Chapter 8
Brooke
Ididn’t mean to end up sitting at the island in Tobias’s kitchen watching him cook. I just wanted to come thank him for lunch and then go back to Deidre’s.
In and out. Simple. Easy.
Instead, he’s making me dinner, trying to give me a car, and flooring me with the fact it’s not the groomer who paints Copper’s nails.
It’s him.
“It was easier to get the polish and do it myself. Bringing her to the groomer every two weeks just for a manicure was difficult to fit in between work and helping my parents out around this place.” His movements are easy as he maneuvers around the kitchen.
Practiced. Like he does this sort of thing all the time.
And maybe he does.
I don’t have any right to be upset over Tobias dating. I had a whole engagement and a quarter of a wedding. But thinking about another woman sitting in my place—his sleeves rolled to his elbows while he talks about painting his dog’s toenails—has me feeling…
Not great.
“You still like your steak medium rare?” His eyes lift to my face, catching me staring at his corded forearms.
Again.
“However you make it is fine.” I press my lips together, working hard to keep my gaze from falling to his hands as they rub seasonings into the slab of meat. “I’m not picky.”
“Understood.” Tobias flips the ribeye over, sprinkling on the concoction he mixed together before working it in. “But if you were picky, how would you like your steak cooked?”
I don’t know if it’s simply being asked what I want, or that it’s Tobias asking me what I want, but my chest starts to ache. Reaching out, I pick up the glass of water he poured me, hiding behind a slow sip to buy some time.
Tobias watches my every move. Not in an obvious, staring sort of way, but in quick glances.
Subtle peeks beneath his lashes. It’s almost as unnerving as being asked how I like my steak cooked.
But considering I’ve ogled his hands and forearms in a significantly less clandestine manner, I don’t really have room to complain.
Taking a deep breath, I manage to provide an answer. “If I was being picky—which I’m not—I would want it medium rare.”
“You got it.” Tobias picks up the steak and drops it into a smoking hot cast-iron pan. The sizzle is loud and immediate. So is the savory scent of cooking meat. It makes my mouth water and my stomach rumble.
Tobias wasn’t wrong when he assumed I’d forgotten about lunch.
I did. Five times. Some of them even happened after the food he ordered arrived.
There’s just so much to do, and I kept getting distracted.
Eventually, I did manage to get through about half of the broccoli cheese soup and an acceptable portion of the turkey and provolone sandwich.
Every bit of it was delicious, and I packed up what was left, putting it in the break room fridge so I could have the leftovers available for lunch tomorrow.
By the time I got home, I was wishing I’d brought it home with me. Deidre and Ted had already eaten, and it felt strange to go milling through their kitchen on my own. So I took Bruno out for a walk, and then decided coming to thank Tobias was the adult thing to do.
I don’t want us to feel strange around each other. To be awkward every day when we pass in the halls. But I also need to put up some boundaries. Draw some lines we have to stay within.
Clearing my throat, I take a deep breath, preparing to start that difficult conversation.
But Tobias beats me to the punch.
“I’m sorry about what happened in your office today.”
My mouth opens, then clamps shut again. I was prepared to be the one who brought up the elephant in the room, and Tobias has sort of thrown me for a loop by digging right in. I know I should just accept his apology and tell him we can act like it never happened, but I find myself asking, “You are?”
Because while it shouldn’t have happened, I’m not necessarily sorry it did. Another complication to add to my already messy life.
His eyes come to me, hanging for a second before going back to the asparagus he’s preparing. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He drizzles the line of olive oil over the vegetables. “It wasn’t fair to you.”
Does that mean he regrets it? Wishes it never happened?
And why in the heck does it matter so much to me?
He slides the seasoned steak into the oven, wiping both hands on a towel as he straightens, gaze locking onto where I sit as he shifts the conversation. “How was your first day?”
Talking about work is slightly safer territory, and the tension in my shoulders eases a little bit. “Good. Busy.” A smile works onto my face. “It was nice to get back to doing what I love.”
