Breaking Free: Breaking Free Duet Book #1 Page 5

  “And you say this is the CEO of the company?” Brooke asks, confused.

  “It is. It’s funny because when I was a kid, I had a huge thing for Maggie. Now, not so much. She’s even married and that didn’t seem to matter one bit.”

  Brooke frowns. “That’s terrible, Cole. Did you tell someone?”

  “I did. The owner is her brother, Jim. He told me to just ignore her and she’ll eventually give up.” I sigh. “I don’t know how long I can put up with it, though. She makes me feel like I need a shower. I could never be with a woman like that.”

  “Maggie doesn’t sound like a woman you should be involved with if you can help it, Cole. If you’d prefer to look for another job, I would understand,” she offers with concern on her face. I noticed a tone as Brooke repeated Maggie’s name.

  “I was told she’s not at the warehouse often. I’ll see how it goes for a couple more weeks.” To me, Brooke seems awfully concerned about Maggie and she has no reason to be.

  After dinner, Brooke and I pick up and I walk her out onto the porch just as the sun’s about to set.

  “Wow! You have quite the view here at sunset.” Brooke walks over to the swing, takes a seat, and stares off into the sunset, literally. I join her and sit beside her.

  “I used to sit here with my grandfather and watch the sunset. It is beautiful, isn’t it?” I tilt my head to the side, not looking toward the sun at all.

  Brooke sucks in a breath and her eyes fall to her feet. “I better be going.” She stands. “Thanks for accepting my peace offering. I expect to see you later this week and with good reports.” She nods before walking down the steps to her Land Rover.

  There’s the tough Brooke I know. “I’ll be there.” I wait until she’s inside before I walk back into the house. She frustrates me. I know she’s attracted to me. Me being on parole doesn’t help. Me being ‘her’ parolee, only makes it worse.

  I’m extremely relieved he accepted my peace offering. Normally, I would give two shits if I pissed them off; making them feel belittled on the other hand is not acceptable and wasn’t intended. I’m not used to a man like him coming into my world the way he has and making me rethink certain things that have been the same way for years.

  This is causing me to rethink my entire moral compass. I’ve never had the sorts of thoughts that I’ve currently been having for Cole Ferguson. These thoughts could probably get me fired if they were acted upon. I’m not entirely sure. If I were to look into it, it might appear that I want to pursue him. I can’t. I won’t.

  Now back at home, I change into another outfit. I chose a skirt and a light blouse. It’s quite humid this evening and knowing my mother, we’ll be eating on the patio to better see the city lights. I refresh my hair and makeup because I don’t need my mother saying I look tired and then lecturing me about my health. I’m basically fine.

  Once a month I go over to my parents’ house for family dinner. It’s mostly so my parents can keep up with me and make sure I’m not humiliating the family name in any way. They also like to ask me a million questions about every aspect of my life. Then they criticize each and every reply I give them. Any other parent would be thrilled to have me as a daughter. I work hard. I have a great job with the state. I have my own apartment in the city. I am, for the most part, a good person. I’m not, nor have I ever been, a troubled child. I don’t ask them for anything. I’ll never be good enough for them and I’ve tried my entire life. It’s just not possible. I think they’d had their hearts set on a boy. Not much they could do about that, though.

  I’m on my way there now and already dreading it. I hope my mother approves of my outfit. I highly doubt she will, but we’ll see. There is a first time for everything. I shouldn’t even care, but I do. I think she’s just jealous of me. I’m not saying that to be conceited. She wishes she were me or were like me at my age. At my age she had me and was basically stuck in their house. She had no independence. She was the full-time stay-at-home mom and still is, even though I’d moved out years ago. I honestly feel sorry for her. It’s the only reason I nearly bite my tongue off and don’t tell her what I really think. My father isn’t as bad. He’s more worried about my career. He’d prefer that I continue my education and follow in his footsteps and become a judge. That’s not what I want, though.

  I pulled into the circle drive about five minutes ago and have yet to get out and go inside. I’d much rather go home and curl up on the couch with a good movie. I take a deep breath and ask for patience before I get out.

