Sure Bet (Out of Left Field #1)

8. Brooke

Chapter 8

Brooke

T he bottle landed on the kitchen table with a thud, rattling the two shot glasses beside it.

A nap and a shower were the reset I needed, but never did I think the universe might reboot, too. What world was I living in when I actively sought out Liam’s company?

Rather than thank him for his decency in hanging around in a difficult moment, I defaulted to a cavalier invitation. “These are desperate times, and I’m desperate.”

Stop it, Brooke! Haughty indifference won’t win any hearts.

Not that I wanted to win his heart. It was just a colloquialism.

I slid the whisky closer to where Liam worked. “If you don’t mind joining me, I mean.”

His gaze darted between the alcohol and the screen for a moment before he sighed and closed his laptop. He folded his hands over the computer. “You have my attention.”

Warmth spread over my cheeks, but I ignored it, plopping into the chair across from him. “I’d like for us not to kill each other while stuck living together.”

Liam raised his eyebrows. “Oh, now this is interesting. You want to be friends. It was my pep talk, huh?”

The sheer amount of confidence this man carried should be a crime. Those blue eyes sparkled with amusement. He probably thought he deserved sainthood for enduring a woman’s emotions in full force.

In the case of this morning? He might.

Outright admitting it proved impossible when the words stuck in my throat. Pride choked off a direct route to my gratitude. A detour would have to suffice.

“I want not to be enemies,” I clarified, the distinction necessary. “You were… not terrible this morning, and I…”

He grinned wider, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “Please, go on.”

“Ugh!” I threw my hands up. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Humble pie tastes awful, and I’m trying to say I appreciate your listening to me in a bad moment. Shana is my best friend, but you were a solid stand-in.”

Grimacing, I prepared for some smart-ass response, but Liam only nodded. “Thank you.”

I poured two shots and passed one to him.

“Getting dumped sucks, regardless of the circumstances. I’m done crying, though. I had hoped things could go somewhere with a guy like Sam, but I was wrong.” I shot back my whisky, wincing with the burn of it.

Liam frowned, setting down his untouched drink. “You shouldn’t want a guy who believes being with you constitutes settling.”

It was possibly the kindest thing he’d ever said to me, even if he didn’t realize it.

The sad girl I washed down the shower drain twenty minutes ago threatened to reappear, but I shoved her aside. Truthfully, I harbored as many uncertainties about Sam as he had about me, but it was that word: settling . He used it in one tense or another at least a dozen times in a ten-minute conversation on my doorstep.

Worse, I hated that I believed he settled in the relationship and not me, even knowing he didn’t love me the way I wanted, the way I craved deep in the marrow of my bones… The way I didn’t believe would ever happen for someone like me.

Things were fine. Sam was a great guy, and we got along, but it ate at my insides that I accepted fine like it was enough.

I cleared my throat and poured myself another whisky. “So?”

Liam leaned forward. “So?”

“So? Can we share space? Not torment one another?”

He pursed his lips, hemming and hawing for an unnecessary amount of time, as if I’d asked him to solve differential equations. It seemed a pretty simple question, and the longer it took him to answer, the more frustrated I became. Of course, he’d turn this into a game, into some stupid way to flex.

“I’m trying to be amicable here, Liam.”

His crooked smile disarmed me in all the worst ways. Charming and magnetic, the kind that drew attention with its playful invitation. When Liam directed it at me, I practically melted.

Then he had to speak.

“Who’s to say you won’t go back on your word and pick on me?” His lips curved into a mischievous grin, his eyes dancing with a playful glint that sent a ripple of warmth through my veins. Was that… a flirty smile?

I scoffed. My throat was impossibly dry suddenly. “Me, go back on my word? I’m honorable and honest. A rule follower, a woman of integrity, a?—”

“Good girl?” he interjected, tracing the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip and staring beneath those long lashes.

My entire body erupted in flames. I ran a hand along my throat, swallowing audibly.

He laughed and held up his hands in feigned innocence, then grinned wickedly. “That sounded worse than intended. Or better, depending on whose perspective we’re considering.”

Embarrassed, I pushed out of my chair. “You know what? Never mind. I tried, and you’re incorrigible.”

The things he could do to my heart were dangerous. Just his teasing sent it shooting up my throat.

