then scooped me into his arms and carried me to bed.
“I lied to you,” I said.
We sat in bed, eating the rest of the banana bread right from the loaf tin—crumbs be damned.
His fork stilled on the way to his mouth. “About what?”
I couldn’t stop the grin. “The mama moose and her baby crossing the road. I told you they were the reason I swerved and wound up in a ditch. It was a possum. I swerved so I wouldn’t hit a possum.”
He let out a lusty laugh. “Why did you tell me it was a moose and her baby?”
“I thought it made for a better story,” I admitted with a sheepish expression. “All that to save a possum?”
Brooks shook his head. “You said I was perfect, but damn, Freckles. You’re the one who’s perfect.”
My body was jelly from our earlier coupling, but his words warmed me from the inside out.
He held up the last bite of banana bread to me, but I shook my head. “You finish it.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said with a grin that made him all too boyish.
After he finished, he set the loaf tin aside on the nightstand and then settled down. He patted his chest, and I snuggled into his embrace. His fingers traced a path up and down my arm. I was full and sated and happy.
“Archer and I aren’t actually brothers. We’re cousins.”
“Cousins,” I repeated. “Oh, that explains it then.”
“Explains what?”
“You two don’t look alike. I mean, some similarities maybe, but overall. No.”
“My mom got pregnant at seventeen and died in childbirth. My father was a fucking loser. He abandoned her when he found out she was pregnant, so she died in the arms of her brother, Archer’s dad .
. . my uncle. He and my aunt raised me as their own.
They became mom and dad to me, in place of my real parents.
Archer and I are cousins, but we grew up as brothers. ”
“And the Brooks and Dunn connection?” I pressed gently.
“My mother. It was her favorite band. She named me before I was born, and my uncle honored her wish after she passed.”
“And your aunt and uncle? Where are they now?” I asked. I looked up at Brooks, waiting for an answer, but he clamped his jaw shut.
“My uncle—my dad—was in the MC that Archer and I were in,” Brooks said quietly. “He died in a motorcycle accident about seven years ago. That was before the club went entirely to shit . . . before I went to prison.”
“And your aunt?”
His hands sifted through my hair. “Mom had a heart attack three hours after I was sentenced,” Brooks said.
“Brooks,” I whispered.
“Don’t,” he said, his tone gruff. “I’ve lived with the guilt every day since then. I’ll never forget.”
It made so much sense now.
Why he denied himself pleasure and joy.
Why he kept himself so contained, so rigid.
“She’d love you, Freckles,” he said. “She’d love you so much.”
“And your dad?” I asked. “Would he love me too?”
“Oh yeah.” He peered down at me and smiled. “How could anyone not love you?”
I reached for him. He rolled me over so I was on my back and then he pressed his head to my chest. He stroked my belly with his hand, almost absently. I wondered if he was thinking about the future. What they wouldn’t see. What he wouldn’t get to share with them.
“I lied to you, too, Freckles,” he whispered.
His voice was so soft I almost couldn’t hear him.
“What did you lie about?” I asked, my fingers slicing through his hair.
“I can’t wait for you to ask me for a baby.”
My stomach flipped.
“A little of me. A lot of you. We can make a family, Freckles.” He lifted his head up and rested his chin on my breastbone to peer at me.
I traced his lips with my finger. “You would do it, wouldn’t you? If I asked, you’d have a baby with me.”
“Yes. I’d give you everything you’ve ever wanted.” He kissed my chest. “A baby, a house . . . my last name.”
“There’s no rush, Brooks.”
“Yeah, Freckles. There is.” His amber eyes were liquid as they peered at me. “I know what it’s like to lose time. To hold your breath and wait for better days to come. But in prison you learn that better days aren’t guaranteed. So why not live each moment like it’s your last? Because it might be.”
“Brooks,” I whispered.
“I love you, Freckles,” he stated, his tone bold and sure. “And you love me too. So what else is there?”
My lips trembled. “I never told you I loved you.”
“You didn’t have to. You let me into your bed. You welcomed me into your body. You wouldn’t have done that without love. That’s just how you’re wired.”
Tears gathered in my eyes, but he reached up to brush them away. “I see you.”
And every logical reason not to leap forward melted away because my heart split open.
He was right.
How many turns did we get around the sun?
How many moments were wasted because of coulda, woulda, shoulda?
I didn’t want to regret. I didn’t want to wait.
Wait for what?
People went their entire lives hoping to find someone who truly loved them. Someone who wasn’t afraid to build a life, someone who would be there through the storms and who would be right there next to you, smiling when the sun came out.
Brooks and I hadn’t known each other long at all, but what was time when you were a speck in the blink of the universe’s eye?
And because he was Brooks, I didn’t have to say anything.
His lips pressing to mine was a promise.
His body sliding into mine was a revelation.
We came together, our eyes locked on one another.
And in the space between our rapid heartbeats, we exchanged our vows.