Flirting With Disaster Page 12

  She gasped. He cupped her cheek because he'd seen it. He'd felt it. There was nothing about her he didn't notice. Not since the first time they'd met. She crossed her arms.

  She glanced at him and unshed tears had made her eyes glossy. “I do know you.”

  It felt like someone hit him in the chest, because the accusation just sat there between them. His jaw clenched. “Then tell me, what is this argument about?”

  “A year ago I would have told you to go fuck yourself, but I didn't today. I sat on that couch and swallowed it down. And when I bring it up, you pat me on the head.”

  “I never asked you to be my little woman.”

  She flinched. He waited a few seconds to see if she'd say anything else, but she wouldn't look at him. Finally, he said, “I'm tired of fighting, Brooke.”

  He pulled his keys out of his pocket and stared blankly at the key ring as the silence filled the house. If she couldn't see that he loved her, then there was nothing more he could do. So he clenched his fist around the keys and walked out of her house.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Brooke grunted and put all her weight on the wrench, but the bolt refused to budge. She gritted her teeth, cursed viciously and kept trying. Her brother's hands suddenly wrapped around her shoulders and he tugged her away from the car.

  “Don't touch me,” she barked at him and immediately regretted the harsh tone she used. “Sorry. Just get the bolt off for me. I can finish this car and we'll be done. With everything.”

  He turned her around, his brows furrowed. “You've been shitty to me for the past week. It's why I've stayed.”

  “You're suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. Go home. I'm fine. I just have to flush this transmission. I can do it in my sleep.”

  “You're not fine.”

  “Then I will be.” She tried to infuse a confidence she didn't really feel.

  She hadn't bitched about his extended stay, because they didn't talk about him. But Pierce had moved back in six days ago. Probably after hearing some choice gossip in town. He hovered. He made her go home so she wouldn't work herself into a massive heart attack. But she couldn't sleep. He'd stay up with her—with non-caffeinated tea—and they'd talk about anything, everything but Dane.

  He'd held his tongue for a week, and she wondered why he’d chosen that particular moment to stop. “I just need time,” she said.

  His jaw tightened. “I hear you crying. That's why I get up.”

  Her eyes widened because she wasn't wailing. She'd just get hit with...the sniffles. “I'm watching sappy movies.”

  He didn't even blink at the lie. “You could just talk to Dane.”

  How many times had she'd thought the same? Too many. She'd replay the petty argument in her head and put her phone back down. Okay. The argument may have started off small but it was all her fears, all his fears, right there on display. They both had walked away. Both had lost.

  “That ship has sailed.” Her voice wavered, because she didn't want it to be. She'd fucked up and didn't know how to fix it. She hadn't been strong. She hadn't been standing up for herself. She'd been a bitch. It was like watching some monster take over her body and say things she would have never said even when they had their war of words. She'd hurt him and her pride hadn't let her give. She should have given.

  So when her brother said, “Because you let it sail away,” Brooke had to swallow back tears.

  “Pierce,” she whispered.

  “He loves you, and if your nighttime crying is any indication, I'd say you love him too.”

  Her heart ached at his words. “Then why did he leave? I'm always an asshole.”

  “You gave him no choice.”

  She scoffed and tried to push him away. He didn't budge.

  “What do you know?” she threw at him.

  “I know you. You did it to Mom, and now you're doing it to him.”

  Indignant, she said, “What?”

  “She gave you crappy advice. The kind a mother should never give her daughter. She's not perfect. She thought she was supporting you, comforting you. Her comfort and support was just batshit crazy, and outdated. But Dane isn't batshit crazy so what has he done that's so unforgivable?”

  Brooke ran a hand down her ponytail. “He made me see exactly what it would be like being married to him. He'd say something that would make my teeth clench, and I would love him anyway. Even if it made me feel small, I'd take it because I loved him.”

  “It's not Dane's fault you lost your spine.”

  Her gaze snapped up to his as she gasped. “We're done talking about this.”

  He stepped in her way. “That's on you. Do you really think he'd love you less if you called him an asshole? Hell, he loved you while you did.”

  “What are you talking about?” Her heart started to pound.

  Her brother's brown eyes glittered with annoyance. “I'm talking about all the stories I've been forced to listen to for the past five weeks. Everyone stops me and tells me about a time you guys went at each other's throats.” He flicked her in the forehead. “He's loved you before he ever touched you. No man in his right mind would go out of his way to argue with you or put up with your prickly-ass if he didn't.” He flicked her again. “So did you or you wouldn't have done your best for the past year to fuck that up. If anything makes him crazy, that's it. And so are you.”

  He flicked her harder and glared. “You miss him, and I'm tired of watching it. If you lie to me about it I will throw you over my shoulder and walk you to his bookstore and make you talk to him.”

  She could see on his face he would. “Bullying asshole.”

  “And I still love you.”

  That hit her right in her constant soft spot. And it made her mad. “Fuck you, Pierce.”

  His voice went low. “And I still love you.”

  She made a frustrated sound and tried to push him out of her way.

  He sighed and picked her up like she weighed five pounds. Within a few feet he had marched out of her garage.

