His Good Girl

Chapter One

Brooke

Coffee is the most important part of my day.

Actually, that should be a blanket statement for every living person.

I’m a book editor, and working from home is a good fit for me, especially since I’ve turned into a hermit. After leaving a toxic marriage, I choose to spend my time alone, in my house. Most days, answering work emails, and phone calls from the office are the highlights of my social life.

Kind of pathetic, I know.

Spending so much time by myself probably isn’t healthy, but at this point, I don’t give a shit.

Every morning, I make my way to The Grind for my unrelenting caffeine fix. I could make coffee at home, but the drive gets me out of the house for a bit.

Grabbing my purse and keys, I lock the door behind me as I head to my car.

The long stretch of road ahead of me is a nice distraction.

It’s a gorgeous day, the sun shining brightly, the grass in the fields sparkling with morning dew.

Horses and cattle come into view, and I grin, always loving animals more than humans.

I may be a bit bitter, but I can’t deny how beautiful my little town is.

At twenty-eight years old, life isn’t what I expected it to be.

I didn’t see divorce in the cards. The signs were there, but I turned a blind eye because I was in love.

Rapidly approaching thirty, I wonder where I’ll go from here.

My career is exactly what I want. My home is perfect.

The only thing missing is someone to share it with.

I feel like that ship has sailed, but maybe life will throw a wild curveball at me next time.

As I pull into the parking lot, I clear my head from the pity party.

The Grind is a popular coffee shop that’s nestled in the middle of town. The building is surrounded by large oak trees and an incredible landscape of flowers, giving the outdoor seating area an Eden feel. As I approach the door, the scent of fresh coffee flows into my lungs, and my mouth waters.

Walking inside, there’s a line of people waiting to get their morning caffeine.

Looking around, I take in the brown and white color scheme of the walls.

I glance at the tumblers lining the shelves, along with the different types of coffee they sell.

My eyes roam to the display case where they keep their sweets.

I had a strawberry danish yesterday, maybe I should skip it today.

The line moves quickly and within a few minutes, I’m at the counter, placing my order.

Mocha frappe.

The love of my life.

Stepping aside to wait for my drink, the little hairs on the nape of my neck stand up. I scan the room, feeling as if I’m being watched.

My breath catches as I lock eyes with him.

I’ve seen him a few times before. He’s sinfully good looking, leaning on the counter, waiting for his coffee.

He’s well over six-foot tall, a broad chest, dark unruly hair, and piercing blue eyes that are currently locked on mine.

My gaze shamelessly roams down his body.

His gray t-shirt strains over bulging tattooed arms. Dark jeans hug his thick thighs, cupping his groin, leaving little to the imagination.

As my eyes find his face again, his full lips tip up in a grin.

Busted.

His dark goatee is full, and my fingers twitch, wondering what it would feel like on my skin.

Arousal pools between my legs, and I count my breaths slowly, trying to calm my sex deprived body. My reaction must’ve been obvious because he winks at me, making my body temperature skyrocket.

I’m truly grateful I dressed to go in public today.

It’d be easy to stay in pajamas all day since I work from home.

Luckily, I threw on some make-up and tamed my hair into waves before leaving the house.

I’d be mortified if this gorgeous man was staring at me while I was wearing Snoopy sleep pants and an oversized t-shirt.

“Brooke, your order is ready!” I blink, my name being called slowly registering in my brain. Taking my coffee from the barista, I mumble a distracted “thank you” in the process.

Turning to leave, the beautiful stranger walks towards me, his eyes never leaving mine. As he stops in front of me, I breathe in his masculine scent. Sandalwood overpowers the smell of coffee, and I sway on my feet a little.

“I saw you looking at the pastries earlier. Can I get you one?” His smile is ridiculously sexy and distracting as hell.

“O-oh, thank you, but I had one yesterday.” I grin and he tilts his head. “That’s a lot of sugar, so I try to space them out.”

He chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Sit with me?”

Christ. That voice.

The deep timbre causes goosebumps to erupt across my skin. A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine his full lips whispering very dirty things in my ear.

He’s a complete stranger for fucks sake!

Calm your tits.

I don’t trust myself to speak, so all I can do is nod like a damn idiot.

