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“Can you show me where a rag is for the ice? I’m not comfortable digging around your mother’s kitchen.” I turned and started making my way ahead of him.

I heard Turner grumble before he responded with, “Yeah, I’ll get one.”

I noticed the food from lunch was still on the counters and I looked around the spacious room. Walnut colored cabinets lined a U-shaped kitchen set with a beautiful golden hued granite, and stainless steel appliances. There was an island in the middle that had a small rooster pitcher as a decoration. I reached towards it to help balance myself while Turner went to get a cloth. Everything about this place screamed country chic and warmth. If I ever moved out of my parent’s house or redecorated it on my own, this is what I’d want. The room made you feel welcome, like you wanted to sit down and eat a slice of pie and have a cup of coffee. I looked up when Turner came back in the kitchen and headed toward the freezer to gather some ice cubes. I swallowed, feeling the little butterflies making another appearance. Why did he make me feel this way?

When we had been eating lunch I watched him, my eyes intermittently wandered to where he’d been sitting. I didn’t
want
to look at him, but I felt a pull to. I was curious about him. He was no doubt the best good looking man I think I’d ever seen. I watched him with prying eyes as he had spoken to his dad. He was calm—relaxed, but there was an undertone of unease. His blue eyes held a wealth of knowledge and the words that rolled off his tongue were that of an educated man. Turner held his shoulders high and his back straight. I’d never seen shoulders so broad. But then again, as I glanced around the table, every male in this family had the same stature. Turner came across as dominant, those waves that traveled off of him quiet and strong. It was as though little invisible crests moved through the room and wrapped around you, silently pulling you in without you even knowing it. It was unnerving.

Taking another look at him while he moved through the kitchen, I drank in his good looks. He had high cheek bones and a strong square jaw sporting a five o’clock shadow. My fingers tips tingled in an odd way to reach up and brush them across the rough surface. The urge to graze a man’s skin was never something that I ever really battled with. And it wasn’t because I had never
wanted
to touch a man, it was that I stuffed down the desires like an unwanted annoyance. I realized I was attracted to him.

Not good.

As Turner came toward me, I did what I always do . . . remained indifferent. I looked up at him when he stood in front of me, meeting his crystal eyes head on. I felt the dominance coming off of him but I shrugged the sensation off and made a small hop towards the breakfast nook. There was a little table with two chairs and I really just wanted to take a moment to rest. Before I was able to get any further, hands came under my arms and Turner lifted me up like a small child and set me on the island. The stone was cool under my legs. I wanted to protest that he had picked me up again without my permission, but the relief of not standing anymore was enough to keep my mouth shut. I saw a small smile quirk at the corner of his full lips, and I wondered if he expected me to say something.

“Lift your leg and rest your ankle on your knee, please.”

I raised a brow. “The brute has manners. Interesting.”

I did as he asked and he gently placed the rag over my already swollen ankle.

“Of course I have manners. What made you think I didn’t?” he asked, confused.

I felt my own mouth fighting off a smile. “It’s just that you have picked me up twice now without asking me, and then you didn’t even bother apologizing for invading my personal space. So hearing a ‘please’ come from you is . . . nice.”

He grinned. “The doctor in me tends to act before considering that I may be being intrusive. So for that, I apologize.”

“Doctor?” I asked inquisitively.

“Keegan never told you?” His piercing blue eyes met mine.

I shook my head. “No. I only know a little about Camden and Dodger. Before today, I hadn’t really even remembered Camden had two other brothers.”

His boyish grin grew wider and the fluttering in my tummy did a summer sault. “I’m a Fellow at UGA Medical.”

This was complete news to me. During lunch he had asked me what field I was interested in working. I answered saying Sports Medicine or Labor and Delivery. He pushed me a little further and asked which one I wanted to be in more. I didn’t really know. I favored sports medicine, but when it came to having a job, it didn’t really matter. I just wanted to be a nurse and help people. Besides, I couldn’t continue to live off of my parent’s life insurance and investments. Okay, well, technically I could, but I wanted to have my own money.

