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It’s easier this way. I may need her like the air I breathe, but I can’t have her. Can’t touch her, no matter how much I fucking want to. Not until this business with Charlie is done.
But seeing Brooke more this summer has been hell, and I’ve been losing my self control. A grin here, a forehead kiss there, and accidentally calling her Daisy at random times.
It’s like half of me knows I need to stay the hell away from her, but the other half of me doesn’t fucking care.
I sigh.
Get it together, Blaze.
I have work to do. Later tonight, I’m taking the new rookie at Grayson Security out for his first shift in the field. And before that, I promised Dominic I’d call to update him on how the quarterly income reports are coming. He took over the company from our dad a while ago, and ever since I graduated college, I’ve been helping him more and more instead of doing field work.
I reach for my phone, but it’s not in any of my pockets. Or in the cupholders beside me, or in the passenger seat.
Fuck.
I left my phone at Brooke’s place.
I pull back out of the garage. I’d say I’m ticked that I have to go back, but it’d be a lie. Every second with Brooke is like a breath of fresh air, and I’ll never get enough of her. Even if it kills me at the same time.
Her garage door is still open, so I head in that way, knocking as I enter. Irritation bites at me that she didn’t set the alarm, but I’m not surprised.
“Brooke?” I call out, stepping into the kitchen.
I hear a squeal, and then a clatter, right before Brooke comes into view, a book dropped at her feet.
. . . Her feet, and then her bare legs, and then... nothing except a tiny pair of panties and a pale pink T-shirt.
Fuck me.
“Blaze? Wh-what are you—why are you back?” Her eyes are wide as she snatches her book from the floor and places it on the counter next to a mug with a teabag in it.
It takes me a moment for her words to register. “Phone. I came back for my phone. Forgot it.”
“Oh,” she says, and I swear there’s a twinge of disappointment in her voice.
Tearing my eyes from her, I search the kitchen. “Have you seen it?”
“I don’t think so.” She turns to glance into the living room, rising up onto the balls of her feet to see better. “Oh, I think it’s on the coffee table.”
I hear her words, but I have no clue what she said. All of my focus is on her ass as she heads into the living room, bends down, and—
I close my eyes. Don’t be an idiot, Blaze.
“Are you okay?” Brooke pauses, and then— “Ohmygod. Oh god oh god oh why, Brooke? Why? Okay, you can open your eyes now.”
I do, and to my relief—and disappointment—she’s grabbed a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around her waist. Her face is beet red as she shuffles forward and hands me my phone.
“I forgot I wasn’t wearing shorts,” she says, tightening the blanket around her hips. Her cheeks are bright pink.
Or a bra, I think, doing my best not to stare at the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. “Just close the garage door after I leave,” I say tightly. Don’t you dare touch her. Don’t you dare.
She nods, watching me carefully. Am I imagining the slight dilation of her pupils, or the way her chest is rising up and down in an uneven pattern?
For what feels like an eternity, we just stare at each other in silence. Then she takes a small step back from me, biting her lip. And there. It’s just a small flash in her eyes, but it’s there. Want.
But she shakes her head, almost to herself, before taking another step back—catching the blanket and losing her balance. I grab her before she crashes to the floor. And with both arms wrapped around her, the blanket half on the floor, half caught between us, I realize just how bad of an idea it was to touch her.
“Blaze—” My name comes out of Brooke’s mouth as a gasp. She grips my arms, and that’s when I realize that she’s still tilted backward, only held up by me.