  “Don't you dare, Pierce.”

  “Say it.”

  She considered head-butting him and fighting with him just like they used to. The stubborn crease above his brow told her he'd drag her to Dane's store even if he had a concussion.

  “Fine,” she said. “Okay. I love him.”

  “And?”

  When she didn't answer, he took another step forward. The townsfolk walked around them, not bothering to say hi or find out what was going on. So they probably had stopped him to talk. She took in her brother's face. Pierce was smart, cunning, and just as stubborn as she was, if not more so.

  “He is chauvinistic, misogynistic and just a general pain in my ass,” she said.

  He moved again, so she added, “And I'm shrill, prickly, and God bless any man who falls in love with me.”

  “Nope. Not good enough.” He moved again.

  She'd been crying since Dane had walked out the door because the truth had settled on her bones. For a week she'd been a goddamn coward because she hadn't wanted to admit it out loud. But Pierce was more stubborn than her.

  “I pushed him away, because how I feel about him scares me blind,” she said fast as though to rip off a Band-Aid. “There. I said it. Now put me down before I kick you in the nuts.”

  He dropped her but gave her a steadying hand. “Glad we had this talk. Now go tell him, because he looks like shit. I'm also tired of him trying to talk to me so he can know how you're doing.”

  That stilled her. “You talked to Dane?”

  “More than once.”

  He'd sent her emails, but they were always professional, haughty, and straight to the point. He was first up for the calendar shoot and she'd been trying to figure out a way to show up. The town was small, but if a person wanted to hide from someone, it would be easy. She thought he'd been avoiding her…that he’d stopped caring for her.

  She balled her fists. “He walked out on me.”

  “Did you tell him you wanted him to sta
y?”

  She punched him in the shoulder.

  He pointed at her and added, “Your fault.”

  She couldn't deny it. When she thought back on it, all she felt was shame, anger, and despair. “In that moment I really just felt like he wanted me to be that girl again, waiting on him hand and foot. No matter what he said, actions speak louder than words. And wasn't I so pathetic that I'd still wanted him? Wasn't that exactly what I feared would happen?”

  Pierce raised a brow. Brooke sighed. “Needed him.”

  “And you're mad at him because you wanted to be with him, needed to be with him.” He spread his hands. “Somebody has to apologize. Somebody who is an asshole and pushed the person she loved away...should really, really apologize.”

  “Somebody?”

  Pierce shrugged. “Not naming names.”

  He was right. She hated that about him. “Being with him forces me to walk such a fine line, Pierce,” she said and sounded frustrated. “I can't be the girl I used to be. You're right. She had no spine. There was nothing of her but the man she was with. And I've crossed that line and I'll cross it again. And again I'll likely get mad at him and he'll walk because I pushed him.”

  “Likely.”

  Exhaustion washed over her. She placed a hand on her forehead. “Then why bother?”

  “You love each other. You miss him. I can go back home and not worry that you're killing yourself with work.”

  “You didn't have to baby me.”

  “Thin line, Brooke. I was taking care of you.” He flicked her in the forehead. “Think about the difference, and you'll get to the right answer.” He started to walk away, down to his car.

  She yelled at his back, “If I don't?”

  He didn't even bother to turn around to answer, “I'll carry you to his doorstep.”

  “That's the chauvinistic shit I hate.”

  He paused at his car door, still not looking at her. “And I still love you.”

  She smiled, but when he turned around to grin at her, she made sure to flip him off.

  *****

  “Are you ever going to open that?” Tate motioned to the gift-wrapped book on Dane's desk.

  “I plan to return it to the person who gave it to me.” Before his friend could push the point, Dane put out his hand. “Let me see it.”

  Tate put the ring box in his hand. Dane flicked it open, raising his brows. Smaller diamonds surrounded a canary diamond in a platinum setting. It was the one he'd told his friend would likely make Peyton cry.

  “Good?” Tate asked.

  He closed the box and handed it right back over. “If she doesn't cry, then I don't know what will. Glad I could help.”

  Tate took him in, sighed before leaning back in the chair. “Why are you returning the book?”

  Both Tate and Reid had tried to talk to him over the past few days. He was done arguing about what he should do with Brooke. Had lost the taste for it. “Do you want help in what you plan to say to Peyton?”

  “I know she's going to say yes.”

  Must be nice he wanted to reply. He realized how bitter that sounded and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  Tate flicked open the box. “You are such a pussy.”

  His brows went up. “What?”

  “You let her bully you right out that door.”

  His teeth clenched. “Fuck you, Tate.”

  He shrugged. “She started an argument over a sandwich, which is very much like Brooke. Especially with you. Everything you do...is likely to piss her off. Why? Because she’s scared and you left her. That makes you a dick, too.”

  He would have argued if he didn't think Tate was remotely right. He'd seen her fear, damn near tasted it. What was he supposed to do when at every turn she stopped him, put him back into the box that felt comfortable to her. He had his pride, his own heart on the line. “What the hell was I supposed to do?”

  “Fight for her.”

  He looked at his friend sideways. “What?”

