“Nah,” he leaned in and pecked her. “We’ll just keep you up here all weekend. There’s no need for you to go down until you have to. I can bring up anything you need. The longer you stay off that ankle, the better.”
“But you have to let me pay you, Brandon—”
“Hell no!” he said with a furrow of his brows. Then he smiled again, and, God, she could get used to that smile. “But you can keep thanking me the way you have so far.”
Cradling his face with both hands, she kissed him. “Thank you.” She kissed him again a little longer. “Thank you.” Then she went even deeper, making him as crazy as she was beginning to love feeling him get.
“Thank you,” he said, this time with a groan and leaned her back into the pillows piled up behind her, making her giggle against his lips.
Chapter Thirteen
Brandon
Lying there in his bed, reflecting on the day’s happenings, Brandon couldn’t decide if the turn of events had been a good thing or if he’d fucked up royally. He kept asking himself the same questions: What the hell was he thinking? What was he doing?
This went beyond wanting to help someone in need. He couldn’t hide what was happening behind that façade anymore. Taking the day off to help her out for the day was one thing, but offering to continue doing so for the rest of the weekend, especially knowing how impossible it would be to keep his lips off hers now, was a whole other monster.
He may as well toss his rulebook—the one he’d lived by for years—right out the window. So far he’d broken every last damn rule in that book. He’d gone back for more after last night’s kiss. He’d practically told her she’d been under his skin since the moment he’d laid eyes on her. If memorizing the way she’d ordered her salad way back at the airport didn’t say he’d been putting way too much thought into her, he didn’t know what did. Hell, he even told her about Sofie, something he hadn’t spoken to anyone about ever. This after spending a day and a half with her?
There was no way he could deny feeling an attachment to her already. When she’d brought up Lansing, reminding him of what she’d asked the guy at the ER, he’d been ready to spit nails. Why? Because just like seeing Rodriguez with her, the thought of her feeling anything for anyone else after just a few kisses had him burning up.
For someone who for years said he’d never show interest in anyone else’s personal life, he’d been utterly immersed when she’d brought her tablet out tonight to show him photos of her Grandpa Boot. She’d then proceeded to show him all her other photos on her tablet of her family, and he’d been equally engrossed. Seeing photos of her when she was a young high school girl fascinated him. He wouldn’t tell her, but she looked even more like Sofie than he first thought. That wasn’t the fascinating part. While he’d felt a bit envious of her normal and happy upbringing, the only photo he’d seen her in where she wasn’t smiling hugely was the one she didn’t know he’d seen in her wallet. Except for when she’d gotten a little emotional about her grandpa, the girl was nonstop sunshine and happiness. It was contagious, and after just spending a day and a half with her, he’d begun to smile and even laugh a lot more.
Once again, the sirens were going off, but unlike before, he was seriously considering silencing them. He had no idea where this might be going. Nor did he know where he wanted it to go.
They’d talked for hours tonight. She’d offered to turn on the television, but he passed, preferring instead to talk. He wanted to talk—get better acquainted with someone—something that had always made him so uncomfortable before, not because he was in anyway inept at holding a conversation but because he feared enjoying such conversations. That would mean enjoying said company, which in turn would lead to wanting to spend more time with anyone, which ultimately meant attachment. But tonight he’d wanted it, and he’d enjoyed every minute of it. It was insane. Though, in hindsight, she’d done most of the talking.
At one point, he’d been lying there in her bed with her snuggled up next to him, wondering what the hell he was doing there. How the hell did he let this happen? And then she’d kiss him, and all those doubts about whether or not he should get up and run from there as fast as he could, would go away.
He could no longer say he hardly knew her anymore. Tonight they’d talked in depth about her family, her career, and her friend Janecia, the one he’d seen her having dinner with at Gaslamp. The only significant part of her life she merely brushed over was her late husband, who’d passed away suddenly last year in a motorcycle accident. Brandon picked up on the fact that she hadn’t planned on talking about all that, until he asked her about the last relationship she’d been in.
Judging by how emotional she’d gotten when the subject of her grandpa was brought up and the fact that she’d admitted to not dealing well with loss, Brandon didn’t push. It was one thing to see her cry over her grandpa, but he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about seeing her cry over a guy she’d obviously been in love with, someone she’d likely still be with if he were still around. Brandon wasn’t ready to deal with something that heavy yet—he didn’t know if he ever would be. This whole attachment thing, to anyone, would be completely new to him. If he decided to let it happen, he wasn’t sure how good or bad he’d be at it. Already, he was beginning to feel an unreasonable sense of entitlement to her. Hearing her talk about her feelings for someone else, even if in the past, was not something he’d be looking forward to. So if she chose to never talk about her late husband again, he’d be just fine with it.
He too had been pretty short on subjects he’d rather not talk about. Keeping it as simple as possible, she now knew the basics about him. He had no siblings. Both his parents had died years ago, one of cancer and one in an accident. Regina was obviously as good as he was at picking up on sore subjects, because she’d let it go, not pushing for details.
Brandon’s phone buzzed, and he was almost afraid to check it. Regina had programmed her number into his phone tonight and texted herself so they’d now have each other’s numbers. He’d just spent the last six or seven hours straight with her and then came home only to think of her nonstop. This could very well be her because no one else ever called or texted this late. He was as afraid as he was anxious to see if it was.
He smiled at the envelope and caption: Text from Regina. Clicking on it, he opened and read it.
Just wondering if you’re having as hard a time as I am sleeping. I CANNOT stop thinking about you! =O
Feeling that now familiar smile spread across his face—the one that hadn’t made an appearance this often until Regina—he let out a small groan, closing his eyes. Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing. Having someone in your life that made you feel this good couldn’t be that bad, right?
He sat up and texted back.
Thanks for this. I was beginning to think maybe I was nuts. I’ve been lying here since I got home, thinking about everything we talked about today.
Waiting there in the dark, knowing he was smiling like an idiot, he thought about something. He was living proof that fate could very instantly and very drastically change whatever plans you’d made for your future. Could his life be taking a turn once again—this instantly? And was he really going to let this happen?