Downpour: A Grumpy Sunshine Romance (The Griffith Brothers Book 2)
Downpour: Chapter 4

Two days had passed since Brooke showed up at my doorstep with skinned knees and a smile plastered on her face. And for the past two days, she hadn’t stopped talking.

No matter how many times I told her to shut up, she just…wouldn’t.

Mickey, my niece’s accidental pet cow, had taken up permanent residence on my back deck. Apparently, he was in love with the girl.

Thankfully, I’d gotten a few hours of peace today. It was one of those rare mornings when I didn’t have to go into town for physical therapy. Babbling Brooke wasn’t scheduled to return until the afternoon. Since I hadn’t fired anyone in the past forty-eight hours, my brothers and parents had left me alone.

Wheeling myself back into the kitchen, I stowed the empty watering can under the sink. My back was giving me hell today—not an unusual occurrence, but certainly an irritating one.

My phone vibrated in my lap.

CJ

You good?

I didn’t bother responding. CJ, my younger brother, knew I’d call if I needed something.

Not like he could help me anyway. He was probably as far away from people as humanly possible. It wasn’t lost on me that he had been moving the herd of cattle farther and farther from the civilized part of the property, and it had nothing to do with the construction of the lodge and restaurant.

The sliding door was propped open today, letting a breeze sweep through the screen. If I was being honest, I wanted to go outside and drive through the property.

For the first time, the ranch was bustling from sunrise to sunset, and it wasn’t because of the cattle.

I had been urging my dad for years to diversify the ranch’s financial interests. Finally, he listened.

Cassandra was brought in. She fell in love with my brother, Christian, and the ranch revitalization project was born.

She was swamped, coordinating the budding equine program while the framing for the restaurant and lodge was going up. It would be worth it in the end.

Putting all your eggs in one basket was foolish. Everyone needed a backup plan. Turns out, I was the pot calling the kettle black.

I shifted to try and ease the ache that radiated down my sciatic nerve. It made my knee throb. That was new.

I had been feeling weird muscle sensations for a few weeks. My physical therapist knew, but we kept it between the two of us.

I eased away from the kitchen counter and locked my wheelchair. Carefully, I cupped the back of my knee and lifted my foot off the footrest. I closed my eyes, braced against the arm rests, then did what the physical therapist said and focused on the muscles that I remembered.

I felt the memory of tension pulling from my hip to my knee to my ankle as I slid my foot an inch. Moving my leg was an out-of-body experience.

My upper body gross motor skills had returned more easily than my fine motor skills. It was frustrating to have to spend my time in physical therapy learning how to use a pencil or use my phone.

Thank God for voice notes and voice-to-text. Not that I was ever the one to reach out to people. I used it for brief responses and middle finger emojis.

I glanced at the clock as I wedged my hands under my knee and slowly lifted my foot back onto the metal rest. It was almost two in the afternoon.

Brooke was supposed to have been here at one.

Today was her first day flying solo.

The day she showed up in my driveway with a fucking love plant, Chris and Cassandra had been there to act as a buffer. My mom was the one who showed up yesterday to make sure I didn’t fire her.

The clock ticked on, but the driveway was empty.

I was generally irritated with someone being in my house, so why was I annoyed that she was late?

Ten minutes later, a rattling engine ker-plunked to a stop in the driveway. Mickey perked up from his nap on the back deck and wandered out front at the sound of Brooke’s car.

The tension in my chest released, then immediately worked back up at the snap of her flip-flops.

Did she not have real shoes? The snap-snap sound as she stomped her way to the door was grating.

“Hello!” Brooke sang as she let herself in.

I hadn’t bothered to change the locks or attempt to keep her out. Door knobs were getting expensive.

She kicked the door closed with a flip-flopped foot. Her toes were painted bright purple today. She had two cups in her hands, a bag on her shoulder, and three grocery bags hanging from the crook of her elbow.

“It’s so pretty outside today,” she said. “I just love the drive out here. How’s your day going? Have you had lunch yet? There was a taco truck on my way in, so I hope you like barbacoa.”

I did like barbacoa. But with coffee?

She took a slurp from a straw that was stuffed into a whipped cream and sprinkle-covered frozen concoction as she strolled into the kitchen. “I haven’t figured out your coffee aura yet, so I got you an iced coffee, black. I figured we’ll start there.”

Why did she get me coffee?

Brooke blew out a breath. “Anyway. Enough about me. How’s your day going?”

Curly brown hair was plastered to her forehead and neck. Her tanned skin was pink from the heat and covered in a sheen of sweat. She was in another pair of tiny denim shorts, and a tank top that was loose and low enough for me to see her ribs and bra.

