About Face (Love in the Suburbs Book 1)

by D. E. Haggerty

  Brodie smirks. He knows he has me. “Looks like we’ll be going out on a real date. Not a fake date.”

  I jump off the treatment table and grab my crutches. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Chapter 11

  A lady should shy away from gossip.

  “Francis, you have company!”

  Grandma’s shout wakes me from my afternoon nap. Instead of working sixty hours a week and rushing around to attend the latest hip spot, I now take naps every afternoon. Not only does my life suck, but I’m turning into my grandma. I wipe the drool from my mouth and force myself to roll out of bed. Literally, I have to roll out of bed. It’s the only way I can manage to get up. Told you my life sucked.

  “Hey, Shelby,” I say when I finally make it to the hallway to see her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

  “I heard a rumor, and you weren’t answering your phone.” She wiggles her phone at me. Not answering my phone? With a start, I realize I don’t have the first clue where my phone is. The thing used to be surgically attached to my hand and now I have no idea where it is. Totally turning into my grandma.

  “You rushed over here because you heard a rumor?” Either she’s not making sense, or my mind is still foggy from my nap.

  “Why don’t you go visit with your friend in the den and I’ll bring some snacks in?”

  I roll my eyes in Shelby’s direction. What are we? Twelve years old? I keep those thoughts to myself. Grandma may be old, but she has no problem bringing out the rolling pin to deal with my ‘sassy’ mouth. “Thanks, Grandma.” She smiles before shooing us off in the direction of the den. Thank goodness the room has a pair of French doors, although I wouldn’t put it past Grandma to have developed some way to eavesdrop. I can totally imagine her standing at the closed door with a glass held to her ear.

  Once we’re seated, I start in on Shelby. “Okay, what’s this big rumor you heard, which had you running over here post-haste? Shouldn’t you be at work or something?”

  She waves away my concern about her work. “Please, I’m a freelancer. I set my own hours.” She leans forward, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “The hospital rumor mill is saying Brodie asked someone out.” I feel heat hit my cheeks and duck my head to avoid Shelby’s gaze. “I knew it!” She does a fist pump. “He asked you out!”

  “Keep your voice down,” I shush her. “The whole world doesn’t need to know. And why are you part of the hospital rumor mill anyway?”

  She points to her right limb and rolls her eyes. I suppose missing a partial limb from birth equals spending a lot of time in hospitals and making friends with nurses and staff and such. “I’m excited. Tell me everything.”

  I try to stare her down, but my glare has no effect on her. She’s literally shaking with excitement. I slump back in my seat when I realize there’s no avoiding this woman and her questions. “There’s nothing to tell. I asked him to fake date me, he said no. But then—"

  “You asked him to fake date you?” Shelby is nearly shouting.

  “Shhh…” I glance towards the door, expecting Grandma to rush in, but it remains closed. Phew. “If Brodie ‘fake’ dated me, Grandma would get off my back and stop with these dinner set-ups. Did I tell you about the last guy? His girlfriend is in prison. Prison!”

  Shelby doesn’t care about Bert and his prisoner girlfriend. She wants to hear about Brodie. “But Brodie doesn’t want to fake date you, he wants to date you date you. He likes you,” she says in a singsong voice.

  “I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m a catch or anything.” I point to my cheek.

  Shelby rolls her eyes. “When are you going to get over that? Big deal. You have a scar on your face. You’re still stunning.”

  Big deal? Did she seriously dismiss my deformity? I open my mouth to give her what for but then my eyes catch her obviously fake right hand and realize I can’t yell at her how I’m a deformed mess because of a scar on my face when she’s missing part of her arm. Maybe I’m not that deformed?

  “The entire female staff of the hospital is green with envy. You know Brodie hasn’t dated anyone since he started there.”

  No way has the gorgeous man remained dateless. “Just because he doesn’t gossip about his love life doesn’t mean he didn’t date anyone.”

  “Well, he most certainly didn’t date anyone at the hospital and it’s not like women haven’t tried. Trust me, they’ve tried.”

