Page 16 of Storm

Brook swallowed, the movement drawing his attention to the graceful line of her neck. “You’re asking me to lunch?”

“I don’t usually ask, sunshine.”

She blinked, her wide eyes studying him before she giggled softly. “I’ve kind of noticed.” Her tone was playful. She gestured to her computer. “Give me a minute to finish this email, and then we can go.”

Storm nodded, leaning casually against the desk as he watched her type, her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard. He couldn’t stop himself from noticing the way her blush lingered. He loved it when she did that.

When they arrived at the diner, Storm slid into the booth across from her, wanting to see her face while they ate. The place was cozy—the typical 1950s style diner, with red vinyl seats and a jukebox in the corner.

He already knew what he wanted, but Brook seemed utterly engrossed in the menu, her gaze flicking across the pages. She reread it several times, her lips pressing together in concentration. Remembering her confession the other night, Storm reached across the table, tugging the menu from her hands.

“How many things are you trying to decide between?”

“Three,” she admitted softly.

“What are they?”

“The cheeseburger, the Cobb salad, and the chicken strips.”

Storm leaned back, watching her closely. He couldn’t seem to tear his attention away from her even if he tried. “What did you have for dinner last night?”

“Um, chicken nuggets,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He arched an eyebrow, his expression both incredulous and teasing. “And?”

She lifted her gaze to meet his, the corners of her lips twitching like she was trying to hold back a smile. “And… ranch?”

He narrowed his eyes, leaning forward slightly as though to emphasize his point. “Is that a question, sunshine? Because if so, I don’t have an answer for you. But if I’d been there, you damn sure would’ve had more than just chicken nuggets and ranch for dinner.”

When she gave him a weak smile and didn’t reply, he sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I’ll order you the Cobb salad.”

He noticed the subtle way her shoulders dropped, a flicker of disappointment passing over her features. He’d ignore it—for now. She’d understand soon enough.

After the waitress came by and he placed their order, the silence between them was slightly awkward. Brook fidgeted, her fingers brushing the edge of the table, while Storm stared at her, trying to decide what to say. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“I should tell you something,” he began, his voice steady though his nerves prickled.

Brook raised her eyebrows. “Okay,” she replied, drawing out the word.

He drew in a deep breath, the weight of what he had to say pressing against his chest. “I like you, Brook. A lot. Which is saying something because I don’t fucking like anyone. I only met you at the end of last week, but ever since I first saw you in the real estate office, you’ve been on my mind.”

Her mouth fell open slightly, looking surprised. How could she not know? She was stunning—those bright green eyes, that soft, pillowy smile—and she was so damn sweet it was fucking painful.

“Um, I don’t know what to say,” she finally managed shakily as her gaze dropped to her lap before rising to meet his again.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to continue. “I’m not the easiest guy to be around,” he admitted, his voice rough with honesty. “I can be… possessive. And trust doesn’t come easy for me. I’ve been burned before.”

Brook stayed quiet, her eyes studying him, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, she was calm, almost hesitant. “By a woman?”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers. “I just… if this goes anywhere, I want you to know what you’re getting into.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable, the magnitude of his confession settling between them as Brook processed his words.

Finally, she smiled, but it wasn’t the dazzling grin that lit up the room and tugged at his chest. This one was smaller, softer, and tinged with a sadness that made his stomach twist. “Thank you for being honest,” she said, a little quieter now… “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re a good guy, Storm. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but good.”

Her gaze dropped to the table for a moment before she looked back up, her eyes filled with a hesitant vulnerability. “I’m an introvert, and I spend a lot of time reading or doing quietthings to decompress after work or hanging out with people. I pretty much hid in my bed all weekend after Friday night. The party was so much fun, but it takes me time to regroup after being social.”

Storm’s brow furrowed slightly. He didn’t understand where she was going with this. Did she think he’d care? Introvert or not, it didn’t matter to him. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms as he waited for her to continue.

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