Page 65 of Winning Brynn

Isabella:So, he’s a rake?

Brynn:He’s definitely something.

Chapter Twenty

Brynn

I remember the nightAlex and I were dropped unceremoniously onto the front porch of the Poppy Fields Children's Home.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since our parents had been killed by a drunk driver smashing into their car on the Interstate. Less than twenty-four hours since the police knocked on our door and told our sitter what had happened. Less than twenty-four hours since our little lives had been ripped apart.

Until then, we'd been happy.

Our parents had been good to us. They had loved us. Our mother had been especially gentle, our father a quiet man who spoke more with his actions than his words—so Alex tells me, anyway. I remember little of them now.

I’d only been six at the time, whereas he’d been ten. Old enough to understand what was happening and take the burden of my care upon himself. Old enough, also, to carry the memory of our parents with him even now.

So, there we stood, in the doorway of our new reality, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, me crying a waterfall of tears and him swallowing his own grief so that I could wallow in mine.

He let me sleep in bed with him that night and every night following for a year, despite how hard the staff worked to separate us.

But that's just who my brother is.

He is my strength and my safety net. My eternal protector.

And apparently, my biggest cockblock.

Since Leo kissed me in the middle of the night, my hulking, grumbly employer has avoided me at every opportunity. He's already long gone when Salem and I wake up in the mornings, though that's not unusual. What is new, though, is the ten-foot radius he gives me in the rare moments we're sharing the same space, or how he immediately disappears into his office every evening after getting his daughter down for the night.

The first night it happens, I'm understanding.

The second night, I'm irritated.

The third night, I'm pissed off.

And now, on the fourth night of his ridiculous avoidance bullshit, I'm downright seething.

Lifting my fist to his office door, I slam it three times against the thick wood. Without even waiting for an answer, I push my way inside.

"Leo Sullivan, I have a bone to pick with—wait, what is this?" My feet slam to a stop as I take in the room.

I've been in his office before, either chasing after Salem when she's decided to crawl her way inside or grabbing something Leo has needed when I've been in an obliging mood. I've never taken much time to really take in the space before, but I've seen enough to know that he has made some significant changes since the last time I came in here.

Namely, the stark-white backdrop now hiding the bookcases, a tripod mounted with an incredibly fancy-looking camera, and the softbox lights surrounding it on either side.

"Leo, what is this?" I ask again, my tone gentler this time, my eyes wide as I breathe it all in.

From his position on the floor, he drops the wires in his hands and lays his palms on his knees, looking up at me. There's a softness to his expression, a shy, almost vulnerable flicker in his gaze.

He clears his throat. "Well, you told me a little while ago that you were struggling to stay on top of your workload for your social media. And since it's because you're helping me out with Salem, I figured that the least I could do was try to find a way to make it easier for you."

I blink at him.

"I don't know anything about photography, so I just Googled what you'd need and bought the stuff it said was the best. Is it okay?"

"Yes," I breathe because my voice has abandoned me.

"You sure?" He climbs to his feet, the muscles in his shirtless abdomen contracting with the movement. I swallow and remind myself not to stare. "We can return anything you don't like, and you can pick out replacements. Whatever you need, just charge it to my card."

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