  I get an uncomfortable feeling in my chest. I don’t like hearing about other women chasing after Brodie. I give myself a mental slap on the head. I can’t be jealous. He’s not mine to be jealous of. He’s merely taking me out on a date because he pities me. That’s all. End of story. Time to move on. “Anyway, did I tell you my assistant stopped by?” Shelby allows me to change the topic, and I proceed to tell her about Tara and how she’s trying to steal my job. “Which is why Jackson wants me to start my own company. Well, I think there’s more to it, but he wasn’t talking.”

  “That’s a great idea!” She bounces in her seat. “You wouldn’t have to move back to the city. You could live here.”

  “Um. What if I want to move back to the city?”

  Shelby continues as if my opinion were irrelevant. “There are a lot of businesses in town. We call it a town, but there are 150,000 people living here. It’s not like we’re in the Podunk middle of nowhere.” Isn’t she the one who calls this town the ‘boondocks’? “They’d be beating down your door for your services.”

  “Um, no. I find that hard to believe. I put together these huge, fancy events. I don’t see the used car dealership wanting a party with Cristal.” I may be a tiny bit of a champagne snob.

  “Maybe businesses don’t need those fancy-schmancy events you used to organize, but your skills could still be of service here.” She shrugs. “Think about it. The used car dealership does a sale every year. They do this big event, but every year it’s the same. There are some balloons and flags. Bor-ing! You can’t tell me you don’t have any ideas on how to improve their annual sale event.”

  Of course, I can improve the local used car dealerships annual sale event. That’s hardly the point. I don’t want to do small events. I’d probably end up being a wedding planner if I stayed in town. Which there’s nothing wrong with. Not at all. But spending all my time dealing with bridezillas? Nope. Been there. Done that. Have the t-shirt to prove it. The bloody t-shirt. Long story.

  “I can’t stay in this town anyway. Where would I shop? I can never show my face in Target again!”

  Shelby snorts before she starts laughing. “You should have seen the manager’s face when I yelled at him for discriminating. You know he didn’t even make me pay for my M&Ms and I had like fifty dollars’ worth!”

  She never told me that. “Where’s my share of M&Ms? Did you eat them all?” Shelby nods. “You pig.”

  She snorts like a pig. “Oink. Oink.”

  Grandma barges in as we’re giggling ourselves silly. She sets the tray of brownies and coffee she brought with her down on the coffee table. “It’s too bad Shelby doesn’t want you, Francis. It’s important to have a partner you can laugh with.”

  I open my mouth to tell Grandma – yet again! – I’m not gay, but Shelby gets there before me. “Too late, Mrs. Taylor. Frankie’s already dating someone.”

  I shoot daggers out of my eyes at Shelby who merely winks in response. “I’m not dating someone,” I insist. “I have one date. One.” For good measure, I hold up my index finger and repeat, “One. It’s not a big deal.”

  Grandma helps herself to a brownie and sits down on the sofa next to Shelby all settled in for a chat. She ignores my protests and demands Shelby ‘tell her everything’.

  Shelby grabs a brownie before describing Brodie to Grandma. “His name is Brodie. He’s her physical therapist, and he is scorching. Like, melt your panties with a single glance.” She fans herself. “He’s tall and broad, but it’s all muscle. He’s got this dark and dangerous look to him. In short
, he looks like a Greek god.”

  “Nothing less than a god for our Francis.” I roll my eyes at Grandma.

  “And everyone at the hospital is super jealous,” Shelby continues. “But he only has eyes for our girl, Frankie.”

  She doesn’t know that! I’m going to kill her. Just as soon as I can google which poisons taste good with chocolate, she’s a goner.

  Chapter 12

  A lady should never kiss a gentleman until the third date.

  I stand in the hallway by the door waiting for Brodie to show up. The moment I see him, I’m rushing out of the house before Grandma catches on. Not being able to sit still while waiting for my hunky physical therapist to show up has nothing to do with it. Nothing at all. Because I’m not nervous and excited. Not at all. The doorbell rings and Grandma rushes past me. Sneaky woman. She must have been standing right behind me.

  “You must be Brodie!” Grandma exclaims and pulls him in for a hug. His eyes bug out, but he hugs her back. Before I can blink, she releases him, grabs his hand, and starts for the living room. Not good. Also, not happening.

