16. Brooke
Chapter sixteen
Brooke
“Is it hot, or is it just me?” My words come out frustrated as my arm gets stuck in the sleeve of my zip-up sweater. I yank hard to no avail. Marcus gently balances his laptop bag on his suitcase where it sits on the concrete in the Uber curb-side pickup area of Bradley International.
“Here, let me help,” he says calmly, locking his hands onto my flailing arms. His touch makes me feel like I’m suffocating more, but I let him pull the sleeves off before taking the jacket from him and tying it around my waist. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, why?” I lean forward, glancing up the street to see if our Uber is here.
“Because it’s 55° out and you’re sweating.”
I redirect my glance to his outfit. He’s wearing a black pea coat over his go-to gray jeans and black T-shirt. His deep brown hair is pulled back neatly as if he just did it, rather than slept on a plane for five hours. Not that he slept. I don’t know what he did besides pay for the three glasses of wine I drank to put me to sleep. “I’m . . . ugh. Just not looking forward to this is all.”
“How many more minutes until the Uber gets here? ”
My brows scrunch. Uhh. Okay. I guess he’s going to ignore me. I glance back at my phone. “Still twelve more minutes.”
“Okay.” He scans the area, eyes locking on a walking path that runs between the parking garage and the road separating it from the airport terminal. Marcus slings his laptop bag over his shoulder, then aligns both our suitcases so he can grab the handles with one hand. With his free hand, he reaches for me. “Come on.”
I stare at him blankly. “Where?”
He gives me a pointed look that says, “I’m not luring you to your death. Trust me,” so I take his hand. It’s an innocent hand holding. Our fingers aren’t linked or anything. He simply has a firm enough grip to tug me gently toward the path ahead, but the warmth of his hand in mine soothes my entire body like a cup of tea.
We only take a dozen steps before he lets go, gently setting his bag on the cement path. “Take off your shoes,” he tells me, kicking each of his off by the heel with the opposite toe. When he reaches to pull his socks off, he freezes, glancing back to where I’m staring at him in confusion. “It’s called ‘grounding.’ Your bare feet touching the earth is thought to help realign your electrical energy.”
He tugs his socks off, tucking them into his shoes, then steps onto the patchy grass lining the path. “I started doing it whenever I would change time zones. Someone told me it helps with jet lag by resetting your inner clockwork.”
“And it works?” I kick off my shoes and tug on my socks without waiting for him to respond and step onto the dirt patch next to him.
“Might be a placebo effect, but I feel like it does. ”
“I think I saw something about this on the show Down to Earth. ”
Recognition sparks in his eyes. “Yeah.”
“You’ve seen it?”
He chuckles. “Dean’s sister, Sophie, made me watch it with her when she lived with me.” Wait. He's lived with a girl before? But surely not in a romantic sense? Maci would have mentioned if he dated Dean’s sister. “It’s good info, though. After watching that show, I did more research on it. It’s not meant to be a microwave type of fix for anything, but over time and with consistency, it’s supposed to benefit you physically and mentally.”
“Doesn’t seem like there’s a reason not to try it then.” I wiggle my toes, feeling a few small pebbles between them.
“Exactly.”
“Thank you.” I look up from the ground to meet his gaze, realizing he’s extremely close to me. If I took a step forward and reached out I could easily slip my hands under his coat and lean into him. If someone told me they saw a grown ass, fully dressed man barefoot outside of an airport, I’d think they were talking about a homeless person. But watching Marcus not giving a shit where we are just to try and help me–or even if it’s just to center his own body–it’s a turn on that I’d never have put on my list in a million lifetimes.
Movement on my phone screen breaks through the temptation to touch him, though. Our car is arriving soon. I flash him a half-smile and my phone screen, and without another word, we put our shoes back on and walk toward the rideshare pickup.
Just in time, a silver Civic pulls up to the curb, the driver confirming it’s me before popping the trunk. Marcus effortlessly slides both our bags in the back, then ducks into the backseat next to me. “Hey.” His words are barely audible over the annoying rap song the driver has on half-blast. He reaches out like he’s going to touch my leg to comfort me. Instead, he shoves both hands in either pocket of his jacket, twisting so he’s facing me. “It’s going to be fine. Do you want to go over the plan again?”
I nod. I love the idea of grounding, and handsdown, I’m adding it to my daily regimen, but like Marcus said, it’s not an instant fix, and not even the power of the earth can immediately flip all my negative energy to positive.
“We kept it simple, remember. Everything is exactly the same as it happened. Except for the dating part. We met a month and a half ago when you came to visit Maci. You’ve been helping me at the bar, with Emma and Charlotte, and spending so much time together just transitioned into more.”
“But we’ve hardly spent that much time together.”
“Enough to know we like each other.”
