He’d even been willing to be photographed for her. Photos were usually a dealbreaker these days. He’d posed for a million with Claudia, but it had never been enough. Brooke was different, so he made an exception. She was enthusiastic and chatty at times, but quiet when it mattered, and constantly in high spirits. He wished he could channel a little of her positivity and excitement for himself. When they got to his four-wheel drive, he unloaded his backpack while she yanked off her boots and socks, then wriggled her toes and sighed. Her feet were white, but spotted with angry pink and red splotches. A lead ball sank in his gut.
“Holy hell, are they blisters?” he demanded.
She leaned forward and studied them, her expression strangely satisfied. “Yep.”
When he came closer, he could see that several of them had already lost the top layer of skin. “Why didn’t you say anything? That must have hurt like fuck.”
She shrugged. “They’re new boots, so I figured this would happen. Nothing anyone could do about it, so there wasn’t any point in complaining. Do you know, it’s the first time I’ve had blisters like this? Cool, huh?”
“No,” he grumped. “Not cool. You should have told me. I could have put Vaseline or salve on them.”
“Jack,” she said with a smile. “Chill out. They sting, but you’re talking to a girl who had open-heart surgery when she was ten. These barely register on my pain scale.”
Chill out? He couldn’t recall the last time anyone had told him to chill out. He was chill as an ice cream in summer, but something about this girl got under his skin. And seriously? Open-heart surgery when she was ten? His own heart ached at the thought. No child should have to endure something like that.
“At least let me put salve on them now,” he groused.
“Okay,” she said. “If you don’t mind touching my gross feet.”
“I’m sure I’ve smelled worse.” He found the salve in his first aid kit and, with gentle touches, applied a thin layer to each of her blisters. She didn’t flinch or make a noise, though it must have hurt. She just watched him with those big, curious eyes. The whole thing was too intimate for his liking. “Do you wear contacts?” he asked, to break the tension.
“Sometimes.” She cocked her head. “I thought they weren’t noticeable.”
“They aren’t, but I remember seeing you in glasses once before. How bad is your vision?”
She smiled, visibly amused. “Pretty bad. Without these contacts, I wouldn’t be able to tell you from any other person-sized blob.”
“’Course you could,” he replied, without thinking. “I’d be the handsomest blob.”
Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and he regretted the quip immediately. He shouldn’t be flirting with her.
“All blobs are equal in my eyes.”
Well, that put him in his place.
“There.” He smeared salve over the last blister. “You’re good to go.”
She hobbled away and climbed into the passenger seat. “I don’t suppose you’d let me drive.”
He huffed a laugh. “Not today.”
Not ever. He valued his vehicle enough to know that letting an inexperienced person behind the controls was a bad idea.
“Too bad.” She sounded disappointed, and he ignored the urge to make it up to her.
They drove back to Sanctuary with less conversation than they’d had coming in the opposite direction. Once or twice, he glanced over just in time to see Brooke’s chin dip and her eyes flutter. Then she’d lift her head and blink sleepily. She was struggling to stay awake, and it was completely endearing. Or at least, it would have been, if he hadn’t felt a niggle of anxiety over whether he’d pushed her too far.
“We didn’t overdo it, did we?” he asked.
“Not at all.” She smiled at him, eyes unfocused. “I’m tired, but in a good way. I need a solid ten hours of sleep and then I’ll be fine.”
“I can’t even remember the last time I slept for that long.” He crunched into the parking lot at Sanctuary and stopped outside the lodge. Brooke flopped out of her seat and collected her bag. He followed. He needed to talk business with Kat and re-evaluate how things were going.
“You’re coming in?” she asked.
“Yeah, gotta catch up with Kat.”
They entered together and, just inside the door, Brooke turned and launched herself at him. She caught him off guard and he stumbled back a step, his arms closing around her automatically. She’d pressed herself right up against him and he was shocked to feel a tightening in his pants and realize his body was reacting to all the soft, womanly goodness suddenly rubbing over it. His jaw clenched and he willed himself not to get a hard-on. But damn, she felt right in his arms, and she smelled faintly of earth and sweat, but not in an unpleasant way.
“Thank you,” she murmured into his chest. “Today was amazing. I had the best time.”
Not a date, he reminded himself. It would not be appropriate to cop a feel, or steal a kiss.
Instead, he patted her back as he imagined a brother might, and cleared his throat. She stepped away, blushing again. Did she not know how appealing that made her?
“No problem,” he said gruffly.
Remember, jackass, you don’t deserve her gratitude.
“Get some rest and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Bye, Jack.”
He watched as she hurried off, almost tripping over something invisible on the floor. He shook his head. Only her.
“That seems like it went well.”
For the first time, he noticed Kat lingering in the doorway between the dining hall and the foyer. How long had she been standing there? Had she witnessed the world’s most awkward hug?
“Yeah, I guess so,” he replied, hedging his bets. “She handled the hike better than I thought she would.”
Kat straightened and crossed the room. “I know she doesn’t look it since she’s so little and cute, but she’s a tough chick. Has a steel backbone and the stubbornness of a bull.”
He scrubbed a hand over his stubble. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that.”
Kat grinned in a way that made him nervous, clapped him on the shoulder, and said, “Don’t worry if you can’t fully see it yet. You will before long.”
11
Brooke hesitated on the threshold of The Hideaway the next morning. She’d been inside the gym-slash-art-studio many times before, but only to visit Bex, not as a customer. She’d often watched people on the gym equipment, or lifting weights in the corner, but made sure they never caught her looking. Most of the people who frequented The Hideaway were fit—the women lean and toned, not soft and pale like her. And the men… She sighed dreamily. Watching the men was no hardship at all.
Yet here she was. About to join them. Feeling excited but totally unprepared.
“You all right there?”
Jumping in surprise, she released the door handle like it was sizzling hot, and turned to face a stocky blond guy who was patiently waiting to enter. She blushed ferociously and stammered an apology.
“No worries,” he said. “Is this your first time?”