  I didn’t see the little Fiat hiding behind the bush at first. I’m not sure who drives it. I honestly can’t think of anyone my parents may associate with that would drive a Fiat. Most of my parents’ friends are extremely wealthy, as they are. I’m now eager to get inside, so eager I nearly trip up the steps.

  I walk in and immediately hear Clara’s fake laugh echoing from down the hall coming from what I assume is the dining room. We must be entertaining someone. Joy. Here I go. This is sure to be a blast. I can feel it by the heart palpitations I’m currently having.

  As I walk in, I see my father at the head of the table as usual, my mother to his left, and there’s a man beside her, in my chair. What in the hell is going on here? Did they find the son they’ve always wanted?

  “Hi, Brooke! You look beautiful, sweetie,” my father says.

  “Jeffery, how rude of you. Dear.” She looks me over and I can see that she doesn’t approve. It’s all over her face. She wants to comment on my outfit. I bet she can taste blood in her mouth. “This is Joseph.” She recovers and pulls him by the arm, lifting him from his chair. He was in the middle of taking a sip of his tomato soup. She has nerve calling my father rude.

  Joseph stands, wipes his mouth so delicately I expect to see foundation on the napkin. As he moves it from his face, I see nothing on the napkin, and he is… well… let’s just say he’s not my type. “Hi. I’m Joseph.” He chuckles oddly. Where the hell did she find this one? My mother has this problem with playing matchmaker.

  I glance at my mother. I hope she can feel the daggers that I’m sending her. “Nice to meet you, Joseph. What brings you here this evening for our family dinner?” I say, avoiding his outstretched hand and taking a seat. I hear her sharp intake of breath and roll my eyes as I place my napkin in my lap. I love the damn skirt I have on.

  “Joseph is interning at the firm.” My mother’s acting as if he’s some grand prize. I don’t want to win. I want to lose. I won’t even be a sore loser.

  “Isn’t that lovely for him. Do you speak for yourself, Joseph?” I give my mom a look. She’s not helping at all. The more she tries, the more I want to leave. Poor Joseph will suffer in the end it seems.

  Joseph clears his throat. “Yes. Sorry. I’m a bit nervous, I guess.” He gives a small smile.

  “There’s no reason to be nervous. I don’t bite, too hard.” I smile. My mother huffs and my father covers his face. Poor Joseph; his face is as red as the tomato soup on the table sitting in front of him.

  “What do you do, Brooke?” He clears his throat again.

  “I’m a parole officer,” I say flatly. I know something’s about to be said about my career choices.

  “Brooke is the best in the state. She runs a tight ship, this one.” My father winks at me.

  I don’t know what happened to my father, but I’m not going to question it or overthink it. He’s not ragging my ass, so I’m one for one. “Thanks, Daddy!” I smile. I glance over at my mother and I can see the irritation on her face. I don’t understand why she acts this way. I’m her daughter. She should love and support me, no matter what.

  By dessert, I’ve finally had enough. Where my father slacked off, my mother has come at me twice as hard as soon as she realized that Joseph was not for me and that I wasn’t having any of him or her. She’s just the worst. I don’t know what my father sees in her. She rags him the same way. I think after so many years, he’s learned to tune her out as much as possible. I hope he�
��ll teach me some day.

  “Joseph, would you like to help with the dishes?” I ask him sweetly.

  “You don’t have a dishwasher?” Joseph asks, confused.

  “Mother does, but because you’re here, she decided to use the china, and unfortunately, the vintage china isn’t dishwasher safe. Normally, we’d eat from the daily use dishes.” I stand, walk over to my father, and kiss his cheek. “Joseph and mother will have that covered. I need to get home.”

  My father nods his understanding. “Love you, sweetie,” he says and then whispers, “I told her not to meddle, pumpkin.”

  “Thanks, Daddy,” I whisper before I get the hell out of there. I didn’t say another word to my mother or Joseph. I know it wasn’t his fault, but he sure didn’t speak much for himself, try to redeem himself in any way, or anything to help the situation or himself. I may be mysteriously sick when it’s time for next month’s family dinner.