Clearing my throat, I reached down to take the icy cloth away from him to hold myself. His eyes followed the direction of my hand before he looked up at me through his lashes. Stepping back and leaning against the opposite counter, he crossed his arms over his broad chest and watched me. Turner made me nervous with his scrutiny, and I squirmed. Feeling incapable of meeting his eyes, I looked down at my leg and picked at nonexistent fuzz on my shorts.

“So, as a fellow, you’ve already done your residency?” I asked, trying to redirect my thoughts.

When he didn’t answer I gave him my eyes. “I have, yes.”

The way he was looking at me caused me to blush. Uhhh, I don’t blush. “In what department is your fellowship?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Sports Medicine.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Wait, if I went into Sports Med, we would be working together.”

“Yes, we would. Would that be a bad thing?”

I looked back down at my hands. “No. But now I understand why you asked. I just don’t think it’s a department that will have any openings when I go apply next week.”

“I could always put in a good word for you if you’d like.”

“No!” I said too loudly, meeting his blue eyes again. “I mean, no, but thank you. I’d like to do this on my own.”

He nodded. “Understood.” Dropping his arms back down to his sides, he pointed to my leg. “You can take the ice off now.”

I glanced down. “Oh, right.” I lifted the cloth from my leg and set it on the counter beside me. I was about to thank him for helping me when sounds came from the back door.

“I swear you two are going to end up killing each other,” Wrigley said to Dodger as they walked into the kitchen completely oblivious to Turner and me.

“Whatever, little brother. Mind your own damn business,” Dodger growled.

Wrigley chuckled and held his hands up in the air. “Hey, man, all I’m saying is, work your shit out. Macie still digs you, but both of you are being stubborn. Just tell her you’re sorry and move on.”

Dodger grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and tilted his head back as he downed the entire thing. When he finished, he tossed the bottle into the trash and pointed across the kitchen toward Wrigley. “I’m going to say this once, and the next time you bring it up, I swear I’ll kick your ass. Leave it,
alone
. Macie and I are not your concern and never will be. Besides, you wouldn’t know how a relationship worked if it bit you in the ass.”

Wrigley chugged his own bottle of water. “Sure I would. I do relationships all the time.”

“Sticking your dick in a girl isn’t the equivalent to having a relationship.”

Turner was grinning and let out a huff in agreement. I looked up at the mammoth of a man that had moved to stand next to me and wondered what on earth he could be smiling about. In fact, I felt weird being witness to this little sibling argument. Donna, the boy’s mother, had taken that moment to walk into the kitchen and gasped.

“Boys, you better not be talking about what I think you’re talking about. There are ladies present and that’s something your mother just doesn’t want to hear.”

“No worries, Ma, the conversation is over,” Dodger replied.

She turned and glared, pointing a finger at her youngest son, Wrigley. “You, mister, had better be wrapping it up if you are having sex. In fact, just stop it! No more sex until you’re married. The last thing I want to find out is that you got some girl pregnant.”

“Jesus, Mom! I’m not talking to you about this.” Wrigley actually had the sense to appear embarrassed. Turner and Dodger smirked at their little brother’s discomfort. “Anyway, change of subject. Hey, Mom, what do you call a guy with no arms or legs in a pile of leaves?”

There was a collective groan in the room. “Wrig, not now,” Turner scolded

He ignored them. “Russell.” He slapped his leg, laughing at his own joke. I let a giggle slip out. In my defense, it was pretty funny. Turner turned to eye me and tilted his head to the side. I shrugged. “Oh man, Belle, did you just laugh? Holy shit,
finally
someone who appreciates my jokes.” Wrigley came over to me and slung his arm around my shoulder.

My face turned redder than my hair and I looked away from everyone. “I hadn’t heard that one before. It was kind of funny.”