“Fine,” I muttered.

Brooke didn’t pay me any mind. Because, of course, she didn’t. Tornadoes don’t care who they bother.

She dropped the drinks and her bags on the counter. “I picked up your prescriptions on the way in, and the groceries your mom texted me about. Give me just a sec to put them away, and then we can hang out.”

I didn’t want to hang out.

Brooke was odd. She wasn’t a nurse. Wasn’t a CNA. She was a glorified gopher who could talk the paint off the walls.

“Taco?” She handed me a lump wrapped in parchment.

I just glared.

“Do you want it on a plate? We could go outside and eat on the deck. I love the heat. Is Mickey out there?” She tugged a red box out of one of the grocery bags. “I found cow treats! I wanna see if he likes them.”

This fucking woman and her excitement over cow treats…

When I didn’t answer, she set my taco on the counter and grabbed hers. “Suit yourself. I’ll be outside if you wanna join.”

I stared at her ass as she strutted out of the kitchen, yanked the sliding screen open, and squealed when she spotted Mickey.

Great. Now I had a headache too.

I yanked open the junk drawer and found the bottle of ibuprofen. Medicine bottles were stupid. I couldn’t get a good enough grip on the safety cap to open it.

I tried again, pressing the lid against the palm of my left hand. I had better grip strength in my right, but it still wasn’t effective. I couldn’t get the goddamn thing open.

Anger surged through me, and I threw the pill bottle across the room. Useless shit.

Brooke poked her head in. “Are you okay?” She spotted the pill bottle and came inside. “Ugh. I hate those. They should really make some with the safety caps and some without them.”

I clenched my jaw as she knelt, grabbed the bottle, and popped it open.

“How many do you want?” Her eyes met mine. They reminded me of bluebonnets and an endless summer sky.

I blinked away the momentary stupor. “I’m fine. It just fell.”

Brooke laughed. “I get that. I’m such a klutz. This morning, I forgot to grab my phone charger and I tripped up the stairs on the way to get it. I’ll leave three pills here just in case.”

I watched as she counted them out in her palm, then left them in a little pile on the edge of the countertop.

“Just holler if you need anything.” She skipped back out to the deck and propped her feet up on a chair, talking to Mickey as she ate.

When I was sure that she was deep in conversation with the cow, I scooped the pills off the edge of the counter and into my palm, then tossed them back.

I wrapped both hands around the plastic iced coffee cup. The condensation beading on the side made it slippery, but I took it slow and washed the painkillers down with a sip from the straw.

Black coffee was terrible.

I grabbed the taco to chase away the taste of burnt coffee beans. Damn. It smelled good.

I was half-tempted to join her on the deck, just so I could stare at those bronze legs. Damn.

My dick twitched. That was inconvenient, especially because I was in gym shorts.

Those legs dropped from their perch, and Brooke strolled in. “Oh good! I was worried I caught you too late and you wouldn’t be hungry! How do you like it?”

Fuck me. I needed my dick to calm down. I dropped my hand and the taco to my crotch to hide the growing tent in my pants.

Her ass peeked out the bottom of her shorts as she tossed her balled up parchment into the garbage and bent over to tie the trash bag.

Most of the people who were sent out here wore scrubs. There was no way in hell she was supposed to wear barely-there denim cutoffs and a tank top that showed off her fine little body.

“You can go,” I snapped. Honestly, I should have sat back and let myself look at something pretty, but all it did was remind me of everything I had lost.

Brooke paused. “What?”

“Leave.”

She laughed. “I just got here.”

I clenched my fist and pressed it against the armrest of my chair. “Go.”

Her eyes dropped to my shorts, and she frowned. “Do you want me to get you a plate? I really don’t mind helping. That’s why I’m here. I just didn’t want to bother you.”

She was already on her tiptoes, reaching into my cabinet.

“I don’t want a plate!” I roared. “I want you out of my house!”

Brooke froze in shock. Her eyes widened and welled up with tears, turning a glassy blue like the pond outside.

“I—I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll do better. I’ll⁠—“

I stared at the floor so I didn’t have to see the hurt on her face. “Get out.”

Her feet scrambled as I added, “And don’t come back.”

The house was dark. Moonlight filtered in through the windows. It was the middle of the night, but I couldn’t sleep. I had been lying in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling the way I used to.

Except this time, there were no popcorn ceilings to see patterns in. That was my fault. I had told the builders to make the ceilings smooth.

Now all I stared at was plain white paint.

I should have put some of those glow-in-the-dark stars up there. Or maybe a TV. That would have been smart.

But all I could do was stare into the blackness and wait for daybreak.

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