“Definitely. The darker the better. What about you? I figured since you liked pop music …”
I wave my hand and Sadie giggles. I think she digs all the colors on my arm. I read that babies her age dig movement and bright things. Guess I'm a lot of both, huh?
“I love horror shit. Especially in video game form. You play?”
“I was a huge World of Warcraft girl back in high school.” I lean over and give her a high five. Brooke accepts it with a laugh and smiles. “I haven't had much time to play games since I graduated though. Biostatistics is kind of a tough field. I worked my ass off to get into that masters program at Berkeley.” She looks down at the table for a moment and her eyes flutter with emotion. I feel my own mouth tighten and start getting pissed on her behalf. So not cool. A girl like this, with everything in the world to live for and here she is, cleaning up somebody else's mess.
If I ever see her sister, Ingrid, I might just up and deck her in the face.
“You'll make it,” I say, pretending to shoot a basketball. “Slam dunk. I can just tell.”
“Thanks,” Brooke says with a small laugh, leaning back against the cracked green leather of the booth. I still think she has no idea what she looks like, how her arched brows give her this permanently curious expression, like frames for the bright intelligence of her eyes. Long lashes, full lips, that long dark hair that I haven't had a chance to fully play with yet … Yep. Total package.
I drum my fingers against the tabletop.
“What do you think you'll do with the kids while you're working? After I leave, I mean.”
Brooke shakes her head, giant ponytail flopping.
“No clue. I guess if Monica really does come through tomorrow … and then maybe I can make it until my parents get back from Scotland. My dad isn't going to be able to do much, and I'd hate to put that extra burden on my mom, but if the girls are asleep most of the time, maybe she can handle it?”
“When do they get back?”
“About two and a half weeks from now.” I raise my eyebrows, but I get it. Brooke's dad is sick; this could be her parents' last chance to get away together. “If my mom can't do it, I guess I'll hire a sitter.”
“Not off of Craigslist though, right?” I ask as I point at her with a tattooed finger. The letter E stands up sharply between us. Brooke gives me a sexy little smile and puts her hands on the table, leaning forward enough that I can see straight down her shirt to the lacy gray bra she's wearing. Damn.I feel my cock respond instantaneously, rising up to meet my tight pants with a vigor even I wasn't sure he was capable of. Oooouch. Guess we're both Brooke Overland fans.
I drop my hand to my lap and try to clamp down on the rush of need—literally. I press hard and take a deep breath, pretending that I'm just unfolding my napkin in my lap.
“You didn't really offer to help me because you were worried about me, did you? I mean, you wanted to fuck me, didn't you?”
I feel my mouth turning up in a grin.
“Listen up there, Smarty-Pants, I'm not the one that froze up like a deer in the headlights in the middle of those child infested wood chips. Don't think I didn't notice you gazing at me like that. If anyone was gunning to fuck anyone, it was you lookin' at me.”
“Okay, fine,” Brooke says, leaning even closer, her hair trailing over her shoulder onto the tabletop. “But when I asked you to be the nanny, you were just thinking about getting in my pants.”
“Nope.” I lean in towards her, matching her stance. “I was legit worried about you. Little naïve there, Brooke Overland, especially for such a Smarty-Pants.”
She grins at me and I like the expression so much that I lean forward just a little bit more and press our mouths together, my tongue sliding in and capturing her before she can pull away from me. There's a moment of hesitation on her part, but then she starts kissing me back and I smile.
“Stop it,” she moans when she drops back into her seat. “Don't smile while we're doing that.”
“Why not?” I ask as I prop my elbow on the table and drop my head into my hand. “It's fun. Don't you like to kiss people? You might be never-been-fucked, but don't tell me you're never-been-kissed, too?”
“I kissed people,” she says as the waitress stops by to take our order and Brooke flushes at her bemused smile. Clearly, she saw the tongue tangle that was happening over here.
We both skip the coffee and head straight for the good stuff, getting fresh fish and chips and a couple of sodas. Nice. I like a girl that can eat. Weirds me out when you people order salads and shit. What the hell is that all about?
“Who?” I ask when the waitress leaves. Brooke raises an eyebrow and I just seriously want to pierce the fuck out of it. Hey, I mean, it is my art. I know it's kind of a weird art form to have, but what can I say? I like the human body. I like to enhance it the best way I know how: with needles and metal. Brooke … she's so pretty, all I really want to grab is that perfect eyebrow. Wonder if she'd let me if I asked? Or do biostatisticians not get pierced?