Page 251 of Not Over You

“It’s okay, Mack, but don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I murmur and watch her under hooded eyes enjoying our banter.

She lowers her voice to a whisper. "Okay, full disclosure. I only like beer with barbecue, so this is our little secret. Some of my Charleston girlfriends would drop over if they saw me slugging Bud Light."

It’s hard to concentrate on her words when she smells like fresh flowers. I want to pull her onto my lap, unbutton her blouse, press my nose to the base of her neck, and inhale. For hours.

"It sounds like you have some fancy friends, Brooke. But I think I can keep your secret." I wink.

Her giggle warms me in places that have been vacant and empty for years. I study her wide, gorgeous smile and find the way her cheeks round and turn pink adorable. Why don’t I feel like this with other women? Why is Brooke so precious to me? It has to be that I’m stuck in the past, hanging on to memories for dear life, so much so that I haven’t allowed myself to move on. I haven’t allowed myself to fall in love again.

What the fuck am I doing?

Accepting Brocker’s job offer, living at Golden Meadow in the stablemaster’s house with the guys and working closely with Brooke will be a test of willpower. But if the next year, when I’m contracted to work as head of fire, security, and rescue, has any chance of success, then I need to set some ground rules for myself.

Number fucking one, let go of the past as I should’ve done years ago.

Two, keep life simple and stay single. I'm a no-baggage kind of man, and I'm going to keep it that way.

And most importantly, number three, when it comes to Brooke Sheridan, she’s my co-worker. Period. End of fucking story. Anything else is self-inflicted trauma.

Just like she said, we’re coworker friends out to dinner. Now is the best time to set the tone before I fuck anything up. Starting today, I’m a hundred percent professional with everyone, especially Brooke.

The past is dead and gone, and so is Drake.

Leaning forward, I clear my throat. "Brooke, I do have something I need to tell you."

She straightens in her seat, and her voice softens. "Okay. What's on your mind?"

You don't want to know the answer to that, honeybee.

I rest my forearms against the table's edge, and we lock gazes. "I'm going to sign a one-year contract with Brocker, and so are my men."

Brooke's eyes widen, but I can't tell if it's a positive or negative reaction. She's stock-still otherwise.

"The contract is lucrative and, quite frankly, one I can't pass up right now."

She finally breaks from her frozen pose, swallows hard, and nods. Although I shouldn't care, relief floods through me, and I continue. "Especially since I still haven't found the assholes who burned out my dad's truck. Plus, I don't like leaving you in an unsafe area."

She starts to protest, but I stop her. "It would be a lot better if you'd make your way back to Charleston or find a different employer."

"You've got to be kidding me." She crosses her arms so tightly she hugs her rib cage. "I owe Owen Brocker a lot for taking a chance on me with their new investment property."

"I get it, I like the Brockers too. I'm choosing to work for them even though I never planned to, but right now there's a culture war going on in Frost Forest. It's one Owen will win, but there could be some casualties along the way. I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Mack, you're overreacting." Her blue eyes turn liquid.

"Brooke, you're under-reacting." She scoffs, and I smile.

"Hi, you two." Ryker's heavy muscle mass plows me farther into the booth, and I grunt with disapproval as he makes Brooke gasp and derails our discussion.

Tyson, ever the gentleman, kindly asks if he may be seated beside Brooke. She looks flattered and slides over to offer him room, to my annoyance.

"You must be Miss Sheridan. I'm Chris Tyson, and the hulk sitting across the table is Jon Ryker."

Ryker suddenly remembers his manners. "We hope we're not interrupting."

"You are." Ryker ignores me.

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