Not His Type (An Opposites Attract Romance)

by Lisa Crane

  “Mike, I’m sorry, but I’m really exhausted, and I just want to go home.”

  They were only about two miles from Brooke’s house. She had her hand on the door, ready to jump out as soon as he stopped in her driveway. Instead of continuing on to her house, however, he slowed to a stop on the side of the road. He turned partially in his seat and looked at Brooke, his expression hard and calculating. He placed a meaty hand on her leg.

  “So this is the thanks I get for letting you keep your job?” he asked. “And for bringing you home out of the kindness of my heart?”

  “I don’t think it’s your heart you’re interested in right now!” Brooke snapped. “Get your hand off m – ah!”

  Mike had suddenly squeezed Brooke’s thigh hard, his thumb digging into her already tender flesh. Tears sprang to her eyes as she tried unsuccessfully to pry his fingers from her leg.

  “Please stop!” she begged. “Please!”

  He laughed and Brooke’s vision flashed red and black, a combination of pain and sudden anger. In the close space of the little car, Brooke swung her left arm as hard as she could, the back of her fist catching Mike across the bridge of his nose. His grip loosened and Brooke threw open the door. Slipping and sliding along the muddy shoulder of the road, she ran as fast as she could, ignoring the pain in her leg, ignoring the cold and the deluge falling from the sky. Behind her, she heard the little car’s engine race and headlights lit up the night around her.

  Brooke slipped and fell, her hands stinging as gravel tore into her palms. She threw up a hand as if to ward off the oncoming car. Suddenly the Karmann Ghia fishtailed and skidded to a halt; a pair of headlights – much higher headlights – blinded Brooke as she scrambled to get up.

  “Brooke!” a voice shouted.

  Brooke instinctively stumbled toward the voice. A pair of hard arms enveloped her, lifting her and carrying her. She felt a solid wall of muscle beneath her head, and heard the reassuring beat of a strong heart. She was deposited gently inside a warm vehicle. Pushing her wet hair from her face, she watched as Travis Cooper stalked toward the little car, which was stuck in the mud on the side of the road.

  In the headlights from Travis’ big Hummer, Brooke could actually see the moment when Mike Schmidt realized he was in serious trouble. His face was pale behind the windshield and his eyes widened comically. He scrabbled at the door to lock it, but wasn’t fast enough; Travis Cooper jerked open the door and yanked Mike out of the car by the front of his shirt. Travis’ fist plowed into Mike’s face; Mike crumpled to the ground and slumped sideways into the mud. Brooke could see Travis pointing his finger and speaking in what she could only surmise was a threatening manner. Schmidt cowered at the larger man’s feet. After a moment, during which Brooke saw Travis shake himself as if shaking off his anger, he turned and strode back to the Hummer. He climbed behind the wheel and slammed the door.

  Without a word, Travis put the Hummer in gear. He made a U-turn in the road and drove the short distance to his house. As soon as he put the Hummer in park, Brooke was out the door, limping as quickly as she could to her own house. Travis was right behind her, his booted foot preventing her from slamming the door; it bounced back against the wall.

  “Brooke, where have you been?” Travis demanded angrily. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours! And what were you doing with that creep?”

  “I was at work!” Brooke snapped.

  “I called the bakery, Brooke! Nobody answered! I drove to the bakery and the sign said they close at five!”

  “Yeah, and then I went to the mall and got my old job back!”

  “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” His voice was still hard, angry.

  Brooke sank down onto the sofa, heedless of her wet, muddy clothes. She unconsciously rubbed her aching thigh. Looking at the pathetic picture she made, all the anger left Travis. He lowered his voice.

  “Brooke, sweetheart, why didn’t you answer your phone?”

  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my phone is about a million years old,” Brooke said tiredly. Eyes closed, head resting on one hand, the other hand continued to rub her leg. “It doesn’t hold a charge very well anymore. It died. And I had no idea you’d be looking for me, Travis. I am not your problem, remember?”

  “So the creep in the Karmann Ghia was…?” he prompted, ignoring her statement.

