Chapter 10
The tension between them hadn't eased, but matured—grown quieter, heavier, more inevitable. All week she'd replayed his hand on her neck, the conflict in his eyes on her porch as he fought the instinct to kiss her. The memory was giving her hell.
The next morning, he'd surprised her with one final gift.
She'd been lacing up for her morning run when she stepped outside and froze.
A brand-new black Porsche Macan sat in her driveway, complete with bow.
The note taped to the window confirmed her first thought: I don't ever want you stuck again. You got options now. Always.
Her heart thudded as she pulled off the bow. Not flashy. Just right. Reliable. Safe. Hers.
Now, she sat on his leather couch, legs tucked beneath her, a glass of whiskey warming her palm.
She hadn’t planned to be here tonight. In fact, she’d told herself she needed space, to protect whatever fragile line of friendship they were still trying to toe.
But after a long day at work, she’d driven past his house, spotted the Cadillac in the driveway, and before she could talk herself out of it, she texted him.
Can I come over?
Of course, he said yes.
She was, in an oversized hoodie, his hoodie and leggings, while Brooks lounged beside her, one arm stretched along the back of the couch.
Everything in Brooks’ place gleamed—from the stainless steel to the floors that didn’t. creak. It smelled like cedar and quiet. Her own house had warmth, yes, but also mismatched plates and history in every corner.
It was only her second time here, but she already felt at home there. Honestly, wherever he was she felt she belonged. He’d given her that space. The weight of the world didn’t feel so heavy when she was with him.
Her unexpected arrival tonight had caught him off guard in the best way.
After a week of careful distance, respecting her boundaries and letting her set the pace, seeing her name pop up on his phone asking to come over had made his day—something she'd been doing a lot lately, just by existing in his world.
“Why are you single, Brooks? I mean, I’ve always wondered why you never bring anyone around.” She shifted on the couch to face him, tucking one leg under her, genuinely curious.
He was quiet for a moment, he considered how to explain. “After my daddy was gunned down and watching my mama fade away from heartbreak, love just never seemed like the move. Love and loss, they walk hand in hand.”
“I remember how hard it was for y’all,” she said softly. “Never thought about loss leaving that kind of mark though. Everything is love.”
His jaw tightened at the memory. “One bullet took them both, really. Momma’s broken heart just took longer to take her. After that, love felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford. My only job was making sure Blake was taken care of, making sure she had everything they couldn’t give her.”
Taylor reached out, her hand resting gently on his arm.
The warmth of her touch made him fight the urge to pull her closer.
For years, he’d told himself that love was a liability.
Something that could be used against you, something that could destroy you.
It had been easier, and made sense to keep everyone at arm’s length, building walls nobody could breach unless he allowed you to.
“That’s a heavy load to carry by yourself,” she said, her voice gentle but not pitying him.
“Yeah, it made me who I am.” He took a long sip, letting the burn ground him. “Lately, I’ve been thinking maybe my younger self had it wrong.”
“How so?”
The loneliness of these past few years had started to feel heavier than any fear of loss. He was bored. He’d made money. Enjoyed his youth a little bit. Now he was ready to, at minimum, start thinking about coming home to someone.
“I guess protecting yourself from hurt means you miss out on the good shit too. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”
Taylor’s gaze didn’t flinch. “Then maybe you shouldn’t miss it.”
The silence between them stretched, thick with what neither of them was ready to say out loud.
“Let me ask you something.” His voice dropped, using that smooth tone that made her lean in. It made her forget she was supposed to be keeping it cute.
Taylor took a slow sip of her drink, trying to calm the flutter in her chest. “What’s that?”
“If you didn’t care what anybody thought... what would you do?”
She blinked, caught off guard. “Like, in general?”
He nodded, eyes steady on hers. “If you weren’t worried about your daddy, your church, Blake, what your coworkers and shit would say... what’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”
Taylor exhaled and sank deeper into the cushions.
The old version of herself would’ve played it safe.
Said something cute, ‘Travel more,’ or ‘Take a painting class.’ But that woman had left the building.
