Page 72 of Stuck with my Guarded MVP
I’ll be right down.
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
A few minutes later, Brooke breezed in, hair loose, a faint flush in her cheeks. “Hey, you.” She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before making herself comfortable on the couch.
“I’ll heat you some,” I said, heading for the kitchen. The scent of tomato, wine, and slow-braised meat still lingered, rich and warm, as I reached for a pan.
I’d just set the pan on the stove when I heard footsteps coming down the hallway.
“Don’t worry, Liam, I’m not staying,” Brooke called over her shoulder. “Just hiding from the girls for a minute. Don’t think badly of me.”
A low chuckle answered her. “Please. Stay as long as you like. I’m sure Claire will enjoy the company.”
I stepped out of the kitchen and almost collided with him.
He turned at the same time, the sudden proximity narrowing the space between us to nothing. His hands found my hips. Firm.
“Oh, Claire, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“I should’ve let you know I was behind you,” I managed. My pulse was doing something inconvenient. I held his forearm to steady myself.
He didn’t step back right away, his thumbs pressed lightly where they rested. “I’ll probably be home late,” he said, voice low enough that it felt meant only for me. “See you tomorrow morning for coffee?”
Before I could answer, he leaned in and brushed a kiss over my cheek, light, but close enough that the heat of it stayed behind long after he’d pulled away.
He stepped back, giving my hips a light squeeze before letting go. Then he grabbed his coat from the arm of the couch, pulling it on in one smooth motion. “Night, Brooke. Don’t let Claire talk you into dessert, you’ll never leave.”
Brooke smirked. “No promises.”
The door closed behind him, his footsteps fading down the hall.
I turned back toward the kitchen, but Brooke’s voice followed me. “Okay… what was that?”
I blinked. “What was what?”
She raised her brows.
Then she gave me a slow, sly smile. “That little scene just now. Him holding onto you like that. The cheek kiss. The whole vibe.”
“It wasn’t—” I started, but the words tripped over themselves
Her brows lifted. “Claire… if someone didn’t know you two, they’d swear you were married. Or at least a couple.”
I opened my mouth, but instead, the butcher’s crinkled eyes surfaced in my mind, his comment about osso buco being romantic.
Apparently, people thinking we're a couple is becoming a theme.
“It’s not anything, really,” I said, sinking into the armchair. “He’s just… been really good to me. Letting me stay here. Making coffee in the mornings. Cooking dinner when he’s not on the road.”
Brooke tilted her head. “You’re not exactly selling the ‘just roommates’ thing.”
“I don’t know, Brooke,” I said instead. “The other night we were having dinner, and he mentioned an old girlfriend. He made it seem like nothing, but he has a picture of the two of them mixed in with other important moments. I got the feeling there was more to the story.”
Brooke shrugged. “Okay… he can have an old girlfriend.”
“But it was the way he described her,” I said, leaning forward. “She and I couldn’t be any more different. I just don’t see how…”
I sat back, tucking one knee up under me and pulling the nearest pillow into my lap.
