24. Ariel Cambridge
Chapter twenty-four
Ariel Cambridge
I squeeze my eyes tight against the morning light. I don’t remember falling asleep. The last thing I remember–
My eyes fly open. Spots dance in my vision at the sudden change of lighting. I blink a few times and find myself face to face with Brock.
His eyes are closed, light brown lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones.
His lips are slightly parted, and the memory of being so close to kissing him in the hot tub comes to mind.
He shifts and my eyes widen. There’s a heavy weight over the dip of my waist. His arm is around me.
What’s worse is, I don’t hate it. Instead, my first thought is to close my eyes and curl closer.
I stifle a groan. Am I so starved for affection that I want to cuddle with Brock Jones of all people?
I trace his face with my gaze. His messy blond hair has fallen over his forehead.
I reach up and gently brush it back. He hums in his sleep and tightens his grip around my waist. I stiffen.
Mistake. Huge mistake. What am I doing right now?
In spite of my mental scolding, heat unfurls within me at the feeling of him holding me tight. I let my fingertips graze his cheek and float across his stubbled jaw. I should stop, but it’s like I’m helpless. Under a hypnotic spell he began when he put his hand in my hair last night.
I let my hand fall between us and close my eyes. He helped more than he probably realized. I was so embarrassed to come to him, and a part of me worried he’d tease me until I left. But he didn’t. Instead, he comforted me and made me feel so safe that I fell asleep.
Over these last few weeks, I’ve seen so many different sides to Brock.
He’s not just Sutton’s annoying twin brother who works too much, or the guy who pushes all my buttons.
He’s also the man who cooked dinner with me, who tended my wounds, who offered to be my date so I wouldn’t be embarrassed.
We’ve made so many amazing memories lately, and even though many of them are paired with fights about his job, they’re still good.
It’s hard not to feel something toward him.
My eyes flutter open again. Deep down, I know it’s not a good idea to let myself feel anything more than annoyance for Brock, but my hopeless romantic heart is careening down a path with no way of turning around.
Last night showed in a lot of ways that he’s getting better.
He laughed and joked with everyone until late at night, then took care of me.
Just the fact that he’s sleeping right now is a step.
Maybe…maybe it’s okay to have a little crush on him.
I won’t do anything about it, but I can let it exist. There’s no harm there.
A knock sounds at the door. My whole body tenses.
“Brock! Are you awake?” Sutton’s voice filters through the door.
I shake Brock’s shoulder. He groans, not opening his eyes.
“I’m coming in,” Sutton warns.
I jump off the bed and bolt into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me as the bedroom door starts to open.
“Why are you in here?” Brock rasps.
I press my ear to the door, my heart galloping in my chest.
“Because breakfast is ready and Mom is insisting everyone wait on you and Ariel to be up. Speaking of, have you seen her? She wasn’t in the guest room.”
“I just woke up, so no, I haven’t seen her. Maybe she ran away because you’re a terrible friend who barges into people’s rooms while they’re sleeping.”
“Funny,” Sutton deadpans. “If you see her, tell her breakfast is ready.”
“Will do.”
I’m about to open the door when Sutton asks, “Why do you have grandma’s quilt in here?”
There’s a weighted pause.
“I got cold.”
“You’re acting weird. Is this one of your dumb pranks?”
“Yes, Sutton, I got a quilt last night to prank–”
I jump out of the bathroom and yell, “Boo!”
Sutton startles, then laughs. “What are you doing in there?”
I smile, trying to regulate my panicked breathing. “I came in here to bother Brock, then when we heard you, we decided to scare you.”
“I called it!” Sutton says, pointing at Brock. “You’ll never get anything by me. I’m too good.”
“Best detective in the country,” Brock says wryly, shooting me a knowing look.
“You said breakfast was ready?” I ask quickly.
Sutton nods. “Mom made French toast casserole. It smells so good I had to come get y’all up. I tried to sneak a bite, but she’s guarding it like a hawk.”
I laugh, but it comes out squeaky on account of my nerves. “We won’t make you wait any longer.”
