Show Me How (It's Kind Of Personal Book 2) (22 page)

“I’ve already wasted enough time.”

* * *

“Delivery for Ms. Benson.”

“Yeah. That’s me.” I offer a confused smile for the deliveryman.

“Sign here, please.”

I accept the clipboard and scribble my name on the X. I just got home from my morning class, and I haven’t even figured out what I’m eating for lunch.

“We’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” I say to his back, still confused.

A trail of men begin climbing the stairs and I gasp and step back as vase after vase of pink, purple, and red sweet peas is set down on any and every available surface.

“There’s more,” they laugh. “Keep the door open.”

After several trips, I thank the men and close the door. My back sags against the cold wood while my knees buckle and I fall to my butt. Hundreds of flowers surround me, their sweet scent hugging me, reminding me what a perfect man Brandon is.

“Oh, my God,” I whisper, still processing.

This morning, Brandon woke me up slow and sweet, loving me, holding me, making promises, cursing the past, and securing the future. This day feels like a fresh start for all the right reasons.

A vase on the kitchen counter with a card sticking out draws my attention. I crawl over and pull myself up, legs still too weak to function properly. This is what he does to me. He has the ability to cause lower limb paralysis.

I suck in a deep breath and pull myself up. My fingers shake as I open the card, and his handwriting jumps out on the small cardboard square.

For all the years I missed

Happy Birthday, Mary

Love you

I hold the card against my rapidly beating heart and take a few collective breaths. That is so him—short and to the point. Guilt begins to fester, but I push it back and focus on the happiness, the elation, I feel because of this wonderful man. Yes, we missed many years. But we have a ton more to look forward to.

I need to see him.
With a final look at what can only be described as a flower shop on steroids, I grab my purse and force my feet to walk to my beat-up old car. He doesn’t hold steady hours, and I don’t know if he’ll even be at the police station, but I have to try.

The excitement quickly turns to nerves when I step inside and glance at the busy building. People, in and out of uniform, bustle around me. Some on their phones, but most with a clear destination in sight. If it weren’t for the woman who apologized when she bumped into me, I’d think I was invisible.

What if he doesn’t want me here? Has he even told anyone about me?
Shit.
I begin to turn around to leave when his voice calls my name and makes me freeze.

His handsome face comes into my line of vision and I immediately feel stupid for causing the worry lines to appear on his forehead. “You okay?”

My throat catches when I begin to talk, so I clear it and try again. “Yes. Fine. I got the flowers and I . . . I just had to see you. Wanted to thank you. I know you’re probably busy . . .”

“I was on my way to a meeting, but I’m never too busy for you.” His soothing voice calms me and my confidence builds again.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” Conscious of the people around us, I place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“You’re beautiful.”

A blush creeps up my neck, and I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep the dopey smile off my face. “I can’t believe you did that. There are so many!”

“I’d do it every day if it means I get to see this smile on your face. I’ve missed this smile.” His thumb traces my lips and it takes everything in me not to suck it into my mouth. “Uh-uh,” he scolds. “Not til later.”

I sigh and lean into his chest. Our arms wrap around each other, and the stubble on his chin tickles my ear. My birthday wish is to stay here like this forever in his arms, where the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

“I love you,” I murmur into his chest.

The beat of his heart speeds up and his arms hold a little tighter. “Love you, too. So damn much.”

“Hey, Parker. Interrogation’s open if you need a room,” a familiar male voice calls out.

Brandon’s lips form a smile against me and he presses them against my temple then pulls back. “Fuck off, Jay!”

I step out of his embrace and our fingers intertwine as he walks me back to my car.

“I’ll try to get done early today. You still want takeout?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I just want it to be us.”

“You read my mind, babe.”

* * *

True to his word, he got home earlier than normal with a wide variety of Chinese takeout. I baked a cake, and much to my surprise, it actually turned out pretty damn good.

We’re sitting on the floor, and he just opened his last present, the hoodie.

“Thanks, babe. I love it.” He puts it on and leans over the table to kiss me.

All the other gifts he seemed to like as well, but the nagging feeling that I picked out all these meaningless presents eats away at me. I don’t want him to think I didn’t try, so I open my mouth. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more creative.”