  “My boss from Hot Diggity’s. Mike Schmidt. Yeah, it’s been a banner evening.” She gave a little shuddering sigh. “Let’s see, first I groveled to get him to let me keep my glamorous, minimum wage job at the food court. Then he generously let me buy a too-small tee shirt to wear at work tonight. After being on my feet for several hours, and being ogled all night by Mike and pretty much all the male customers, I discovered my car wouldn’t start. Mike just happened by and offered me a ride. I had no way to reach anyone, and no one to call anyway.” She took a deep breath. “Against my better judgment, I accepted a ride from him.”

  “What happened, Brooke?” Travis asked. He’d edged close enough to sit next to her on the sofa, and now he gently rubbed her back. “Why did you jump out of that car?”

  Another big sigh. “All the way home, he kept trying to get me to go have a drink with him,” she answered. “When he finally got that I really meant no, he got angry. He – he squeezed my leg. I begged him to stop, but…he wouldn’t. Just squeezed tighter, digging his thumb in like he knew exactly where it would hurt most. When he stopped the car, I knew I had to get out. I just jumped out and ran. And that’s when you came along.”

  “Aw, Brooke,” Travis said, his voice low and gentle. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault,” Brooke said shrugging. “And again, I am not your problem.”

  Brooke finally raised her head; tears made tracks through the mud on her face. Suddenly, she rose and dug in her pocket; she pulled out a handful of money, the bills wrinkled and damp. She took Travis’ hand, turned it over and pressed the wad of money into it.

  “That’s for the electric bill,” she said evenly.

  Brooke turned and limped toward her bedroom. Travis watched her go. At the door, she spoke over her shoulder without looking at him.

  “You can let yourself out,” she said quietly.

  Chapter 12

  Travis remained where he was, listening to the sounds of Brooke running a bath. He stared at the money wadded in the palm of his hand. The woman’s pride was going to be the death of Travis, he just knew it.

  Travis rose and went to Brooke’s kitchen, where he set about making a cup of tea. He looked in the pantry where he knew he’d find some canned soup; he’d put it there himself after a quick shopping trip when he’d noticed how bare Brooke’s kitchen was. He was stirring the soup when Brooke entered the kitchen, rubbing a towel over her still damp hair. She stopped when she saw Travis.

  “You’re still here,” she observed. She sighed. “Travis, what are you doing?”

  “Heating soup. Making tea. What does it look like?”

  “No,” Brooke replied. She made an encompassing gesture with her arms. “Paying the hospital bill, I kind of understood. But checking up on me at work? Coming to the bakery to see if I was still working? Coming to look for me when I didn’t answer my phone? The electric bill? Soup and tea? Those things, I don’t understand, Travis.”

  “Brooke, no offense,” Travis began, “but since we’ve met, I’ve seen you sprawled and bleeding in the street, cold and wet and sitting in the dark because your power’s been shut off, upset over your mother apparently altering a check you wrote her, worried over a minimum wage job, and now, tonight, running through the rain in the dark from some creep who tried to assault you! You’ll excuse me if I think it looks like you could use a little help.” He sat in a chair across from her. “Is it so hard for you to accept a little help, a little compassion?”

  “In my experience, the price for a little help is usually more than I’m willing to pay.” Her deep violet eyes met his crystal blue ones, her gaze steady.
“Like sexual favors in return for a ride home.”

  Brooke watched as a muscle twitched in Travis’ jaw. The look on his face made her think he wanted to punch someone again. After a long moment, he seemed to regain control of his anger. Travis held his hands up, palms facing her.

  “I promise you, Bunny-girl,” he said solemnly. “I don’t want anything in return for helping you.” He paused. “No, that’s not quite true. All I ask in return is your friendship.” He extended one hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  Brooke hesitated for so long, Travis began to think she wasn’t going to shake his hand. He couldn’t remember ever having met anyone so stubborn and independent. Finally, she reached out and placed her own small hand in his larger one and shook it firmly. She quickly withdrew her hand then and began to eat her soup. Suddenly, she stopped and looked up at Travis.

