Page 109 of Lucky Puck

“Right. Nora. Are you sure you’re over her?”

He snort-laughs. “You know I’ve been over her for a long time.”

“I mean over the hurt,” I whisper the words, afraid of his answer.

He stares into my eyes for a minute, like he’s searching for something. He takes so long to contemplate his words that I almost want to take the question back, but I force myself to stay silent and wait for him.

“Thanks to you, I am. The hurt is gone. I can think of her as my sister’s friend without any blip of resentment or anger or sadness or wish to go back.”

His words soothe me because I can feel their truth. He kisses me, his lips soft against mine, taking his time to press and part them and explore in a slow wandering path of seduction. I’m almost ready to collapse into him when I remember this conversation is too important to settle for seduction.

But it’s Brody who pulls back from the kiss, ending it with a press of his mouth against my forehead. It’s funny that I never thought of a forehead kiss as a romantic gesture, but it’s so sweet that my belly erupts with those butterflies, and I’m feeling like a love-sick teen all over again.

“Live with me, Brooks. Bianca.”

“Don’t you mean Honey Pants?”

He flashes his dimple. “You like when I call you Honey Pants, don’t you?”

Hearing him say the name makes me squeeze my legs together like he’s Pavlov with the magic words, and I’m his obedient puppy.

That sounds iffy as I think it, but who cares because that honey is flowing, and I squirm against him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” His voice rasps across my earlobe as he pulls me against him.

“Before we get carried away,” I rasp back, then lose track of what I was going to say.

He grunts and steps back, looking at me seriously. “Look, I know this is a serious step with all kinds of implications. If you want some time to think about it⁠—”

“No, not me.” I clear my throat. “Are you sure about this, Brody? You’re so young.”

He snorts. “So are you, Brooks. Besides, I’ll be twenty-one in two weeks.”

“Exactly my point. Maybe you need more time to…”

“Time for what? To get myself into trouble with crazy chicks who want me for a notch in their belts?”

“But you have so much growing up to do. And so do I.” Though, as I say the words, I realize how far I’ve come and how far Brody has come.

“Maybe. But if growing up means you appreciate someone for more than a couple of nights in the hay, that you know how rare it is to find someone who supports you a million percent and who is loyal to a fault, who gets you, understands you without saying the words—most of the time—then maybe I’ve already done a hell of a lot of growing up in these last few weeks than I would in the next few years without you.”

There’s no way to stop myself from giving him one of those cartoonish over-the-moon looks as he stares back at me with his version of the same look.

“You helped me grow up, too, Brody. I’d never be taking a chance on representing Kat without your support.”

“Is that all?” He cups my face and stares into my eyes. “What else have you learned, Honey Pants?”

I choke laugh, but I know what he’s getting at. “That I’m a desirable woman?”

“Just the way you are,” he adds. “I see we may have more work to do in proving that part.”

“So this means?”

“To make this clear, Brooks, I’m not asking you to marry me. Move in with me.” He goes for a stern look, but it’s ruined by the warm glitter in his eyes, the hungry, adoring look I see there. I know it’s not a figment of my imagination. And when he squeezes me closer and wriggles his hips against mine and I feel what could double as a baseball bat wedging between my thighs, I know his desire is more real than I could ever have imagined. Maybe I have learned that lesson about my desirability, but it’s a lesson worth repeating in my opinion.

I grin. “In that case, let’s play house for real.”

“Isn’t that an oxymoron?”