“We need to talk.” Gulp. ‘We need to talk’ has my vote for the four most dreaded words in the English language. I straighten my backbone and nod. I can do this. He motions me to the office.
I take a seat in the chair, but Brodie leans against the desk in front of me. “What’s up?” I try to sound cool and unaffected, but my voice hitching probably gives me away. I knew our date was a pity date. I knew it! But that didn’t stop me from fantasizing it could be something more. I guess this is what I get for daring to hope I could have a love life despite being deformed. Maybe I should look into joining a convent. No need to search for clothes that hide my leg scars if I were wearing a habit.
“Are you paying any attention to me?” Brodie chuckles when I shake my head no. “Like I was saying, I think Carrie is a good match for you.”
“Match for me?” What in the world is he talking about?
“You have to understand I can no longer be your therapist.”
Huh? My eyes widen. “You don’t want to work with me anymore?” I don’t give him a chance to answer before continuing. “I mean, I know the date wasn’t the greatest. I’m sorry you felt obligated to take me out, but I can forget it if you can.”
He growls and pushes off the desk to kneel in front of me. “You’re not hearing me. I can’t be your therapist because I can’t ethically be a therapist for someone I’m romantically involved with.”
My eyes widen. Is he serious? “You mean this has nothing to do with me embarrassing myself out there?”
Brodie chuckles as he grabs my hands and squeezes. “Stop avoiding the issue. And don’t lie and say the date wasn’t the greatest.” My mouth drops open. Is he saying …? He leans forward and plants his lips firmly on mine. It takes me a nanosecond to respond. He sips at my lips, and I’m all in. By the time he releases me, I’m clutching his shirt and gulping for air.
“That.” He bops me on the nose. “That’s why I can’t be your therapist.”
I’m not sure what we’re talking about anymore, but I nod anyway. How can I not agree with him when he’s looking at me with his eyes soft like melted chocolate?
Chapter 15
A lady should refrain from speaking of intimacy.
The doorbell rings, and I groan. Grandma and Grandpa are out running errands, and I have zero desire to get up from the comfy sofa and answer the door. So, I don’t. It’s not like I know anyone in this two-horse town anyway. Well, except Shelby and Brodie. Both of whom should be working. The doorbell rings again. My response? I increase the volume on the television. I know it’s childish, but I need a break from humanity.
“I can see you in there!”
I jump and nearly spill my soda at the sound of someone shouting from close proximity. I look over to see Jackson with his face plastered against the living room window. Oh no, if he’s standing in Grandma’s rose bushes, there will be hell to be paid!
“Get out of there!” I frantically motion him towards the front door. Of course, I forget I still have my soda in my hand and end up spilling it all over the place. Why didn’t I close the curtains when my grandparents left?
“What are you doing here?” I ask once I’ve let Jackson in, and we’re settled in the living room.
“What am I doing here?” Jackson jumps up and starts pacing the room. “Are you seriously asking me that?”
“Um … yes?” I scrunch my nose at him. He’s acting like I shouldn’t be surprised he showed up here in the middle of the day without calling first. Of course, I’m surprised. I’m not clairvoyant.
“Tara is on the fucking warpath. Since you showed up at the Just You event, she’s been on a tear.” He collapses on the sofa across from me.
Oh crap. I knew Tara was going to be pissed when I showed up at the event, especially after the CEO effectively dismissed her to talk to me, but I didn’t mean to put Jackson’s career in jeopardy. “I’m sorry. Why don’t you ask for a transfer? Go work for someone else instead of her. Actually, hold that thought. You should put in for a promotion. You’ve been my assistant for years. It’s time you started working on your own events.” Jackson started at the firm as my assistant to get some work experience straight out of college. He wasn’t supposed to stay my assistant forever.
He waves my suggestion away with a flick of his hand. “Please, it’s not as if I don’t plan events.” True. I pretty much give him free rein with smaller events. “Besides, it’s a moot point anyway. There are no vacancies right now.”