  “Did you think to kiss her? Apologizing would have worked too. She's not…soft. You know that.”

  “She didn't trust me,” he shot back, suddenly filled with frustration again.

  “Two words: long haul. Stop expecting perfection. She or you will screw up.” Tate laughed. “I still have to give Peyton a look when she won't kiss me in public. You can't undo the past but you can damn sure show her all the ways the future will be better.”

  Dane pinched the bridge of his nose this time, his aggravation growing. “Is that part of your speech to Peyton? Nice. You're right. She is going to say yes.”

  Tate glowered at him. “Brooke pushed you away and you let her. Ask yourself why.” He shrugged. “Don't give her back the book. If she wants it, she'll come and get it. Otherwise, you just want to see her and you're taking any excuse you can get.”

  With that, Tate stood. He grinned at him, knowing he was right and it was the best parting shot.

  Dane scrubbed his hands over his face, straightened, and pulled the book to him.

  He'd looked up the clues she'd thrown at him. He had nothing else to do with his time. And, God, he missed her. Everything about her. He replayed their argument in his head when he wasn't doing that. He couldn't think of any other way it could have gone. She wouldn't have kissed him. She'd have kept right on giving him the silent treatment.

  You could have stayed.

  It would have been awkward, tense and…one of those moments when people in relationships fought.

  Why did you let her push you away?

  He closed his eyes, guessing the author, because he knew Brooke. “Edgar Allen Poe.”

  He opened his eyes and ripped off the paper on the book. It looked like an old school hymnal—red on the outside with gold-edged paper. Nothing was written on the spine so he opened it to the copyright page. Edgar Allen Poe. The original publisher had long since been bought out and changed their name. There was no copyright date. When he did a quick search there was no trace of the book ever being published.

  Brooke hadn't given him a first edition, not solely. She'd given him a mystery, something truly one of a kind, a controversy just by existing. She did know him. What made him tick, what he liked, what would drive him up a wall or soothe him. In a moment when both of their tempers had flared, their soft spot stabbed with reminders, he'd let her push him away.

  Tate was right. Dane had spent over a year fighting with her. Why hadn't he spent the last week fighting for her?

  Because they were two sides of the same coin. He had wanted her to ask him to stay. To convince him that he wasn't the only one in love. And she hadn't, and it felt like someone had kicked him with steel-toed boots right in his damn heart. She had her pride, was stubborn as hell and…he was no different.

  “You're supposed to read it, not drool over it.”

  His breath caught in his lungs so he gave himself a moment before looking up. Brooke stood there in her coveralls. The arms were tied around her waist. She looked like she’d had a long day. Her ball cap had left a crease in her forehead. And, yet, she had never looked more beautiful to him.

  “Brooke.”

  “Why don't you ever say 'hi' to me?”

  She didn't sound irritated, but she hadn't closed the space between them either. He had wanted her to ask him to stay but had he ever said anything that made her believe he didn't ever want to be anywhere else? No. They were both right and wrong during the argument, but what mattered is that they had both wanted to stay. They had both needed that and had been too stubborn to just fucking say it.

  That had to change.

  She'd come to him. And since he knew Brooke, he knew her coming to him had to take all of her gumption. He had to meet her halfway, so he said, “I can't think of anything else when I see you.”

  Her mouth formed into a small 'o' and she blinked. “And the book?”

  He smiled and said, “I was going to give it back to you but figured I deserved it as combat pay.”

  Her
mouth twitched. “And I was about to apologize.”

  He leaned back in his chair and thought about his next words. He could keep joking with her or be honest. They always got it right when they were honest and open with each other.

  “I've missed you.” He could see tears forming in her eyes after he said it.

  She started to cross her arms and then put them down at her sides. “What's the secret?”

  He sighed. “I can't tell you.”

  Her eyes lit with anger. “Trust me. You wanted me to do that with you then reciprocate.”

  He considered what he had to lose if he didn't. Too much. “Tate wanted my opinion on engagement rings.”

  Her eyes widened. The fight in her stance loosened. “Oh.”

  He pointed at her. “And that's why I didn't tell you.”

  “Jackass, that's not a woman thing.”

  He nodded in agreement. “It's a best-friend woman thing, which is worse.”

  She made a guttural sound and leaned on his desk. “That is so sexist.”

  Her scent washed over him and he inhaled long and hard. “Tell me you won't act strangely the next time you see Peyton, and I'll take it back. You can't lie for shit, Brooke. Tell me you didn't discuss sex, when you fell in love with me, everything that we did with your best friends, and I'll apologize right now.”

  “I—You're wrong.”

  He glared at her.

  She sighed and added, “I told my brother, no one else, that I loved you, but he was flicking me in the forehead at the time so I don't think it counts.”

  Dane didn't even know he was moving until he was standing in front of her, dragging her to him. “Say it again.”

  “Neanderthal,” she sounded breathless.

  “Tell me.”

  She met his gaze. “I'm sorry. I was feeling so...what I feel for you scares me, because a part of me is just expecting the day you make me wait for you. The day you make me feel stupid for loving you. The day I don't even recognize the woman I've become.”