He pauses and tilts his head. “What are you talking about?”

“With your gifts.”

“They’re all perfect, Mary.”

I shrug indifference because even if he didn’t like them, he’d still say the same thing.

“Hey.” He sits next to me and rubs my back. “What’s with the long face?”

“Nothing.”

“Ha! Whenever a woman says nothing, it definitely means something. Talk to me.”

A fresh start,
I tell myself. No more holding back, no more insecurities. “I didn’t know what to get you. The last time I bought you a present, I knew everything about you. But this time . . .” I feel childish even saying it to him.

“Why did you pick out the presents you did?”

“What?”

“The wallet. Why’d you get me a wallet?”

“Because yours looks like it’s been through one too many rounds with a garbage disposal.”

He pulls his old beat-up black wallet out from his back pocket, and the leather slaps the table as it lands.

“You’d definitely be right. And the movie?”

“We saw an advertisement for it on TV and you said you wanted to see it.”

“What about the cologne?”

I shrug. “You were running low.”

“Hoodie?”

“You like them.”

“Exactly,” he whispers. “You know me. Always have. You saw through my bullshit. Understood when I needed to be by myself. Had my back. Knew what I was thinking. Time apart doesn’t change that connection. It’s still there. You
know
me.”

Deciding to get over myself and not ruin what has been an amazing day, I nudge him with my shoulder. “You’re right.”

“Damn straight, I am. Now.” He stands and extends his hands to me then pulls me to standing. “I need to give you your gift.”

“You don’t need to get me anything. You bought three hundred and twenty-five sweet peas. You got me out of the hellhole I didn’t know I was living in and gave me a place to call home again. That’s more than enough.”

He shakes his head and leads me into the hallway and down the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. Or rather see in a minute.” Black surrounds me as he ties a piece of cloth around my head.

“What are you doing? I didn’t know you were into this kind of thing.”

His body is firmly behind me, and his head is next to mine, as he slowly steers me to walk outside. I don’t hesitate for a moment because he would never put me in danger.

“Never have been, but maybe we should try it sometime.”

The thought of being blindfolded while Brandon does wicked things to my body causes a chill to run through me.

“Ahh, you like that idea?”

I can do nothing but nod, and he chuckles and mutters something that sounds like
fuck yeah.

Crisp air blasts my face, and a few strands of hair blow around my head.

“It really is the perfect day.” He laughs.

“Not too hot. Not too cold,” I reply and can hear the smile in my own voice.

We stop moving and without a word, he takes the blindfold off and says, “Happy Birthday, Mary.”

Chapter 21

Brandon

The playful smirk Mary had on her face shifts to something different, something dark . . . somber.

Her head shakes before any words come out, her eyes filling with tears. “No.”

“Mary?” I wrap my arm around her, but she shrugs me off. Dismisses me.

“You can’t do this to me. You can’t ask me to accept this.” Her shaky hand gestures toward the shiny new white Jeep with a red bow. “No.”

The first night I found her in the hotel suddenly flashes in the back of my eyes. Her backing away from me, telling me no, crying.
Fuck.
She’s cried more in the short time we’ve been back together than she did during our entire childhood. I must be doing something wrong if my girlfriend cries when I buy her a car.

“You don’t like it?” I lower my voice, trying to calm her down because, as each second ticks by, her body becomes even tighter.

“No,” she says again. This time she turns to me and has fresh tears in her eyes. “I can’t. You can’t. Just no, Brandon.”

“Babe, your car is shit. You needed a new one. Simple as that.” I turn her body, grasp her face in my hands, and rub her eyes to remove the wetness gathering there. The simple tell that Mary is about to come undone—and not in the way that turns me on but rather in the way that tears me apart. The girl I grew up with, the one who didn’t cry when she sliced her leg on the sharp rock at the lake. She even fought back tears when I accidentally pegged her in the shoulder with a fastball when she was fifteen. That girl is gone and replaced with the vulnerable woman in front of me, confused and scared. It breaks my fucking heart. “You deserve this, Mary. Stop over thinking.”

