I look between him and Billy. “Right. How was she when she got back here? Like this?” I hook a thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the bedroom.
“Hardly.” Billy drops his chin on Joey’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around his waist. “She was freaking out about the tick, which isn’t shocking. This is Brooke we’re talking about. She once stayed at her sister’s house for the weekend because she saw a spider in her bedroom. Wouldn’t come home until we promised her we killed it.”
“We never found the damn thing,” Joey adds with a cheeky grin. “We just missed her crazy ass and wanted her to come home.”
I rub at my mouth. “So, when did she start acting like this? She seems fine now, like nothing happened.”
“Do you not know the glorious effects of alcohol?” Joey’s eyebrow lifts. “Once we distracted her with drinks, she calmed down about it.” He looks at Billy, then back at me, smiling like he’s in on some secret. “That’s also when she started going on and on about you.”
“Another thing you need to know about Brooke,” Billy pauses, his eyes lifting to something over my shoulder. I hear a door shut and he quietly adds, “She doesn’t do that,” before turning his head and pulling Joey away from the bar.
My mind soaks in that obscure bit of information.
She doesn’t do what? Talk about blokes like she does me? Drink and forget about unfortunate run-ins with insects?
What the fuck? I need clarity on this.
Brooke moves back into the kitchen and waves at me. I watch her as she reaches for a tall cocktail on the counter, one resembling Joey’s. It’s a pale green color with a cherry floating at the bottom.
She spins around and closes a cabinet. I study her, resting my chin on my hand. Her long hair falls down her back, curling against her black tank top. Loose trackies hang low on her hips with the words Team Pink covering her arse.
She brings the drink to her mouth and takes a sip. Our eyes meet. I smile, and she cutely waves at me again.
A door slides open behind me and draws my attention.
Billy looks up, places his hand on Joey’s shoulder, and muscles him outside. He looks to be struggling with it.
“We’re . . . go, will you? Jesus! We’re going to go sit on the balcony. Give you two a little privacy for a while.” He jerks his chin and then steps out onto the terrace, pulling the door closed and drowning out Joey’s flippant protest.
“Goddamn it, Billy,” I faintly hear through the glass.
Brooke’s quiet giggle turns my head as she sits beside me, her bare feet swinging in the air. “This is my fourth apple martini.” She takes a small sip, licking her lips. “It’s apple.”
Laughing, I twist off the cap on my beer and take a swig. “How’s your leg?”
“Mm. Good! Look.” She sets her drink down and pulls up her pants. “It’s not even red anymore. Not that you can tell ‘cause of the Band-Aid, but still. I cleaned it like you said and put some Neosporin on it. Billy said it looks fine. He’s had tick bites before.”
I wrap my hand around her calf and examine her leg, slowly running my thumb along her smooth skin.
Images of Brooke on the rock, scared and trembling corrode my mind. Her broken voice fills my ears.
“You know how sorry I am for this, right?” I quietly ask, looking up into those big, curious eyes. I tug down her pants to her ankle and release her leg. “I’m so fucking sorry, Brooke. I should’ve never taken you there. I shouldn’t have made you do that.”
She gives me a lopsided smile. “I liked the swanky tent. Remember what we did in there?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t make me do any of that.”
Straightening with a quick breath, I look down as her hand finds mine under the lip of the bar. She squeezes my thumb.
I close my eyes.
Fuck, she’s so different with me right now. When has she ever reached for my hand, or displayed any sort of honest affection for me in front of people she knows? Is it the alcohol?
Christ, just enjoy it, will ya? Stop analyzing everything.
“I thought it was over today,” I softly admit, brushing my fingers against hers and staring down into my lap. “I was shocked when you called. I thought I was dreaming.”
“Maybe you were.”
Our eyes lock, and she breathes a laugh, taking another sip of her drink and then tipping her head down. Her eyes flutter. “Dreaming about me is kind of your thing, isn’t it?”
“You are kind of my thing.”
“And yoga.”
“Yeah.” I reach up and grab a piece of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. My phone beeps with a text alert, and I pull it free from my pocket and place it on the counter.
Tessa: Well?
I quickly type my response.
Me: Crisis averted.
“Who is that?” Brooke asks, leaning close to see my screen as I set the phone back down. She studies it for a moment. “Tessa?” Our eyes lock. Hers narrow. “Mm.”
I turn my head, smiling as she rights herself on her stool and shrugs indifferently.