Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Waking up with Brody was surreal. He was already up and staring at me when I opened my eyes.
“I didn’t drool, did I?” My hand automatically went toward my mouth, and I rubbed at the corners, self-conscious.
He smirked. “I’m not sure. If you did, it was sexy drool. Don’t worry about that.”
I gave him a dark look. “That is not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.” He burrowed down in the covers and regarded me with serious eyes. “How are you feeling?”
He was vulnerable in this moment. Even if I hadn’t recognized that, I would never have said anything to hurt him. Not purposely. Not again. He was too important to me… and that was a terrifying thought.
“I feel pretty good,” I replied.
“Yeah?”
I smirked at the way he puffed himself out. “Yeah.” I reached over and poked my finger into his cheek. “You’re smiling.”
“Is that surprising to you?”
I shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if you ever smiled. Then we met here again, and you seemed hesitant with your smiles. Now, though…” I didn’t say what I was wondering. Is he smiling because of me? Is it just the sex, or is it me too?
He seemed to recognize what I was worried about. “You make me smile.”
I went warm from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “Because I’m funny?”
“Like a clown,” he agreed, lightly tickling my ribcage and making me squirm.
“You did not just call me a clown.”
I gasped, wriggling, but not because I wanted to escape.
This moment was too perfect to ruin. I could stay here for the rest of the day and be perfectly content.
Well, as long as there was food. What was freaking me out, although I refused to dwell on it, was that part of me believed I could stay here the rest of my life and be happy.
What the hell is going on with me?
“We had the Stephen King conversation last night,” I reminded him sternly. “Clowns are freaky.”
“Ah.” He stopped tickling and eyed me. “Would you be insulted if I said you were funny like one of the women on The Golden Girls?”
My eyebrows practically flew off my forehead. “That old television show?”
“That show was hilarious. I used to watch it with my mom, and she used to watch it with her mother. Even now, when I’m feeling a little lonely, I find an episode and turn it on.”
I wasn’t all that familiar with the show, but the naked emotion on his face was enough to tell me I would have to check it out. “That’s kind of sweet.”
“Yeah.” He leaned in, his voice husky, and kissed me. It was soft and sweet, just like him.
My stomach decided to ruin the moment with a large gurgle, making us laugh.
“Hungry?” he asked, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I still want to spend the day together.” He didn’t mince words this time or try to get me to be the one to make the first suggestion. He took charge, which was a huge relief. “Are you up for that?”
I nodded without hesitation. “Yes, but we definitely need breakfast first.”
“Well, I have a plan.” He was matter of fact. “You can take my cart to your house to get ready then drive it back. We’ll head to town, get breakfast, and make arrangements for your scooter.”
My heart sank. The scooter. I’d almost forgotten about it.
Brody read my expression perfectly. “It was probably kids.”
He’d said it the night before, and I hadn’t believed him. It was easier to let my mind drift that way in the bright light of day, even though I still couldn’t shake the idea that the attack had been targeted.
“We’ll get the scooter into the garage, and then we’ll head out and do touristy stuff all day,” he continued.
“What sort of touristy stuff?”
“I haven’t decided yet. It will be fun, though.”
There was nothing about his suggestion that I didn’t like, so I nodded. “I can be ready in forty-five minutes, including the drive. Are you sure you trust me with your cart?”
I expected him to say something snarky. Instead, he grinned. “I trust you with everything.”
I shouldn’t have been such a softie, but there was no containing my sigh. “That was schmaltzy.”
He shrugged. “I meant it.”
Because I knew he did, I allowed myself to relax. We were going to spend the day together. I couldn’t remember ever looking forward to something so much.
MY MOTHER WAS IN THE KITCHEN, drinking coffee and looking at her phone, when I got back to my house.
“Well, somebody got lucky,” she said, waggling her eyebrows, which were patchy until she drew them on when doing her makeup.
“You’re up early,” I noted, my eyes going to the clock on the counter. My mother didn’t believe in getting up before nine o’clock, which was why she’d so often lost jobs when I was a kid.
“I didn’t go out last night,” she replied, still distracted by her phone. “Rufus had a work gathering, and it was for employees only.”
The things Brody had told me about his father and what he did for a living had me doubting that story. I wasn’t getting involved, though. If my mother thought Rufus was lying—even though they weren’t a couple—she would go scorched earth and make his life a hellscape.
