Page 96 of When You Blush
“She’s beautiful”—I’m ticking the list off on my fingers—“has a career, comes from a good family, seems to like her hair pulled?—”
“Shut up,” Brooks says, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
With a laugh, we turn the corner to the lobby, and both stop dead in our tracks.
Because just ahead, at the coffee shop where there’s a cooler for grab-and-go meals, is a woman bent over that cooler, filling it with to-go boxes.
Brooks would recognize that ass anywhere.
Juliet straightens to grab more boxes from her cart, and when her eyes shift over to us, she also stops, and tears fill her pretty blue eyes.
She clears her throat.
“Hi, guys. Um, I’m just about done here. I can go?—”
“You’re good at that,” Brooks finally says, and I close my eyes on a sigh.
“What?” Her eyebrows pull together in a frown.
“Running away,” he says. His voice is so hard and cold, and I hear the hurt in it. I fucking hate this. “You’re good at that.”
“Brooks, if you’d give me just two minutes to explain?—”
“I don’t want an explanation,” he says, his hands fisting at his sides. “I don’t want anything from you. Not anymore. Congratulations on the new restaurant. I’m happy for you, Jules. But you and I won’t be talking. Iwon’t be popping by for lunch. And if you need to have your car worked on, there’s a garage in Silver Springs.”
“Brooks,” she begins, but he shakes his head.
“Don’t ever say my name again.”
Brooks turns and walks away, and Juliet deflates in front of me.
“I was hoping that would go better,” she murmurs as she wipes a tear from her cheek. “God, he still looks amazing.”
“He’ll be out on the patio,” I tell her. “Maybe try again.”
She looks longingly toward the way that Brooks left. “It’s no use.”
“Maybeyouneed to be the one to pursue him. To make him feel like you need to talk to him. If you run away now, I can guarantee you there will never be another chance, Jules. Go out to the patio.”
She looks at her cart.
“I’ve got that, and the cart will be here when you’re done.”
Juliet takes a deep breath and then nods. “Thanks, Blake.”
“Good luck.”
Once I’ve set the rest of her meals in the cooler, I move the cart out of the way and order our coffees. I also grab a couple of breakfast burritos and return to the room.
When I walk inside, my girl is still sleeping, and her phone is lighting up like the Fourth of July.
“I smell coffee,” she mutters from underthe pillow.
“Your nose is right.” I sit on the side of the bed next to her hip and pass her a cup. “I got you a breakfast burrito, too.”
“Because breakfast is our thing.” She sips her coffee, watching me. “I love that it’s our thing because coffee is life.”
“Your phone is busy.”