Tobias’s expression doesn’t change, but the air between us shifts. “Get back to?”
I haven’t told anyone about what really had me running from California. Not Deidre. Not Mariah or Titus. Not even Bruno. I’m sure they’re all dying to know, but I’d rather no one ever finds out.
And shame is a great motivator to keep my mouth shut about it.
“I’ve just been out of the field for a few years.” Taking another drink of water, I sit up a little straighter. “What about you? How was your day?” I hold my breath, hoping the diversion works and Tobias lets me off the hook. That he doesn’t press me for more.
He seems to barely nod his head before delving into something about a guy named Pierce and twenty jeeps. I don’t know enough about what happens at McKinley Security Systems to understand all of it, but I get the gist.
Reaching across the counter, I steal a piece of asparagus from the baking sheet he’s just removed from the oven. Taking a bite of the tender, perfectly seasoned vegetable, I sum up my observation. “Seems like Titus isn’t the only one who is understaffed.”
Tobias lifts the foil off the steak he left to rest while microwaving the tray of mashed potatoes.
Slicing it into thin strips, he shakes his head.
“I’m not understaffed. There’s just only so much space and so many hours in the day.
It doesn’t make sense to hire additional people just to lay them back off again.
” He separates the meat onto two plates, adding a healthy serving of mashed potatoes to each before topping them with asparagus spears.
“Pierce is just used to getting his way, and doesn’t mind pushing his luck. ”
“Is he that good of a client?” I ask, watching as Tobias slides the plate with slightly bigger servings in front of me before taking a seat on the stool at my left.
“Yes.” He tips his head as he shovels in a mouthful of steak, talking around it as he chews. “He’s also somewhat of a friend. He helps us out when we need it, the same way we help him.”
Going for the mashed potatoes first, I scoop up a pile. “How does he help you?”
Tobias’s eyes move from my plate to my face as I take my first bite, like he’s gauging my reaction.
“He’s helping us figure out who Dan really was.
” One corner of his mouth tips up in a hint of a smile as I take my first bite of steak, moaning around the savory flavors.
“And he’s going to send some additional men to help us with security until we get to the bottom of what’s going on. ”
Just like with Maren, I find myself leaning closer, eager for more information. “What’s going on?”
While we finish our food, Tobias explains all the strange and kind of scary things that have happened involving MSS.
How someone tried to breach our servers through Pierce’s company’s servers.
That they then attempted to go straight for ours, and when that didn’t work, Dan—whoever in the heck that is—decided to blow them up.
I will admit, it is a very interesting story. One I’m able to get lost in while Tobias is telling it. But once it’s over, I’m left feeling uneasy.
“Should I be worried?” I’m not excited about the prospect of jumping from one frying pan to another. “Is it dangerous for me to be working there?”
Tobias’s expression turns weirdly intense, and his voice is sharp when he says, “You will always be safe.”
That’s not true at all. I haven’t been safe in years.
But I can’t really argue the claim without making a confession I don’t want to make, so I nod, trying to look appeased. “Okay.”
Tobias stands, collecting my plate and his, and carries everything to the sink.
It’s such a strange feeling sitting in his house, eating his food, hearing about his day, and now watching him clean up. If I let myself, I could think this is what might have been. Instead of going to California—losing everything I worked so hard to become—I could’ve been here. With Tobias.
Except I couldn’t. I wasn’t enough for him back then, and that means I definitely wouldn’t be enough for him now.
Because I honestly don’t know how much of me there is left.
“I should probably get back to Bruno.” I stand from my seat. “He’s probably ready to go outside again.”
Tobias shuts off the water, lips pulling into a lopsided grin. “Is that what you named him? Bruno?” He dries his hands and rounds the island. “I’m starting to get the feeling you’re a little unoriginal in the naming department.”
I scoff, eyes widening. “Bruno is a great name.”