“Well, that’s too bad.” I moved to the counter and poured myself a cup of coffee from the pot she’d brewed. “I’m getting cleaned up, and then Brody and I are going downtown for the day.”
I wasn’t telling her because I was inviting questions. She would ask them anyway. I decided to get ahead of things because I didn’t know what to tell her about my relationship with Brody. Mostly because I had no idea where it was going.
“Something happened last night,” I continued.
“Oh, I know.” Mom looked far too happy. “You have that nice rosy glow you get when you allow yourself to look at a boy for more than twenty seconds.”
Boy? She was still acting as if I was a teenager and had a crush on the quarterback. It was annoying. Picking a fight over it was a lost cause, however. It was better to let it go than engage.
“I had one of those author events last night,” I said, barreling forward and ignoring her comment. “I took my scooter. When I left, I found somebody had slashed the tires.”
Well, that had Mom’s full attention. She was rarely serious, but she was at that moment. “Do you think it was done purposely to you, or was it general mischief?”
The bulk of my childhood had been spent in neighborhoods where “general mischief” was part of day-to-day life.
“I honestly don’t know.” I shook my head. “I’ve been having an issue with a guy showing up at the events and trying to talk to me.”
“Aren’t readers supposed to show up and talk to you?”
“Yes, but this guy … there’s something off about him.” I sipped my coffee. “Do you remember that apartment we had that was near the train tracks? There was a guy who lived in one of the basement units. Reggie Lancaster, I think his name was.”
Mom didn’t smile. “I remember him. He’s the reason we moved.”
I bobbed my head. “Yeah. I know. I get the same vibe from Joey that I got from him. He hasn’t done anything overt. There’s just something wrong with him.”
“Are you worried he’s stalking you?”
“I don’t know what I’m worried about specifically.” That was the truth. “I just know I’m worried overall. I want you to keep your eyes open for any strange guy you might see out in this area. I don’t know how he would track down where I live, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“It’s not hard to find where people live. What’s he look like?”
I described him for her.
“I’ll watch for him,” Mom promised.
“Make sure you lock the door when you leave too,” I said. “Just to be on the safe side.”
“I don’t plan on being here today. I’m going to a museum with Rufus.” Mom’s smile was full of happiness. It would disappear sooner rather than later. But I didn’t pop her giddiness balloon, despite being a realist.
“Just make sure you lock the doors, okay?”
She nodded. “Are you and Brody dating now?” she called to my back as I headed toward my bedroom.
“We’re just hanging out.” It was a lie, but she would be gone relatively soon. She didn’t need to know the truth, especially when I didn’t know it myself. “I have to get ready. I’ll see you later.”
brODY TOOK US TO ONE OF HIS FAVORITE breakfast spots, where he found out I was a creature of habit when it came to ordering.
“Wait… you don’t get any other breakfast than that?” His eyes danced as he watched me dunk my whole wheat toast in egg yolk.
“It’s not a big deal,” I argued.
He didn’t look convinced. “You just said you haven’t had another breakfast in thirty years.”
“Not thirty years.” I wrinkled my nose. “That would mean I was eating this breakfast when I was in my mother’s womb.”
Now it was his turn to make a face. “Oh, did you have to say womb? My head just went to a freaky place.”
I laughed so hard several people at nearby tables jerked their eyes in our direction. I ignored them. “I’m just saying I know what I like.”
As he forked a mouthful of blueberry pancakes and ate it, his eyes narrowed. Once he’d swallowed, he started talking again. “So, every breakfast you’ve eaten since you were a teenager has been the same.”
When he said it like that, it sounded crazy.
It also wasn’t exactly correct. “No. I eat breakfast at home, and I rarely cook eggs. Well, actually that’s not true.
” I shook my head after a beat. “I’m a big fan of those green bags of already shredded hash browns.
When I find those at the market, I always get them and some eggs so I can cook for myself at home. ”
“Those hash browns are amazing,” he agreed. “So much better than the frozen ones.”
“Right?” I nodded. “I also eat cereal at home.”
“What kind?”
“Usually something healthy. Or as healthy as I can find.”
He frowned but didn’t say anything.
“I’ll eat just toast at home or a protein shake,” I continued.
“That does not sound fun,” he complained.
“Actually, it is.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because when I was growing up, my mother would expect me to stretch a box of cereal for an entire week, and she bought generic sugar stuff to get me through. I grew to hate that type of cereal.”