Page 77 of Only Between Us

“Okay,” I tell Brooks. “I’ll give you this, if you give me something I’ve been missing.”

Chapter25Siena

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I do my best not to giggle.

Not at Brooks’s stream of words in the speaker in my ear, nor at the way his fingertips dig into my waist as we rip down the final stretch of deserted dirt road cutting through pine trees. I bring my bike to a smooth stop at the opening of a clearing I’ve visited more than once in my lifetime.

Instantly, I miss the wind flapping through the ends of my hair. It’s as close to the feeling of sailing a boat as I can get on land. The freedom, the weightlessness.

Brooks hadn’t been wrong to gripe about my lack of leathers that first morning he picked me up for work, so I wore a leather jacket tonight to appease him. After making sure Mom was set up for a little while, we’d picked him up his own jacket and a brand-new helmet before we took off.

Despite his sheer terror during the ride, Brooks looks so good coming off my bike—swinging his long leg off the side so gracefully, shedding his helmet, tunneling his fingers through the unruly waveson his head. Tugging off his black leather jacket and tossing it on the seat of the bike, over mine.

He’s so damn stunning, it’s sick.

He stares around at the surrounding pines. “Josh would kick my ass into the ground if he found out I did that.”

I comb my fingers through my hair. It’s a lost cause, though. Back up it goes into a chaotic bun. “Why’s that?”

“Our livelihoods rely on my body remaining intact.” He follows me through a small break in the trees on one side of the road. “And both NFL contracts I’ve signed included several clauses against anything like the death trap you just made me ride.”

“I don’t know, Attwood. You can’t convince me you didn’t love that.” There’s a fresh hop in my step, not unlike the one I had coming off the sailboat a couple of hours ago.

The trees fall away, and we’re left with the most gorgeous view in the county. The edge of the cliff overlooks the sprawling bay. Boats dot the water, with the boardwalk in the distance. Dirt and dried-up pine needles under our feet. I’d stare up at this cliff from the boat whenever Dad and I used to take it out, until I finally found a way up here years ago.

I like to pretend I’m the only one who knows about it, even though the tire tracks in the dirt road leading up the small mountain tell a different story.

Brooks sits at my side on the bed of pine needles, feet dangling off the cliff face. There’s not a foot of space between us. He blinks around with something of a smile.

He feels it—the same exhilaration, persistent adrenaline flowing through me. From the ride and the endless water below us.

I knew he’d like it.

Brooks Attwood has a little reckless in him, too. I’d felt it on that gala dance floor. Heard it in the way he said nothing hadmatched the adrenaline rush of playing football in the years since he retired.

I doubt this measures up to his dream of winning a championship with the Rebels, but maybe it helps to know there’s more than one way to fill whatever void he’s felt. Football isn’t the be-all and end-all.

He’s so much more than that.

“This feels sacred,” he says without looking at me. “You bringing me to your secret spot.”

“The house we were just in is just as sacred to me. My mom is sacred to me. May as well go all in.”

He nods. “Are you upset I did that today?”

“More… uncomfortable. I prefer to handle my own business.” I reach over the edge of the cliff to roll up the pant legs of my jeans. With a soft grunt and agoddamn itunder his breath, Brooks grips the back of my T-shirt, as though to stop me from falling into the bay.

He’s sweet. Too sweet.

Making me feel things I shouldn’t.

I can feel his heavy stare. Acute awareness presses against every inch of me—my cheek, my arms, down to my toes. I should tell him to stop, to add a bit of distance between where we sit now, but nothing comes out of my mouth.

“Do you trust me?”

His question catches me off guard, but it’s his soft delivery that really squeezes my heart. He’s so stripped back today. Careful, more than a touch vulnerable, and I don’t know what to do with it.

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