Flirting With Disaster Read online

  “You're right,” he said. “It's a catch-22.”

  She clung to the cover but sat up. “What happened?”

  Of course she wouldn't let this go. He smiled at her for a second. “She had the idea we’d get married, but at the perfect time. She'd get pregnant before it was considered high risk. She'd run the world before forty.”

  Brooke frowned. “And...what did you think of that plan?”

  He shrugged. “We’re no longer together. What do you think?”

  She sat up straighter and tried to corral her hair into something presentable. “I think you don’t like women to be in the driver’s seat.”

  “Wrong. It’s attractive. I don’t want to be someone’s be all to end all. And her plan only involved me because she needed someone on her arm, a sperm donor later. Our life together was all about hers and what I'd do to fit into it. I was something to help her check off items on her to-do list.”

  “There’s a bite in your voice over that.”

  “I’m over my ex, but she left...a bitterness in my mouth.”

  Brooke’s gaze softened. “I’m sorry for that.”

  Surprise stiffened his back. “You sound sincere.”

  “Because I am.”

  He could leave it at that, but they both were still opening a vein, showing each other their hurts. “And your ex?”

  “Fair play?”

  He nodded. Brooke sighed and added, “He wanted me to be a little homemaker, and I wanted to be that for him. You'd have liked me then. I agreed with him, because he was the man. I cooked for him. Had sex regularly because that's what you do. I was born and bred to be a lady whose crowning achievement was to get married and have babies.”

  He tried to imagine Brooke like that, and he had to laugh. “No, I wouldn't have liked that Brooke.”

  Her face flushed from the compliment. She glanced down and picked at stray threads on his comforter. “Well, I wasn't that docile. Sometimes he'd do things that pissed me off, disappointed the shit out of me. I'd—I'd go to my mother for advice, and she'd reassure me.”

  “And your mother would give you advice to be...docile?” He couldn't wrap his mind around that.

  She nodded. “The man is the king of his house.” She scoffed. “And then my brother got into cars. He'd bring around these old junkers that weren't worth the money he spent on them. At first I'd watch and he'd have me get this or that. It wasn't long before I was up late at night researching whatever car he was working on—the common problems and coming up with solutions. It became a passion. So when I changed my focus to being a mechanic in college, my ex lost interest.”

  She shook her head. “I was still me, but he wanted...traditional, and I tried to be for him. I remember cooking him dinner one night. I was dressed sexy. I brought out the good dishes, candles. And I spent half the night waiting for him like a cliché. Drinking the wine, getting madder by the minute, and at the end of the night, I had enough.”

  Brooke’s voice was thick with emotion. She closed her eyes. “I decided I would never again wait on a man. He wouldn't be my everything. He wouldn't be my barometer for how well I was doing in life. He wouldn't tell me who I should be.”

  Dane wiped his mouth in hopes that would get rid of the sudden bitterness. It didn't. “Your ex sounds like a dick.”

  She laughed and opened her eyes. “Yeah, but it wasn't just him. I still deal with that bullshit. People come into my shop and see that I'm a woman...” She met his gaze.

  “I'm not your ex. I'm not your mother.” He paused, a thought hitting him. “That's your contact? Your brother.” He laughed at himself for having been jealous.

  “Told you it wasn't a him.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “You were jealous.”

  “So were you. That's what started this mess.”

  She glanced down. “There's no way I can get up without you looking. You'll say you won't, but you will.”

  He wouldn't even tell that lie. “My memory is fuzzy from last night. I might need to add in some details I might have missed.”

  Brooke just blinked at him. He pointed to the nightstand. “There's water. I'll get started on your breakfast. Come down when you're fully dressed.”

  He rose from the chair, waited until he was almost out the door before saying, “For instance, I'm a bit unclear about your heart-shaped birthmark.” It was on her ass.

  “We have to stop doing this,” she said before hiding under the covers.

  That was a new point of contention for them, because he felt like they'd just gotten started.

  *****

  Peyton's eyes were wide as she sipped on her thai chi. Brooke fought her sigh. Her friend expected racy details of a drunken night filled with naughty shenanigans.

  Was Brooke embarrassed over her behavior? Hell, yeah. She'd drunk way too much and had gone home with Dane. No one but her friends would believe nothing had happened.

  She ate a chip from the bag sitting in front of her. She'd gone into work, but had only flailed about until Peyton called her to meet at the coffee shop.

  “So, do you need me to come by tonight?” Brooke asked.

  “Don't you need to recover?”

  Brooke glared at her friend. “I'm a bit groggy, but I should be fine.”

  Peyton sipped her tea and smacked her lips. “Do you think that's a good idea?”

  Brooke growled out her frustration. “Just ask me so we can get past this part of your curiosity.”

  Her friend blinked, trying her damndest to look affronted. “Naomi isn't here. I want everyone to get all the deets firsthand.”

  She laughed, exasperated. “God, I hate you.”

  Peyton grinned. “Dane's a good guy.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” Peyton straightened. “He took advantage of you last night?”

  “No.”