“Bruno means brown, Brooklyn Marie.” He points at where the poodle I gave him is snoring in a fuzzy bed on the floor.
“Copper is pretty self-explanatory.” He turns me in a different direction from the one I entered.
“Remind me to tell Mariah not to ask you for baby name ideas.” One hand comes to rest on the small of my back, urging me toward a door at the end of a short hallway.
“She’ll end up naming them Peach and Apricot. ”
I snort, because the thought is actually kind of amusing. “And you would be so much better at it?”
“Absolutely I would be better at it.” He doesn’t even hesitate.
I know his cocky confidence is a facade. Tobias isn’t really full of himself. He just knows people think it’s funny, and he is a performer.
“And what would your suggestions be for Titus and Mariah’s twins?” I’m so distracted by the conversation, I don’t even pay attention to where he’s leading me.
“That’s easy.” He urges me down a few stairs. “Tobias if it’s a boy, and Tobiaress if it’s a girl.”
I laugh—really laugh—for the first time in… I don’t even know how long. “You are ridiculous.”
“You aren’t even the fourth person to say that to me today.” Tobias stops, stretching one arm out. “Pick your poison.”
We’re in what from the outside looks like a normal three-car garage.
But what I assumed was simply a few spots side-by-side, is actually an entrance to a stupidly huge area that runs front to back instead of side to side.
Line up on one side is a collection of vehicles slotted into neatly ordered parking spots.
There’s a large truck, an SUV, a high-end luxury sedan, and a few classics with glittering paint jobs and shiny tires.
“I think you might have a problem.” I tip my head as I take it all in. “Do they offer some sort of inpatient program for issues like this?”
“Nope. My mother checked.” He moves me toward the SUV and sedan. “I’m going to recommend you take one of these. They’re the easiest to maneuver, and have the best safety features.” He leans in, like he’s telling me a secret. “They also provide the best ride.”
My face is hot. Why is my face hot?
Because I’m thinking about riding. And not in a car.
I need to get out of here. Away from Tobias and whatever it is he’s doing that’s affecting me like this.
In an effort to expedite the process of escape, I quickly point at the SUV. “That one’s fine.”
I shouldn’t be accepting his offer of a vehicle loan, but if I stay and argue, I’m going to continue thinking about riding. I’m going to keep staring at his hands and forearms and thinking about how he made me dinner and asked how I wanted my steak cooked.
And then I’m going to start hoping he kisses me again.
My throat feels raspy—like it’s closing up—and I start to cough, trying to clear the sensation. It doesn’t help, but it does bring Tobias closer, concern pinching his brow.
“Are you okay? Do you need something to drink?”
I shake my head aggressively. “I’m fine.” I move toward the SUV. “Just tired.” Opening the door, I scramble up into the seat, shutting myself in and Tobias out. It’s a brand-new model, so all I have to do is push in on the break and press a button and the engine fires to life.
I put it into drive and—
Don’t go anywhere, because Tobias is standing directly in my path, a fob dangling from his hand. “You’re gonna need this.”
Not trusting myself to act right if I don’t have something between us, I lower the window, sticking my hand out.
He drops the fob in, but before I can get away, Tobias leans into the opening, invading my space with his presence. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Brooklyn Marie.”
Oh God. He will.
And the next day. And the next day. And the next day.
“I’m going to order you lunch again, so be ready for it around noon.” He reaches into the car, long fingers coming to adjust the belt strapped across my chest. “If you need anything, come find me. I’ll make sure you have everything you want.”
I swallow hard, because no one has ever said that to me. Not my parents. Not Matt.
And not the Tobias I knew in college. He never would’ve made me that sort of a promise. He also never would have cooked me a steak dinner. Or painted a dog’s toenails. Or thought to order me lunch. Or given me a car to drive.
It seems things are worse than I thought.
I’m not trying to stay away from the Tobias I knew before. I’m trying to stay away from the new, improved version.
And that guy is going to be a problem.