Bummer. “What can I do to help? You want me to call Devon?” Devon may be the boss, but he’s a pretty cool guy. Notwithstanding his decision to hire Tara.
Jackson scowls. “Um, no thanks, Mom. I don’t need you to call the boss for me. I can take care of myself.”
“Then, what do you want from me?”
“I want you to start your own firm. Preferably here in the suburbs.”
I moan. Where did this desire for me to start my own firm in the suburbs come from? I feel a grin form on my face as I get an idea. “Tell you what. If you tell me why you’re suddenly anxious to move out of the city after all these years, I’ll consider this whole starting a business thing.”
“Consider?” He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”
Darn. He knows me too well. ‘Consider it’ is totally code for ‘it will never happen’. The doorbell rings as I’m trying to come up with a way to trick him into telling me what’s going on with him. Jackson uses the doorbell as an excuse to escape and jumps up to answer the door.
“Damn, boy. Where has Frankie been hiding you?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Shelby. Frankie’s new BFF. Out of my way, I need to talk to my girl.”
Shelby comes stomping into the living room. “Damn girl. You have the market cornered on sexy men.” She fans her face as she plops down on the sofa. Jackson sniggers as he takes a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, a blush spreading across his face.
Oh, please. Jackson may be a good-looking guy. Who doesn’t love the blond hair, blue-eyed boy next door look? But he’s my assistant. No way am I jeopardizing my career by getting romantically involved with someone I work with. Dating your assistant is only a good idea if you happen to be the heroine in a billionaire office romance novel. Otherwise? No. Work relationships always explode in a blaze of glory. And guess who always loses? The woman, that’s who. No, thank you. Besides, Jackson is in a committed relationship – fiancé and all.
“What brings you by today?” I ask Shelby in the world’s lamest attempt ever at changing the subject.
“Why didn’t you tell me Brodie quit as your therapist, freak?”
Jackson explodes. “Who the fuck are you calling a freak?”
I wave my hand at him. “It’s fine. The nerd can call me a freak.”
“I’m sorry, Frankie, but no, it’s not okay. Who does she think she is? A little scar on your face does not make you a freak.”
“I—” Shelby cuts me off before I get the chance to explain.
“Dude, it’s fine. I’m being ironic.” She waves an arm to dismiss him before leaning forward and cradling her head in her hand. “Now, tell me everything.”
My response is cut off by Jackson’s gasp. “Oh my god, is that…? Are you…?”
Shelby glares at him. “I have a prosthetic arm. Get over it. We have gossiping to do.”
“There’s nothing to gossip about,” I insist. “Brodie quit as my therapist because it’s an ethical violation.”
She squeals. “See? I told you it wasn’t a pity date.”
“Pity date? You’re seeing someone?” Jackson’s voice has an edge to it, but I don’t get a chance to ask what’s gotten into him before Shelby answers him.
“Not just someone. Nope. Our little Frankie has gone fishing and caught herself the town’s most eligible bachelor.” Her voice is breathy, and her eyes are dreamy.
“Exaggerate much?” I wave a hand at her before addressing Jackson, “Ignore her. I do. Let’s get back t
o you and the matter at hand. How are we going to stop Tara from making your work life hell?”
Jackson stares at me long enough for the moment to get uncomfortable. Finally, he shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’ll figure something out.” He stands. “But you need to consider starting your own company.” With that parting shot, he waves and walks out. What the …?
“Uh oh. Someone’s jealous.” Shelby declares after we hear the door shut.
“Seriously? You’ve got sex on the brain.” No way is Jackson jealous I’m seeing someone. Why would he be? He’s got a gorgeous girlfriend. They’ve been together since high school. Survived being separated in college and are now engaged. Nope. There’s something else going on with him. It may take some time and digging, but I’ll figure out what.
Chapter 16
A lady should never complain.
“Grandma,” I whine when I see the extra place setting at the dinner table. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t set me up on any more dates.”
“I agreed to no such thing,” she claims as she bustles around the table.
“But you met Brodie. You know I’m dating someone.” I keep pushing. I absolutely do not want to sit through another dinner with a grandson of one of her friends. I shudder to think of what would be wrong with the next guy because history clearly indicates there will be something wrong.
