Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
JULIET
Brooks: Whenever you wake up, there are coffee pods in the kitchen and cream in the fridge. I’ll be at your restaurant all day today, pulling out the old floor.
Istare at my phone in disbelief.
Brooks is at my restaurant. Without me.
Shaking my head, I sit up and take a deep breath, and just like that, I can smell him. I fell asleep with him surrounding me, his scent anyway, and I love being here among his things.
God, I missed him.
Years ago, when I got the tattoo on my side, I told myself that was the end of it.
The closure I needed. I needed to put my relationship with Brooks and the future I’d planned to have with him to rest. Because he wouldn’t respond to any of my messages, and I really had to move on for my own mental health.
But now, here I am. In his house, in his bed. And I think we might have something resembling hope happening between us for the first time in so many years. The spark of something new that I’m so fucking scared to trust but also want with everything in my body.
His eyes softened. He smiled at me. He held me. God, it felt so amazing.
Except now he’s at my restaurant without me.
So I need to set him straight.
I pad into the guest room and slip on some clean clothes, then sweep my hair up in a knot. I forgo the coffee, and once I’ve grabbed my purse and keys, I walk out to my car.
It feels so damn good to have my car back.
And it runs like a dream as I drive into the downtown area and park it behind my restaurant. When I drove past, I saw a huge truck setting a dumpster in the parking spaces in front of it.
I didn’t order a dumpster. I didn’t have the foresight to even think about a dumpster.
I was still stuck on what the fuck am I going to do?
I mean, a huge part of me is grateful that I didn’t have to make that call myself, but the other part wants to know who the hell decided to do this without me.
Actually, I know who.
Brooks.
My controlling, protective man.
Wait, is he my man? Ugh, I don’t know.
I stomp down the block and see that the front door stands open, and all four Blackwell men are inside, talking.
And what a sight to behold. The Blackwell brothers should come with a fucking health warning.
May Cause Vaginas to Spontaneously Combust.
“Ask her yourself,” Beckett says, staring at me, and the other three sets of eyes turn to me.
“What the hell is going on in here?” I ask, stepping inside, but I'm careful where I set my feet because most of the floor has already been torn apart. It’s a freaking war zone in here.
“Did you get my text?” Brooks asks me.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t very informative. First of all, how did you get in here?”
“I grabbed your keys,” he says with a nonchalant shrug.
“Fuck,” Blake says, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. He looks … guilty.
“You stole my keys, came in here, and the four of you decided to start ripping my floor apart?”
“You needed to rip it apart anyway, you said it yourself,” Brooks says, the scowl I’ve come to know all too well back on his handsome face. “And I won’t have you doing it alone.”
I blink at him. “You won’t have me doing it?”
“You’re so dead,” Bridger mutters. “Idiot.”
“We’re helping, Wildfire.”
“I didn’t ask for help.”
Now Brooks’s face falls, and I feel like an asshole.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath and wrinkle my nose.
“You should be wearing a mask in here,” Blake says, offering me one.
I take it, covering my nose but not hooking it to my ears, and then push my hand into Brooks’s, and he immediately links his fingers with mine, giving them a squeeze.
“Can I talk to you alone for a moment?” I ask him.
“I want coffee,” Bridger says, making a break for the door. “Let’s go harass Millie.”
“Good plan,” Beck agrees, and Blake follows them.
“Why are you pissed?” Brooks asks after they’re gone.
“Because this is my business,” I reply and squeeze his fingers. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your help, but I should have been here to make the decisions.”
“It’s literally just pulling out a destroyed floor. I didn’t make any other decisions for you.”
“Okay. If this were the garage, and I told you to go to sleep while I went to your building and started giving orders on how to clean it up, you’d be cool with that?”
“You’re pretty good at giving orders, so probably.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and his shoulders droop.
“I get it. I didn’t mean to piss you off. I was trying to take this off your plate.”
