After he opened the door for me, I slid onto the seat, the smell of leather overwhelming. I’d never been in a car with leather seats. I peered over my shoulder to the back seat. Spacious. He got in the car and I couldn’t help but just stare at him. He glanced at me a few times as he navigated the long driveway off his property, a pleased expression on his face.
“You’re very handsome,” I said, finally, knowing he knew because of course he fucking knows! But I felt like I couldn’t stand having it inside me one more minute. He laughed and rested his hand on the inside of my thigh.
“Hey, where are your glasses?” I suddenly realized those sexy teacher-from-the-1950s glasses were missing. But obviously I had no problem finding him to be a hunk without them.
He eyed me. “I wear them for reading and working, mostly.” He glanced at me and in just a brief look, studied me. “Do you wear glasses, Britta?”
“I don’t,” I admitted. It was a simple question. But he wanted to know me and it was nice.
“Can you come over tonight?” he asked, watching the road in front of us, his foot pushing the pedal to the floor, the car tugging quickly and silently in response. I couldn’t even feel the road beneath us, despite its uneven surface and the speed with which we were traveling.
“This is a really nice car,” I said, my hands wandering over the edge of the smooth seat.
“What time do you get home from work?” he asked.
“We get home around 5:30 every day. What time do you get home?” I replied, trying hard not to focus on his hand on my thigh. The way he casually touched me like this, as if we were comfortable and known to one another, made my heart slam against my ribs, my thighs fill with heat.
“Come over for dinner. When do you normally eat?” he said, ignoring my question, as the Nolan’s driveway came into view. My heart dropped a bit, knowing I was going to work now, away from him.
“Seven, I guess,” I said, unable to think of the details of a normal day. All I could think is how he’d just touched me, the way he’d kissed me, the things he’d said. It scared me to do this with him, a man like him. I was already growing attached to who I thought he was and if he turned out to be even a sliver of that, I knew I’d drown in him. My head already felt only slightly above the surface.
Then a thought occurred to me. What if, for him, I was just something to bring life to a rough patch? Something for fun because he was bored? Men that looked like him didn’t need to do anything to receive attention from women and they certainly didn’t need to settle—they could have exactly who and what they wanted.
And I found it hard to believe that what he wanted was me. The maid.
“Then come over at seven,” he said, pulling up to the gate outside the Nolan’s. They only had one gate and no hill, so after I input the code, I could easily walk up the driveway. Glancing ahead, I didn’t see Melody’s car there yet and as much as I wanted to stay in that car with Brooks for as long as I could, I didn’t want Melody to know where I’d been this morning.
Because I know she’d tell me not to do what I was doing, and I knew she’d probably be right. But I just wanted to feel good. And if it came crashing down around me in flames then I’d deal with it. But for now, I had to chase the feeling I had with him. It was too good to ignore.
“Okay,” I said, “I’m excited.”
He lifted his hand from my thigh and brought it to my cheek, then leaned over the console and kissed me, gently. I opened the door and after I got out, he called to me, so I bent down.
“How do you like working for Ted Nolan?” he asked, propping his face on his knuckle, elbow on the console.
I shrugged. “It’s the same as every other house. I rarely see him. It’s fine.” The only reason I even knew their last name was Nolan was because it was on a very crafty looking doormat leading into the garage.
“Is he a friend of yours?” I asked, casting a glance back down the drive, checking for Melody again.
“Hardly,” Brooks snorted. “Okay, see you tonight and hey, what was in the envelope?” his eyes drift down to my bandaged hand where I’m holding the envelope.
“Oh,” I said, feeling embarrassed and somewhat silly. “Money. For the glass I broke. The macarons are for you.”
Brooks gave me a small smile and sighed, looking forward. “I’ll see you tonight, Britta.”
My breath caught, hearing him say those words. I couldn’t believe what had already transpired and now I was getting to see him again. How was this happening to me? Nodding, I closed the door and walked up the drive. I didn’t hear him pull away, I guess expensive cars are quiet, and by the time I made it to the back door, Melody was pulling up.
“Hey, why’d you Uber here? Are you mad at me?” she said, getting out of the car, her dark hair up in a high ponytail. Silver hoops drooped from her earlobes and she wore her signature red lipstick, this time with matching nails.
“I had to go back to the hospital this morning. They called me late last night. I left my wallet there,” I said, unable to look her in the face. I did not want to lie to Melody, but I couldn’t stand stopping things with Brooks, not yet, and I knew that’s what she’d tell me to do.
“Oh,” she said, popping her trunk. “How’s your hand?”
I’d been so preoccupied with Brooks’ hands—or, one of them at least—I’d forgotten
