Unexpectedly You (13 page)

Chapt
er Seventeen

Brooke

I love weddings.

“Take this to table one, please,” I tell one of the servers. “The bride ordered chicken with a side of brown rice, not the white.”

The cute purple clad waitress nods and weaves through the dinner party like a champ. I smile to myself, marking off a check on
Get FOB through the wedding sober!
and glance up at Mr. Heubert. His champagne glass is full of sparkling cider—delivered it myself—so he’s not tempted to get shitfaced and start singing
My Little Girl
in a bunch of slurs. It was my top priority for this wedding, and I rocked it.

A flash goes off from the corner, and Nate
pauses and adjusts before another flash. He looks sexy in his suit, shirt buttoned all the way to the top, thanks to yours truly, and his glossy purple tie swings down his torso. I wish he knew how appealing that is. Mmm.

“Brooke?” Ms. Marks says through my he
adset. “I need our MOH and best man to prepare for their speeches. Refill all champagne glasses for the toast in twelve minutes.”

“I’m on it.”

I’m kicking ass on this wedding. So far everything has run on time and I haven’t lost anyone’s microphone. And I look incredibly cute in my wedding assistant attire. When I put it on, I stood in front of the mirror, headset settled in my ear and I repeated, “Yes, Ms. Marks” and “It’s already been taken care of, Ms. Marks” and my personal favorite, “Nate, tuck in your shirt.” I look so legit, I’ve been goofy smiling every second I find no one looking.

I get the head caterer and everyone’s glass is filled before our best man stands and taps the edge of his. Nate moves his 35 mm to the side and pulls out the digital, adjusti
ng the lens and works at lightning speed. I can’t help the curve of my lips as I watch him work, crouching in his suit, leaning over tables, weaving through people.
Click, click, click
…every shot feels like it’s on purpose, yet he’s not distracting anyone in the room—minus me.

My body flushes and tingles as I watch him work, trying not to remember the way h
e moved against me last night, but also trying not to forget it either. I’ve never been much of a dancer. I’ve done the girl-on-girl thing with Tasha and Morgan just to get this guy Morgan was making eyes at revved up enough to pull her away, but honestly, I just stood in the middle laughing while they grinded around me.

Nate was different. I
thought dancing had a pattern—a certain planned way of moving so it looks good. And he told me to just go with it and I kept thinking he was nuts, I’ll look like an idiot. I may have looked completely out of rhythm, but I
felt
incredible.
He
felt incredible. If we weren’t working, and this was a wedding where we were actually guests, I think I’d want to walk out on the dance floor again with him.

I shake my head and laugh to myself.
Stop looking at him, Brooke
. I am at work, damn it. I did not schedule time to get distracted.

I lean back on the bar, muting my headset and focus on the wedding itself. It’s so romantic with the scents in the air and the décor, I let my mind wander to that day when I’ll be the blushing bride, snuggling with my new hubby at the head table, surrounded by more people than can fit in the big hall. But when my eyes drift back to Nate, I think about what he said about Elvis and the back of a junky car, and even that sounds romantic…if it’s with the right person.

There I go watching him again. I can’t help it!

Our maid of honor wraps up the toasts, and Nate finds his way to me while everyone claps. We have exactly fifteen minutes of “wait time” before we move everyone into the ballroom.

“Did you get any special moments?” I ask, grabbing my glass of wine and taking a sip. I don’t normally drink even though Ms. Marks says I’m allowed one glass on the clock, but I need something to do with my lips.

The side of his mouth quirks up and he
leans into me, smelling completely lickable. I involuntarily take a deep inhale.

“Do you want to see?”

I nod, taking another sip to hide the wide grin that has nothing to do with looking at pictures, and he pulls his camera in front of us.

He flicks through the shots
, each one as brilliant as the next, and I know he’ll make them even more amazing after he works his Photoshop skills on his computer in the room later. My eyes drift from the camera, over his masculine, strong hands, up his suit covered forearm and eventually land on his profile, which is so close I can count the hairs on his lightly scruffed face. He has good cheekbones. And a strong jaw. There’s a small scar near his eye, and when he laughs at a picture it crinkles and twitches. It’s so cute I want to touch it.

“Brooke, you’re supposed to be looking at the pictures.” His eyes shoot to mine, and I jump because he caught me gawking, and the wine splashes from my glass…and onto his crisp white shirt.

Shit!

He pushes his cameras out of the
way, luckily I didn’t get those, but still, that shirt and red wine… I quickly put my drink down and smack the top of the bar.

