“Maybe it was just me…but Nanette sort of seems full of herself,” I say to Brooke, deciding not to pull any punches.
“Picked up on that, huh?” she says with a laugh, but then her expression sobers slightly. “But that wasn’t a question.”
“I guess I’m curious as to why you’re friends with her.” My hand squeezes her knee. “You two couldn’t be more different.”
It took only half an hour of watching and I knew the type of woman she was. She flirted way too heavily and suggestively, pulled her mirror out of her purse twice to put on lipstick and fluff her hair, also checking out every other aspect of her face. If the guys tried to include Brooke in the conversation, Nanette would interject and turn the spotlight right back onto herself. She was conceited, and to my surprise, slightly vapid, yet she tried to overcompensate for what she lacked upstairs with her looks.
“We worked together for over five years,” Brooke explains. “We went out together sometimes at night, often with other work people. Had lunch at other times. She was a friend. A coworker. But we weren’t close. I think you know what I mean when I say Nanette isn’t the type to get close to other females.”
“Because her self-esteem can’t handle not having the attention taken away from her,” I conclude. “So why in the hell would she come visit?”
Brooke shrugs. “I expect it’s so she could take a few days off, have a free place to stay, and have access to hot hockey players.”
“How long is she staying?” I ask.
“A week,” she returns with a groan, and leans back against the headboard, lacing her fingers over her stomach. She rolls her head to look at me. “Let’s hope she stays with Dax the whole time.”
Chuckling, I nod toward her nightstand. “Turn your light out.”
She does, and then I’m pulling her into my arms as we settle down into the pillows. I’ve found I like her slight frame resting against me at night, and she snuggles in before twining her legs with mine.
Reaching an arm out, I turn off my light and her arm tightens around my stomach.
It’s silent for a moment, but I’m not tired and I have no intention of going to sleep right now. I still have one thing I need to talk to her about.
“I had an interesting conversation with your dad after the San Francisco game,” I tell her, the darkness somehow making it easier to talk about this.
Brooke’s head lifts from my chest to look at me, but all she’ll see is shadows. I press my hand to her head, forcing it gently back down. I continue. “I didn’t say anything at first, but I’ve been thinking on it a lot and I think we might have a problem.”
Before I can process it, Brooke is scrambling out of my arms, rolling in the bed, and the light on her side comes on. I blink against it for a moment before I can focus on her. She merely turns back toward me, bracing her head on her palm. Her eyes are expectant and she waits for me to continue, not saying a word about why she turned on the light.
I expect it’s because Brooke doesn’t want any secrets at all between us, and potentially there could be something hidden on my face in the dark.
Taking in a deep breath, I turn on my side to face her, also resting my head on my hand so we’re staring at each other, eye to eye. “He really pressured me about the engagement after the game.”
“Like how?”
“Wanted to know what was going on, and when I told him we were talking about it, he blustered a little. Didn’t understand what there was to talk about, said I should have just bought you a ring already.”
“Damn,” Brooke mutters, and her eyes go soft with apology. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” I warn her with a growl. “This isn’t on you. But when he kept pushing at me, he asked me point blank if I loved you.”
Brooke winces.
“And I had to say yes, Brooke. I had to look him right in the eye and tell him I did, and that you were my everything.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, her gaze dropping to my chest. When she looks up at me, her voice is hesitant. “Well…another week and we can put this all behind us. We can just hold on a little while—”
I shake my head and reach out to take the hand that’s resting on the mattress. I lace my fingers with hers. “Don’t you see, we can’t do this next week, Brooke. I just looked your dad in the eye and told him I loved you. We break this off next week like we’d planned, your dad is going to know I’m full of shit.”