  She wished they'd taken advantage of each other. Instead, what they had done when they were at his house was innocent and poignant somehow. If he were a monster underneath his stylish sweaters and expensive jeans, she'd have something to gripe about. But no, he'd taken care of her and would have walked her home if she'd let him.

  He'd been so open with her when he'd told her about his past. And man, his ex was a piece of work. Honestly, they'd experienced the same kind of crappy relationship drama. Men weren't supposed to have needs outside of sex, they didn't love their children or want any like women did, etc, etc. She'd bet money his ex didn't see what was wrong with those ideals and beliefs. Her ex definitely hadn't seen the problem with her role as the “woman” in the relationship.

  Brooke covered her face with her hands, because everything was muddied between them now. His comment about women not loving cars as much as men fought with the Dane she'd experienced last night and this morning. The only clear thing was she wanted him in her bed. The night wasn't that fuzzy from liquor. She remembered every touch, every kiss, how warm and smooth his skin had been pressed against hers.

  He wasn't the man she'd believed he was, and he was every inch the man she thought he was. Those complex and fractured images warred with each other.

  “Don't ask me about Dane. When I think about him my brain starts to hurt. Let's talk about something simple. Like, how I have to call my brother today.” She thought of the cars they did have and let out a frustrated sigh. “Let's talk about how I'm probably going to ask my brother to stay on and help me with those cars.”

  “The cars are that bad?” Peyton asked.

  Brooke dropped her hands. “Yes and no. I can do it alone, but it makes no sense when my brother can help. We'll get the job done faster.”

  “Faster?”

  “Much. Naomi has this neat little timeline and I'm not looking to linger over this job. She can do the shoots later, get together all the details, but I'd rather have those cars ready sooner than later.”

  What she didn't add out loud was the only other clear thing was that she needed to be away from Dane. Far away.

  Her friend looke
d dubious. “And this isn't about Dane?”

  Peyton saw through it anyway. Brooke sighed. “It has everything to do with him.”

  He wasn't being a dick, but she damn sure was doubting herself. Was she sensitive about her occupation and her gender? Hell, yeah. Had she seen a boogeyman that first day? Shit. Maybe.

  But she couldn't shake the truth that their attraction had deepened the moment she'd gone soft as they stood in waist-high grass. He definitely wouldn't have made that speech if she hadn't admitted to being jealous. He could have just told her he wanted her. Splitting hairs, but she refused to be an obedient little woman again who ignored her own instincts, beliefs and heart just so she could be with someone.

  Frustrated, she shoved a hand through her hair and tried to explain that to her friend. “Take me greasy, prickly and foul-mouthed. Let that be why he falls for me. Instead of him falling for me in spite of being greasy prickly and foul-mouthed.”

  Peyton sighed. “You're right. I do love that the most about you, but I also know you're sweet, nice and kind. Yes, you're doing all this work for your business, but you'd have found a way to do it anyway for the community. That's who you are. Why do you think Dane can't see you the same way?”

  Did she trust him? Yes. Something she wouldn't have said before last night. She said, “Because Dane isn't looking for a best friend. He's looking for a woman. I'm sure when you're thinking about good qualities in a best friend you aren't thinking incredible in bed.”

  “Where else would I get good sex advice from?”

  Brooke sighed. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes. I hate to agree. I do. I saw you guys last night. Everyone did. No one is going to believe you guys hate each other. Not after last night.”

  “We were drunk.”

  “And if you guys truly hated each other, I would have had to bounce you two for fighting.”

  Brooke gave her a droll stare. “We were dry humping in a bar that isn't a club. You should have bounced us.”

  Peyton laughed. “You remember that?”

  “I remember too much.”

  Her friend laughed harder. “It's why I didn't fight you guys. I was more than sure either you or him would have found a way to each other's house. Too drunk to find your way, you'd die from hypothermia. Plus, you guys have been—sleeping with him, being with him is what you've wanted for a very long time, Brooke. You just used being drunk as the best excuse to do it.”

  Had she? No. The better question was when did Brooke first suspect she could like Dane? It was after their third run in, and then it only became worse as she saw him with Reid, and then Tate. Hell, everyone in town. Dane had a way about him that put everyone at ease. He wasn't quiet or shy though. He was extremely likeable. So to keep herself from falling into his orbit, she had held on to that first miscommunication and so had he.

  And now what did she have to protect her heart? Nothing.

  Her pride made her say, “I would not have gone to his house.”

  Peyton raised her brow. “Really?”

  Brooke relented. “I'd have thought about it, but I wouldn't have gone.”

  Her friend made a noncommittal noise.

  Brooke groaned. “Doesn't change the fact the buck stops here. I'm too confused about the whole thing with him. Sex would only complicate it. Case in point, he's been sexting me since I left his house.”

  “Sexting? Dane, really?” Peyton leaned forward. “What does he say?”

  She pulled out her cellphone and showed her friend. Peyton laughed again. “He's been sending you pictures of classic cars.”

  “Porn to me and I'm incredibly turned on.”

  Peyton's brows crept up. “He's seducing you? With pictures of cars?”

  “Yup.”

  Peyton looked shocked and then impressed. “This isn't going to end well for you.”