“Club soda, quick!” I panic at the bartender. Once he gets the glass to me, I snatch it up, and grab Nate’s wrist, and tug him through the dining hall.

I push him into the ladies’ room and check all the stalls before swinging the lock shut on the main door. He raises an eyebrow, then laughs his ass off as I make quick work of his tie.

“Get this jacket off,” I rush. “Hurry up. It’s getting worse by the second.”

He shrugs his suit coat down his arms, and I dig through my emergency kit. Please tell me I have it packed. I’ve had a very distracting couple of days and if I’m not on my game, Nate will be walking around this wedding with wine all over him.

“There you are,” I say to my stain remover. I let it fall to the counter next to Nate’s tie and turn back to him, opening the buttons on his shirt with a speed I had no idea I was capable of.

“Whoa there!” He laughs again as I spin him around, grab the collar of his shirt and yank. I’m glad he thinks this is funny.
Not
. Every second this red stain is creeping into the fabric permanently.

I grab the club soda, my Tide stick, and work my magic. A big gush of relief leaves my mouth as the red slowly disappears.

Nate slides up behind me, gazing over my shoulder as I hold the shirt out. Perfection. Just need to dry it off.

“If you pull a blow dryer out of that purse, I’m calling you Mary
Poppins.”

I roll my eyes and turn to the hand dryer, but my eyes drift to his white undershirt, a big red stain right under his
pec staring me in the face.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

I throw his button-up over my right shoulder and dive for his undershirt. My nails scratch his sides as I tug it off. I try my best not to get distracted by the feel of his skin, but my knuckles seem to be filled with buzzing sensations as I work more stain removing magic.

He leans against the counter, folding his arms and watching me. It’s then I realize this may not have been the best idea. I was so in the Business Brooke mode, it’s just now hitting me I basically stripped him in the women’s bathroom. And now he’s leaning next to me with his shirt off and my eyes want to dart to his skin, the muscles on his arms, the dark hair sprinkled across his chest, and down, down, down to see exactly how low those slacks are on him.

But I keep my gaze locked on his shirt, scrubbing so hard I think I may put a hole through the fabric.

“Uh, I think you got it, Brooke.”

“Oh.” I cap the Tide pen with shaking fingers and take a deep breath. My body is buzzing with heat, and if he doesn’t move two inches to the left I’m going to send him up in smoke. I shake my head and scoot around him to the hand dryers.
Focus, damn it
. We can’t be gone too long and the bouquet toss is in…

“Oh shit!”

He bolts to my side, taking his shirt and looking at it from every angle. “What happened?”

I shake my head. “Not your shirt. I left the throw bouquet upstairs.” I turn, my intention to get out of this bathroom and up to our suite, but I’m stopped by Nate and his sexy as hell bare torso. He reaches around me to continue drying his clothes, and I’m frozen to the spot. His chest is so close, and if I thought I was on fire before, I now feel like I’m in an inferno. My neck is probably tomato red and cheeks filled to the blush max. I can’t breathe, and this is so abnormal for me because I’m in control of everything. I see half naked guys
, and I can function just fine. But Nate’s body heat swims with mine… plus the heat from the dryer and the way he keeps flicking his eyes to mine and smiling, just like last night when his lips were
so
close…

I’m going freaking crazy. I’m so wound up I can’t think straight.

“Better go get it then.” He nudges me, bare skin to bare skin and I have the sudden urge to clench my legs together.

“Eh?”

“The bouquet…”

Oh! “Right, right.” I snap my eyes shut just so I can get past him. “I-I’ll be right back down.”

I throw open the lock, and click out of the women’s room so fast it sounds like I’m tap dancing my way out. I’m still calming my breathing when I get to the elevator. When the doors close leaving me by myself I fan my face, inhale…exhale…try not to picture his chest and his face and his hands and his arms and his…
everything
. He’s got me so jacked up I can’t even walk. I trip and fall over myself to our room. It takes me a few seconds to get the key in the door.

The bouquet res
ts neatly in the sitting room, but I
so
can’t work like this. I need a minute. I didn’t schedule a minute, but I also didn’t schedule spilling wine all over Nate’s white shirt and spending five minutes alone with him shirtless in the bathroom.

Instead of heading to the bouquet, I go to my room. I grab a mini-fan I have packed in my extra purse and sit on the edge of the bed and let it cool my face. I really should stick it between my legs.

