Page 53 of Until You're Mine
“Brooklyn? You here?” Dad’s voice broke through the sound of our kisses and heavy breathing.
“Shit,” I said as Shane dropped an F-bomb.
“I saw your car in the parking lot when I drove by, and I don’t like you being here this late at night all by yourself.”
Something told me he wouldn’t feel any better about me being here this latenotalone. I leaped off the desk and straightened my clothes the best I could before turning to grab the soda I’d left on top of the mini-fridge.
I prayed Shane had made an equal move, one that wouldn’t make us appear as guilty as we were.
Dad rounded the corner, and I shot him a big smile. “Oh, hey. I was just grabbing a soda and Shane came in to give me crap about how bad it is for me.” I cracked open the tab, took a gulp big enough to burn my nose and throat, and then gave an exaggerated, “mmm.”
Dad glanced from me to Shane, who’d somehow made it around the other side of the desk, thank goodness. He slowly turned to face Dad, and I couldn’t help discreetly checking to see if the raging erection he’d had pressed against me had calmed down. A relieved breath fell from my lips—the situation was under control.
“Yeah, I heard her in here grabbing the sugary death drink, and thought I’d let her know I was about to leave, and so should she, for the exact reason you pointed out. I didn’t want her to be here alone.”
“He’s always insisting we leave together,” I said, and then panicked it sounded bad and Dad was going to discover we’d crossed so many lines—a few of them in this very office—andoh, holy crap.“I mean, leave out the back door together to go to different places, obviously…” I inwardly smacked my palm against my forehead. Shane’s widened eyes asked me why I hadn’t stopped talking already. I didn’t bother sending a look back, because I had no earthly clue. “I was also thinking of grabbing Chinese for dinner, so I was asking him if Mai’s is still the best spot for that.”
I hoped Shane would read between the lines.I’ll meet you there, we’ll grab dinner, then we’ll go to your place and continue the devouring, both of food and bodies.
“It is,” Dad said, “and I’m starving. Come on, I’ll take you both to dinner. My treat.”
I couldn’t imagine a more stressful scenario, and I assumed this would be where Shane made his excuses and bowed out. But Dad didn’t give him the chance. He clapped him hard on the back, and I tried to figure out if that meant he knew Shane’s tongue had just been doing very wicked things to mine. Were we busted? Did he want to murder one of us? Or possibly both of us?
“It’s been a hard week,” Dad said, his fingers curling around Shane’s shoulder. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
Shane glanced at me, and where there should be ahell no, this can’t happenexpression like the one I wore, amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds good.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Shane
Dinner. With Blake Roth and his daughter, who I couldn’t stop imagining naked and underneath me. What could go wrong?
Sure, there’d been a part of me that’d thought: Oh,nowhe cares about Brooklyn being alone at the gym late at night?
But we’d had that conversation about how many people would kill to go to dinner with him, and I wanted to talk to him outside of training camp drills and the gym. Wanted to solidify my position on the team. And you just don’t say no to a guy like Blake “Bring the Wroth” Roth when he tells you he’s taking you to dinner.
Even if it makes the woman you’re crazy about look totally panicked. I figured I could also be here for moral support, although I wasn’t sure how I was going to show it without her dad seeing it as well.
The hostess led us to a tiny table that only accentuated his and my size, but since that meant I could easily press my knee into Brooklyn’s thigh, undetected, I marked it as a win. I tapped my foot against hers, letting her know I was here.
Our eyes met for a brief moment, and it was enough to send warmth through me. She was going to be my undoing, no doubt, and I cared a lot less about that than I probably should.
Blake addressed her, pulling her attention to him. “So, how’d your visit with the boyfriend go this weekend?”
Despite knowing how it’d gone—and that she’d ended up at my place, in my arms and in my bed—the mention of him still had me clenching my fists.
“Fine,” she said.
Blake nodded, clearly at a loss for what to bring up next. Here’s the thing. I was the king of not bothering to say anything when I’d already detached from someone. I could tell Brooklyn was most of the way there, and yet she couldn’t fully sever that thread of hope that still tied her to him. While a lot of the people who’d tried to get me to open up through the years were merely going through the motions, I could see her dad genuinely wanted to connect. Obviously, he just didn’t know how. I didn’t know, either, but I could try to help smooth the pathway.
“Didn’t you say you’re working on a new painting?” Over the past couple of days, during the way-too-short minutes I’d talked to her, I’d seen the paint on her fingers and forearm, and her entire face lit up whenever she talked about how good it felt to be wielding a paintbrush again.
“My dad’s never been interested in my art. I think the exact words were ‘waste of time.’”
Damn, remind me never to get on her bad side.Come to think of it, I started on her bad side. Eventually I’d changed her mind, though, and if I started thinking about that, my thoughts would get off track and go gutter diving.
I looked to Blake, daring him to say he didn’t feel that way—or hell, something.