“Good, because Shaw won’t help me sneak any since I accused him of cheating last night.” She rolls her eyes. “Such a sore loser.”
She heads out of the room.
I turn around and catch Brock’s eye. He raises his brows. “Nice save there.”
I cringe. “Not my best work, but she seemed to buy it.”
“That’s what counts.” He slides out of the bed and stretches, the hem of his shirt lifting to reveal a strip of tan muscle. I tear my gaze away and find him smirking.
“Thanks for last night,” I blurt out before losing my nerve.
“It was no big deal.” He shrugs. “It’s what friends are for. We’re sort of friends, right?”
I laugh. “Yeah, we are.”
“Come on, let’s go before Sutton comes back. Also because French toast casserole sounds amazing.”
“It does,” I agree and follow him out of his room.
Everyone is gathered around the kitchen island when we get there. Warm sunlight filters through the back windows. You can hardly tell there was a storm at all, if it weren’t for the wet ground and strewn leaves.
“Good morning, sleepyheads!” Mrs. Jones chirps. “Ready for breakfast?”
“I heard something about a French toast casserole?” Brock asks.
Mrs. Jones smiles and turns to pull a large dish out of the oven. Golden brown bread and cinnamon sugar goo bubble together as she sets it on crochet potholders in the middle of the island. She grabs a nearby measuring cup and pours white icing over top. My mouth waters at the sight.
“Dig in!”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Shaw says.
“Finally!” Sutton groans dramatically and beats him to the serving spoon. He halfheartedly tries to push her out of the way, but she pushes him hard right back.
I share an amused look with Brock. We wait for Shaw and Sutton to go before getting our own servings, then planting ourselves on the stools around the island.
The food is delicious, and the time together is peaceful.
My heart squeezes as I wonder what it would be like for this to be an everyday thing, but with my own little family.
I could cook while my husband entertains the kids, then we’d all eat and laugh together around the table.
Then we’d wipe sticky faces and head outside for the kids to play in the sunshine.
I wouldn’t have had anxiety about the rain the night before, because I would have spent it in my husband’s arms, knowing that a beautiful morning was a sleep away.
Brock gets up to get some more, telling his mom he wants to take some home if there’s any left. I watch as he dishes out a serving for himself, picturing little blonde kids hanging on his arm.
“Do you want some?” he asks when he catches me staring.
I blink away my ridiculous fantasies. I must be having some kind of hormone-induced hallucination. A crush is one thing, but Brock cannot infiltrate my daydreams. That’s too far.
“That would be great, thanks,” I murmur and slide my plate to him.
He gives me a large serving and slides my plate back to me with a smile.
I feel eyes on me, so I look away from him to find Shaw watching our interaction with narrowed eyes. He’s not the overly observant type–except when it comes to anything about Sutton–so I shouldn’t worry too much, but I don’t like that look.
I focus on my breakfast and avoid glancing in his direction.
“When do you two head back to Alabama?” Brock asks as we’re finishing up breakfast.
“Tomorrow,” Sutton says with a sigh. “I wish we could stay longer, but there’s only so many practices either of us can miss.”
“I’m glad I got to see you while you were here,” Brock says. I smile at his words. That’s progress.
“Since you’re so happy to see us, why don’t you take today off to hang out before we leave?” Sutton asks in a cheeky tone.
I tense in my chair as I wait for Brock’s inevitable no. It’s going to upset Sutton so much.
“I’m sorry, but I need to get back to work. Maybe we can see each other again before you leave though?”
I’m surprised he offered that last part. I hope he doesn’t bail last minute. It would have been better not to say anything at all than do that.
“That would be nice,” Sutton says quietly. I look up from my plate to see Shaw place a hand on her back to comfort her.
I want to be mad at Brock, but he’s been trying lately.
Sutton doesn’t know how far he’s come. She doesn’t have a chance at knowing, though, with Brock and me keeping everything from her.
I’m convinced all this progress lately means a breakthrough is coming.
Once that happens, Sutton will get to know everything.
And I hope she doesn’t hate me once she does.