SEVEN
JUSTIN AROSE FROM HISsleepless night, turned and slung his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed his eyes then peered through half-closed lids at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Eight a.m. It’d been quite a while since he’d awakened this late. The change was nice.
He stretched before sliding his feet into Brad’s slippers sitting on the floor. The morning chill caused goose bumps to ripple over his skin, so he hurried to the closet to find Brad’s robe. Justin pulled on the heavy terrycloth, tying the sash around his waist.
Turning toward the window, he opened the shade and squinted against the sun’s brilliant glare as it touched the snow-covered ground. The impact of last night’s blizzard had left the mountains covered in white powder, but this morning only a few flakes drifted from the sky.
He yawned, shaking the sleep out of his mind before heading into the living room to start a fire. As he set the wood in place, his mind drifted back to last night. Brooke had left him in a fit of confusion after she’d locked herself in the bedroom. He shouldn’t have kissed her, but the urge overpowered him.
It was that song. And the mistletoe!
Once the fire burned strong, he stepped back and rubbed his hands over his arms, helping the heat circulate through his shivering body. What had really happened to Brooke? Did some man attack her or rape her? That would certainly explain why she felt it necessary to learn self-defense.
He walked back into the bedroom to search for some clothes. He didn’t know what to think anymore, but the urge to earn her trust was strong. Not all men were mean and violent.
Justin grabbed some of Brad’s clothes and hurried into the adjoining bathroom to shower. The hot water helped bring warmth to his body, and by the time he climbed out and dried off, he had a much better outlook on today’s plans. Since the storm had snowed them in, he’d spend the day proving to Brooke that nice guys really do exist.
After dressing, he went into the kitchen and started breakfast, gathering the ingredients to make an omelet. After cracking open the eggs and spilling them into a fry pan, a movement out of the corner of his eye grabbed his attention. Brooke stood in the hallway wearing the clothes she had on last night, wrinkled from the night’s wear. Her eyes were slightly puffy and dark makeup shadowed underneath. He’d heard her crying during the night. Seeing the damage on her face tore at his gut.
Justin smiled, showing her his impression of the nice guy she didn’t believe in. “Good morning, angel. Did you sleep well?”
Twin spots of pink colored her cheeks and she lowered her gaze. “Yes, I guess I did under the circumstances.”
“Would you like to take a shower? It’ll make you feel like a new person.”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“There’s a shower in the other bedroom and some clothes in the closet. They’re men’s things, but I’m sure you can find something to wear.”
“Well, okay.” Her attention strayed to the omelet he stirred in the pan. “Will you save me some of the omelet? It sure looks delicious.”
He winked. “You bet. Now hurry along and take your shower or your breakfast will be cold.”
Smiling, she moved into the bedroom, locking the door behind her.
Justin didn’t want to think about her in the shower, but his misplaced thoughts wandered to her beauty once again. For most of his life, beautiful women had hung on his arm, and he’d never been deprived of a woman’s company. Even Robin, with all of her faults, was a very lovely woman.
Brooke was different, and he liked that she wasn’t so full of herself. She didn’t have the long legs Robin had professionally waxed every week, but Brooke’s were shapely, nonetheless. Brooke didn’t have Robin’s figure, but Brooke’s small frame fit perfectly in his arms while they danced last night. She didn’t have Robin’s artistic face either, but he was willing to bet Brooke’s natural beauty didn’t have to be covered with all that make-up women wore.
Yet it was more than her physical beauty that attracted him. There was no comparison when it came to her kindness, her heartfelt sweetness. Robin would never have that.
Once the omelet finished cooking, he placed a lid over the pan and set it aside, then looked in the refrigerator to see what else he could muster up for breakfast. Noticing a container of canned biscuits, his stomach growled. He took it out, popped the flimsy cardboard against the counter and set the dough on a cookie sheet.
While the oven preheated, he grabbed some plates and utensils and set the table. The water from the shower turned off, and his heart leapt with excitement. What would she wear? It didn’t matter. She’d look beautiful no matter what.
After putting the biscuits in the oven, he cleaned his mess, trying to make their first breakfast together nice. Sitting at the table, he waited for her to join him, drumming his fingers on the oak surface impatiently. The rhythm of his heart wouldn’t slow.
The bedroom door opened and his gaze flew to her. He stood slowly. His heart skipped a beat, making it impossible to breathe, let alone think. She was so beautiful it nearly knocked him senseless. The man’s large blue flannel shirt she wore covered most of her body, leaving her lovely legs bare, except for the tube socks riding high to her knees.
Her damp, white-blonde hair streaked with gold hung down her shoulders, curling slightly at the ends, and her make-up free face was naturally beautiful, just as he knew it would be. Dark, perfectly-shaped brows and long dark lashes enhanced her loveliness. Never in his life had he seen a woman more stunning.
