The Duet(47)

Awesome.

…



The next morning I headed downstairs with what I thought was a very positive attitude. I’d pushed the negative thoughts that had clouded my brain for the last twenty-four hours aside and focused on better things, like my favorite pair of jeans – the ones that made my ass look “outta this world” (thank you, sales girl who talked me into purchasing them with that line). I styled my hair into soft curls, and swiped on some bright red lipstick. This day was about to become my bitch.

When I stepped into the kitchen, LuAnne whistled from where she sat at the table, flipping through a magazine. Her poufy blonde hair and bright smile were just what I needed.

“Welcome back, Brooklyn. This place was boring with you gone,” she said, winking up at me.

I leaned over the table to kiss her cheek, leaving a bright red stain behind. She laughed, but wouldn’t let me wipe it away.

“I needed a little color on my cheek,” she joked.

“Where are the boys?” I asked, heading over toward the kitchen island. There was warm breakfast food laid out, the likes of which would bring a carb-conscious female to her knees, but I piled my plate with fruit and warm, scrambled eggs. Because I was in control of my life. I didn’t need French toast, and I definitely didn’t need Jason.

“Oh, Derek went out to work a while ago and Jason hasn’t come down yet. He stayed up in that room the whole time you were gone. I think I maybe saw him for five minutes in total,” LuAnne said with an admonishing shake of her head.

“Songs don’t write themselves,” a deep voice declared from the hallway.

The hair on my neck stood on end and I whipped my head toward that soulful voice so fast I nearly sprained my back. I didn’t bother wincing at the pain because Jason was standing there in the doorway, running a hand through his mess of hair and stealing back my resolve like it’d never belonged to me in the first place. His facial hair was longer than I’d ever seen it, but it only emphasized his dark, grizzly man appeal. His song-worthy eyes were already on me when I met his gaze, but there was nothing behind them. No anger. No excitement. Nothing. He was the Fort Knox of people and I was sick of trying to read through his expressions. Clearly, I wasn’t very good at it.

“Hello Jason,” I said, hoping I sounded as formal and annoyed as I intended to.

“Hi,” he said, stepping forward to fill his own plate with food. He could have gone on the other side of the kitchen island, but no, he came to stand directly next to me so that our elbows bumped when he reached for the bacon in front of me. His body wash filled my senses in the most annoyingly sexy way.

I grabbed my plate and took the seat next to LuAnne before he accidentally touched me again. But, that traitorous whore stood up as soon as I sat down.

“Well, I’ll let you two enjoy breakfast. Come find me later if you want to chat, Brooklyn.”

No, I had no plans of chatting with her. I had plans to murder her for leaving me with Jason.

I once went on a blind date where in the span of one meal, my date had called his mom, cried, made me pray for ten minutes when our food arrived (I kid you not, ten minutes. My linguine was cold by the time he’d decided his prayer was long enough.), and then he yelled at our waiter when the steak he’d ordered wasn’t rare enough. It was the worst date I’d ever been on, and yet, as Jason sat across from me at the table, I found myself longing to go back to that night.

Nothing was worse than sitting at that table with Jason in absolute silence. Painful silence. Every scrape of my fork on my plate, every time my glass clinked against the table. It made me want to scream.

Jason stood up before I did, finishing off his eggs and bacon like a ravenous dog. I watched him clear his plate off in his sink, letting my gaze slide down his body. He was wearing loose black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, but I still thought he looked edible.

“Come find me when you’re done. We have work to do.”

He didn’t even look at me as he offered that line. He was looking past the sink, out through the kitchen window, and then he turned and headed back upstairs, taking them two at a time.

“I’ll come when I find the time!” I yelled because that seemed like a smart thing to say. How dare he think that he could just order me around like that? Maybe I didn’t feel like writing right now. Maybe I had other, more important things to do.

Ten minutes later I realized I actually had nothing to do. I’d already called and checked in with Summer and Cammie. I’d returned all my emails before breakfast. I’d even managed to work out already because my insane-ass trainer had called me at the butt-crack of dawn. So, I took the stairs really slowly, trying to show Jason that I’d come up when I was good and ready, thank you very much.