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  With a muffled groan, Blake’s arm fell back to the table and he hung his head. That’s humiliating. And what’s worse, she’ll probably tell Brooke every last detail. I am beyond pathetic. He only wished he could argue with his conclusion as he sat and waited impatiently for his meal to arrive.

  Chapter Four

  It’d been two or three weeks since Blake’s impulsive solo trip to Earl’s Diner, and fortunately Brooke didn’t seem to have heard about it. Now they’d been given a research project and just under a week to get it done, so he and Brooke had agreed to meet up at his place to knock out as much of it as possible. Brooke was due in less than ten minutes, and for the first time in his life Blake found himself scouring his kitchen, making sure it was presentable. He stopped himself before he’d taken more than two steps toward his nearest bathroom and shook his head. “I’m an adult, for crying out loud,” he told himself. “My house is clean. All I need to do is go, sit down, and wait for her to get here.”

  He had hoped by saying the words out loud he would be able to snap himself out of it. His plan didn’t work.

  With a heavy sigh, Blake forced himself to turn around and half-stomped past his kitchen, toward his living room. He’d already turned on his laptop and set it on the otherwise-bare coffee table, so that it was ready and available for their research. He’d checked the ink levels of the printer in the spare-bedroom-slash-office, as well as the amount of paper in the tray. He had several bottles of water and iced tea in his fridge, in addition to some cans of Dr. Pepper and an almost-full jug of orange juice. He had everything they could possibly need for the afternoon.

  He had barely begun to lower himself onto the couch when he heard a car engine in his driveway. It occurred to him that he should probably have let his brothers know that he was going to be busy, as they had a habit of just popping in, but by then he had already turned to look out the window and realized the thought was unnecessary. None of his brothers drove a Honda.

  The impatience he felt as he waited for her to knock was foreign to him. Usually he was the patient one, at least compared to his brothers. But all of a sudden he really wanted to tap his foot, or fidget with his hands. Because it would be weird if he went and opened the door before she even walked up, wouldn’t it?

  Hesitant tapping sounded at his front door before he could give the thought any more attention.

  Blake was immediately in motion, striding to the door and pulling it open with an easy smile. It was several seconds before he realized that her jacket was wet. I’ve reached new levels of pathetic. It’s raining and I didn’t even notice. To the woman in his doorway, he said, “Hey,” and stepped aside so that she could enter.

  “Hey,” Brooke replied, slipping past him. “Um, what do I do with my coat? It’s kind of wet.”

  “Oh, here.” Blake held out his hand. “I’ll just drape it over a chair real quick.”

  She shrugged out of her coat after setting her school bag on the floor and then held it out for him. “Thanks,” she said. “It just started raining out of nowhere a couple blocks ago. Fortunately I had it in the backseat.”

  Blake had already begun moving toward his dining room, which opened to the side of his kitchen and extended from his living room, so his back was to her as he called, “That’s weird. I don’t remember seeing rain in the forecast until Sunday.”

  “When do the weathermen ever get it right?” Brooke replied with a half-laugh. Before he could reply, she asked, “So, do I just, um, sit?”

  From the dining room, Blake said, “Yeah, make yourself comfortable. And if you’re thirsty, I’ve got a little of everything in the fridge, so feel free. I figure we can order a pizza or something when we want lunch.”

  “Pizza sounds amazing.” She was grinning sheepishly at him when he came back into the room. “And I don’t want to be rude, but do you have coffee? I could go for something warm. The heater in my car’s having a temper-tantrum today.”

  “Ouch,” Blake said, returning her grin with one of his own. “Yeah, I’ll get it started while you set up.” He moved to his kitchen, which was open to the living room except for an island.

  “You have a really nice house.”

  The tell-tale start of the coffee maker preceded Blake’s response by several beats. “Thanks. I just got it last semester, so sometimes it still feels a little weird.” By the time he was finished speaking, he was moving back to the living room, a bottle of water in hand.

  Brooke was grinning again as she said, “I’ll be honest, I only wish I could sympathize. My apartment is probably the size of your living room and kitchen combined, maybe, and it’s definitely a whole lot older.”

  “I don’t know about the older part, but yeah, I know it’s kind of big. I’d rather grow into it than have to move again as soon as I’m not single anymore, you know?” And how did the conversation go from weather and houses to my relationship status? He had to fight not to shake his head at himself. “So,” he continued after clearing his throat, having claimed a seat on the adjacent piece of furniture. “Should we get started?”

  ****

  Brooke was on her third cup of coffee, and her fourth slice of pizza, when the computer screen suddenly blinked. For a moment it disappeared, and then a heartbeat later the image was back, and brighter than it had been before. But in that moment, the computer had not been the only thing that had flickered. The lights they had turned on to help compete with the heavy cloud cover outside had also disappeared, only they did not come back on.

  Blake sat up straight and looked around, quickly ascertaining what had happened. “Looks like we lost the power,” he declared. Only his battery-operated atomic clock, which was mounted on the wall, and his laptop were still functioning.

  “That’s unfortunate,” Brooke commented as she looked around reflexively. Her eyes eventually settled on the window, and the storm that had blown in while they’d been working. “It’s really crazy out there. I hope you don’t have any old trees in your backyard.”