“And I really do appreciate it. Because I admit, this is so fucking overwhelming, and I like having you here to help me figure it out, but I should be here with you. Your brothers came.”
He frowns. “Of course, they did. I asked them to.”
His family is so fucking amazing. Brooks hit the jackpot when he was born a Blackwell.
“So what’s your plan?”
He lets out a breath and looks around the room. “Right now, it was to finish emptying out the rest of the flooring, and then see what you want to do from there.”
“That’s the right answer.”
He lowers his mask, and his lips twitch, and then he lowers them to mine, but doesn’t kiss me. He hovers just an inch away.
“Were you really mad at me, Wildfire?”
“Maybe not.” I boost up on my toes and close the distance between us, and he lets out a low groan as the kiss intensifies, our bodies pressed together. I plunge my fingers in his thick, dark hair, and he covers my ass with his big hands.
He’s sweaty, but I don’t care.
I’d happily stay here, just like this, all freaking day.
But then he pulls back and brushes my hair behind my ear.
“We just finally got to a place where we’re not both angry with each other. Let’s try to stay there,” he says softly.
“I like that idea.”
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the doorframe, and when I turn, I find Connor Gallagher walking into my building. He’s in jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt, the sleeves pulled up on his forearms. He walks over to us, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Hi, Jules,” he says, shaking my hand. I’ve met Billie’s husband several times, and he’s always been nothing but kind to me. His Irish accent is also incredibly swoony. “I’m sorry about this mess.”
“Yeah, me too. Unfortunately, I can’t make your wrap for you today.”
Whenever Connor stops by to see his wife at her bookshop, he always swings in here for lunch.
His lips tip up in a half smile. “I figured. Actually, I was here earlier before you got here. I have a team ready to come in and clean out the rest of the damage, and then start repairing everything right away.”
I stare at him in shock. “What?”
“If you’d like it to look exactly the same as before, they can do that, or they can switch up anything that you’d like.”
Brooks drags his hand down my spine, and I have to lean into his side because I might fall over.
“I’m sorry, I think my brain is coffee-deprived. Connor, that’s very generous, but I can’t afford—”
“I didn’t ask you to pay me,” he says simply.
Frowning, I nibble my lower lip. “Actually, I could afford it,” I finally admit. “I just didn’t want to touch the money that my asshole of a late husband left me.”
“Money isn’t personal.” Connor shrugs. “It doesn’t care if it sits untouched in an account, or if you spend it all in one go. It’s not the arsehole who mistreated you, Jules. But it’s your choice. If you’d rather not use that money, I’ll front it.”
“I can’t ask you to do that and not pay you back.”
“Do you want a silent partner?” he counters, and I recoil as if he hit me.
“No offense, but no. I don’t.”
Connor’s smile spreads over his face. “I can’t blame you.
I wouldn’t either. You’re a smart businesswoman.
Here’s the thing, Jules: my wife, whom I’m completely in love and obsessed with, adores you and this restaurant.
She wants to make sure you succeed. Her family”—he gestures to Brooks—“who is now my family, cares about you, and we take care of our own. You don’t have to deal with any of this by yourself. ”
I will not cry in front of these men.
Brooks kisses the top of my head, and I take a shuddering breath.
“I haven’t asked for or accepted help from anyone in a very long time,” I admit quietly. “I’m not sure I know how.”
“Maybe this is a good time to start,” Brooks murmurs.
Meeting Connor’s gaze, I nod but reach out to lay my hand on his arm.
Brooks growls low in his throat, but I ignore him.
“I will gratefully accept your help,” I tell him. “But I would like for us to come to an agreement for how I can return the favor. Somehow, free chicken wraps for life doesn’t feel like it’ll cut it.”
Connor smirks. “We’ll talk about it later. The first order of business is to get this cleaned up and restored so you can open your doors again.”
“I know my staff would love that, too,” I agree.
“Then let’s make it happen.”