  It’s finally time for my meeting with Brooke. I arrive a few minutes early as always. I think it looks better. Not that it helps in any way. It can’t hurt and I love any extra time with her.

  “Cole,” Brooke says, grabbing my attention. I stand and follow her down the hall. “How’s your day going?” she asks as we enter her office.

  I sit in my normal chair across from her. “It was good.”

  “Anymore issues with the homewrecker?” She raises a brow.

  A laugh barely escapes. “No, ma’am. She’s not been back, thankfully.” I nod. I don’t think she liked the ma’am comment. I think she might be a year older than me. I’m not positive, though.

  “How’s counseling going? I haven’t seen the update on file yet.” Brooke thumbs through my file until she finds what she’s looking for.

  “I guess it’s going okay. I mean I already know a lot of my issues stem from my childhood or lack of.” I shrug.

  “And anger management, how’s that going?” Brooke skims over something from my file.

  “Same. I guess it’s okay.” She’s acting as if nothing happened only a few nights ago, or almost happened. I know it was inappropriate from both sides, but I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this.

  Brooke places the papers back in my file and taps it on the desk to straighten it. She puts it in her desk, closes the drawer, and releases a long breath. “Do you feel you’re learning how to address your anger?”

  I think for a moment I have learned stuff, but I don’t know if I will use any of it in my daily life. “I guess the count to five method could work okay for me.”

  She stands, walks around to me, and sits on the edge of her desk. I’m not sure what she’s thinking. I never guess correctly when it comes to what a woman’s thinking. How could I even have a chance at it? Women overthink a lot. Not that it’s a bad thing exactly. It can be very helpful in many ways. Women make the best detectives I’ve heard.

  I sit up in my chair, challenging whatever might happen. Looking at her I’m concerned for the both of us. I give her the sweetest smile that I’m capable of and wait.

  Brooke leans forward, now invading my space. I’m not complaining. I want her in my space, in my lap even, riding my dick, and screaming for more. “Cole, what if I were to tell you that your parole is being revoked?”

  I jump from my chair. I see a hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth. I stop, sit back down, and take a deep breath. “I would ask why that is.” I smile.

  “Well done.” Brooke nods, grins, and then walks around the desk. She sits her tight ass back down in her chair. That lucky chair. I wish it were my face she was sitting on.

  “Would it be inappropriate to ask if you’d like to be my workout buddy? I don’t have anyone or really know anyone anymore. Ya know?” I try to look pathetic, but I don’t lay it on too much.

  “I don’t know how ‘inappropriate’ it would be. We would be in a public place after all.” She shrugs. “I don’t see an issue. We’re alone now...” Brooke says, and for some reason ‘alone’ was said a bit slower and more erotic, but that had to be my imagination.

  “That’s true. Can I be honest with you, Brooke?” I glance into her green eyes. I can see hunger in them.

  “I want you to always be honest, Cole. I’m not your enemy. Remember that.” She gives me a grim smile.

  “Oookay. I wish that I had met you in a different way. I mean with you not being my parole officer.” I can’t look at her. I can’t chance her overreacting or running away again.

  “If I were being honest, Cole, I wish the same thing.” She sighs.

  I look at her then. She makes eye contact and doesn’t look away. We both sit there and stare at each other for what feels like forever. I can’t look away and she can’t either.

  “I think you should go, Cole.” I can hear, I can feel, the tension coming from her body. She doesn’t even realize how tightly she’s gripping the pen in her hand. Her fingertips have lost their color.

  “I think you’re right. See you next week.” I smile and walk toward the door. I stop and face her once more. “Brooke, if I weren’t on parole would you have gone out with me?”

  She doesn’t immediately answer, but she finally does. “Cole, my dating you has nothing to do with you being on parole.” She grabs her purse and heads toward the door as well.

  I don’t know exactly what she meant by that. In a way, it seems that she avoided my question. We walk together to the elevator, neither of us say anything. It may be awkward again for her. I just don’t know what to say at the moment.