  “None that are that old.” Blake shifted his attention to the world beyond his window. The storm was in full swing.

  Even with the windows shut, it was easy to hear the howl of the wind as it ripped through the trees. There were streaks of water running sideways along the outside of the glass that Brooke could see through the slats of the blinds. So many that they obscured any real view of the outside world. But Brooke knew what a hard storm looked like.

  “Honestly,” she said as she watched the rain continue to pelt the window, “I hate storms like this.” She could never be sure if the echoing wind was coming from outside or from deep in her memory. The chill already raising goose bumps on her arms was almost certainly from memory.

  Blake must have recognized something melancholic in her voice, because he turned his attention to her. She looked away, her gaze lowered and distant as her hands clutched the rim of the plate on her lap. It was that or wrap them tightly around herself, and she didn’t need a mirror or a shrink to tell her how weak that would make her look.

  Blake reached out, dropped one hand on her shoulder, and gave a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. His voice was lowered with concern that wrapped around her like a whisper of a warm coat.

  Brooke looked up at him and managed a small smile. “Sorry.”

  He attempted a reassuring smile and released her shoulder. “The power will probably come back on in an hour or two.”

  Taking in a deep breath, Brooke set the plate on the table. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.” It was just a storm. She’d endured countless wind storms since that one. But every thirty seconds or so the wind gusted enough to shake the walls, and Brooke couldn’t quite stop herself from scooting a little closer to Blake. Truthfully, she’d been fighting that particular urge pretty much since she’d walked through the door.

  Another gust of wind tore through the trees, and something crashed outside a little ways off.

  Brooke jumped, startled at the unexpected
loud noise. Her head whipped back around, toward the window, and she felt a twinge of relief when she couldn’t immediately discern what had made the noise. But that same fact made something inside clench with worry.

  Blake frowned and pushed to his feet. “That can’t be good,” he mumbled as he moved to his window, angling his head in an effort to see the source of the crash.

  “Can you see what it was?”

  “No,” Blake said, stepping away from the window. He frowned for a moment in thought before turning and starting toward the door. “I’m going to go outside for a minute and see if I can’t see it.”

  That was a bad idea, she was sure. “It was probably nothing,” she insisted. When he turned a curious look toward her, she corrected, “I mean, nothing you need to worry about, anyway. You should stay inside.” Where it’s safer.

  Brooke could see his argument building, and she held her breath. She’d been told she could sometimes be irrational in situations like this, but surely she had a point. And she didn’t want Blake getting himself hurt. There was no need to go outside and take that risk.

  At length, Blake suggested, “I’ll just go to the end of the driveway, okay? You can watch me from the door if you’re worried.” She could tell he was trying to be pacifying because she wasn’t exactly being subtle about her problem with the situation. But he didn’t understand.

  Brooke opened her mouth to respond, instinctively wanting to disagree, but caught herself in time and snapped her mouth back shut. Are you an adult or an oversized infant? So she nodded instead and warily found her feet.

  They walked together to the door, and Brooke suddenly wanted to hold onto him.

  Blake slipped into his raincoat and shoes simultaneously, turning a smile to her as he reached for the door.

  “Wait!” Brooke exclaimed before she could really think about what she was doing. His hand stilled just shy of its goal, and Blake’s smile faltered, concern dimming his blue eyes. Instead of waiting for his obvious question, Brooke caught the exposed collar of his shirt and tugged him into her. Before she knew what the heck had gotten into her, her lips were moving over his.

  Blake froze against her for a moment before his arms came around her waist and he was kissing her back. And whatever had possessed Brooke fell back, satisfied, as her tongue slid over his for the first time.

  The kiss was over long before she was ready as her brain jumpstarted with a little help from a refreshed deluge of rain over the roof. The sound was just jolting enough to remind her of the situation, and she whispered, “Be careful.”

  He smiled again, easier this time, and released her as he said, “I’ll be fine, I promise. You wait here.”

  With a heavy swallow and tingling lips, Brooke nodded and watched as Blake stepped out into the storm. It was still raging up and down the street, blowing the barely blooming leaves from the branches of the surrounding trees. Winter was going out with a bang, apparently.

  Brooke watched Blake jog down his driveway, his hood immediately blown off his head. But he wasn’t stumbling. He was barely even shielding his eyes, and he stopped on the inside of his drive—not in the street. She watched his head swivel to the right and linger before swinging to the left. She was too far away to see his expression, but his attention lasted longer to the left before he turned and jogged back up toward her.

  “What’d you see?”

  He was stripping out of his soaking raincoat even as he kicked his door shut. “Looks like the crash was a large limb from a neighbor’s tree. No one was hurt, just the fence,” he explained as he stepped out of his shoes.

  A sigh of relief escaped her and she allowed a small smile. “That’s good.”

  Blake grinned and teased, “I’d kiss you again, but you’d get soaked. I’d better go change real quick.”

  Brooke was sure her face turned pink, but she had no one to blame for it but herself. Not that she would actually complain. “Go change, then.” As an afterthought, as he started down the hall, she asked, “Where are your candles?”

