He glanced around, found a robe hanging on the back of her front door, and tossed it to her. When she pulled her arms back to slip them into the sleeves, his gaze zeroed in on her breasts. He licked his lips as his groin tightened. They’re amazing. He returned to the eggs, but continued to watch her as she stood up. Her entire naked body was visible for a few seconds before she swung the robe closed. I want her. Pres took a deep breath and whistled a mindless tune as he flipped the eggs over. Patience.
“Coffee’s ready,” he said, pointing to a mug on the small side table next to the bed.
“Thanks.” She closed her fingers around it and sipped. “Perfect. You got it just the way I like it.”
“I’m observant. Writers have to be.”
She padded over to join him. “Watcha makin’?”
“Fried eggs and toast. Not much happening in your fridge.”
“I don’t eat much at home. Correction. I haven’t eaten much at home in the past.”
“And you will now?”
“I’ll have to. No income.”
“Didn’t you or Lloyd cook when he stayed over?”
She blushed, dusting her cheeks with the prettiest pink. Gotta make her blush more often.
“Lloyd always ordered egg sandwiches from the deli.” She gazed at her feet.
“I see. I hate to waste money. Why should I order eggs when they’re so easy to make?”
“They look delicious. I’m starving.”
“You can have the rest of your steak sandwich from last night, too.”
“Yuck! Steak and onions at six o’clock?” She made a face.
Pres laughed. The toast popped up, and he went to work. Brooke stood out of the way while he masterfully buttered the slices then loaded the food on plates. He handed her one then followed her to the table. After putting his down, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Brooke softened against him.
“You were magnificent last night,” he whispered in her ear.
“So were you.”
“Any chance for an encore?” he asked, burying his face in her neck.
Brooke put her arms around him and moved up close. “I thought you’d never ask.”
The lovers wolfed down their breakfast and washed the dishes. In a heartbeat, Pres was leading Brooke to the bed, his body primed and ready to go.
* * * *
Brooke dried her hair with a towel as she lounged on the couch. Squeezing into her small shower with Pres had been a feat. But after washing each other, they got turned on and he took her against the wall. Ecstasy had rocketed through her veins like wildfire. She’d never made love in the shower before. Quiet, contemplative Pres was full of surprises. She picked out clothes from her retro drawer and prepared to bring brunch to Nan’s.
While Pres was combing his hair, she stole a glance at his torso. Shoulders so broad, she marveled he fit through her front door. Covering strong pecs was the right amount of hair tapering down his belly to disappear under the waistband of his pants. She chuckled as she gazed at that furry path, leading to pure delight. Best lover ever.
“Ready?” he asked, shrugging his shirt on.
“Zip?” she asked, turning her back to him. Pres stepped closer, folding his fingers over her bare shoulders. He caressed her for a moment with his thumbs before reaching for the zipper on her dress. A shiver shot up her spine as his fingertips traveled down her back.
She shook her hips. “Let’s go, can’t be late.”
“Can I help it if I can’t take my hands off you?” He pushed her hair aside, pulled up the zip, and kissed the back of her neck.
Brooke leaned back slightly and closed her eyes. “If you do that again, we’re never going to get out of here.”
“Would that be so bad?” he whispered, brushing his lips to her ear lobe.
“What’ll I tell Nan?”
“We’ll think of something.”
Brooke mustered her strength and leaned forward, away from Pres. “Come on. I don’t want to disappoint her. She counts on me.”
Pres sighed and headed for the door. They shopped at the bagel place, selecting an assortment of bagels, plus smoked salmon, and rugelach. He picked up the large coffee from Starbucks he had promised Marv. When they reached The Huntington, Pres stopped and kissed Brooke.
“Go on in. I’ve got to drop off Marv’s coffee. I’ll pick up Buddy and join you.” He stepped back, but she pulled him to her.
“Wait. A hug?” Needy girl here.
