Maybe a little too much.
And now I’m about to spend my afternoon and evening with him.
Alone.
With wine.
Four bottles.
Did I mention alone?
Chapter
Fifteen
DUTTON
“I can’t believeyour fancy plan was to come to my house,” Brooke says as I pop the cork on the second bottle of wine.
We drank the first over her telling me about her day and how Mrs. Buckley came in with the flowers and Brooke ended up coming to see me to celebrate. Somehow, she decided the first bottle of wine was the celebration for me taking someone off the list, and then she found some desserts and repeatedly told me how proud she was of me.
Is it weird that I basically sipped two glasses of wine and just let the sound of her voice soak into my skin, relieving all the bullshit of my day?
Brooke does that to me.
No one has ever done that to me.
My father had been on my ass about pointless shit since the moment I got to work. Gavin was pissed, because if the AC wasn’t broken, it was the heater, and he’s convinced someone is doing this shit on purpose.
I’m starting to agree with him.
Add in the fact that my mom stopped by looking for my dad to go to lunch but couldn’t find him … I just needed something to take it all away.
Then I saw the book Brooke and I are reading, which then led me to think of her, and slowly, my day improved.
Then she showed up and it was like I could breathe again.
Maybe that’s what happened yesterday at the festival. Maybe I subconsciously put it all together and now I don’t know what it means.
I watch her rosy lips move, and with every word of her story, I can't help but wonder how they’d feel against mine or what they’d taste like. Would they taste like sugar, or would they taste like wine?
Probably wine.
The culprit for these thoughts.
And yet, after only a few weeks, I can tell you right now, going back to a life without Brooke in it isn’t an option for me.
“Did you hear anything I just said?” she asks.
I sigh.
I won’t lie to her, but I sure as shit won’t tell her what I was really thinking either. To say my thoughts of the woman standing before me are complicated is an understatement.
“No.”
She nods. “All right. Then let’s change the subject. Do you want to see the website I’m building for the online store I want for the bakery?”
Just like that. She’s not mad at me for not listening. I gave her an honest answer, and she just … accepted it.
