Page 59 of Rushing Into Love

“Sure. For the espresso machine, I guess I’ll do it. I hope you’ll come back, though, Bree, I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too. But I’m not coming back anytime soon. Thanks for clearing out the office, Al. I’ll keep you posted.”

We said our goodbyes and hung up. A tiny pang of anxiety zipped through me. Terminating my lease on the LA office space was a big step. But I couldn’t justify paying rent for an office I wasn’t even using; it didn’t make sense. Besides, I still had my apartment if things didn’t work out with Ryder. I could always go back to LA.

Honestly, though, I wasn’t really missing LA at all. Deep down, I hoped I wouldn’t have to go back.

* * *

A few nights later,I was helping my sister clear up the dinner plates when the doctor came home.

“Hey, hon,” Craig said, walking into the kitchen and giving Brooklyn a kiss. “You guys already done with dinner?”

“Yeah, it’s seven pm already, Craig,” she said, glancing up at the clock. “It’s a school night.”

“I’m off tomorrow, since I was on call last weekend. Why don’t you and Bree go out and get a drink and I’ll watch Alex?” he offered. “You’ve had a lot on your plate lately, with the big Stephenson reno. You could use a break.” He swatted her on the bum playfully, pushing her out of the kitchen. “I’ll handle the rest of clean up. Go.”

Brooks turned to him. “And bedtime. Don’t forget to read Alex a story. And make her brush her teeth!” She shook her index finger at him.

“Take her out, Bree, and remind her how to have a good time. Love you!” He shooed us out before Brooks could change her mind.

“Alright, guess we’re going out,” I said, grinning. “Where to, sis?” I asked, putting on my coat and shoes.

“There’s only one place to go in this town, Bree.” She leveled a gaze at me.

“The Rowdy?” I raised an eyebrow.

“You got it.”

“Well, let’s go.”

A few minutes later, Brooks was parking the car in front of The Rowdy. For a Thursday night, there were a lot of cars in the parking lot.

“I guess Thursday night is a big party night, huh?” I noted as we walked to the door.

“Who knew? I never go out on weeknights,” she shrugged.

We flashed our ID’s, then pushed through the crowd to the bar. The music was thumping and there were already a few people out on the dance floor, grinding to the beat. Some guys were playing darts in the corner and of course, Thursday night football played on the TV.

We sidled up to an empty spot at the bar and somehow managed to grab two empty stools. I recognized the bartender as Ryder’s friend, Macy. I waved to get her attention and she slid down to us, took our orders. A few seconds later, we each had glasses of Chardonnay, only slightly chilled, but you couldn’t afford to be too picky at The Rowdy.

Brooks turned to me. “So—”

“Why do I get the feeling this is going to be an interrogation?” I asked, sipping my wine.

Brooks grinned. “Because it totally is. Spill. I want to know all the details, including the dirty bits.” She winked at me playfully and I almost spewed wine on her, I was laughing so hard.

“Brooks!” I said in a high-pitched voice. “You naughty girl! There are absolutely no dirty bits of which to tell.”

“Yeah, right. He’s Ryder McCauliffe. There are probably a lot fewer clean bits to tell.”

“Not true. We’ve barely even kissed.”

“Uh-huh. And I believe that. Not. At. All.”

“Fine. We might have gotten together once or twice,” I admitted, blushing crimson.

“And?” Brooks raised her eyebrows.

---