Page 58 of Playing to Win

Chapter 19

Izzy

Day 5.

With his bulky, unshaven, tattooed appearance, and his crabby, don’t-fuck-with-me personality, Brooks is not my type. Everyone else seems to love him. His clients and friends adore him. He’s obviously Mr. Charming with other people, but with me he’s like a hungry baboon 24/7—and that was before I actually made him hungry 24/7. In fact, he’s exactly the kind of man I would date just to narc my mother.

So, yeah, I’m just as surprised as you that I sat at home last night brooding because I missed him. I missed Brooks Adams. There, I said it. I didn’t just hate that we hadn’t had sex in that shower and that he made me feel like the last woman on earth he would ever sleep with. I had no one getting in my way when I made my dinner. There was no one bickering over everything I said. God knows why, but it made me feel so lonely I eventually gave in and went to the bar to see him.

Now, lying tucked into his side, the sun’s first light warming my bedroom, it somehow makes sense. I won’t overthink this. I know I’m leaving in just over a week. I also know that Brooks and I are truly incompatible human beings. But here, in this moment, tucked under the heavy arms that I decided last night have a very good purpose, I’ve fallen and I’m happy to just let that be.

Brooks shifts beneath me and inhales as he drops his lips to my hair. “Morning.” His voice is gruff, like we were up all night. Oh wait…

I smile to myself as I roll onto my stomach and rest my chin on my hands, lying on his firm chest. “Morning.”

He tucks my hair behind my ear and smiles, a full, dashing smile that reaches his eyes. It’s a rare and alluring sight. The tame side of the beast. And the way he looks at me makes me feel like Belle.

“You’re pretty when you’re quiet,” he says, chuckling.

“Hey!” I grab a pillow from my side of the bed and bash him with it. Then settle back on his chest.

“What are you thinking about, Izzy Coulthard?”

“That I want you to know, I didn’t go to the bar last night for anyone but me. I didn’t make sure my picture was taken. I won’t be writing about it on my blog.”

He seems to take in what I’m saying; then this cheeky almost smirk that I’m getting used to comes. “That’s because you broke your own rules.”

“Ha. Maybe.” I turn onto my side and trace the lines of his tattoos with my finger.

He strokes my hair. His touch raises goose bumps on my skin. “Why did you come?”

“A few reasons.”

“A few reasons you want to share?”

I contemplate not telling him, but he doesn’t make me feel vulnerable now. I feel with him. “I told you I lost friends and didn’t really get invited places anymore because of the whole exercise and not drinking thing and, to be honest, not being a Chelsea wife or a lawyer or doctor. Well, it felt nice to be invited somewhere. I know Madge invited me because of the PR thing but, I don’t know, it was nice to be in a group, talking to people.”

“For what it’s worth, the guys liked having you around last night. I think Sarah might move back to the UK with you.”

“She does seem to like the accent an awful lot.” I find a rose inked on his hip and trace the outline of the petals. “Thanks, Brooks.”

“There’s no need to thank me for the truth.”

“Still, it’s nice of you to say.” I also want to thank him for sending his friends to Barnes & Noble but last night, when I overheard Becky mention what happened, it was clear Brooks didn’t want to talk about it. So I keep that tucked away.

“I’m actually more interested in the other reasons you came. You said there were a few.”

“More like one, really. But I don’t want to tell you.”

“Come ooooon.…”

“I can’t really make sense of it. I just, I was in here last night, having dinner. Making dinner alone. I guess I missed having an obnoxious, arrogant man around.”

His chest bounces as he laughs. “I kind of missed fighting with you too, Iz.”

I don’t let him see how that short statement warms me to the core. I continue drawing shapes on his chest. “What is this?”

He glances down at the all-blue bird I’m tracing; its wings span both pecs. “A phoenix. It’s actually covering a tattoo that went wrong years ago.”

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