  “Do I even want to ask where this soup came from?” she asked him, eyes narrowed at him. “I know what my pantry and fridge looked like.”

  “Probably not, no,” he answered, smiling sheepishly. He leaned back in his chair and sipped soup directly from his own mug. “So what are you going to do about Schmidt?”

  The way Travis dragged the man’s name out made it sound like a vulgar word that rhymed. Brooke looked at him curiously.

  “Brooke, you can’t just let him get away with what he did!”

  “I don’t think he got away with it, do you?” she asked. “I saw you punch him in the face.”

  “I’m talking about the police, Brooke!” Travis growled.

  “It would be my word against his, Travis. Let it go.” She sighed. “But I won’t be going back to Hot Diggity’s. Guess I’ll have to find another part-time job.”

  “Aren’t you going to work full-time at the bakery?”

  “Well, yes,” Brooke admitted. She shrugged. “I’m going to have to drop my courses at school anyway, so I might as well work full-time, right?”

  “You quit school?”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “I missed tests in two classes.”

  They remained silent for a few minutes, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Travis rose; he placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. He turned back to face Brooke; he leaned back, his hips against the counter, arms folded across his chest.

  “What are your plans for tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Church,” Brooke answered tiredly. “Then probably nothing.”

  “Can I go to church with you?”

  “You?”

  “What, you think I’m some pagan?” Travis chuckled. “I go to church.”

  “Um…okay, sure,” Brooke finally agreed.

  “Wow, thanks,” he said wryly. “I’ve never had to practically beg to get someone to let me go to church with them.”

  “Sorry,” she murmured, blushing slightly. “You caught me off guard.”

  Brooke yawned and Travis grinned at her, asking, “You took pain pills, didn’t you?” She nodded. “Good girl.” He straightened away from the counter. “I’m gonna get outta here and let you go to bed then. Get some rest.” Travis startled Brooke when he bent over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “G’night, Bunny-girl. See you in the morning.”

  Brooke stared after him until she heard the front door shut behind him. She rose and put her own mug in the dishwasher, then went to her bedroom where Boo already lay on the bed waiting for her. Brooke turned off the light and slid between the sheets. She slept almost immediately.

  Chapter 13

  The next morning, Travis knocked on Brooke’s front door. His Hummer sat in the driveway, already warm and ready to go. The door swung open and Travis smiled down at Brooke. She wore a simple straight black skirt with a royal blue sweater. Her dark hair hung loose, falling softly around her shoulders. She tilted her head back and returned Travis’ smile.

  “Good morning!” Brooke said cheerfully. She stepped back. “Come in, please. I just need to grab a jacket.” She walked toward the closet, speaking over her shoulder. “Would you like some coffee? I can pour some into a travel mug for you, if you’d like.”

  “I’m good, thank you,” Travis answered. “You look very nice.”

  Brooke gave him a cheeky grin as she said, “So do you.” She pulled on a black wool overcoat. “I’m ready.”

  Only if one looked very closely would one notice the worn spot at the hem of one sleeve on Brooke’s coat. Careful inspection would also reveal a missing button on one sleeve, and a slightly crooked line of stitches where a pocket was repaired. The coat was also just the slightest bit too large for Brooke’s frame, making Travis wonder if it were second-hand. Clamping his lips closed over a sigh, he placed a hand at the small of Brooke’s back and ushered her out of her house. He gave her a hand up into his Hummer, then went around to the driver’s side.

  “Nice and warm in here, isn’t it?” Brooke noted. She smiled. “I can’t say I’m completely sorry my car is out of commission right now, because the heat’s not working very well.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, just how old is that car?”

  “It’s an eighty-two.”

  “You drive a Chrysler Cordoba that’s older than you are?” Travis’ head swung sideways to look at her for a moment. “Where did you get it?”

  “It was my grandpa’s,” she answered. “It’s been a good car.” She gave a tiny little sigh. “Although lately I seem to spend more time under the hood than behind the wheel. I didn’t even look at it last night to see if I could figure out what was wrong. I just wanted to get home.”

  “Regular grease monkey, are you?” he teased.