  “Grandma.” She ignores me and keeps moving down the hall dragging my date behind her. No way am I going to let her interrogate him. As soon as she finds out it’s a pity date, she’ll start setting me up with the grandchildren of her friends again. No, thank you.

  “Grandpa!” I hear a chuckle before my grandfather steps into the hallway. Grandma stops. She gives him the stink eye. He winks at her.

  Grandpa sticks his hand out. “I’m Bill Taylor. Nice to meet you, son.”

  “You too, sir.”

  As soon as they release each other, I pull on Brodie’s arm. “Shouldn’t we get going? I thought you said we had reservations?” I’m making stuff up. I have no idea where we’re going or what we’re doing. I assume dinner. Gosh, I hope he feeds me. I’m starving.

  Brodie chuckles but says goodbye to my grandparents and walks to the door, which he opens for me. A gentleman. I like it. As he’s closing the door, Grandma shouts, “She’s doesn’t have a curfew! Have fun!”

  My face burns. “Oh my god. I’m sorry. My grandma’s crazy, but I swear it’s not hereditary.”

  “It’s fine. She seems like quite the character.” ‘Character’? Yeah, sure, let’s go with that.

  I stop when I see his truck. How in the world am I going to get into his beast of a vehicle?

  “I got you,” Brodie whispers. Goosebumps spring to life where his breath passes over my neck. My mind knows this is a pity date. My body, however, is ready to strip down and see how his beard feels against my bare skin. He reaches around and opens the door before grabbing my crutches and setting them on the floor. His hands wrap around my waist, and he lifts me into the seat as if I weigh nothing. Then, he makes sure my legs are tucked in and shuts the door.

  I watch him walk around the truck as my skin tingles from where he touched me. He didn’t even touch my bare skin and it’s tingling. This is not good. Not good at all. Pity date, Frankie. Pity. Date.

  “Ready?” He asks as he starts the truck. I look out the window to see my grandparents have pulled the curtains back in the living room and are watching us leave. I thought Grandpa, at any rate, would give us some privacy. Guess not. I nod. I’m more than ready to get out of dodge.

  A short drive later we pull into the parking lot of a bar and grill. I look down at my outfit. I’m not exactly dressed for a casual evening out. I’m wearing a white pleasant blouse with a blue and white striped, fitted skirt that reaches mid-calf. Thankfully, I no longer need to wear a bulky leg brace. My thin wraparound brace still peeks out of my skirt but at least I’m able to wear fitted clothes again.

  Brodie jumps out of the truck and runs around to help me out. I bite my lip when he opens the door. He’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved button-down shirt. He looks right at home at this place. Me, not so much. He leans forward. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  Before I have a chance to respond, he grabs my hips and drags me out of the truck. He keeps one arm around my waist as he reaches for my crutches. I don’t lean into him and melt. I don’t! I may have stumbled a bit and need his support. That’s all. Honest.

  Brodie keeps his hand on my lower back as we walk into the bar. Well, he walks. I’m still doing the crutch shuffle. The noise of the place nearly knocks me off my feet when he opens the door. I hesitate as I look around and let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Everyone is dressed like Brodie. The few women I see with skirts on are wearing jean skirts. I feel completely out of place even before you add in my deformed face and leg.

  “Come on, it’ll be fine,” Brodie coaxes. When I don’t move, he leans forward and whispers. “You’re not chicken, are you?”

  I narrow my eyes at him. How dare he call me chicken! I’m not chicken. “Come on, then. Let’s go.” I start across the room, and Brodie steers me towards an empty booth.

  A few people look up as I hobble towards our table. I keep my head tilted down with my right cheek angled towards the floor. I hurry as fast as my crutches can take me. I don’t need to see the pity on anyone’s face when they catch a glimpse of me. I feel more relaxed once I’m seated. No one can see my leg while I’m seated. I’ve also strategically sat on the side of the booth with my right cheek facing the wall.

  This is my life now. Trying to avoid catching strangers’ eyes to prevent seeing the pity in theirs, constantly considering where I sit to ensure my face is hidden, and wearing clothes to hide my scarred leg. The thunk of menus hitting the table puts an end to the downward spiral of my thoughts.

