Page 37 of Chasing Forever
And I cannot wait to see Brooks’s face when I show up tonight with Wren in the back seat.
Chapter Sixteen
Brooks
Friday couldn’t come fast enough. You’d think stopping in every morning for coffee, I would’ve gotten my fix of Lottie, but it’s done nothing but make me crave more time with her. Every part of me wants to convince her I’m the guy for her—even when all week, she’s been handing me coffee cups with less-than-complimentary names on them. Turns out, Bully was just the start. So far, she’s written Regret, Whoops Husband, and—my personal favorite—Sin City Slip-Up.
I’m showered and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt since it’s a warm spring night. I opted for no hat. It’s weird being on the other side of the dating fence. I’ve never had a woman plan a date for me before. Now I understand why they always ask what to wear. At least I’m confident Lottie’s not planning some romantic restaurant in Lincoln. She’s absolutely going to try to tank tonight. I’m half-expecting her to fake a flat tire or feed me something questionable just to end the night early.
Her small SUV pulls into my driveway right on time, and I plant myself in place by the door. I’m not going out to meet her.
She honks her horn.
I don’t move.
Then she presses down on her horn again, longer this time.
I stay where I am. If she wants to be the date planner, she can come to the damn door like I would for her.
Then comes the triple-honk—three long, angry blasts as though she’s trying to summon the dead.
After I still don’t emerge from my house, my phone dings.
I’m here.
I know.
Then why aren’t you coming out?
I’m your date, no? Come and get me.
The three dots appear. Then disappear. Then return. I can perfectly picture her rage-typing and rage-deleting. It’s pathetic how much I get off on making her angry. I’m hoping there’s a day I can piss her off and then kiss her straight after.
Seriously, Brooks?
Dead serious.
Ugh.
A car door slams, then two knocks sound on my door.
I open the door with a smug grin—ready to see her flushed and flustered—but my gaze drops straight down.
“Brooks!” Wren barrels into me, wrapping her arms around my middle like a human seat belt. “We’re going to the fair!”
Then she crouches down and gives Mack a hug, rattling off a bunch of questions about his day and our big outing.
I love Wren. I do. I just wish I’d had some warning that my “date” was going to come with a chaperone. Of course Lottie pulled this angle. I told her to plan a date but I never said it had to be one-on-one. I hate that I feel even the tiniest flicker of disappointment. I knew she’d try to ruin tonight, but I guess I was holding out the smallest bit of hope that she wouldn’t.
“Aunt Lottie says she won’t ride the Zipper with me. Will you?”
I glance at the car. Lottie’s sitting in the driver’s seat with that smug-ass smirk as if she just dropped a royal flush over my straight flush at the poker table.
I crook my finger at her.
She shakes her head.
Fine.
