My breath hitched. He looked…God, he looked better than he had any right to. His suit fit him too well, his grin was too easy, and something about the way he filled my doorway made my heart stutter in my chest.
“You’re gorgeous,” I said before I could stop myself.
His smirk deepened as he held out a bouquet. “These are for you. Or for Annette. I couldn’t decide on the way here.”
Bright yellow. My stomach flipped, my throat tightening unexpectedly. No one had ever given me flowers before. Not for a birthday, not for a holiday, not for any reason at all.
I swallowed hard. “No one’s ever…” I trailed off, blinking at them like they might disappear.
Brooks’ smirk softened into something quieter. “Then they’re definitely yours.”
I stared down at the bouquet, fingers brushing against the delicate petals. Why was this making me feel like this? He’d given me things before—stolen fries, borrowed hoodies, a million dumb nicknames. But this was different. This wasn’t teasing. This was just…kind.
I turned, placing the flowers in a chipped vase on the table, and that’s when Brooks’ eyes landed on the stack of books beside them.
“Nursing textbooks?” His voice was curious, not mocking. He flipped one open, scanning the notes I’d scribbled in the margins. “Jesus, Michelle. Some of these words don’t even look real.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Try memorizing them.”
His fingers traced over a highlighted passage, his expression unreadable. “I know you work your ass off, but seeing all this? Damn, I don’t know how you do it.”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling too exposed. “You just…do.”
Brooks looked up at me then, something steady in his gaze. “No, Michelle. You choose to. And it’s incredible.”
My throat tightened. No one ever said things like that to me. People praised me for working hard, for pushing through, for grinding it out—but they never looked at me like it actually meant something. Like I meant something.
I forced a smirk, trying to lighten the moment. “Look at you, saying nice things. Who are you, and what have you done with Brooks?”
His mouth quirked up. “Don’t worry, I’ve still got a few bad pickup lines left.”
He stepped closer, his large hands finding my bare shoulders, his touch warm and grounding. “You’re like a glass of water,” he said, his voice lower now, more thoughtful.
I blinked. “I think you mean a tall drink of water?”
“No. I meant what I said.” He leaned in, pressing the lightest kiss to my cheek. “Looking at you makes me thirsty.”
A laugh bubbled up, breaking through the thick tension. “Oh my God. That was terrible.”
He grinned, clapping his hands together. “Phenomenal. My plan is working.”
I rolled my eyes, placing my hands on my hips. “And what plan is that?”
“Well,” he said, puffing out his chest like he was incredibly proud of himself. “First, the flowers. Then, the worst pickup line you’ve ever heard. And now…” He pointed toward the door with a dramatic flourish. “A limo is waiting outside.”
I blinked. “A what?”
“A limo.” His grin widened. “I figured if you didn’t go to high school dances, you deserved the full experience—cheesy lines, fancy rides, and the chance to scream nonsense out of a sunroof.”
The laugh that escaped me was shaky, surprised. If I didn’t laugh, I’d sure as hell cry because these emotions were so damn new. I didn’t know how to handle this. Physical relationships made sense—flirting, teasing, bodies pressed together. But this? This quiet thoughtfulness, this kindness—it made my chest ache. It was terrifying.
It wasn’t something I could get used to. Because things like this? They never lasted.
Brooks must have noticed the shift in my expression because his forehead creased, his voice dropping. “Hey, hey. Why the long face? I thought you’d be excited.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to push away the thoughts clawing at the back of my mind. This was Brooks. He wasn’t doing this to mess with me.
And maybe, just for tonight, I could let myself believe in it.
