7. Brooks
7
Brooks
Sunflower Springs, Oklahoma
A nother hot as hell day. I have had enough of this damn heat. It would be one thing if I was one of those pansies that work in an air-conditioned office all day, but this shit sucks when you are out working in the field like a real man.
I tilt my head to the sky and wipe another bead of sweat off my brow. As soon as I look back down at my work, though, I find myself looking right back up.
I know everyone in this town and could tell you exactly what they drive, too. So, the little car pulled over beside the bar ditch just passed my parent’s driveway piques my interest. Before thinking twice, I find myself striding towards the car to see who is inside and what they are doing. I barely even hear Mason as he hollers from behind me. He’s soon padding beside me to investigate the newcomer.
If we were sweating before our short jog up to the road from the field, we are swimming in sweat now. We are both wiping the streams out of our eyes when we catch a glimpse of who is in the driver’s seat of the car pulled over. She is looking down at something. Maybe her phone map? But she must have seen us coming somehow because she looks up, flashes a hesitant smile, and rolls down her window.
Her sheepish grin is almost too much as she looks at me from under her eyelashes and says, “Hi...umm… I think I’m lost.” She begins to chew her bottom lip.
I try to quiet my panting. She doesn’t need to know that little jog winded me. I study her for a moment. She seems so shy and innocent and absolutely unaware of how fucking sexy she is. I sure would love to bite that lip.
I do a small shake of my head to clear my thoughts. What has gotten into me?
As I chat up this beautiful stranger, I start to think that she is not as simple as she looks. But the simple part is that she needs somewhere to stay, and my parents happen to have a spare room open at the bed and breakfast. I motion her to pull her car up a little way to the main driveway and tell her I will meet her up there.
There is that shy smile again. Damn, that is intoxicating.
I watch as this stunning beauty rolls up her window and edges her car up towards my parent’s driveway. Damn it, I forgot to ask her name. “What the hell is wrong with you, Brooks?” I mutter out loud. Mason’s deep laugh beside me reminds me that I am not alone. Shit, I will hear about that later. A pretty little thing comes into town, and Brooks turns into a mumbling pile of mush. Yep, the guys will just love that.
I look up as I hear the car door open. He can’t help but watch as one tanned and surprisingly toned leg pokes out of the car door. I want to run my hands up that leg into those tiny little shorts she is wearing. As she stands fully out of her car and shakes her hair out around her shoulders, Mason gives me a shove and shakes me out of my trance. “Right,” I think to myself. “Focus. The task at hand is to see who we are dealing with, get her a room at Mom’s, and get back to work.” But still, I let my eyes drink in everything before me.
One look at her and I know she is the perfect kind of trouble. I also know I need trouble like her as much as I need a hole in the head. Isn’t my life complicated enough already? But that smile threatens to pull me in no matter how much my mind screams in resistance. Damn, how did she have this effect on me in less than 15 minutes? It is unnerving.
In that one moment, staring at the town’s newest guest, who couldn’t be much over five feet tall, I feel myself losing control. In fact, at that moment, I already know I won’t ever be able to walk away. Not really. That scares the shit out of me and isn’t something I plan to take lightly. Mason clears his throat, and I am about ready to sock him. Why does Mason always have to follow me around like a kid brother?
“Alright, let’s get you inside and get ya in a room then,” I say. “Where are your bags? I’ll grab ‘em for ya.”
The woman in front of me put her shoulders back and stands a little taller like she is going to protest. But then she laughs shyly and says, “Oh okay, thanks,” and pops her trunk. “My name is Gemma, by the way,” she says as she holds out her hand to shake mine.
Mason laughs again, obviously getting a kick out of me being off my game. Mason’s goofy smile spreads across his face, and he holds his hand out to Gemma. “I’m Mason. I’m a ranch hand here.” He shoves his thumb at my chest and retorts, “This dope who forgot his manners is Brooks.”
