Or a very serious cocaine addiction, I wanted to add. Instead, I just nodded my head. “You’re right. I’m basically Superman, just better looking.”
“My psych teacher would have a field day with you, wouldn’t she?” Amelia smirked.
“Scouts’ honor, I should probably be institutionalized.” I turned toward Bronte. “And on that romantic note, you ready?”
She licked her lips nervously, pulling the gloss away with her tongue, making me curious about what it tasted like. “I think so? I didn’t really know where we were going, so I packed light.”
“Perfect.” I got up and grabbed both our bags. “And it’s not like we can’t buy something if we need it — and by we, I mean me.”
Her face flushed.
“Mom…” Amelia hopped up. “…real quick. The guys, Sarah, and Min are headed to the beach for a bonfire in a few. Can I go? PLEASE? Pretty pretty please?”
“Is your room clean?” I interrupted with my arms crossed, earning a glare that made me so uncomfortable I backed up and questioned my desire to father children.
Bronte sighed. “I got this, Drew.”
“What guys?” I just had to ask, earning another glare.
“Do you mind?” Amelia said through clenched teeth and closed fists.
I had to laugh at her exasperation. I liked her spirit. Bronte may have been a young mom, but she did a good job with her kids.
“Is your room clean?” she repeated with a smirk.
“Define clean?” Amelia winced and held her breath.
Bronte tilted her head down and raised her eyebrows. If she had been wearing glasses, she would have been peering over the top. She didn’t say one word.
Amelia released a blustery sigh. “Okay fine. If I clean it, can I go to the bonfire, then have Sarah and Min over tonight? I swear, no boys, plus Ryan started hooking up with Brooke, and we hate Brooke.”
I made a mental note.
We hate Brooke.
Brooke, such a typical popular girl name.
I didn’t want Amelia hanging out with any Brookes, or Britneys for that matter!
Or Ryans. I shuddered.
“Okay.” Bronte took a few steps toward Amelia and pulled her in for a hug. “Just promise you guys don’t stay up too late watching Adrenaline videos and pausing on abs.”
I choked on my laugh, earning a glare from both women, so I raised my hands in surrender and said, “No worries. I do it too.”
I mean, what else could I say?
“That’s weird.” Amelia shook her head. “All right, you two have fun. Drew, keep your hands to yourself, and Mom, try not to be such a… mom.”
Bronte glared.
“And yet the stare just gets more intense,” I muttered under my breath, earning a laugh from Amelia.
“Stay safe, sweetie, and text me, okay?” Bronte pulled her in for a quick hug and kissed her on the forehead.
Something twisted in my chest.
I frowned.
Was I jealous of a child getting a kiss? I mean, really.
It wasn’t even sexual. It was the fact that the very chaste kiss showed more emotion than several of the make-out sessions I’d had in my lifetime. It showed actual care rather than lust and a need to get off.
And I truly could count on one hand with fingers left over how many times I’d experienced that sort of kiss.
I’d always been close to my grandma before she died, but my parents? They literally only saw me as a cash cow.
Even had said that to my face when I threatened to quit the band when things got bad with Will and Angelica, which of course, meant I’d made everything worse because I was a selfish jackass.
“All right.” Bronte turned toward me. “Ready?”
“Yup.” I carried the bags to the door and was just getting ready to set them down to open it for her, but Bronte beat me to it.
Her cheeks were rosy-pink as she tugged her full bottom lip between her teeth. I caught a whiff of Dolce perfume when I walked by.
I was a man who knew perfumes, and while I’d always hated that scent on other women, it fit her perfectly.
My white Audi A7 was waiting in front of the beach house. I went to the back to toss the bags in and noticed she just let herself in the car — no waiting for me, no expectations. Why did that bother the hell out of me?
With a frown, I walked over to the passenger side and knocked on the window. She jerked in her seat and then frowned, slowly unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door. “Um, we are taking this car, right? You just put the bags in so—”
I held up my hand. “Can you do me a favor?”
She looked terrified but nodded. “Sure.”
“Can you get out of the car so I can do this right?”
“Do what right?”
“This.” I shrugged. “All of this.”
Another clueless look.
Adorable.
I leaned in and confessed. “I want to open your door, Bronte.”
“Oh!” She stared at me in disbelief. “Oh, oh, right.” She hopped out of the car and stood by my side as I shut the door again, waited a few seconds for effect, and then opened the door for her.
With a silly grin, she started to get in then turned. “You know, I’m not one of those women, right?”
“One of those women…” I repeated. “Not really tracking?”
“You know.” She shrugged. “I’m not needy. You don’t have to open my car door for me — or any door for that matter. I didn’t even think twice about it.”
I cursed under my breath. “Well, that’s a damn shame, isn’t it? That you didn’t even think twice about a man being a man or being a gentleman. It has everything to do with me wanting to treat you nicely. I know you can open your own door. I’m one-hundred-percent aware that women are equal and often times smarter than men if we’re being honest, but the real shame here is that it appears to me like you’ve never had a man who went the extra mile and treated you with the respect and care you deserve. So, Bronte, I’m