She was learning that chasing approval never came with peace.
And ifperforming was the only way to be loved, she'd just do without it.
She was sitting in Brooks’ house, with no bra on, legs curled under her, sipping top-shelf whiskey, feeling at home. They were too comfortable with each other for her to give him a rehearsed answer. He’d call bullshit.
She chewed on her lip, then let the truth spill out, “Hhm, I’d go shake some ass at a strip club. I watched P- Valley and I don’t know it’s skill.”
His gaze dipped, roaming her body, and heat bloomed low in her stomach. That ass-shaking comment clearly pleased him, intrigued him.
She smirked, trying to play it cool. “Stop!” she said, swatting at him as he checked her out.
He set his drink down, turning toward her with that look. “Nah, I’m not stopping shit. Personally, I’d love to see you shaking ass in a strip club.”
“Stop. I could never,” she said through a laugh, nudging him with her elbow.
“I will, but first, tell me… are you serious?” His brow lifted, teasing but curious.
She huffed, shaking her head. “Brooks. Can you imagine me in a strip club? I’d be the talk of the town. Probably give my parents a heart attack. Tragic story on Channel 2.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears and added, “Reporting live from WZAB.”
His lips curled into something dangerous, tempting. “You laughing, but I can imagine it just fine.”
Her stomach flipped. She laughed again, but it came out shaky.
The way he was looking at her said he saw straight through the good girl act. He was daring her to be free, just once.
“Let’s go then,” he said casually, adjusting his watch cool. His demeanor said he was about to blow up her whole world. “I can make that happen for you. Right now.”
She blinked. “What?” Taylor scoffed, but her heart was pounding. “Brooks, be serious. It’s Tuesday.”
“I am.” He raised a brow. “You said you wanted to go to a strip club. Ain’t nothing stopping you but you.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Was he really calling her bluff? She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms. “And what, you know just the place?”
He chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “Tay... I own a place. And the club can go up on any day, especially a Tuesday.”
Her stomach dropped. Blake had never mentioned it, but then again, Brooks had been involved in so many businesses that it was hard to keep track.
“You own a strip club? What don’t you own, Brooks?”
She wasn’t judging, at least not this time. She was just fascinated. And honestly? A little turned on. This was a man with ambition and passion.
Watching him work up close, really watching him, was a joy to see.
He didn’t shy away from anything even when she was around.
One moment he was checking a contractor about missed deadlines, the next he was on the phone with software engineers, tossing around language she barely understood.
He made decisions fast. Spoke with precision.
Walked into every room like he’d already defeated his giant.
She found herself looking forward to every conversation. Every phone call. Every slim finger he put up asking for her to hold on, glances that said he saw more than she let on.
And lately, if she was being honest? She couldn’t get enough of his company. He was the realest thing she had in her corner.
“Partly. Me and my boys own The After,” he confirmed, watching her reaction, reading every thought running through her head.
He added, casually, “Not your typical club, though. High-end, but still a good time.”
Taylor couldn’t tell if that made her more intrigued or more intimidated, probably both. Brooks stretched, stood up, and towered over her.
“Your move Tay, like I said, ain’t nothing stopping you but you.”
She bit her lip, going back and forth with herself. The responsible thing would be to laugh it off, go home, crawl into bed, and pretend this conversation never happened. However, she didn’t like him calling her bluff.
“Give me thirty minutes,” she blurted out. “I need to change. ”
His smile was slow and dangerous. “I’ll be outside your place in an hour, don’t make me come inside and bring yo ass out.” He warned tapping her on the butt. She giggled and standing herself.
“Oh my God Brooks. Really? I can do this watch.”
“See you in a little bit, be thinking about a stage name too,” he joked.
She tossed his hoodie back at him. “Nah keep it.”
Brooks sending her home with his hoodie, made the drive home harder.
She was catching feelings. The more she said friendship, the harder friendship became.
The twenty minute drive, was a blur of streetlights, excited, nervous squeals, pregaming to Saweetie’s Pretty Bitch Freestyle.