  I enter the elevator behind her as she hits the button for the lobby. As the door closes, I instantly feel the lack of oxygen in the small space between the two of us.

  Besides the sound of our breathing, you could hear a condom break. The awkward silence between us is too much. “Do you still want to work out with me?” I glance up and catch her staring at me.

  Brooke’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink. I wonder what she was thinking about. “Sure, why not? When?”

  “I have my bag in my truck now. I was planning to go after I leave here.” I hold the door open for her as we exit the elevator. I can now breathe again.

  “Okay. I need to get gas first though. I can meet you there,” Brooke says as she continues to walk to her Land Rover. It’s a nice ride for someone earning a state salary. She’s trying so hard to keep her distance from me.

  “I’ll be there.” I walk to my truck and get in. I watch as Brooke gets into hers, but she hasn’t left yet. Should I go over to see if everything’s okay? Would that be too much?

  I decided against it and Brooke eventually pulled away. I could see her in my rearview mirror while I was stopped at the street light.

  I get to the locker room and change into my gym t-shirt and shorts. I honestly would live in them if I could. Jim says I can’t wear shorts with safety regulations and all the glass we work with.

  I start with free weights before Brooke arrives, that way we can stick together once she gets here. I don’t want her to think I’m purposely putting these guns on display. It’s hard enough for her to be around me. I’m eager to see her out of those damn pantsuits and in something more comfortable, that hugs that body she’s desperate to hide from the world.

  She startles me. “Hey,” she whispers in my ear, causing me to nearly drop the damn bar.

  “Jesus, Brooke.” I set the bar on the floor and turn to her. I didn’t know she was right behind me. I kind of push her playfully, just a little. She doesn’t fly across the room or anything. It was unexpected though, and she tumbles backward. “I’m so sorry.” I reach for her and help lift her off the floor.

  She looks dazed and a bit surprised. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you on steroids? Do I need to test you for that?” She’s irritated. My guess, she’s more embarrassed.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Want to push me down?” I hold my arms up innocently. “I didn’t mean to send you tumbling, Brooke.”

  She surveys me, her arms folded, and weight to o
ne side. Before I know it, she lunges at me and it’s too late. I didn’t have time to brace myself. I fall backward but grip her in my arms as I go. Not to take her down with me. She was coming anyway. I just didn’t want her to hit her head on the equipment around us.

  The bar I was using beside me on the floor scraped the back of my neck, but I’m fine. Brooke’s now on top of me and still in my arms. Neither of us have made a move to correct this inappropriate incident. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

  She ever so slowly lifts her head, now looking into my eyes. They leisurely travel down, my lips reflecting back at me. She then bites her own. Just do it. I know you want to, Brooke. I won’t make the first move. Nope. I don’t care how bad I want her, and I do. I want her badly, but for all I know, I could end up in prison again. No way in hell. I’d like to say she’s worth it, but I’d be lying if I did. Brooke would say the same.

  I reach for the back of my neck. The scrape feels extremely irritated and is burning. When I bring my hand back, I have blood on my fingers and not just a drop or two. “Shit,” I grumble.

  “Oh my God! Are you okay?” She lifts herself off of me and back onto her knees. Brooke grips my shoulders and pulls me toward her to investigate. She’s so close, dangerously close. The sweet scent of her perfume invades my senses. If I flicked my tongue, it would graze the base of her neck. I bet she tastes just as sweet as she smells.

  “I think I’m okay.” I’m really not. I can feel my dick growing in my shorts. There’s no hiding it in cotton. Not happening. I quickly try to think of something to help make it go away. Maggie. I think about her and moments later, it’s gone. I’ll have to remember that.

  “I think you may need stitches, Cole.” Brooke stands and pulls me with her.

  “Is it that bad? Really?” I am terrified of needles. I can’t let her know that. I need to see what it looks like.

  “No. I’m just kidding. I’ll go get you a band-aid.” Brooke giggles and walks away.