His hand rests on my lower back, guiding me to an empty table in the corner. Every nerve ending in my body comes to life at his touch, and I’m a walking ball of sensation. He pulls out my chair, his breath tickling my neck as he says, “My name is Gabriel Layton. Call me Gabe.”

Even his name is sexy.

Clutching my cup, I silently will my body to calm the hell down. “N-nice to meet you. I’m Brooke Monroe.”

His smile is warm, but his blue eyes darken as they dart to my lips. “You’re beautiful, Brooke.”

Oh God.

The way he says my name is laced with nothing but dark and filthy promises.

I’ve read entirely too many smut books lately.

Opening my mouth to say something, I close it immediately. I’ve got nothing. A knowing smirk tugs at his lips before taking a sip of coffee. My gaze latches onto his throat, and I swallow slowly at the same time he does.

“What do you do for a living, Brooke Monroe?” Our eyes meet and I squirm beneath his gaze.

I really need him to stop saying my name like that. “I’m a book editor. What do you do?”

He runs a hand down his long goatee, a fire dancing in his blue eyes. “I own Layton Construction. We mostly build shopping centers and strip malls.”

Sexy and successful.

I smile. “You sound like a busy man, Gabriel Layton.”

Oh no.

Am I flirting?

His eyes darken. “Calling me Gabriel does things to me, Brooke. Tell me, are you married?”

Well, that escalated quickly.

“No. I’ve been divorced for two years, and I haven’t dated since.” My eyes widen at my vomiting words, and heat rushes to my face.

Why the fuck am I telling him my business?

His expression turns wicked, and I squeeze my thighs together, trying to suffocate the throbbing between my legs. “Why haven’t you dated since your divorce?”

Something about this guy has me feeling unbalanced and a little too vulnerable. But for the life of me, I just can’t stop the shit coming out of my mouth. “My marriage wasn’t a good one. I’ve spent the last two years finding myself again.”

His eyes soften. “He’s a fool.”

My face flames hotter. “I’m happy now, so that’s all that matters. What about you?”

The look he gives me has disappointment slamming into my chest like a brick.

I should’ve known someone like him would be taken.

As I’m about to excuse myself, he grips my hand across the table.

That single touch sends a tremor through my body.

I look at his hand, slowly following the ink trailing up his muscular forearms. The detail is beautiful, skulls with smoke covering every inch of skin.

“Single.” One strained word, and my eyes snap to his. He’s staring at our joined hands, his brows furrowed. He lifts his gaze, eyeing me cautiously, lacing his fingers with mine. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

My inner voice tells me to politely decline. It’s a bad idea.

But I refuse to listen since that same voice told me my ex-husband was my prince charming.

“Please? I’ll buy you a danish afterwards.” He cocks his eyebrow, and I giggle.

He drives a hard bargain.

“Okay, but I think we should meet at the restaurant.”

He exhales softly, as if he was holding his breath, waiting for my answer. “Give me your phone.”

Pulling it from my purse, I hand it over, watching as he types quickly. His phone dings.

“I’ll send you the address of the restaurant and see you tomorrow night at seven.”

“Okay.” I murmur, nervous energy pumping through my veins.

He stands from his chair, coming around to my side of the table, dropping the phone in my purse. He holds out his hand, and I take it.

He’s quite a gentleman.

Maybe chivalry isn’t dead after all.

Pressing his palm to my lower back, he leads me out of the coffee shop.

We get to my car, and I unlock it with the key fob.

After he opens my door, I slide inside. Gabe bends down, gently pressing his lips to my cheek.

My eyes drift closed as I breathe him in.

He smells incredible, and I want to bury my face in his chest. He lingers for a moment, inhaling deeply.

Trailing his lips to my ear, he whispers, “See you tomorrow night.”

Swallowing the urge to moan, I nod, not trusting my voice. He grins, closing the door and walking away. He reaches his truck and glances my way one more time before climbing inside.

Replaying the last thirty minutes, over and over, I can’t believe I agreed to have dinner with him. This is completely out of character for me, but I can’t deny our chemistry. After being alone for two years, maybe this is what I need. I’m not going to think about it too hard.

I’ll have dinner with him and see what happens.