Taylor twerked in her seat and rapped her favorite part.
“I'm only sittin' on the dick if he a money-making Mitch
I'll show him I know how to throw it back if he can pitch”
She ignored that voice in her head—pure Momma energy—telling her she had no business in a strip club with a man like Brooks Bishop.. But it was just one night of fun and excitement. She wasn’t going to hurt anyone.
When she made it home, she stripped out of the hoodie and leggings and turned the shower on. She allowed the steam to fill the bathroom as she slid her bonnet on. She needed this. Not just to rinse off a long day of work but to shake off the lingering anxiety.
“Am I really doing this?” Taylor whispered chuckling to herself in the shower.
She’d placed more pressure on herself than was needed. At the end of the day, she was human, a woman with needs, a woman who missed laughing, who occasionally wanted to rap the lyrics to Pretty Bitch Freestyle by Saweetie without judgment.
Tonight, she wanted to feel something different. Be something different. And she declared she would hell or high water. Brooks wasn’t going to have to drag her out, she’d be ready. Ready for one night of uninhibited freedom.
Under the hot water, she let her mind wander. How had she gone from sitting on Brooks’ couch, sipping whiskey, to this? She smiled to herself, lathering soap over her skin. Maybe it didn’t matter how. Maybe it was just time.
Twenty minutes later, wrapped in a towel, she stood in front of her closet, fingers running over fabrics, adrenaline buzzing through her veins.
She pushed past her collection of sensible dresses and blouses, reaching for the hidden one day pieces she’d bought late at night from Fashion Nova.
At the back of her closet, she found what she was looking for- that cropped red graphic tee with the middle held together with safety pins, bold white letters spelling BLESSED across the front.
Because she was still one of the Lord’s soldiers, one of the strongest.
“Lord,” she whispered with a slight laugh, holding it up.
She smoothed lotion over her skin before pulling on her thong, and sheer black fishnets.
She rolled them up her legs, watching the pattern disappear into the curve of her thighs.
She followed with black leather shorts, the snug fit making her ass look exactly like it was supposed to.
Taylor finished her look off with thigh high boots.
Her hands weren’t even shaking anymore as she added her biggest gold hoops, watch, and bracelets. She added a swipe of MAC lip gloss and another coat of mascara to make her eyes pop. Thankfully, her bob fell perfectly, framing her face like it knew they had places to be and people to see.
When she stepped back to take in the full effect, she had to bite back a smile. The woman in the mirror was sexy, confident, and ready to live a little.
Her phone buzzed.
Brooks: I’m outside.
She grabbed her purse, heart racing. No turning back now. And she didn’t want to. She knew she was about to cross lines—and she welcomed it.
She took a breath, then whispered a quick prayer.
“Lord, you know I need this night. And I probably ain’t got no business asking, but... can you please keep me and Brooks safe? And let us both have a good time tonight in each other’s company. I promise I’ll never go again, maybe. Amen”
The moment she stepped outside, she spotted Brooks leaning against his black two-seater finishing his smoke session.
They were finna act bad tonight, the whole vibe needed to say that.
He saw her and instantly put it out. He pushed off the car and stood straight as he eyed her, hands now in his pockets.
“This was a bad idea,” she mumbled, catching the way he drank her in, slow and savoring.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Brooks said looking like money and danger mixed with street elegance himself.
The black jeans, coupled with a white tee, white and black jacket, and matching sneakers.
He looked so good. He kept it minimal on the jewelry, only wearing his watch and diamond chain.
What he had on said enough. Plus, the night was about her.
But it always was when she was with him.
Everything about him had her cup running over. From the way he stood finishing his blunt to how his tattoos peeked out from under his sleeves. Fresh fade. Skin on glow. He looked good, and he damn sure knew it.
His eyes traveled over her deliberately, taking in every inch. “You wow me each time you step out that door.”
“You think so?” She asked fishing for another compliment.
“I know so. You ready for the best night of your life?” He probed.
“Yeah, let’s do it.”