"Why not?" he asked, his lips skating over my neck, my shoulder. "You're allowed to hate me just as much as I'm allowed to want you. It's always been that way."
"That is not how"—my phone's sharp, distinctive peal cut me off—"I have to get that."
Without argument, JJ untangled his limbs from my body. He watched as I scrambled off the bed to locate my device in the heap of clothes discarded on the floor. "Don't you have people who can answer your calls? I know you're important, but aren't you allowed a couple of hours when the world doesn't need your opinion on where to put money to make it grow faster?"
"This isn't work, it's my father," I shouted, snatching the phone from my coat pocket. I pressed it to my ear, still kneeling on the floor with the coat clutched to my chest. "What happened? What's wrong?"
The first thing I heard was crying in the background. High pitched sobs and wails that I would've recognized anywhere. Then, I heard the words.Accident, inconsolable, bleeding. I was certain the home health aide was speaking in full, thoughtful sentences, but I couldn't comprehend any of it.
"I'll be there in five minutes. Please try to keep him from injuring himself any further," I said, pushing to my feet. I ended the call and flattened the phone against my breastbone, my eyes shut as I searched for a calming breath.
"I'll drive you." Even with my eyes closed, I knew the sound of JJ stepping into his jeans and fastening his belt. The rustling that followed was the black thermal I'd ripped off him hours ago, the one he'd added back into the rotation after I'd complained about its absence. "You're not hoofing it through a spring snowstorm."
Unable to find that calm breath, I opened my eyes. I slipped into my clothes, stuffed my underwear and socks in a pocket. "That won't be necessary."
JJ held out my boots to me. "It wasn't a question."
"Neither was my refusal." Wobbling, I gripped his forearm as I jammed my bare feet into the rubber wellies. Gross, but necessary. "Stay out of it."
"Please put your outrageous arrogance aside for a minute and acknowledge when it makes sense to accept help," he said, following me to the front door. "The roads haven't been plowed and the sidewalks are buried under six inches of snow and ice. You can be right about everything else, Brooke, but you can't—"
I didn't wait for him to finish that thought. I walked straight into the storm.
Chapter Twenty-One
JJ
Net Operating Loss: excess of business expenses over revenues.
Once again,Brooke was going to do what she wanted, how she wanted. It was up to me to decide whether I'd chase after her this time.
By the time I rolled up beside her, she'd waded all the way to the end of my street. Lowering the window, I called, "You're being ridiculous. Get in."
"Go home, Jed."
I wanted to let myself believe I wouldn't have followed her if it wasn't an emergency, but I didn't know about that. At this point, there wasn't much I wouldn't do for her, even when she insisted she didn't want it. And this was the tricky truth about Brooke:shedidwant it.
I pulled ahead of her, stopped the car, and stepped out into the snow. I pressed a hand to my heart and watched as she slipped and bobbled on the slick road, a fine layer of snowflakes crowning her head. Fickle, headstrong, and too fucking breathtaking for me to stand. And then I darted toward her, grabbing her around the waist and tossing her over my shoulder while she screeched and flailed. I dropped her into the back seat like a beautiful bag of potting soil.
When I settled behind the steering wheel, Brooke shouted, "That was unnecessary."
"I asked you nicely," I replied. "Several times."
"I know how to handle myself in a snowstorm," she argued.
I glanced at her in the rearview mirror as I drove through the village. "It's a good skill to have."
"I don't need anyone coming to my rescue."
I could hear her pouting. "Never crossed my mind that you would." I pulled into her driveway, turned off the car. Shifting to face her, I said, "I told you I wasn't letting you walk home alone in this storm and I didn't. I'm not letting you deal with this"—I hooked a thumb over my shoulder, toward the sprawling estate—"by yourself. Understood?"
Instead of agreeing outright, she climbed out of the car and said, "This is Vegas. What happens here, stays here."
I pocketed my keys and followed her to the door. "Everyone knows that mandate to be false."
She glanced at me, shrugged. "It's not false when I'm in charge."
I matched that shrug. "Whatever you want, Bam. I'm not going to fight you on the validity of tourism slogans."