He ruffled my hair like I was a child. What was it about these Brooks boys doing that? “You’re cute.”

Turner smacked Wrigley’s arm off of me and glowered. “First of all, her name is Annabelle, not
Belle
and second, she was just being polite. Keep your hands to yourself, shithead.”

“Actually,” I spoke to Turner. “Belle is fine, the joke was funny, and thank you for the compliment.” I turned to Wrigley and gave a soft smile.

“Ha! In your face, asshole.”

“Boys,” Donna chastised. Changing the subject, she came over to me and looked at my ankle. “How are you feeling, sweetie? Anything I can get you?”

With all of the commotion going on, I’d completely forgotten about my injury. “No, thank you though. Actually, I think I’m going to get going. It’s been a long day and I’m feeling pretty tired.”

“Okay, honey. Shall I get one of my boys to drive you home? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

“No, I appreciate it, but I think I can make on my own—”

“I’ll drive her.” Turner interrupted me.

I twisted to face him, my red hair whipping around. “It’s fine, I said I’ll drive myself.”

His face became hard as stone, and those dominant waves silently worked their way over to me. “I will drive you home in your car, and Dodger can follow behind us to bring me back here.”

I swallowed down the feeling to comply. What on earth was up with this guy? A girl says no, she means it. At least when I said no, I did. “No, thank you.” My voice was strong and firm. There was no room for budging and I didn’t like his sudden change of demeanor.

Donna piped up, “She’s got it, Turner, leave the poor girl be.” She leaned in and hugged me. It was the kindest gesture I’d been given in a long time and a lump formed in my throat. “It was so wonderful meeting you. Please, don’t be a stranger. You’re welcome here anytime. Oh, and congratulations on graduating.” Her smile was so sincere and comforting. I wanted to pull her back into a tight embrace just to feel that motherly warmth, and then run back into my cocoon of silence. Instead, I reciprocated her smile and thanked her for her hospitality.

Scooting off the counter, I saw out of the corner of my eye Turner’s hands twitch to assist me. He probably would have had his mom not been there to slap him away if he tried. I grabbed my purse that I set on the counter opposite me, and started to hobble my way to the door. A slow burn started up my leg, but I refused to ask for help. I looked over my shoulder and plastered on a polite smile. “It was very nice meeting you all. Thank you again for having me. I’m sorry I was such a bother here at the end.”

Just as I reached for the knob, a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. “Seriously, Annabelle, I can drive you home. I don’t mind.”

I flipped around to face him. “Truly, I appreciate it, but I’d rather drive myself.”

“Okay, this is going to seem like it’s coming from left field, but I have to ask.” He seemed to steel himself for whatever the question would be. He took a deep breath, then spoke, “Can I take you out sometime?”

I jerked my head back. Left field was right. How had he gone from being a bossy, dominant male to softening his tone and asking me on a date? I shook my head and met his bright blue eyes that appeared confident and hopeful. “Thank you, but I don’t date.”

His certainty faltered and his brows came together. “What do you mean you don’t date?”

I sighed. How do I explain this? “I just don’t date. It doesn’t interest me.” And it really doesn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am definitely attracted to Turner Brooks, but I see him as risk. In my head, it all played out. I would go out on a date with him. One date would turn into two, two would turn into four and next thing you know there’d be feelings. Once there’s feelings, there’s no turning away from them. Then commitments would happen, and what if something happened? What if he left me because he no longer cared about me, but I was still very much in love with him? What if I got a phone call or knock on the door with news that something terrible had happened to him. I’d never survive it. So I stopped it before it started.

Turner’s eyebrows drew together even deeper as if he was trying to solve some mysterious puzzle that didn’t make sense to him. There was nothing to solve. I readied myself for the onslaught of questions, to which I had an answer for all of them. I thought he would do what all of the men that got brave enough to ask me out would do.