  “What can I getcha?” the waitress asks.

  “I’ll have a beer,” I order. “Whatever IPA you have on tap.” Brodie clears his throat. When I look at him, he raises an eyebrow. I roll my eyes. “It’s fine. I didn’t take any pain pills today, Dad.” He chuckles before ordering the same.

  Once the waitress leaves, I allow my eyes to roam around the place. The atmosphere shouts sports bar. There are televisions set up on every available wall space, each one showing a different game. In the area behind us, there are pool tables, all of which are occupied at the moment. At the end of the bar, there’s a stage with a small dance area. There’s no one playing now, though.

  “They usually have live bands on the weekends, but I guess not tonight,” Brodie says when he sees me checking out the stage.

  I shrug. “It’s not like I can dance.”

  “It won’t be long. You’re making great progress.” Great progress? I put some weight on my leg yesterday for the first time. Whoopie. Sarcasm intended.

  “Hey.” Brodie reaches forward and grabs my hand. A warm feeling spreads from where he touches me through my arm to my chest. I quickly pull my hand away. Something flashes in Brodie’s eyes, but he quickly masks it before leaning back in his seat.

  I smile, but I know it’s shaky. I don’t know what I’m doing here. Brodie’s way out of my league. And I’m only in town until I can walk those darn three flights of stairs. I need to get back to my job in the city before I lose it. Some stupid skank named Tara is not stealing my job.

  “Skank, huh?”

  Oh, shit. Did I accidentally voice my thoughts? I fan my face. Is it suddenly warm in here?

  “What’s going on with your job?”

  I explain to Brodie how my replacement has been acting. I don’t tell him she’s running around calling me deformed. It may be true, but I don’t want to talk about it. “Which is why my assistant, Jackson wants me to start my own company. He went so far as to say he’d move to the suburbs to keep working with me.”

  “Is starting your own business something you’d consider?”

  “No way. No how. I’ve fought entirely too hard for my position at the firm to give it up now.” I don’t tell him I’m terrified of returning to the city. I can’t keep this bandage on my face forever.

  Brodie reaches forward and pulls my hand away from my face. “Stop it.” I didn’t realize I was covering
my scar. How can I stop it when it’s a subconscious act? “You’re beautiful.” I scoff. Yeah, right. He shakes his head at me, but the corners of his lips turn up. “I’m going to have to keep saying it until you believe me then.”

  “Crazy. Party of one.” I point at him. He laughs as our waitress returns with our drinks. She stares at Brodie as she plops our beers down. I can’t blame her. The man is utterly gorgeous when he laughs. Who knew white teeth peeking out from a beard was hot? Brodie doesn’t pay the waitress one lick of attention. Finally, she clears her throat and he looks up.

  “Are you ready to order, sugar?” She practically purrs at him. Oh, geez. Seriously? No need to purr, chickadee, I know he’s way out of my league. Brodie catches my eyes and reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. Behave, he mouths. As if. He orders our burgers while keeping his eyes steady on me. The waitress stands for a moment waiting for him to look at her. When he doesn’t notice her, she huffs and stomps off.

  “Do you know her?” Oops. I didn’t mean to ask. I do not want to know about Brodie’s former conquests.

  “Not really. I come here often, and I’ve seen her around. We’ve never talked or anything.”

  “Well, she wants to get to know you.” I watch as the waitress, probably suspecting we’re talking about her, puts an extra sway in her walk. “She’s pretty.” She is. I can’t lie.

  “The only pretty woman I’m interested in is sitting across from me.”

  “Oh, please!” I scoff with a roll of my eyes. I don’t bother calling him a liar, but it’s obvious he’s delusional.

  By the time we pull up to Grandma’s house at the end of the evening, my stomach hurts from laughing and the muscles in my face are sore from smiling. “Thanks for a lovely evening,” I tell Brodie as he helps me out of the truck.

  “I had a great time,” he says as he puts his hand on my lower back and guides me to the front door.

  “Um…” I stumble over my words when we reach the front porch. Before I have a chance to figure out what to say, his head is descending, and his lips touch mine for a brief kiss. There and gone before I can decide how to respond.