  “Not by choice,” she chuckled. “It’s just been less expensive to try to maintain the car myself, rather than take it to a garage.”

  “Why don’t we take a look at it this afternoon? Together.”

  “You don’t have to –“ Brooke began, only to be cut off by Travis.

  “I know I don’t have to, Brooke,” he said. “I’m offering. Okay?”

  “We’ll see.”

  When they arrived at the small church Brooke attended, she immediately felt eyes upon them. She could only imagine people were wondering what a man like Travis Cooper was doing in the company of Brooke Valentine. Travis, on the other hand, realized there were just as many pairs of male eyes following Brooke as there were female gazes on him. He wondered if any of the men had ever asked Brooke out on a date.

  Brooke slid into a pew and Travis sat beside her. It was only a minute or two before a man stood up at the front of the church and began to lead a song. Travis reached for a songbook and held it between him and Brooke; after the briefest of hesitations, Brooke held the book with him. She opened her mouth to sing, but stopped and turned to look at Travis in surprise. His voice was deep when he spoke, but when he sang, it sent shivers dancing up and down Brooke’s spine; his voice was deep and rich, a warm honeyed baritone. Travis sensed Brooke’s gaze on him; he smiled down at her and continued singing. After a moment, Brooke turned her attention back to the songbook in her hands and began to sing as well.

  During the sermon, Travis rested his arm along the back of the bench behind Brooke’s shoulders. She could feel his solid warmth near her body and wondered what it would be like to know a man like Travis loved you. A blush heating Brooke’s cheeks followed that thought. Travis glanced down at her curiously. She gave him a half-hearted smile and looked away.

  When church was over, Travis looked over at Brooke as they rose to leave and asked, “How about lunch? My treat.”

  “Travis….”

  “Brooke, you have to eat, right?” He took her hand firmly in his and pulled her along to the parking lot. “Come on, humor me.”

  Travis helped Brooke into his truck, his hands at her waist. The engine rumbled to life and Travis pulled out of the parking lot. His glance flicked to Brooke, then back to the road.

  “What are you hungry for?” he asked her.

  “Travis, I’ve eaten greasy diner food and hot dogs at work f
or the past two years,” she said dryly. “I’m really not that picky.”

  Travis smiled at her humor. The restaurant he chose was a tiny little Mexican restaurant and Brooke recognized it as one she’d eaten at a few times. Travis pulled into a parking space and came around to open the passenger door; he helped Brooke down, being careful of her leg. As they walked to the front door, he glanced down at her and spoke.

  “How’s the leg?” he asked. “No ill affects after last night?”

  “A little stiff,” Brooke answered. “But that could just be the usual stiffness after the accident. I’m okay.”

  When they were seated, Travis looked over his menu at Brooke. As if feeling his gaze on her, she glanced up. Her eyes twinkled at him and she smiled.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I was just thinking,” he said. “You seem different today.”

  “Well, yeah,” she agreed. “I’m not dirty, wet, bleeding or any combination of the three.”

  “Ah, that must be it!” Travis laughed. The server approached, they placed their orders, and the server left them alone again. Travis looked at Logan. “Actually, though, I said you seem different. Not that you look different.”

  Brooke shrugged a little, saying, “It’s Sunday. I get to go to church, I don’t have to work – basically, it’s my one day a week when I’m not worrying about a million different things.”

  “What do you worry about?”

  “Oh, no you don’t, Travis!” she laughed. “We talk about me every time we’re together! My leg, my dog, my car, my something! Today I want to hear about you!”

  “What do you want to know?” Travis asked, smiling.

  “The realtor mentioned you were former military.”

  “I am,” he replied, nodding. “I did three tours in the Middle East.”

  “What branch?”

  “Marines.”

  “And what are you doing now? Besides playing mother hen to me?”

  “Well, as you know, I’ve started a security firm,” Travis answered. He gave Brooke the same explanation he’d given Riley Parker the previous day. “All of my employees are ex-military, as well. Everyone has a specialty. Some of us may overlap in areas of expertise, but between us, we cover just about every scenario you could think of.”