Page 11 of Hot Hearts
"Besides, if that is true, then you're married to a million people, Brooks. You prepare food for everyone." Got you, Mr. I Have an Answer for Everything. I smile inwardly so as not to gloat.
"It's different. We're in my home, and no one else helped prepare the food." He’s really trying to sell this.
"You've never had someone else here who you cooked for?" I challenge. I don't know why, because it's silly. We aren't practically married. I should eat my soup because it is wonderfuland ignore the married crap. I should bask in someone taking care of me for once.
"I don't care to have people in my home."
"I'm here. The doctor was," I point out, my eyes dropping to the soup bowl in his hand. It looks and smells so delicious.
"The doctor is an exception, and I might have people here for certain things, but they don't stay or linger." I want to call him on this, but he might be telling the truth. “But if you need something, I won’t hesitate to bring someone here to make that happen for you.”
Brooks brings the spoon to my mouth. I open it, letting him feed me a bite. His eyes linger on my lips. I lick them, and that same heated expression he'd gotten that night at the bar takes over his face. He’s not the only one affected, either.
"Give me this." I take the bowl from his hand. "I'll feed myself." Why is him feeding me so damn erotic? Also, it's endearing, and Brooks isn't endearing. He used me. I need to keep reminding myself of that little fact. No, that's a big freaking fact.
“Now, why don’t you like me?”
“Seriously?” I can’t even believe he has the audacity to act as though he doesn’t know exactly why.
“You think I used you.”
“Think? I saw the folder on your desk in the hotel. My name was in it.”
"I turned down that offer, and I had no clue who you were until I hired that private investigator. I don't use social media. I've heard of your reviews and what they can do for a restaurant, but I didn't have a face to go with the name of who ran My Favorite Feeds."
"You don't use social media." I roll my eyes. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
"Why would I lie about this?"
"I don't know. Why would you?" I glance around for my bag.
"What do you need?" Brooks quickly stands, ready to hunt down whatever it might be that I’m looking for.
"My bag." I can't recall where I set it down, but Brooks is already on the move, so he must know. I watch him head toward the kitchen, coming back a few seconds later to give it to me. I set my bowl back down and search through my bag, pulling out a ring light and my Kindle.
"What is this?" Brooks holds up the ring light.
"It's to obtain the best lighting when you film videos."
"Oh." He turns it each way instead of putting it on the table. Why do I find that kind of adorable? I don't know; can I blame it on the baby?Focus, I remind myself, going back to search for my phone. I give up, deciding just to dump it out on the table. Things scatter everywhere. A few things fall off onto the floor.
“Damn it,” I mutter to myself. “See, I’m a mess. You don’t want to marry me.”
“I don’t mind.” He leans down, grabbing the items that had fallen. One is my phone.
“You say that, but you haven’t seen my bathroom sink or my closet.” I take the phone from him. “Are you sure you don’t want to change your story?”
“I don’t have social media,” he says again.
“Okay, so not only a user but a liar.”
“I didn’t use you.” I ignore him and pull up first his Instagram and show it to him, and then go over to Facebook and even TikTok, showing him each one. “Got nothing to say? Cat got your tongue?”
“You’re right.” Brooks pulls out his phone.
“See, you can’t even be straight with me about social media. Why the heck would I believe you about anything else?”
“I don’t run those accounts. You can see my phone. I only have the TikTok app.”
