Page 35 of Falling into Place
She’d never whistled at a client before, but this was Brooks. A (sort of) friend she’d known most of her life, and a man who needed a confidence boost.
“I’m just teasing,” she said. “But seriously. Can’t you see how much better that looks? The lines are so much cleaner. You’re casual but sophisticated. Sexy and easy-going. It’s the perfect combination for a first date.”
His lips parted. “I look ... sexy?”
He glanced at himself in the mirror, white teeth pressed into his full bottom lip as he frowned. He ran one hand across his stomach and turned back to her. She tilted her face up to his, searching his eyes. She’d never ask a real client this question, but he was different. And they no longer had an audience. “Do you really not know how attractive you are?”
Gripping the back of his flushed neck, he cast his gaze once again to his reflection and back to her. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m too much of a science geek to be sexy.”
“Nerds are hot right now.” Now and always, if you asked her. Peter Parker over Spiderman anytime, anywhere.
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“I guess it’s just been so long since I considered my appearance to be something that mattered.”
“It’s not all that matters,” she agreed, still a little unbalanced at the sight of him. The man should wear green every day. “But even if it’s been a while, don’t you remember how much attention you got in high school? Every girl at our school wanted you back then, and you’ve only gotten better with age.”
His hazel eyes were steady on hers, expression unreadable. “Every girl?”
Was he asking if she’d been one of them, or was this a way to boost his ego? She’d give it to him. “Pretty much.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, watching her, and she had the urge to fidget under his perusal. Bite her lip or step away or move closer ... something. It was her job to help her clients find their confidence, but something about this felt different. Heavier.
“I’m not proud of the person I was then,” he finally said.
There was a lot she wanted to ask to follow up on that, but when another guy brushed past them to an open fitting room, she decided now wasn’t the time.
Brooks had turned back to the mirror, brow furrowed and posture tight. What was on his mind?
Much of his life was unknown to her, so for the most part there was nothing she could say that might make him feel better. She had no idea what demons lurked, no inkling of the kind of encouragement he needed to realize he was a man worth getting to know. But there was one thing she did know, and it was the thing she’d been hired to help with. So she’d give him one last thought and move on for now, certain she’d come back to this moment and analyze it when she got home.
She leaned forward to speak softly, privately. She was close enough to smell his clean, spicy scent and resisted a sudden, somewhat alarming urge to bury her face in his chest.
“I know I’ve given you a hard time about your style. First impressions matter, so it’s my job to bring out the best in the way you present yourself. But believe me when I say this: I’m adding a few details to the package you’re already working with, yes, but it doesn’t really matter. You don’t need it. You’re a very handsome man, and the fact you don’t seem to know it only makes you more attractive. That saleswoman was even checking you out earlier.”
“She . . . she was?”
“Yes. Believe me, when it comes to how you look, you have nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.”
He blinked a few times and slid his hands into his pockets in a move that didn’t speak of discomfort, but more like humility. Then his lips spread into a self-deprecating smile. “Time will tell if you’re right. But even if you are, looks will only get me so far.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not good at the other stuff, either. Like ... small talk, for example. I don’t remember the last time I went out with someone Ididn’t already know inside and out, like my sister, or my brother-in-law, or my best friend James.”
“Don’t you talk to strangers all the time at work? Your patients?”
He shook his head. “Most of my patients are sedated and on ventilators. I talk to their families, sure. But that’s different. I’m in my comfort zone talking about medicine and technology and my treatment plan. I’m not asking them about the weather, or whatever.”
“The weather? Wow, is that what you consider small talk?”
He tossed his hands up in the air. “See?”
“You seem to do fine talking to me.”
“I know you, sort of. And we’re not talking about personal stuff, either.”
