The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1)(41)
“I think you’ll really like Mean Girls. It’s a classic.”
“Obviously we have a much different definition of what a classic is.”
“Okay, tough guy, what would you deem worthy of the label?”
“Casablanca. Gone with the Wind.” He waved a hand with a flourish. “Movies that have stood the test of time.”
I continued balling up cookie dough onto the baking sheet. “You do know they make movies in this thing called color now, right?”
“Is that right up there with—what do you call it”—he paused—“a ‘cellular phone’?”
I opened the oven, popped in the sheet, and set the timer. “I’m shocked there’s not a rotary phone in your apartment.”
“There’s one in my office,” he winked.
I tsked. “You really were a deprived child.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Look at Miss Big City getting all high and mighty.”
“I’m not from here. Born and raised in downtown Portland, thank you very much.” I sat on a barstool at the breakfast bar, and Brogan joined me.
“That explains so much.” He smirked, and his dimples made an appearance for the first time tonight.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Excuse me, but what does that mean?” Only Portlanders were allowed to call our people weird. Same way I could complain about something my mom did that annoyed the crap out of me, but if someone even thought about saying a less than flattering comment about her, I’d go full on Hulk-smash.
“Portland’s just full of weird people. Pink chickens, people walking around topless, penis doughnuts.”
I ticked off numbers on my fingers. “First off, the shirtless thing is all Eugene. And only during the Country Fair.” I winked. “Second, everyone should enjoy a Cock-N-Balls at least once in their life.” I held up my hand with three fingers out. “Third, my mom has two chickens—Betty and Horace.”
“Is it even legal to own those in the city?” He looked at me as if I’d said I was from a traveling circus troupe and performed on the trapeze.
“Yes. Seriously, have you had fresh eggs? They’re the best.” I settled back on my stool, thinking of Saturday mornings when Mom would go into the chicken coup and come back with the most beautiful blue and brown eggs. She’d cook them, along with bacon and hash browns, while we discussed who was going to be voted off our favorite reality shows.
After Dad left, this became our weekend ritual when I’d come home from college. I frowned, thinking about how I’d totally blown my mom off and declined her offer of breakfast during my visit, and instead bought us doughnuts from the coffee cart a few blocks from her house. Yep, I deserved the title of Shit Daughter.
“The closest I’ve come to fresh eggs is buying cartons with pictures of farms on them.” He smirked when he saw my grimace. “Did you see her this weekend?”
The timer beeped, and I busied myself with extracting cookies from the oven. “How did you know that?”
“You looked happier than usual on Friday.”
My breath caught and I frantically searched for a spatula in the drawers, needing something for my hands to be doing. Brogan noticed me. And not just me, but my mood before the weekend from hell and Jackson crushing part of my soul.
“Yeah, I did. She started a new treatment a few days ago. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Good. I hear that it can take a few cocktails before they get the right mixture.”
After a few minutes of letting the cookies cool, I scooped them onto a plate and brought them back to the counter. Something felt right about being in his condo, having a normal conversation. I talked with Zoey all the time, but sharing things about my life with Brogan felt…special. When I was ready to get back on the dating horse, I’d want the guy to be like Brogan. Smart, successful, sexy as hell. Yes, that killer combo would be the death of me. No other guy seemed to even be on the same playing field as him.
I cleared my throat, extinguishing those thoughts. They wouldn’t help in my already pitiful dating life. “Seems like you know a lot about cancer.”
He shrugged. “I may have done some research after you left the other night.” Brogan grabbed a cookie off the plate and took a tentative bite. His eyes closed and he moaned, and my mouth suddenly went dry. His lashes fanned over the tops of his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut, and my heart went sideways in my chest. I’d give up ice cream for a year to hear that sound come out of his mouth again. “Holy shit. These are amazing.”
“I told you—blue ribbon cookies reign supreme.”
I took a bite of cookie, keeping my mouth busy because, holy crap. He’d done research. Because of something affecting my life. If my mouth wasn’t full of chocolate chips, I’d probably say something like could you be any more perfect? Or, please keep making those cookie moaning sounds.
“You got a little something…” He swept his thumb over the corner of my mouth. “Right here.” He brought his thumb to his lips and sucked the chocolate off his finger.
A sound, something between a gasp and a deflating balloon, came out of my mouth. My pulse kicked up to a strong gallop, hammering against my temples. Heat radiated through the space between my thighs, and words drained from my mind. Not a single coherent thought formed as I watched his finger edge along the seam of his mouth.