Brooks (Dirty Misfits MC Book 1)

As I watered my tulips and fresh herbs that I grew in a small plot just beyond my porch, I felt like I was being watched. A shiver crept down my spine as the cool summer wind kicked up, and I figured I was getting sick. Possibly a cold, or maybe chilled by the breeze. But when I stood up from my watering and turned into the wind to enjoy its caressing of my face, I saw him.

For the first time in five years, I laid eyes on Brooks.

My breath caught in my lungs. My voice muted itself. I tried clearing my throat of its knot, but it only made things worse. I had to grip my watering can with great effort to keep it from crashing down, because I knew the second I made a sound, his eyes would come back to mine.

And then he’d walk over.

Go inside. I have to go inside.

I quickly finished my watering and stepped back up onto the porch. I quickly made my way inside, thankful that Brooks hadn’t approached me. I pressed my back against the door and set my empty watering can on a small table I kept by the door to toss little things onto.

But when I heard his bike crank up, I peeked back out the door.

“Oh my gosh,” I said breathlessly.

I didn’t get a chance to see his eyes, but I saw everything else. The way his muscles tugged at his faded leather jacket. The way his chestnut brown hair was swept off to one side. The fade he kept intricately tailored up the sides as well as the back.

And that beard.

He still had that trimmed, even-shaved beard.

I swallowed hard as I watched him ride off into the shadows. And as his figure receded from view, something clenched in my gut. I licked my lips as guilt pooled in my chest and I closed my front door as quickly as possible.

Then, I flipped the lock for good measure.

“Oh, holy Hannah,” I whispered.

I forced myself away from the door, but I couldn’t stop envisioning Brooks sitting there. What in the world was he doing? Just watching me like some creep?

You know that’s not what he’s doing.

I shook the voice out of my head and made my way into the kitchen.

With trembling hands, I poured myself a glass of dry white wine. The puckered taste pulled me out of my trance, and I was able to draw in a deep breath. I had to get a grip. I had to pull myself out of it. It didn’t matter how good-looking Brooks was. It didn’t matter about the connection we had all those years ago. And it didn’t matter that my heart skipped a beat when I realized it was him outside.

I was with his best friend.

And that meant he was off-limits.

“I’d never cheat on you, Gage. I swear it,” I murmured.

Still, there was a small part of me that hoped he turned around and came knocking on my door. I mean I couldn’t control Brooks’ movements, right? Only my own. I couldn’t control anyone else’s actions, and it would be very rude of me to not answer the door for an old friend after he’d just gotten out of prison.

Right?

“Shit,” I hissed.

I threw back the rest of my wine and raced back toward the front door. I peered through the small window it afforded me, trying to see if maybe Brooks had come back. Maybe he had changed his mind and came back to perch, or maybe he simply parked his bike in a spot out of sight before walking back.

However, I saw no one outside.

And the absence left an anxious hole in my heart.

“It’s for the best. You know this,” I whispered to myself.

But still, it was hard to turn away from the door. It was hard to backtrack toward my bedroom to start getting ready for my evening. I’d had a long day at work, and all I wanted to do was soak in a massive bath with candles lit and a good book to read until I felt the need to sleep. And I had every intention of doing just that.

Until I heard a motorcycle outside again.

It’s Brooks! He came back.

With my body half-undressed, I quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tank-top. I raced back down the stairs and slipped my feet into flip flops before racing for the front door. I wasn’t sure about letting Brooks into a home I once shared as a married woman with Gage, but we could sit out on the porch like old times and talk.

I missed those late-night talks of ours.

I stood in my living room waiting for his knock on the door. The sounds of the motorcycle ceased and I waited on bated breath for that knock to sound. Brooks always knocked the same way every single time. Two big knocks before a slew of little knocks that kept sounding and sounding and pissing you off until you decided to open the door. It always made Gage laugh and it always made me grin.

I miss you so much, Gage.

However, the knock didn’t come. Boots fell against my porch, so I knew someone was outside, but no knock came. Was he second-guessing himself? Was he about to turn and walk away again?

Don’t let that happen. Go after him.

I launched myself down the small hallway toward the front door before I paused. I saw a shadow beneath the door, and I held my breath, preparing myself for the moment. For years, I had conflicting thoughts about Brooks. For years, I wondered why he never made a move after the connection we felt that night in the bar across town where I’d first met him and Gage. I mean yes, Gage and I hit it off as well. Very well, in fact. But there was something about the way Brooks and I interacted that just… hit differently.

I wasn’t sure, even to this day, how to explain it.

It just simply was what it was.

Then, a knock finally came. Two big knocks and a slew of smaller knocks that set my heart thundering in my chest. My hands trembled as I reached out for the doorknob. I swallowed hard as the trembling fingertips from my other hand unlocked the door so I could open it.

However, when the door eased itself open, the smile quickly drained from my face.

Because it wasn’t Brooks standing on the other side of the door.