I send her off a quick text asking if she remembers seeing the rings.
Brooklyn’s arms are crossed, watching me the whole time, and I can feel the judgment radiating off her, but I ignore it for now.
When Patty texts back and says she didn’t see anything but she’s happy to come and help me look, with a little winky smiling face emoji, I sigh and shake my head.
“She doesn’t have them, she didn’t see them,” I tell Brooklyn.
There’s a long silence as Brooklyn considers all of this. Her expression is thoughtful, her lips pursed. I once again feel the sudden urge to taste them, and then remind myself that I’m in the middle of a full-blown crisis, and besides, this girl has an attitude on her and is way too uptight.
Not my style at all.
“Okay, so we’re just going to go buy two more rings to replace them.” She digs into her purse and pulls out her phone, scrolling through her photo album. “Ah-ha! Success.” With a triumphant smile, she shows me a picture of a wedding ring set. “Aubrey sent this to me last month after they chose their rings.”
The smile on her face totally changes her look. She’s no longer prissy and condescending. No, she looks like a breath of fresh air, like innocence and happiness, and I find myself drawn to her, shocked by the personality change. Wanting to see her smile like that again.
“You’re a genius,” I tell her with a genuine smile of her own. Damn, I have the best ideas—I knew seeking her out would work. And yet…shit. Two problems. One, where the hell do we find these rings…and two, where do we get the money for them?
I grab her by her small hand and lead her down the hall. We’ll sort those details out in the car. Right now, we have to get the fuck on the road and be back before anyone else knows what happened. My brain whirs with ideas on where to get money immediately as Brooklyn stumbles to keep up with me.
“You’re walking really fast,” she says in a breathless tone.
“Do more cardio, darling. I have a lot of stamina.”
I can almost hear her rolling her eyes, and I laugh. She’s so predictable—any comments about bedroom activities totally set her on edge, draw out a reaction. I like that. “You don’t know a thing about my cardio habits.” But I notice she hasn’t drawn her hand out of mine yet.
The skin is soft and warm, and it hits me that it’s been a while since I’ve done something this simple. Holding a hand. Simple and intimate… I smoothly let it go and press my hand to her lower back instead, guiding her to my car.
“Our ride, milady,” I say with a flourish.
Brooklyn sucks in a breath as she checks out my ride, a classic dark orange 1973 Plymouth Cuda. Total muscle car—my dad was a huge fan of them and always wanted one. When he died, I found a used one online and bought it on the spot.
“This is gorgeous,” she breathes as she runs her fingers along the trim. “Please tell me it has a Hemi.”
I gasp and clutch my chest, trying to gloss over the fact that I maybe just popped a little bit of a car boner when I heard her say Hemi. “Are you kidding me? A gearhead? Say it ain’t so.”
Archly, she opens the door and slides in. “You don’t know a thing about me, Jax.”
Fuck. I have to admit, as I make my way to the driver’s side, that she’s right. I’ve made a lot of assumptions about her based on her type. But Brooklyn’s sparking my interest, and I’m finding myself curious to see what else is going on under that prim-and-proper surface.
“Your goal,” I declare as I rev the engine, “is to find a local place that sells the rings.”
She whips out her phone. “I’m on it.”
I weave us through traffic onto the freeway. I hear her fingers tapping across the screen as she searches.
“Bingo!” Brooklyn declares, pumping her fist in the air. “I think we have a winner. There’s a jewelry store about…twenty minutes from here straight down the highway, according to the map. Let’s give it a shot.”
“Nice job.” I pull off the highway, and she gives me a confused look.
“Where are we going?”
“We need money first,” I tell her, then wind my way to the front of Outlaws. Since the bar is closed, no one is in the parking lot, so I get a spot easily in front of the door. I shut off the engine and say to her, “Be right back.”
Her door closes a moment after mine, and she follows me in as I key the front door open to the bar. It’s quiet, with the scents of cleaner hitting me square in the face. Since Smith got together with Aubrey, our place has never been so clean. Not even any peanut shells on the ground.