Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
She must be with her sister.
Brooke’s eyes catch mine and she smiles warmly—a colleague smile, but that’s cool. “Hey, Adams,” Brooke says, using my last name like most people in the organization do. “Good to see you.”
“And you too,” I say, going along with the just friends bit.
I mean, we are friends-ish.
The last few weeks of dirty texting aside.
Brooke gestures to the woman next to her. “This is my sister. Cara.”
“And you two must be the guys planning clown pranks,” Cara says with an I-caught-you expression.
Patrick adopts a serious look as he eyes Brooke’s sister. “For the record, I am vehemently opposed to clown pranks. And to clowns.”
Cara nods sagely. “I get that.”
“Well, clearly this was meant to be,” he says with a smile now.
Cara laughs, then she gestures to the theater. “Are you two clowns heading to see Fake Play?”
Patrick nods. “We are.” Then, with a lingering glance Cara’s way, he says, “Would you like to sit together? That way, if there are clowns or anything in the flick, we can support each other through it.”
She sets a hand on her chest. “That’d be great.” Cara turns to Brooke, raising her eyebrows in question. “Does that work for you?”
“Works for me,” Brooke says.
Patrick goes to the counter, picks up the cost of the air-popped popcorn Brooke was buying as well as one for himself, and then hands her the bucket. Patrick and Cara chit-chat the whole time.
Brooke and I are quiet, but our eyebrow arches and knowing looks are their own language, saying well, those two hit it off quickly.
As we enter the movie theater, I drop back, letting Patrick and Cara walk in front of us. “That was fast,” I say, nodding to them.
“It was. Tell me he’s a good guy,” she says, her tone deadly serious, her jaw tight.
I hold up my hand as if taking an oath. “He’s like a brother. I trust him with my life.”
“I will hurt anyone who hurts my sister. I don’t care if those two just met. If he does her wrong…”
I squeeze her shoulder in reassurance. “I swear. Also, he’s petrified of clowns, so he definitely needs the protection.”
She seems to relax under my touch and from my words. I lean into Brooke, drawing a quick inhale of her sexy, sunshine scent. “By the way, you look amazing,” I whisper, low, just for her. No harm in a little compliment.
“So do you,” she whispers.
“What were the chances we’d run into each other here?” I ask as we head down the aisle.
“Pretty good, technically. Considering we talked about this being our favorite movie, and it’s only playing tonight.”
“Okay, then. So those are damn good odds,” I say with a smile. “But I swear, I wasn’t stalking you. It was…serendipity.”
Her smile is magical. “Let’s go with that.”
Patrick stops at a middle row and heads in first. Cara follows, then Brooke, then me. What a fantastic impromptu seating chart.
Brooke offers me some of her popcorn. “I know you like food. Want to share?”
“I’m always hungry.” I take her up on her offer and grab a handful. But before I crunch into the kernels, I ask, “Any idea where I could get a great risotto?”
“My kitchen,” she whispers.
I flash back to that night with her, kissing her while she was cooking. Damn. I wish we’d had that second date. Glancing across at Patrick, I confirm he’s busy then lean closer to Brooke, stealing a moment. “In our parallel universe, I’m back in your kitchen.”
“Wow. You are hungry,” she teases.
“I sure am.”
She adopts a thoughtful look. “Am I making…eggplant parmesan?”
“You’re doing something with an eggplant,” I say. “As far as I’m concerned, you hold eggplant power over me. Zucchini too.”
“Ooh, I love zucchini in a pasta primavera.”
I breathe an over-the-top sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you didn’t say zucchini muffins.”
“Muffins should be abolished.”
“Right? What’s the point of muffins? They don’t know if they want to be bread or dessert.” I’d planned on dirty-talking her with a scenario of kissing her in her kitchen, and now we’re harshing on muffins.
But I’m a happy camper.
“If I want a cupcake,” she says, “I’ll have a cupcake and I’ll frost it, thank you very much.”
“Just pick a side, muffins,” I say.
Brooke peeks over at Patrick and Cara, who look like they might be wearing sandwich boards for insta-love, then leans a little closer to me, her hair swishing over my shoulder. “You’re back in my kitchen too. I’m up on the counter,” she whispers.
Yes. Let’s do this. “I’m lifting your skirt.”
“I’ve got my hands on your shoulders.”
“You’re pushing me down,” I say.
A small gasp falls from her mouth. “So you can work on your deal.”
“I will work very hard on my deal.”
Brooke closes her eyes and inhales sharply. When she opens them, those brown irises glimmer with heat.
“We should have cupcakes later,” I suggest.