Grandma rounds on me. “Are you? You haven’t heard one word from him since your date a week ago.”
Where did she get such a crazy idea? “Of course, I have.” We’ve been chatting a bit. And I did see him at a therapy session on Monday, although he was absent when I had my first session with Carrie today.
“Well,” she huffs. “I haven’t seen him around here again.”
“Grandma,” I inhale deeply and try to rein in my anger. “I don’t know how it was in your day but nowadays, it’s normal for people who are dating to not see each other for a week or so.”
“How ridiculous.” She plants her hands on her hips. “What’s the point of dating someone if you never see them? It’s fine. I think you’ll like Dan.”
No, I’m pretty sure I won’t like Dan. “Why don’t I call Brodie? See if he can come to dinner?”
Grandma smiles before setting another plate on the table at a place setting, which had already been set! Oh my god, my grandma played me. Totally and completely. Played me.
Brodie immediately agrees to dinner with the family. Silly man. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into. Unfortunately, he needs to rush home and shower after work, which means Dan arrives before him. Dan isn’t bad looking. In fact, with his sharp cheekbones, bedhead brown hair, and blue eyes, he reminds me of James Marsden in 27 Dresses. Unfortunately, the man is more than aware of his good looks. He swaggers into the dining room as if he were a runway model. I deal with these ‘beautiful’ people for my work all the time. They are usually too self-involved to pay attention to anyone other than themselves. Why did I invite Brodie to this shit show?
“You must be Francis,” he says as he looks me up and down. His gaze gets stuck on the bandage on my right cheek. The corners of his mouth turn down, but he quickly recovers and smears a smile on his face. I clamp my hand on my thighs to stop myself from covering my cheek with my hand.
“Frankie. You can call me Frankie.” I motion to the seat across from me. He grabs his phone from his pocket and puts it on the table before sitting. Way to prove my point about self-involvement, asshole.
“Now tell me, Frankie—” His phone beeps. He holds up a finger before grabbing his phone. He chuckles as he reads something. He quickly types a response and then looks back to me. “Where were we?”
My mouth gapes open. Where were we? You were being a rude jerk while I sit here looking like a total frigging idiot. I open my mouth to give him what for, but Grandma bustles in carrying a large casserole dish.
“I made chicken pot pie. You’ll love it. I don’t use those pre-made pie crusts. My pie crust is one-hundred percent homemade.” She sets the dish on the table, and I sniff. It smells fabulous, although I personally don’t have a problem with pre-made pie crusts. Not all of us have hours to spend in the kitchen to make pie crust. Hours in the kitchen? I slap my forehead. I should have known Grandma was up to something when she spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen.
Brodie walks in and comes directly to me. “Hi, beautiful girl,” he whispers before kissing my forehead. He tries to shake Grandma’s hand, but she pulls him in a hug.
“Glad you could make it,” she whispers. Yep, she totally played me. Brodie chuckles as he takes his place next to Dan.
“What is this? One of those bachelor episodes? May the best man win kind of situations?” Dan smirks. “I’m cool with that.”
I snort. Does he seriously think he has a chance? I look up, and he winks at me. Yep, he thinks he has a shot. Wrong.
We proceed to dig in. In addition to chicken pot pie, Grandma has made buttermilk biscuits and Caesar salad dripping with dressing. My jeans protest my second serving of chicken pot pie. I’m going to need a whole new wardrobe by the time I move back to the city. Dan plays with his phone the entire time, although his phone doesn’t stop him from stuffing his face. I’d say something about keeping his lean body while eating like a pig, but I’m afraid he’d think I’m interested. In case there’s any doubt, I’m not.
It doesn’t take us long to decimate the pot pie and biscuits, although there is some salad left. “I have a chocolate cake for dessert,” Grandma announces before standing to clear the supper dishes. Brodie immediately stands to help.
