Part 10 (2/2)
Brooks opened his mouth to respond but a car at the corner caught his eye. The familiar bright red Miata paused at the busy intersection to let foot traffic pa.s.s and he could see Lauren at the wheel. She leaned over to kiss her pa.s.senger. A hand slipped behind Lauren's head, fingers threaded through her dark hair. After several seconds she leaned back and the pa.s.senger door opened. Frank jumped out, shutting the door and jogging to the other side of the street.
”Isn't that Frank Keene?” He pointed across the street.
Caroline half-stood, shading her eyes with her hand. ”Sure is. We had lunch a few hours ago at this kooky little cafe on the East side of town. He taught me to swing dance and it was so much fun.” She watched Frank jog down the sidewalk. ”He must really be in a hurry. I think he mentioned he had a meeting.”
”Why were you at lunch together?”
She glanced at him, surprised. ”Because he asked me.”
”How come you've never come down to have lunch with me?”
”Because you've never asked!” She laughed again, watching Frank until he was out of sight.
”Lauren dropped him at the corner and-”
She sat down, shaking her head. ”No, must have been someone else. They can't stand each other. She showed up at the same cafe when we were eating and they near about had a fight over nothing.”
Brooks glanced at Manning, hoping he'd seen the kiss. Manning looked back and forth between them as if he were watching a tennis match.
”I'm pretty sure I saw them-”
”I don't think we'd want to put those two in the same car. There might be trouble.” She grinned at him, green eyes crinkling at the corners. ”He was pretty clear about how much he dislikes her uppity att.i.tude.”
He took a slow sip of coffee. ”You came all the way to Spartainville for lunch?”
She nodded. ”It was nice to get out. The cafe might be real retro, or just weird, I'm not sure. The short order cook kept playing Dixie on the jukebox and they had a big poster of Jefferson Davis.”
”Did they have hush puppies?” Manning asked.
”Don't mind him.” Brooks paused, wondering if he should push the issue. ”I really think I saw Lauren drop him at the corner. It even seemed... it seemed like she leaned over and gave him a kiss.”
Caroline's eyes went wide and she stared at him for a full three seconds. Then she burst out laughing. ”Oh, Brooks, that's impossible! Gave him a kiss?” She laughed until tears came to her eyes. ”At your age, eyesight is first the thing to go. Maybe you should schedule a check-up.”
Manning let out a low whistle and pretended to examine the poster of a Scottish castle on the wall.
Brooks sat back, setting his jaw. He wouldn't try again. He knew what he'd seen. For some reason, Frank was determined to pretend that he and Lauren were enemies. What that meant for Caroline, he couldn't even guess. From the sinking feeling in his gut, it couldn't be good.
”Look,” she said, leaning forward and putting a hand on his. ”I know you want to protect me just like an older brother, but I promise I'm not jumping into anything. Plus, Frank wouldn't be kissing Lauren in the middle of traffic if he was ...”
”What? Swing dancing in a little cafe with you?”
”I'll be right back. I need to... get some napkins.” Manning bolted from the table.
Caroline's face went pink. ”I'm surprised at you. I always figured you for the kind of guy that accepted a person without judgment. But you've made up your mind to dislike him and I don't know why.”
Brooks clamped his lips together. It didn't matter what he said now. Caroline was convinced Frank was a good guy and he was sure he was not. He hadn't liked him the first time they'd met and now he positively loathed him.
She let go of his hand and they were both silent for a moment. ”Do you have any more cla.s.ses today?”
”No, no but I forgot I have something to take care of.” He stood up as Manning came back to the table. ”I'll see you at Pegasus Pizza at six. And you're welcome to join us, Caroline.”
”I have to get back.” She looked at her coffee. ”I'll just finish this.”
”I'll keep you company.” Manning sat down, glancing at Brooks. ”Go do your thing. I'll catch up with you later.”
”Drive safely.” He put his half full cup of tepid coffee in the rubber bin for used dishes and walked headed for the door. His stomach was in a knot and he felt a dull throb in his right temple. He'd always loved Caroline's company. He preferred her over just about anybody else. But right now, sitting across from her was like having a knife stuck in his chest.