Pres cupped her cheek. When he smiled, she saw warmth tinged with lust in his eyes. He drew her in, tightening his arms around her. Brooke pressed her cheek to his chest. She delighted in his masculine scent with the slight addition of her pear soap. She listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart. Closing her eyes, she made a wish. To stay like this forever.
He kissed the top of her head then they parted. She smiled at him and went inside. She walked in and called out her grandmother’s name, only to come up short when she spied Harry kissing Nan. What the hell?
“Don’t you ring the bell, knock or something?” Harry said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Nan smoothed her skirt while her face turned several shades of red.
Brooke’s wide eyes took in the scene. She couldn’t help but giggle.
Harry raised a hand to stop her. “Regardless of what you think, you’re never too old for…romance.” He blushed at his own words.
“I’m not objecting, as long as Nan doesn’t.”
“Did she look like she was objecting?” Harry asked, a twinkle in his eye.
Nan’s face continued to redden. “Give me that,” she said, taking the bag from Brooke and disappearing into the kitchen.
Brooke leashed Freddy and Ginger and left the apartment. She took them for a quick walk around the block, as she was hungry. “You guys want breakfast, too, right? Let’s get back and eat.” The pugs followed along obediently, as if they understood her words. They both did their business and trotted next to Brooke as she turned the corner and returned to the building.
“Your grandma is one hot babe, Brooke. She’s beautiful. Best looker at the senior center,” Harry said while Brooke was unleashing the dogs. Ruth clanked together the dog dishes in the kitchen, and the hungry hounds ran in to snarf down their food. Harry continued to talk about Ruth’s beauty until she interrupted by returning with a platter of brunch goodies. Harry took the heavy dish from her and placed it on the table before he sat down. “Let’s eat. I’m starved.”
“Don’t they feed you at the senior center, Harry?” Brooke laughed.
“Not like I get here. This is my kind of food. The senior center only serves donuts and coffee. I gotta watch myself. If I get a pot belly, Ruth won’t go out with me, will ya, hon?” His wide smile lit up his dark eyes and wrinkled face.
Ruth returned his grin with a shy one before she helped herself to a bagel. Brooke glanced surreptitiously at Harry’s gut. He’s pretty slim for an old codger.
There was a knock on the door. Brooke couldn’t help it, she muttered “Pres” under her breath as she rose to open it. Freddy and Ginger were barking up a storm as they ran to greet the interloper. An answering bark told Brooke that Buddy was with his master.
His big smile warmed her heart as she admitted man and dog. He leaned over and brushed his lips against hers. Conversation at the table stopped. Brooke knew she’d be the next one to blush.
“Seems like I’m not the only guy getting a little action in this neighborhood.”
“Harry!” Brooke said, sensing the color rising in her cheeks.
“Well, well. You two finally went on a date?”
“You could say that,” Pres answered, grinning broadly. Brooke hit him in the arm and made a face.
“Oh? More than a date? I see,” Ruth said.
Harry laughed. “Romance is blooming in this apartment.”
Ruth patted her granddaughter on the arm as Brooke and Pres joined her at the table. “I couldn’t be happier
. Pres is a fine young man.”
“Sure beats the hell out of Lloyd,” she murmured.
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but you’re right. He sure does.” Nan took a bite of her bagel, her eyes glowing as she hopped her gaze from Brooke to Pres and back again.
Brunch turned into spending the day with Nan. Brooke needed her grandmother’s love and support. Harry hung for the day, too. He and Pres watched sports on television while Nan took down a recipe box.
“This box belonged to your mother.”
“Oh? Does it have an Alice B. Toklas brownie recipe in there?” Brooke shifted her weight.
“Now, stop. You must forgive them, Brooke. This hostility isn’t helping you.” Ruth placed her hand on Brooke’s arm.
“I know. It’s hard. I need them, and they’re not here. And there’s no good reason for them not to be here.”
“You don’t know what caused the accident. The police jumped to conclusions. The autopsy report showed only a trace of marijuana, not a huge amount. They don’t know if that caused the accident. It’s almost twenty years now, Brooke, honey. You’ve got to let it go.”