I give Mason a pointed glare and then take off towards the front door. I realize too late that I may have stormed through the door a little rougher than I meant to. Oh well. I am irritated, and I have never been good at hiding that. I do, however, make an effort to smooth the lines I am sure are on my face. I make a point to put a little of that small-town charm in its place.
By the time my mom strolls through from the back of the house, I have my temper back under control. I introduce Gemma and explain the story she gave me minutes prior.
Once I feel certain that my mom is up to speed, I send Mason back to the field and head upstairs to get the guest room ready for its new guest. My mom fusses at me when she realizes what I am doing, but it is my fault she had such late notice, and I don’t want her overdoing it to make Gemma feel at home. It has only been weeks since her surgery, but she is as stubborn as the rest of them.
I shake my head, thinking about what a full-time job it had been for me and Dad just trying to get her to obey doctors’ orders. Although if I’m honest with myself, I know that she has had her hands full more times than I can count between the injuries we have gotten in the field and our reluctance to take even a day off work.
I take a left when I get to the back of the long ranch house to get everything I need from the office turned storeroom. I grab some fresh sheets and then reach back in for a couple of blankets. It is hot as hell outside, but she just looks like one of those girls who would rather sweat to death than give up cuddling in a blanket. I roll my eyes at the thought and let out a huff.
I am pretty sure I will never understand women and all the stupid shit they do. I am just as well fine with that too. Who needs them? They just complicate everything and get in the way. I have seen it far too many times. And right now, it would do me good to keep that in mind.
But as I turn back down the hall and stop at the door to the guest room, I can’t stop my eyes from lingering on the bed inside and wondering what she will wear to sleep in tonight. When I begin to strip the old linens, I find my thoughts circling around what I could do to her in these fresh sheets. I have got to get ahold of myself. Shit.
I work on busying myself around the room, trying my damndest to keep my mind off this girl, how she walks, how she smells, and what that body must look like underneath those shorts and tank top.
In no time I am finished with the room, and as soon as I take a minute to step back and admire my work, I hear footsteps coming down the hall. My mom is rambling on and on about the town and I am about to feel sorry for this newcomer, but her responses seem to bubble out of her as if she is really enjoying the conversation.
It bothers me that I am taking longer than usual to get a read on her. I can’t tell if she is shy and timid or extroverted and bubbly. I find that the intrigue makes it even harder for me to stop thinking about her in ways I shouldn’t.
My mom usually has to beg me to come to dinner on nights that she has guests staying. Tonight, I decide to join on my own. It has been a long day, and I am feeling especially hungry and chatty. Thankfully, my mom doesn’t comment on my out-of-the-norm behavior. She just invites me and smiles when I agree without argument.
I hate the knowing smile she flashes me. I don’t know what she thinks she knows but just because a new girl comes to town, it does not mean she gets to play matchmaker. This girl is only here for a few days anyway. My mom needs to cool it.
Dinner is good, as always. Mom is one of the best cooks in the county. Everyone downs the meal like it is our last. But we all find ourselves lingering at the table chatting with the newbie in the room. I hate small talk and am usually the first to excuse myself to go to the pub or tinker in my garage. But yet, I can’t help asking questions.
This girl who seemed so shy when she was lost on the side of the road just drove 300-some-odd miles to the middle of nowhere over a school assignment. I’m not sure if she is brave as hell or dumb as hell. But I know I sure as hell want to find out.
I about clap my hand over my own mouth when I hear myself ask if she needs help on this wild goose chase. Thankfully, instead of thinking I’ve gone soft, my mom glares at me and says, “Now don’t you dare go offerin’ to help this poor girl just to give her a hard time and take her on a wild goose chase like you boys do. Not everyone has time for your antics, and no one thinks they’re funny.”
I let out a loud, barking laugh because that is precisely how my friends and I have treated most newcomers since we were just kids. Some people never grow up I guess but hey it gets boring in this town and sometimes you gotta have a little fun.
But when I offered, I was sincere. In fact, I am sincere the next few times I offer throughout the next day.