“Excuse me,” I announce. I manage to get myself to my feet before hobbling off to the bathroom. I quickly – well, as quickly as a gimp like me can – take care of business. When I open the door, I’m shocked to see Dan leaning against the opposite wall. “It’s all yours,” I say before trying to scooch past.
He moves to stand in front of me. “I was waiting for you.”
Dare I ask why? Sure, I do. “What’s up?”
He closes in on me. “I sat through the entire circus of dinner. You owe me.”
“I owe you? I didn’t invite you here, and no one forced you to stay.” Or to eat three helpings of chicken pot pie.
“Come on. You know you want me.” My eyebrows practically fly off my head. Want him? Where did he get such a crazy idea from? “I don’t mind servicing the ugly girl.” He reaches forward to grab my arm but is suddenly pulled away from me.
“You’re done.” Brodie locks Dan’s arms behind him and proceeds to frog march him out of the hallway and out of the house. I barely make it in time to see Brodie slamming the front door.
“That was awesome!” I shout. I try to hug him, but my balance is still questionable and I knock him down instead. We end up in a tangle of arms and legs on the floor. I tell him thank you about a gazillion times as I kiss his face all over.
“What is going on here?” Uh oh. Grandpa does not sound happy. But when I look up at him, I see he’s barely containing a smile.
“Where did Dan go?”
“Uh…” I’m not telling Grandma Dan got handsy. “He needed to leave.”
“Damn straight. He needed to leave,” Brodie mutters before getting to his feet and helping me up.
Grandpa turns on Grandma. “Are you finally done with your infernal matchmaking, woman?”
She pouts. My seventy-something-and-counting grandma sticks her lip out and pouts. “But I want Francis to find love and be happy.”
“Open your eyes woman.” Grandpa points to Brodie and me. Brodie has his arm around me, and he’s playing with my hair. I can feel him shaking from silent laughter. I elbow his stomach but – ouch! – his muscles are rock solid.
“I guess as long as Francis and Brodie are dating, I’ll stop with the matchmaking.”
“Hallelujah.” Grandpa shuffles off pulling Grandma with him.
“You don’t have to continue dating me. I mean, sure, I’d like to go out with you again, bu
t no pressure. You can do what you want.”
Brodie places his finger over my mouth. “You’re not getting this are you?” I open my mouth to ask what it is I’m supposed to be getting, but his mouth descends on mine. His lips meet mine, gently at first, but when I open my mouth to his, his lips become urgent.
“No kissing in the hallway!” Grandma yells from the living room. “But feel free to go make out in Francis’s room!”
“Oh my god.” My face flames and I duck my head. Can she be any more embarrassing?
“I need to get going. But I’ll call you.” Brodie waits for my nod before kissing my forehead and leaving.
I collapse against the door as soon as he leaves. His kiss certainly didn’t feel like a pity kiss. A smile stretches over my face and I feel my bandage pull on my skin. My smile dies. What am I thinking? There’s no way Brodie is interested in me. The ugly girl. A tiny voice in my head points out how he defended my honor. I take that tiny voice, stuff her in a closet, and slam the door on her delusional self.
Chapter 17
A lady is always quietly courageous.
Hey beautiful!
We’re sorry. You’ve reached the wrong number. Please check the number before trying again.
Ha! Ha! You are the most beautiful woman I know.
Delusional much?
Slap! Ow, that hurt. I rub my thigh and scowl at Carrie, my new therapist, who is glaring down at me. “Put it away.”
“You didn’t have to slap my leg,” I pout. “You could have asked nicely.”
“Please.” She grunts. “You’ve been phoning it in this entire session.”
“Yeah, right.” I put my phone in my pocket. As if anyone can phone in a PT session with her. I thought Brodie was a tough trainer. Snort. I had no clue. Carrie is like a drill sergeant on steroids. She doesn’t know the word try, only do. It’s actually her motto. Don’t try. Do. Try telling that to my leg. And I’m pretty sure she stole ‘her’ motto from Yoda anyway.
“Hey, freak!” Shelby’s clear across the therapy room as she greets me.
About Face (Love in the Suburbs Book 1) Page 8