The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1)(59)
All of the anger and anxiety from today’s earlier events evaporated. Goose bumps cascaded over my skin at the thought of staying with Brogan, sleeping in his bed, waking up with my head on his chest. I didn’t know what that meant in terms of us, but I took his offer as a good sign. Opening up didn’t seem to come easy to him, so this was a huge relief. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
Silence hung between us at the weight of the moment. This was a nice unexpected step forward in an otherwise crappy day.
A grin spread across his face, and he pressed his hand into the small of my back, leading me toward the dining room. “Right. We should eat before the food gets cold.”
White china plates were placed in our usual spots at the table. A steaming bowl of macaroni and cheese (the homemade kind, not Kraft) sat in the middle of the table, along with a plate of fluffy dinner rolls and a mixed greens vegetable dish.
We sat down at the table, and Bruce curled up on his pillow in the living room, snoring.
“This looks amazing.”
“I’m glad you think so. It’s been a lot of fun cooking for someone else.” He smiled at me, his dimples making an appearance. “Dinners together have been something I look forward to.”
Would I ever get used to him? Or would he always steal my breath away with kind gestures and easy smiles?
I speared my fork into the tender macaroni, and the cheese stretched between the pieces as I brought it to my mouth. The sharp cheddar hit my tongue, followed by the creamy sauce and noodles. My eyes rolled back in my head, and for a split second I hated Brogan for ruining Kraft Mac and Cheese for me.
I took a sip of wine and said, “This reminds me of my mom’s cooking.”
“Your mom’s Italian too?”
I shook my head. “She just likes to cook with a lot of cheese.” I pointed my fork at him. “Although never trust her with pre-sliced packages. She had this bad habit of not peeling the slips of paper separating the cheese when she made my sandwiches. Nothing more disappointing than biting into plastic. She went through this vegan phase, and the vegan cheese almost tasted like plastic, so honestly I couldn’t tell the difference at some point.”
He grimaced, and his fork froze halfway from his plate to his mouth. “Gross.”
“Oh, come on, didn’t your mom used to make horrible lunches? Please tell me I’m not the only one.”
Brogan shrugged and tore off a piece of bread. “Not really. I went to boarding school starting in seventh grade.”
“Oh? Like one of those all-boys ones where people stand on their desks and yell Yawp and write poetry?”
He pointed at me. “I actually did see Dead Poets Society. And no, it wasn’t nearly that exciting. But I did manage to singe off my eyebrows in chem lab. And we did sneak out to meet the all girls-school a few miles away.” A wicked grin crossed his face as he remembered the memory.
“I bet you were quite popular with the ladies.” I smirked and took another bite of pasta. I would bet my next paycheck that younger Brogan charmed the plaid skirts off many prep school girls.
A twinkle lit his eyes as he said, “I lacked any skill when it came to the opposite sex. Could barely form a coherent sentence around them.” He chuckled.
The Hallelujah Chorus broke out, angels sang, and the Red Sea parted. Brogan was finally opening up, even if it was just a little. To think of him as an awkward, gawky teen was completely charming. It went to show that the nice guys in high school really did turn out okay. And Brogan was more than okay. Maybe that should be a PSA in high schools: Awkward, gawky teenager? Don’t worry, you’ll end up being a billionaire CEO by the time you hit thirty. Keep doing your thing, nerds.
I cocked my head. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s all true. Even when I started my company at twenty-two, I was painfully shy around women. Just ask Jackson.”
“I’d need to see it to believe it.” Brogan, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Tattooed, shy around women? I’d pay good money to see that. Even though he remained somewhat reserved in our interactions, he still managed to make me swoon without even trying.
“Cross my heart.” He made the motion with his fingers. “I was a late bloomer, much to my father’s dismay.” He grumbled the last statement, and his expression darkened.
A boarding school boy with daddy issues? Oh, the plot thickens. “You don’t get along with your dad?” I already knew the answer to this one after the shouty phone call during my first few weeks at the company. Even still, I couldn’t help but want to know more, especially when he was finally opening up to me.
His frown deepened, and a crease formed on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t really like to talk about him.”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. I bet my daddy issues can trump whatever your dad did.” I joked, keeping my voice light, when in reality, talking about my dad was the equivalent of dunking my eyeballs in bleach.
“I doubt that,” he muttered.
“Did your dad live a secret life for fifteen years and have another family he visited every other week?”
His eyes widened at this, and he bristled. “That’s horrible. I’m sorry.”
“It’s in the past. I haven’t talked to him in a long time. It’s better this way.”
“Sometimes it is.” He nodded solemnly. “Still, no one should have to go through that.” He pushed a few noodles around on his plate, staring into space. Still not sharing anything about his family.