Ruth refilled the coffeemaker and put the recipes down. Brooke picked up the pretty decoupage box, weathered and slightly yellowed by age. She opened it. Inside were three-by-five, lined cards with recipes neatly hand-printed.
“You mother was a fantastic cook. She had a knack for it. Much better than I ever was.”
“How come you never showed me these before?” Brooke asked.
“You were always too busy, working, rebelling. Maybe now you’ll have some time to try them out. Maybe you have the same talent?”
“Me, cook?” Brooke laughed. “I doubt it.” But her curiosity got the best of her. She pulled out one that read “Poor Man’s Beef Stroganoff.” Poor man. That’s me.
She sat down at the dining room table and began to read. The cheers and boos coming from the men in the living room fell on deaf ears. Brooke got caught up in the recipes, searching through them, organizing them. There must have been seventy-five all together. She made piles of main dishes, appetizers, snacks, and desserts. She ran her thumb over the old card, feeling her mother’s soothing presence. Mary Lou had a knack for making every hurt better for Brooke when she was a child. Perhaps these recipes will do the same now?
Ruth brought out a tray with a pot of fresh coffee, milk, and sugar, plus a plate of rugelach. “Come boys, dessert.”
The men pushed to their feet. Pres came up behind Brooke, closed his fingers over her shoulders, and massaged. “That feels so good.”
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Going over some family recipes.”
“Thinking about learning how to cook?” He kept rubbing.
Brooke’s eyes closed. “Maybe.”
“Good idea. You’d be great.”
“How do you know?” She opened her eyes and turned halfway to look at him.
“Because you’re good at everything you take seriously.”
She grinned. “Guess that’s right.”
“From advertising to dog walking, from dancing to making—” He was stopped by a blow to his belly from Brooke’s elbow. Pres bent over, gasping for breath. “Brownies. I was going to say making brownies,” he squeezed out.
She laughed and snaked her arms around his middle. “You’re the best.”
The next morning, there was another one of those notices taped to her door. She snatched it up when she brought in the newspaper. She opened it and dialed her cousin Frank. He wasn’t in yet. Brooke threw on clothes and went out for a walk, bringing her cell phone and a fistful of her mother’s recipes. She’d swiped them from the box without Nan knowing. She sat on a bench and read through them again.
She stopped at The Boathouse for breakfast. The weather was warm, but comfortable. When she returned to her apartment, she was surprised to see a few pieces of furniture placed awkwardly on the sidewalk in front of her building. They looked like her sofa and coffee table.
A burly man came out of her building carrying a side table, followed by another hefting a small dresser.
“Hey! What are you doing?” She walked up to them.
“I’m cleaning out apartment 3B, lady. Get outta my way.” He tried to move her aside, but Brooke stood her ground.
“That’s my apartment! You can’t do that. Cart all this stuff back upstairs.”
The big man waved a piece of paper in her face. “See this? Says I can. And I am. Now, outta my way, or I’m gonna call the cops.” He shoved her shoulder hard.
She went sailing into a car and bounced off, skidding along the sidewalk. The pavement ripped at her bare legs. She cried out as her skin was torn open.
A woman came racing out of the building next door. “I saw that! That’s assault.”
“Call the cops, lady. Get the fuck out of my way.” He menaced her with a fist, and the small woman cowered.
Two of Brooke’s neighbors came out to see what was going on. But the big man kept carrying out her things and dumping them on the sidewalk. Pedestrians, annoyed at having to walk around the growing heap of personal belongings, mumbled about people not paying their rent.
Her neighbors brought out a first aid kit. Brooke was crying and shaking too badly to apply the bandages. Finally, her landlord showed up. He looked exasperated, not friendly.
“Look, Miss Felson, I told you again and again. You could have come to court. You didn’t. I have every right to take that apartment for my sister. You didn’t listen.”
“Mr. Gonzalez, what am I going to do?”
