Fast Lane | ✔️

16

Ch16

Brooks was sipping on lemonade and snooping through Claire's stack of movie scripts when he heard the front door open. He was sitting at the kitchen counter when a flustered-looking Anna hurried in.

"Sorry I'm late, Claire, the traffic was-Brooks!" she exclaimed breathlessly, stopping dead in her tracks.

"Hey," he said with a casual smile. "What's the rush?"

Anna Lowery's cheeks turned bright pink at the sight of him, and Brooks fought the urge to laugh. She was dressed in blue skinny jeans, flip flops and a conservative pink top-the exact color of her full cheeks. A leather messenger bag clung to her side.

"I . . . um, wasn't expecting you."

Brooks' smile grew wider at her obvious discomfort. "I'm a house-guest, remember?" he said with a teasing tone. "I'll be here for a while."

Anna's hands flew up to the pale blonde hair piled high on top her head and she attempted to smooth back the loose strands. "I remember. I just didn't think I'd be seeing a whole lot of you, that's all."

"And why's that?" he asked, unable to stop staring. She was delicately pretty, unlike most of the girls he'd dated in the past, yet for some reason, he felt himself drawn to her. She was soft, and sweet . . . she reminded him of Claire.

Anna turned away, clearly embarrassed, and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I figured you'd be busy most of the time."

Brooks let out a hearty chuckle. "Rock stars need a break, too, ya know," he needled, enjoying the fact that she was so shy. He wasn't used to females not throwing themselves at him. It made for a refreshing change.

"Oh, I didn't mean that!" she exclaimed in a hurry, the blush returning to her cheeks. "I just meant with everything going on . . ."

Brooks felt his face cloud over. "You mean, with the break-in?" he asked, knowing the incident was exactly what she was referring to. "I don't plan on going back to that bloody house ever again," he said roughly and pushed a hand through his hair in agitation. He took another gulp of lemonade and glared at the counter-top.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her timidly inch closer. "I'm really sorry," she began softly. "I hope I didn't upset you."

He turned and studied her through long lashes. It wasn't her fault. The truth was, the thought of going home to that big, empty house alone, scared him to death-a feeling he was not used to. "I'm sorry,"he apologized. "It's not you. I'm just sick over everything going on. I've never felt so . . . violated, you know? I'm used to being the one in charge, I'm not used to playing the victim."

Anna ventured forward a little closer, a sympathetic expression covering her face. "I can imagine. It must be difficult being the center of attention all the time," she offered, shaking her head. "I don't know how you manage."

He shrugged his shoulders and continued to study her. The way her golden hair framed her heart-shaped face, the way her cheeks blushed when she was in distress. Stop it! he scolded himself. She would never be interested. She's too nice-nice girls don't want guys like you. They're too smart.

"It's not always easy," he admitted slowly, surprised by his attraction to her. "You can never let your guard down. You've gotta learn to roll with the punches. I've made a lot of stupid mistakes over the years. Done a lot of things I wish I could undo." Why had he just said that?

Anna's face lit up with a hopeful smile. "That's the great thing about life. We can always start over, as many times as we need to. Each day is a new start . . . a new beginning." She looked down and then turned away again, as if she'd said too much.