Actually… maybe that’s not a bad idea. Not the fan, but I need to cool off…unwind so I can do my damn job. It shouldn’t take long. I’ve got fresh memories of a sexy chest and cute smile. And I’m pretty sure things have been buzzing for weeks down there, and I haven’t done anything about it. Nate said it helps with pressure. Relieve the pressure, and rock the rest of this reception.

I stand up, bunching up my dress and hooking my thumbs in the edges of my “after dinner party” panties.

Five minutes. That’s all I need. Five minutes to unwind, and I’ll be back on my game.

Chapter Eighteen

Nate

I’ve slid my damp undershirt on when two of the bride’s friends step into the ladies’ and freeze. I give them a smile. “Carry on. I’m just getting dressed.”

They both laugh a little
, and I’m sure they think I just got a quickie in the bathroom, which would have been nice with the right partner and one a little less frantic and friend-like than Brooke. I toss my shirt over my arm, slide my camera strap up my shoulder and head for the room. I’m not sure exactly why Brooke never thought to ask if I had another white shirt because I do, and it’s not damp nor does it smell of Tide. It’s that watching her work and be so determined and not even realize she’d stripped me until it was done… It was too hilarious to stop. Only once she did realize, there was a part of me that wanted to take advantage of the situation. Of her being close, and me being without a shirt. I’m just not sure what to do with that part of me yet.

I step out of the bathroom and head to the suite for a new shirt and to dump my jacket. I’m done with that thing.

I slide the card into the door, push it open and my foot catches on something on the floor. I grasp for the wall, catching it just before I fall to the floor. I flick on the light to see Brooke’s heels at my feet. She’s in
here
?

I set my camera on the counter and head for my room, stripping my damp undershirt off in the process. “Brooke?” I ask and nothing.

Maybe she changed shoes in a hurry. I can’t imagine what else she could possibly be doing. I walk through the quiet living room when I hear the most distinct soft moan.

I freeze as scenarios flit through my brain. Mom’s not here for sure. It was definitely a girl and definitely from Brooke’s room. Another small whimper comes from behind her door, and I’m drawn to it before thinking.

I’m about to call her name again when I realize there’s definitely something happening, and maybe I shouldn’t interrupt. Mom’s voice screeches in my earpiece. “Brooke! Now please.”

I cringe. And she wonders why I’m always turning it off.

I take a few more steps inside, and something is definitely off. It’s not like Brooke to miss a page from Mom.

“Brooke?”

“Yes,” she gasps from behind the door, and I step back unsure if her “yes” was in response to me or something else entirely.

“Brooke?” I give a soft knock. “Are you getting the bouquets?”

“Oh. Shit. Oh.” There’s an odd scrambling sound, a couple of thumps and then, “Just a sec. I had to… I needed my flats, I…”

Her door flies open as she dials in her earpiece. Her cheeks are pink
, and I swear she’s breathing a little hard.

“You alone?” I ask
, glancing behind her, the pieces starting to fall into place.

She glances at me quickly. “Seriously, Nate. Put on your damn shirt.”

She stalks off, no flats and stuffs her feet in her heels.

It all hits me at once, what she was doing up here. Holy shit Brooke is awesome. “What were you up to, Brooke?” I tease. “Weddings a bit of a turn-on for you?”

I don’t even see the side of her face she’s trying so hard not to look at me. “Gotta run!”

She grabs the door to the suite while I’m still in the living room grinning. “Relieve the pressure before the big romantic moment?” I holler after her.

I laugh and she stalks up the hallway. That Brooke is something else. Wonder if she always gets off on wedding days.

***

Brooke is bare-faced from the shower, Mom and Morsten have long since gone to their room, and I’m in pajama pants and a T-shirt, restless even though it’s late.

She grins as she taps a few buttons on her phone and flops on the couch.

“Who’s that smile for?” I ask as I sit.

“Joshua. He said he’s looking forward to seeing me again when we get back.” She flips through her phone.

I try not to think about the a-hole I haven’t had time to meet yet. “You’re about to check something off, aren’t you?”

“What?” She raises her brows but her eyes don’t pull from her huge Galaxy.

“I wanna know what it says.” I lean toward her, but her back is on the arm of the couch and she just leans away.

“I’m just looking over the schedule.” I know she’s lying because she still won’t look at me.

“Brooke. What did it say? The thing you just checked. What did it say?”

“Ugh.” She widens her eyes. “You’re impossible!”