Her lids close and a couple more silent tears drip down her face. She tries to pull away, but I don’t let her.

“Talk to me,” I beg.

“How did you know?”

“That this is your dream ride?”

Yeah,
she mouths.

“I always knew.”

“No, I never told anybody.”

She relaxes under my touch, and the tension twisting in my body slowly starts to unravel. It’s not about the car itself; it’s about what it means and how I knew this was her dream car. It’s what she always wanted but never thought she’d have.

“You didn’t have to tell me.”

She shakes her head slightly, smiling. “How did you know?”

“Well, if the fact that whenever you saw one you drooled wasn’t a clue, the fact that you had a picture from a magazine hidden in your drawer was. And,” I cut off her attempt at a protest with a chaste kiss, “you told me once.”

“No way,” she laughs. “I never told anybody.”

“Ahh, but baby, I’m not just anybody.”

She brings her hands up to where mine are still framing her face, and grabs onto my wrists. “You most certainly are not. You’re everything, Brandon.” She leans into me and rests her hands on my shoulders, leaning up to press her lips to my jaw. “It’s too much, though. I can’t accept it.”

“You will,” I tell her simply. This is something I’ve wanted to do since the second I saw what she was driving. It was old and falling apart. I’m surprised it even passed emissions. I knew she wouldn’t accept the Jeep at first; I get that she needed the time to gain her independence back after being with me. But she has that now. Taking the college class, making friends.

“I have money. I can pay—”

“Absolutely not. It’s a gift.”

“It’s a Jeep!” she yells and tosses her hands in the air before she turns and points at it, steady this time. “Not a freaking pair of earrings.”

I shrug. “Happy Birthday.”

“Brandon.” She sighs and runs her fingers through her hair, then twists it into a ponytail using the elastic around her wrist. “Hey. When did I tell you? You said I told you, but I know damn well that I kept that a secret.”

“You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“That party I had. Remember, the infamous beer bottle cap party?”

She laughs. “Yeah. I remember that.”

“That night. You told me then.”

“Oh, God. The one time I was drunk.” Her eyes widen and she gasps. “What else did I tell you?”

“Nothing.” I look away from her and immediately realize my mistake. I try to find her eyes again quickly, but she’s already squinting at me with her hand on her hip.

“What else did I tell you that night?”

“Wanna see the inside of the car?” I pull the keys out of my pocket and use the fob to unlock the doors. Not sure how she’ll react to the confessions she made that night, I want to avoid this conversation.

“Uh-nuh. You’re trying to lie to me right now? On my birthday?” She emphasizes the word, being overly dramatic.

“You sure you want to know this?”

“Yes,” she says immediately.

“You told me . . . you sure? I mean, it was a long time ago and—”

“Tell me!”

I rub my chin and look her in the eyes. “You said you were in love with me, wanted to marry me, and have my babies. Told me you wanted me to be your first. Cried because you said I didn’t love you back.”

“What?” She gasps, face becoming flush. “I never . . . no way.”

“Yeah. You did.”

She leans against her new car. First time touching it, and she’s using it for support. Fucking great. Apparently, she doesn’t deal well with surprises. This is not how I pictured this going.

“But ya know what? I’m glad you did. Because I was having all these feelings toward you, and I thought you saw me as your brother. Then I’d see you look at me like you wanted to eat me, and I was confused as hell. I know Dad said I couldn’t date you, but after your confession, it was torture not to touch you. Kiss you. Tell you how fucking
in love
with you I was.” I step closer to her and put my fingers in the front pocket of her jeans. “How I wanted to marry you, too. Have kids with you. I tried to be good. Respect Dad’s wishes. But that was why I kissed you on our seventeenth birthday. I couldn’t fucking take it anymore. ”

“I don’t remember telling you that.” She pushes off the Jeep and tries to separate herself from me, but I don’t let her.

“And about one year after that first kiss, I had plans. So many fucking plans. I knew it would be hard. I was gonna go to college, but with the knowledge you were mine. And I was yours. We’d visit each other as much as we could. I was finally going to have you. The things I was going to say to you were fucking carved into my mind. I rehearsed them. Literally said the words out loud.”