I ignore the flutter tearing up my stomach. He’s just talking about the plan. He doesn’t actually feel that way. “Okay, but when did you realize you liked me? My mom is going to ask you that.”
“The day we went hiking,” he says easily. “You were so focused on your glimmer that you didn’t even notice me watching you. That’s when I realized you were mine.”
My mouth falls open just barely before I shake my head. This is not real. “Oh yeah. That’s good. She’ll eat that up. Or at least pretend to.”
His eyes shift over mine. “What about you?”
“What about me, what?”
“When did you fall for me?”
“When you handed me a cup of real Thai tea.” My answer comes as easily as his, but it doesn’t mean anything .
“That was the first day we met.” He chuckles.
I shrug. “What can I say? I make impulsive decisions when it comes to my heart.”
“Alright then. See we got this. What about your dad? Anything you want me to know?”
A small smile fights through. “Nah. He hasn’t spent enough time around me and a guy to know if something is real or not. Plus, I’ve already told him about you.”
Marcus arches a brow.
My dad and I have weekly phone dates, so of course he knows about my boss, and it just made sense to tell him he’s my boyfriend when we made that deal. It’s not like I was rambling about a crush or anything. “We probably need rules,” I blurt, changing directions.
“Rules?”
“Yeah, you know . . . like where the line is. So we’re believable as a couple, but you don’t feel uncomfortable.”
“I’m not concerned. I can’t imagine a situation where we’d have to have sex in front of people. Unless this country club is more of the illegal sort of club.” He raises a brow.
“Right. I mean, no. It’s not. And definitely no sex. You are my boss after all.”
“Didn’t you just read a book where the girl had sex with her boss?” He smirks.
“Well, yeah. But that was a book.”
“Aren’t we pretending to date just like in a book?”
“Oh. Hmm. I see your point. Still, no sex.”
“Alright.” He chuckles. “No sex.”
My stomach drops, disappointment shooting through me. Why was I kind of hoping he’d object to that rule? “Okay, next rule . . . No talking to other girls while you’re here. My mom can spot sneaky from a mile away. ”
“I’m not talking to other girls.”
“Yeah, remind me why that is again.”
“This is my first time having more than two days off in over a year,” he states, like that is enough of an answer.
“Right. Lexy said she tries to set you up a lot.”
“She does.”
“Do you go?”
“Most of the time, I’ll take them to coffee.”
“And . . .” My eyes drift to the car window behind him. Cotton candy pink wisps through the sky as we drive, the sun an orange glowing ball sinking into the horizon. It’s out of this world, and I let its beauty ground me, easing my anxiety from wishing that I could be one of the girls Marcus took to coffee and not because it was part of his newly appointed job as my fake boyfriend.
I focus back on him in time for his words to register. “And nothing.”
Nothing what? Nothing in common? No sparks? This man can be infuriating. “Tell me about your family.”
“What do you want to know?”
“How did your parents meet?”
“They both worked at an elementary school.”
“That’s so cool. Did you go to the same school?”
“Yup.” It’s annoying how he doesn’t elaborate. I hate having to dig for information.
“Must have been nice to have them around a lot.”
“Your parents weren’t?”
“Dad was the best parent he could be while also trying to appease my mom’s need for more financial security. At least until they got divorced. Mom has worked at the country club forever. She goes above and beyond for all the guests which is time-consuming. ”
“Sounds like she’s a hard worker.”
“That’s her argument. But at what cost? She never went above and beyond for me. Didn’t come to a single Girl Scout event, or ever volunteered in my class. The only time she chose me over work was prom night. And it was only because I finally picked a ‘right guy.’”
“What qualifies as ‘right?'’’
“Rich.”
“That’s her only criteria?”
“Basically. She thinks if I marry someone rich, she’ll be set for life because they will take care of her too. That’s why she always sucks up to the club members. I only ended up with Beau at first because my mom was halfway up Martha’s ass.”
“Beau is the lawyer.” He confirms rather than asks.
I nod.
“Why didn’t it work out?”
Hesitating, I contemplate how much to tell him as I pick at my fingernail.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me. I’d just like to be prepared for whatever happens this week.”
Oh yeah. Of course. This is just a business deal to him. He doesn’t actually want to know. I take a breath and release the bare minimum information. “Long story short? He’s an asshole. Imagine your stereotypical lawyer, and you’ve got Beau. Cares more about his job than any other part of his life. Treated me as if I was his employee all the time, rather than just at work.”
“So you dumped him?”
“Something like that.”
Marcus stops prying and after a few minutes of silence between us, I wedge my Air pods in my ears and open my meditation app. I leave it playing for the next twenty minutes, with my eyes closed, head leaned back against the seat, until Marcus taps me gently, letting me know we’re here.