Page 59 of Falling into Place
Brooks:okay
Brooks:but i need you to tell me exactly what to wear that’s what you do
Carly:Have you not paid attention when I’ve explained the reasons for pairing things? The goal is to learn how to do it yourself.
Brooks:okay
Brooks:can you just tell me though
Carly:Give it a try on your own. You have better instincts than you think.
Brooks:where did you hide my favorite jeans?
Carly:I have no idea what you’re talking about but regardless those are always the wrong choice
Carly:I believe in you, Brooks. You can do this.
He pursed his lips, annoyed, but also amused. He crossed his arms and walked into his closet, standing before his options. He’d stay in here as long as it took, because if the way he’d felt when she’d gushed about his cucumbers just now was any indication, little made him feel as good as when he made Carly Porter proud.
He hadn’t felt this nervous in a long time.
He walked into the massive beer hall, posture stiff and hands stuffed into his pockets as he surveyed the room for anyone he recognized in the group celebrating Sasha’s birthday. Which would be one of his sisters or Carly.
Sasha had told him to bring James, but the bastard bailed to go to dinner with his new girlfriend. For years, James had long been his go-to on the rare night he wanted social interaction. He understood Brooks’scall schedule, and they always had plenty to talk about. When it came to women, he and James had kept similar lifestyles during training. Meaning they hadn’t done relationships. And for the first several months after starting real jobs, just like Brooks, James hadn’t broken tradition.
Until Aly, the barista. Brooks hadn’t thought it would last long, because nothing with James ever lasted long. But it had been a couple of months now, and when Brooks had caught James at the hospital to catch up last week, his friend had seemed pretty damn happy.
“Why do you look distraught?” a familiar feminine voice said from behind him, bringing him back to the present.
Brooks immediately relaxed. “Because you wouldn’t tell me what to wear.”
“Looks great from the back. Turn around and let’s see the whole picture.”
Was she referring to his ass again?
Maybe he should have told Sasha he was sick. Or on call tonight.
He turned around to face Carly, and the second she filled his gaze his throat seized up. His hands screamed at him to let them touch her. Slide his fingers through that long, brown hair or move his palm down the green, silky tank top that fluttered around her skin with the breeze flowing through the open windows. He tried to swallow but it was no use, because that black skirt was so short her legs seemed miles longer than seemed possible. He didn’t give a flying flip about shoes, but he liked that he could see her pink-tipped toes in whatever heeled sandals she wore, tall enough that the top of her head was near his chin, sending her vanilla scent his direction.
“Nice shoes,” he said, unable to clear the rasp from his tone.
He definitely shouldn’t have come.
Her eyebrows danced with humor as those warm brown irises drank him in, and did he imagine that flash of heat in her eyes?
“You did good, Brooks,” she said with a smile. She tucked hair behind one ear, sending a gold earring twirling. “Real good.”
Mesmerized by the light flashing on the jewelry, it took him a second to respond. “I threw everything you’ve ever picked out for me on my bed, closed my eyes, and grabbed something.”
She laughed and his heart swelled. “No, you didn’t.”
“I’m serious.” He’d come up with the short-sleeved gray Henley in one hand and navy chinos in the other. He still thought the pants were too tight and too short, but he’d wear them every fucking day if she’d keep looking at him like that.
“At least tell me you hung everything back up after.”
“Right before I made my bed.”
She groaned and it went straight to his groin. “Come on,” she said, shaking her head. “Everyone’s over here.”