Pus.h.i.+ng open the Daily Grind's heavy gla.s.s door he headed back to his office. He sucked in a deep breath of the warm afternoon air and tried to relax the tension in his neck. I know you want to protect me just like an older brother. It felt like someone was kicking him in the gut every time he let his mind replay her words.
He walked against the light, half-hearing the beep of a car creeping through the intersection. You've made up your mind to dislike him and I don't know why.
He knew why. Not that he could tell her. It was clear as day to him that he was firmly in stuck in the 'friend zone' with Caroline. That had always been the way he'd wanted it, but now everything had changed. His feelings had changed and hers had not.
He swallowed hard and swung open the door to Allen Hall, seeking the comfort of his academic cave. There wasn't anything he could do but try to put it out of his mind. He'd be her friend, always. As long as he didn't catch Frank anywhere near her, he would probably keep from doing anything stupid. He didn't want to ruin their friends.h.i.+p, but he certainly didn't want to doom it over some slime ball like Frank. He could only pray she saw through the charming exterior before it was too late.
”We think so very differently on this point, Mr. Knightley, that there can be no use in canva.s.sing it. We shall only be making each other more angry.” -- Emma
Chapter Thirteen.
Another weekend, another party. That was the way it went in Th.o.r.n.y Hollow. Not that Caroline minded at all, as long as she wasn't the one serving punch. She enjoyed the chatter, the visiting, the guests mingling and gossiping. And it was all so much better that Brooks was coming home for the summer. Just a few more weeks and she wouldn't have to suffer through the dull, boring weekdays without any real conversation. Her mother was up in her room all the time and there was nothing to do but wander the house.
She surveyed her outfit in the mirror, frowning a bit over the length of the skirt. Or lack of length. It was a little short, but nothing too shocking. Frank should be there. He'd seemed... interested. She wasn't quite sure what she felt. Definite interest. Maybe more.
The doorbell rang and she could hear Angie going to let in Brooks. One last smooth with the brush and figured she was set. And now for the heels. Pulling them from the box, she stared at the three inch high stilettos. There was no way she could make it down the stairs. She'd have to put them on right before she met Brooks in the living room.
Minutes later, Caroline teetered into the room, willing herself upright. Brooks turned from the shelf where he'd been examining her set of cloth-bound first-edition George Eliot, a small book resting open in one palm.
His eyes followed her progress across the room and she felt the heavy weight of his gaze. She had taken extra time to shave her legs to a silky smoothness, rubbed thoroughly with a deep moisturizer. Her late summer tan was a perfect complement to long legs and with a skirt that barely reached above her knees, no one could miss them. Her face felt hot and she angrily brushed back her hair. ”Let me just get my purse and we can go.” She snagged it from the low table, making sure to bend at the knees so her skirt didn't ride up in the back.
Brooks cleared his throat. She turned to see if he was re-shelving the book, but no, he was in exactly the same position as before.
”Are you coming?” She frowned at him, noting the way his jacket draped his wide shoulders just so and the perfect tailoring in his cuffed pants. The man had style and she was just pretending. It was so obvious, it was humiliating.
”Finley, those heels are a bit high for a garden party, don't you think?”
”No, I don't.” She smoothed her hair and pretended to be waiting, but inside all her previous resolution was melting away. ”Well, maybe a little bit high. I'll be careful.”
He raised an eyebrow, that book still open in his hand, and said nothing.
She tapped a foot, hands on hips, gaze fixed on the front door as if she could force him toward it by sheer stubbornness. The seconds ticked on, until she finally dropped her purse on the small table with a resounding clunk. She stalked toward him, stepping ever so carefully over the edge of the area rug so she didn't break an ankle, and stopped directly across from his handsome self.
”Fine! Do you want to know why I'm wearing these heels?” She hated the defensive tone in her voice but his quiet disapproval was galling.
”Sure.” The words came out slow and deep, as if nothing she could say was going to convince him that she didn't look ridiculous.
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