“You’ve had months to get it together, Miss Felson. This is the law. I’m sorry, but you should have thought of that before.” He walked away.
The woman from next door gave Brooke a tissue. She pushed down the panic rising in her chest and grabbed her cell phone.
“Miranda, you’ve got to help me. They’re carrying my furniture out and dumping it on the sidewalk!”
“Brooke? Is that you?”
“It’s me. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Slow down.”
“I’m being evicted! The effing landlord is taking my stuff and putting it outside. I need help!”
“Oh my God! I’m calling the Club. We’ll be right there.”
“I don’t have any place to go.”
“You do. You don’t want to, but you do.”
“I can’t. She’s—”
“Suck it up, Brooke. You can’t live on the sidewalk.”
There was a pause on the line. Then, “Thanks, Miranda.”
“You’re welcome. See you soon.”
She dialed the phone again. “Nan? I’m in trouble.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“What? No, not that kind of trouble. I’ve been evicted. Evicted! My stuff is all over the sidewalk, I’m bleeding, and I—” Brooke covered her mouth with her hand and started crying again. “I have nowhere to go, Nana,” she whispered.
“Of course, you do. The spare bedroom is empty. How can you get your things here?”
“My Dinner Club friends are coming with a van.”
“Excellent. I’ll call Pres.”
“No! Don’t do that. I don’t want him to know…”
“You’re going to live here, but he’s not going to know?”
Brooke sighed. “You’re right. You’re always right, Nan.”
“I’m calling him. I’m sure he’d want to be there to help.”
The woman next door brought out some cheese and crackers and a glass of wine for Brooke, who thanked her profusely. It was one o’clock, and she hadn’t eaten in hours. Before long, the van drove up. Whit and Hack got out first. Then Bess, Miranda, and Rory.
“This is the stuff?” Hack said, eying the pile. Brooke nodded.
“Piece of cake,” Whit rolled up his sleeves.
Miranda opened the back door. Each member of the club picked up something and carried it to the van. Brooke was limping, as the long cut on
her leg ached. The skin was bruising, and she wondered if she didn’t have a bruise on her hip where she had hit the car.
By six, all Brooke’s belongings had been loaded into the spare room at Ruth’s. Whit ran off to do his newscast. Nan treated everyone to pizza and beer. Pres showed up one step ahead of the pizza. Ruth took him aside and explained what had happened. He took Brooke into the kitchen, where they could be alone.
“Oh my God! I had no idea. I didn’t get Nan’s message until after lunch with my agent and two producers. Business, you know. Long. Vodka. I’m so sorry, Brooke.”
She waved her hand. “That’s okay. My friends were here. Everything’s done now. You don’t have to stay. I’m sure you have something else you need to do.” My real friends were here.
“Hey, don’t be like that. I apologized. Come on, forgive a guy, will ya?”
Brooke was too exhausted to stop her tears. Pres tipped her chin up then drew her into his embrace.
“The most horrible day of my life…” she moaned.
“I thought getting fired was the most horrible day of your life.”
She cried into his chest then sniffled. “Oh, thank you so much for remembering that.”
“I thought it might make you smile.”
“Nothing can make me smile today.”
Four pizzas arrived. The women and Hack went into action setting up the food and drink on the table. Pres and Brooke slipped into her room. Furniture, clothes, and dishes were piled everywhere. He kissed her and stroked her hair. “What an awful day.”
“It was. And this guy shoved me, and I fell into a car, then on the sidewalk, and I was so humiliated. People kept saying stuff about not paying your rent, but I always paid my rent.” A fresh round of tears poured down her cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, kitten. I didn’t know, or I’d have rearranged my lunch.”
“Would you? With producers?”
“Yeah. Of course. If you needed me.”
“I do” popped out of her mouth before she could stop it. He smiled down at her. Brooke snaked her arms around his middle. “I’m a mess. Now, I’m living with Nan. I’m twenty-eight years old and living with my grandmother. The humiliation just doesn’t stop.” She shut her eyes.
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