Page 3 of Headed for Home

“Brooks,” I relent. “Never been married.”

“Me either.” Drake’s voice is smoother than churned butter. “What brings you to Knox Creek?”

“I live here.”

His jaw drops. “No shit? Since when?”

“A few years now.” The reminder of what brought me here tightens my chest. I rub at the sore spot that will never fully heal.

Another curse comes from Drake to break apart the emotional turbulence. “And this is the first I’m seeing of you?”

His upset mirrors my wonder from earlier. We grew up not too far from Knox Creek but it’s quite a coincidence we both relocated to this exact neck of the woods.

“I don’t come to Main Street often. Greener Pastures keeps me very occupied.”

“Your grandma’s place?” His memory is impressive.

“Mimi left the stable to me after she…” A spiky lump forms in my throat. “My mom never loved horses the way her mother did. Dad couldn’t care less. The property is mine now.”

“Damn, I had no idea she passed.” He scrubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

I sniffle at the burn in my nose. “Thanks.”

“Are you doing okay?”

My nod is too quick. “Yep, just fine.”

The lingering grief is too much to unpack for a simple exchange. Blubbering in public is a real mood killer. My focus slides around the busy coffee shop to give me a moment to collect my thoughts. In this brief lapse, I realize nobody seems to notice or care that Drake Granger is in our presence. He fits right in, which isn’t surprising in the least. But it does spark awareness and clarity.

Our reunion special distracted me from how this interaction started. Drake is still cradling my phone in his large palm as if it’s precious. The sight provides a welcome reprieve from the heavy topic we’d just waded into.

His attention follows mine to where the device rests. A furrow creases his forehead before his brows take a hike to his hairline.It takes me several seconds to realize he’s reading what’s on my screen.

I gasp. “Hey! That’s private.”

“Fuck yeah it is.” Glee is thick in his voice. “This is a dirty book, babe.”

The nickname—regardless of how generic—spreads tingles through my lower belly. That desire is only spurred on by the context of our conversation and what he just read.

“There’s nothing wrong with spicy romance,” I defend.

“Couldn’t agree more.” His tone is raspy as he returns his focus to the open page on my screen.

“Give me that.” I snatch my phone from his grip. “Nice catch, by the way.”

“Kinda known for it. Couldn’t let my record slip, even if I’m retired.” He cocks his head while I tuck away the evidence. “That’s pretty steamy stuff. Cassidy Brooks has a naughty streak. Who knew?”

I roll my eyes. “Quit overthinking it. I love to read when I have a moment to spare. Simple as that. It’s a guilty pleasure and helps me unwind.”

“Mhmm, I can see why.” His timbre is still saturated in suggestive undertones.

“Must you make it sound so crude?”

“Not my fault this subject matter is so… titillating. Is there any other choice?”

“Nope, guess not.” A huff escapes me, and I begin packing my things.

Drake clasps my elbow. “Hey, don’t run off. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

---