  Her phone beeped just as her friend finished that statement. He'd sent her a picture of a 1967 Mercury Cougar, baby blue paint with the original ponies.

  Dane had set his sights on having her, and he wouldn't stop until she caved. And that was a point of contention. He wouldn't see it that way. He was sending her pictures of cars that he knew she'd like. Every time her phone beeped her heart would skitter, she'd get excited.

  His sexting was kind of sweet and cute. He'd keep right on trying to own her in the bedroom, every bit of her. It might not be a conscious act on his part, but the way he had seduced her—even while drunk—told her that's exactly how he liked things. The only answer he'd want was yes. The only arousing reaction for him would be submission. She'd love it, every second of it, until one day she found herself sitting in the kitchen waiting for him to come home.

  For her own sanity, she couldn't let him get past her safeguards. It scared her that he could. Scared her even more that a part of her wanted him to.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dane paused at the doorway. Only essentials filled Brooke's bare office. Desk, file cabinet, computer and worst of all, beige paint.

  Brooke had a fierce scowl as she worked on the ledger on her desk. A ball cap hid most of her ponytailed hair, but she'd pushed the hat up just past her hairline.

  He hadn't seen her in a week, so it didn't feel wrong to just stand there and take in his fill. It had only taken twenty-four hours of sending her car porn before she responded in kind: first editions of classic books. As a book lover, of course, his heart pounded. As a bookstore owner, he almost fucking swooned.

  They were courting each other in their own strange way, but a face-to-face meeting was necessary to move them along to the next step.

  “Are you going to stand there drooling over me being dirty and sexy, or are you going to say something?”

  She sounded annoyed, but he'd watched her draw in a breath. She was forcing the frown to stay in place but was slowly losing the battle.

  He kept his expression blank, but his palms grew damp. “Brooke.”

  That made her look up, turning her scowl toward him. “Took you long enough to hunt me down.”

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets in hopes the added bulk would hide his sudden erection. “It's a small town and yet you still managed to hide. Gotta give you credit.”

  A corner of her mouth tilted up. “I've been busy, like I told you.”

  He arched a brow at the obvious lie. “Actually, you said if I sexted you one more time you'd shove my phone up my ass.”

  She glanced down, likely to hide her true reaction—a smile. “Yet you continued to do so.”

  Dane was done lying about what was happening between them. “Foreplay,” he answered simply. “But, I actually came by to give you the final bachelor list.”

  She fiddled with the brim of her cap before opening a drawer and pulling out a book. He frowned but stepped from the doorway.

  She put her hand over the book, hiding the title on the spine. “When I haven't been terribly busy, I've been reading.”

  Another step closer and he could see part of the stitching on the hardback. His heart skittered. “What is that?”

  She shrugged without dislodging her hand. “You don't like romance novels so I don't think you'd be interested.”

  He said his words carefully, because now he was leaning over the desk and could see how well it was handcrafted. “Tell me what book it is.”

  It was getting harder for her mouth to stay fixed in a frown. “Why is it exactly you don't like romance novels?”

  His skin was prickling. She smelled so feminine even with the mix of engine oil. “I'm not a misogynistic asshole.”

  “Never—okay, I have called you that, but not lately.”

  His gaze slid down to her mouth. She bit into her lip and blood continued to rush from his head.

  He said, “We haven't talked face to face in a week.”

  She laughed, her voice deeper, huskier. “Got me there.”

  “Tell me,” he urged.

  “Pride and Prejudice. Now, I'm not a bookseller, but within certain comm
unities, the first edition hardback of this book would...well, it means a lot.”

  His eyes narrowed on her, but his hands itched. “I thought you hated that book?”

  She lifted her hand, and he could see she wasn't just pulling his leg. In her grungy office, she just happened to have a first edition. She said, “Decided to give it another try.”

  Dane actually felt faint. He dropped into the chair across from her. No question. She came from money. Not for the first time he wondered who had owned all those first editions she'd sent pictures of. She had them or knew someone who did. She licked her lips and heat slid down his chest.

  “Now you're just fucking teasing me,” he said.

  “Really? I have no idea what gets you off.” She pushed the book to the edge of her desk. “You came here for a reason. What's up?”

  His gaze was drawn to the book. “Not considered a romance.”

  “Come again?”

  “Pride and Prejudice isn't considered a romance novel. Not by today's standards.”

  Whatever flirtatious light was in her eyes dimmed. “So that makes it okay for you to like it?”

  “No. Not what I meant.” He was surprised at her immediate tension. He thought they'd gotten past that. “Everything has a love story. I just prefer mine with explosions and dead bodies. Let me see that book.”

  She folded her hands on her desk, brows up. “You hunted me down for a reason.”

  His reason for dropping by had flown out of his head after seeing her and had definitely flown the coop after seeing the book. “To kiss you...but right now, I'm feeling randy.”

  The words had the desired effect because her mouth fell open. “Dane.”

  He groaned, not all for play. “First editions.”

  “Dane,” she said on a laugh, “pull it together.”

  He rose from the chair, grasped hold of her coveralls and tugged her halfway across the desk. Her eyes widened, but she placed a knee on the top to keep her upright.