  ****

  Brooke sat in the sand, staring at the ocean as it lapped at the beach, not really seeing the waves or hearing the crack as they crashed down. It was a little before one o’clock on Saturday afternoon, and the sky was clear. The storm that had shaken her up Thursday had all but blown itself out by the time she’d left Blake’s house for work, but its effect still lingered. And that wasn’t all that lingered. Since Thursday, and her impulsive kiss, she had felt like her subconscious was on a never-ending roller coaster. One minute she felt weirded out by that freak, unpredicted storm, and the next minute she swore she could taste Blake on her lips like they’d only just broken apart.

  She certainly wished that were the case.

  Their first kiss had been an impulse, but their second and third most definitely had not. After Blake had come back into the living room, they’d realized with the power out there wasn’t much they could do in terms of making progress on their project. Or perhaps some of that quick surrender had had something to do with the kiss he’d wrapped her up in almost immediately. Either way, they’d certainly made out on the sofa like a couple of fifteen year olds taking advantage of their parents being away at work. And the body she’d felt beneath the soft fabric of his shirt… She’d be lying if she implied she didn’t want to see it first-hand in the near future.

  The waves crashed into the shore again, spraying salty seawater in wide arcs and dragging her roller coaster back to the frightening precipice. Why she’d chosen the beach, aside from the unlikely interruptions and fresh air, she wasn’t sure. The sounds of the rolling tide reminded her an awful lot of a powerful windstorm. And lord knew she hated those.

  Another shiver danced up her spine, and Brooke swallowed heavily. Yes, she hated those. And while Blake had certainly helped to distract her from Thursday’s, it had still been a distraction. Inevitably temporary.

  She only barely processed the soft sound of crunching sand beneath someone’s feet before the voice she least expected to hear called out to her.

  “Brooke?”

  Chapter Five

  Completely caught off-guard by Blake’s unexpected appearance, all Brooke could think to say as she looked up was, “Hi.” Well, that was impressive. But what else could she say? Blake stood there, just a couple of feet back, hands in his jeans pockets with a mildly curious and concerned expression on his face. He wore a lightweight blue blazer over his shirt, and his hair fluttered in waves not unlike the tide in the faint breeze. He looked so right on the beach, even in jeans, that her brain needed a full restart.

  Blake seemed to take her response as a sort of invitation and settled himself in the sand beside her. He sat with one leg raised and bent at the knee. With an elbow propped on his knee, he faced her and asked, “Is everything okay?”

  Brooke looked away from him, unsure of how to answer his question. She figured she ought to give him the stock answer and assure him she was fine, but she wasn’t so inclined to lie to him. And over what, a storm? But her alternative was to actually answer his question, and tell him something about herself that she didn’t even like to think about. Something she generally pretended had never been.

  Seeming to take her silence as the answer it was, Blake shifted his own eyes forward and quietly said, “Let me rephrase that. What’s wrong?”

  She sighed and opened her mouth, pushing out whatever words would come. “I’m sorry about Thursday,” she said. “That is, I’m sorry for freaking out over the storm…” What was wrong with her? She didn’t want him thinking she regretted their kiss!

  Blake started and looked back over to her. “You’re still upset about that? It’s not like you need to apologize for anything.”

  Eyes downcast now, Brooke replied, “The truth is … a part of me is terrified of windstorms like that.”

  Blake’s tone indicated that he could tell there was more to her story when he gently asked, “Can you … talk about it?”

  Brooke was silent
for a long minute, her gaze returning to the ocean reflexively, as she contemplated her answer. She could, it was true. It was also true that she didn’t necessarily want to. But it was the least she could do, she figured, since he had already seen a glimpse of the results.

  “When I was little,” she began, still looking forward, “my parents left me home with a babysitter while they went out one night. And while they were out, a terrible storm blew in. It started like an ordinary thunderstorm, at least from what I remember, but then the wind came.”

  She paused, taking in a deep breath, and Blake kept quiet.

  “I honestly don’t remember the details,” Brooke continued. “A lot of the details I know are things I’ve learned since. But my parents were driving home in the middle of the storm, and someone crashed into them. From what I heard, my dad died instantly, and my mom died in the ambulance. I was an only child, and my only other relative was my grandmother, who already lived in a nursing home. So I became a ward of the state, basically, and I spent years bouncing back and forth between foster homes before I was finally adopted eleven years ago.”

  She took another breath before reiterating, “But, like I said, I don’t actually remember the night of the accident too well. The only memories that I know for sure are mine, and not images I made up to go with the stories, are memories of the storm. I remember the rain pelting the windows, and the trees bending in really weird ways. And the wind … it was so loud that night.” She shivered involuntarily as her voice trailed, the echoing howl of the wind from her memory sending a chill through her heart.

  Blake was silent for several seconds before he finally said, “I’m sorry. I never meant to bring something like that up.”

  Brooke shook her head, finally looking back over at him. “No, it’s okay. I know it’s kind of messed up, but, I don’t really remember my parents. I was only four when they died.”

  “Still.” Blake hedged, as if understanding her point but feeling bad all the same. “Is there something I can do to help take your mind off it?”