“Would you rather talk about this afternoon?” I slide closer and wiggle my brows. “The fact that you were alone in your room, and—”

“Nate.” She pauses for long enough that I know she’s about to put off way more bravado than she feels. “It’s called masturbation. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s where you—”

“Point made.” I hold up my hands between us. “You win.”

She gives me a smug smile over her phone. “It
said ‘confirm date with Joshua.’ That’s all.”

Because I can’t help it.
“Do you schedule time for getting off, or is it actually spontaneous?”

Brooke flashes me a look before standing up and wandering to her room.

I’m not ready for the distraction of her to be over yet. Celeste wrote back to say she’d love to see me again only I couldn’t bring myself to care. Now that I’ve half walked in on Brooke during her solo bedroom session, it feels like we’re back to the comfortable friendship I’ve started to rely on. “Brooke?”

“I need to make a call, Nate.
Gimme a sec.”

“Fine.” I toss my arms in the air with a smile. “Bet twenty bucks I have you lured back out of your room within ten.”

“You will lose that bet.” She widens her eyes in another childlike gesture before closing the door between us.

I immediately open it.

“Nate. Seriously.” But she’s smiling as she scolds me. And suddenly I can see it all. Her firm waist, her sweet smile, her short hair in a mess around her face, and I don’t want my night to be over.

“Come with me.”

“I’m wearing pajamas,” she protests.

I hold out my hand, glad we’re smiling and getting along and that there’s no weirdness. “Come on.”

She takes a step toward me, still hesitant.

“Leave your phone and let’s people watch. It’s perfect at a hotel this size, this late at night. Trust me.”

Her knuckles are white as she clutches her phone. I step into her to take it away, but she laughs and pulls her arm around her back making me reach for it. “No!” she squeals.

“Oh, yes.” I swipe for it, but miss, only now our bodies are touching, and I don’t want it to stop. “I’m getting that phone.”

“I said I’d call, Nate!” She stumbles backwards until she hits the bed, and I know I have her.

“Walk with me. Call later.” Her body feels so good bumping against mine as she tries to get away that my heart skips.

“It’s late!”

But to be honest, I don’t want her calling that guy. She smells like her shampoo and vanilla soap and her smile hits me in good places and before thinking about it too much, I clasp my hand gently around her wrist to hold her still and press my lips to hers.

“Wha…” she starts but I kiss her again, just lightly.

I pull away just far enough to see her eyes in the lamplight of her room and we’re both watching each other with this weird expression of
what just happened
.

“But—”

I don’t let her finish, parting my lips and kissing her again. Brooke lets off a soft whimper in my mouth and our tongues slide together. Everything in me shifts and all I can think about is more. I want more of her. More of her sweetness and laughing and mouth and tongue.

She clutches
my shirt as our kiss deepens further. And the
everything
she could be hits me hard. My heart skips again but for a completely different reason. This is a girl who knows about my friends and my annoying brother and Viv and me. She knows
me
. She gives me hell and sees through my moods, and I think about how fast perfect moments turn to crap when… I slow the kissing, but my brain hasn’t totally caught up yet. She and I will turn to shit when she realizes I no longer fit on her to-do list, or when she finds someone who doesn’t call her on all of her ridiculous planning. Or when she remembers I’m not the guy perfect enough to fit into her perfect life-plan.

Our foreheads rest together and I’m
divided because I never want to take my hands off her, but I can’t… More than anything I need Brooke to be my
friend
right now. I can’t risk it. Can’t ruin that.

She tilts her face and gives me a small kiss. One I’m sure is meant to encourage me, but, “I can’t do this,” I whisper as we sit with our foreheads together in the dim light. “We’re friends. I need us to be friends.”

She starts to talk, but I rest my hands on her cheeks for a moment, trying to find the strength to walk away.

“Nate, I—
”

Once she starts talking, I have to get away because I can’t work through a conversation about this right now. I jump back to the door like it’s an emergency exit in a fire. “I’m stupid. I’m so sorry. It’ll be okay.” I’m just spewing words because I want this awkwardness to be over. “Just like normal at work on Tuesday. I promise. And it’ll all be fine.”

So many things flash across her face that I don’t try to decipher them. I could, but I don’t want to. I know I confused her.
I’m
confused, and I’m the one who started it. I practically bolt for my room and grab my phone off the nightstand. I may hate my brother for some things, but there are a few other things he’s really good at—one of which I’m in serious need of.

To Xavier
:
Need you to take me out and get me wasted the second I’m back in town.

I know he won’t answer until sometime tomorrow afternoon, but I also know he’ll say yes.