He grabbed my wrist from across the table, stopping me before I stormed off. “I am, but can you blame me?”

My skin was hypersensitive to his touch, my breath quickening as my brain registered that he hadn’t released me. We were touching. He touched me.

A salacious taunt—Liam’s style—the kind that left me light-headed. The games he played when he always had the upper hand in messing with me because I was naive, desperate, and shrinking. The game he played now, even when I tried to step up to bat and meet him on the pitch.

I still struck out.

He studied my profile, but I couldn’t look at him. The intensity of his proximity left my thoughts foggy. Spurred on by his antagonism, I glanced toward the closet, hating myself for being so weak.

Liam’s gaze followed. “You remember. Why do you act like you don’t?”

“Remember what?” I whispered.

He released his grip on me, but it made no difference. I felt him everywhere.

I had lied that night at fifteen, too. Ignored the fluttering in my chest and how badly I’d wanted to kiss Liam, even though he brought me inside the closet, yet another one of his games, and then humiliated me in front of his friends. Rather than admit it hurt, I pretended it never happened at all.

I never won against Liam, and playing with my heart seemed exceptionally stupid. I hated that he was here, in this space, in my house. Invading and antagonizing and riling me up. Even when I tried with him this morning, he acted like a pompous prick. Same asshole, different day. Nothing had changed.

I stared at him beneath the incandescent lights of the chandelier. This cocksure, arrogant, brazenly confident man, the one who pushed me because he enjoyed making me feel pathetic.

The hum of the refrigerator buzzed steadily as we faced off. An overhead bulb sputtered weakly. It needed to be replaced, but I didn’t blink.

Liam had a lifetime of wins beneath his belt. He’d witnessed a litany of my losses, always coming out on top.

Something stirred in my chest, tight and aggravating. A distinct and incendiary demand surged as my anger rose—not just at Liam’s arrogance, but at me.

I didn’t want to be the woman who cried today because one guy made her feel inadequate, and another made her feel invisible.

Running away would give him another win while I licked my wounds and hated myself for being weak.

I lowered into my chair, my gaze locked on him. “You’re rather concerned about some unwanted kiss.”

His smile wavered, only for a second, but I caught it. “You wanted to kiss me, Brooke.”

What was his endgame? Why did he bring it up at all? As if he actually wanted to kiss me? He didn’t. He wanted to prove he could kiss me because there was one time when he didn’t win. When I held my ground the only way that I could. When I got the better of him and held the power.

I didn’t want to give that up.

It was difficult to keep my voice casual while my heart thundered in my chest. “I meant what I said that night, and I mean it just the same tonight. I didn’t want to kiss you. I still don’t. Get over yourself.”

Liam licked his lips and diverted his focus to the bay window and the darkening evening sky. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Is that so?”

I furrowed my brows and mocked, “That’s so.”

I hadn’t prepared myself for the predatory gleam in his eyes when he looked at me or the shiver of pleasure that dragged along my skin.

A slow smile spread over his face, a warning. “You were going to say it in that closet. You were going to tell me exactly what you wanted that night— me . It embarrassed you because, god forbid, High-and-Mighty Brooke wanted someone beneath her.” He leaned forward, his grin widening. “Though I have entertained the thought of being beneath you.”

Cocky and arrogant, but that solidified my resolve to hold my ground, unstable as it was. Liam’s presence left me fighting in quicksand.

“I didn’t want you. I still don’t,” I lied, my heart pounding so loud he surely heard it. “I don’t even want you in this house.”

He spoke softly. “No? Your heart didn’t race when my sister told you I was staying here until I found a place?”

“Nope.” I popped the P , my hard stare unwavering.

He pressed another inch closer. “Why won’t you admit it?”

I erased another inch. “Why won’t you just get over yourself?”

“Because you’re lying, and it pisses me off.” He dusted invisible crumbs off the table, his gaze following the sweep of his hand.

Yeah, I bet it does . This had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with his ego. He was still a jackass.

I hated that the flutter in my chest ignored that very important detail while in his proximity. It mattered. It matters .

“You humiliated me in front of your friends playing some stupid game to make you feel good by putting me down and expected... what? That I would want you?” I gestured to the table. “It’s clean.”

“My friends were assholes, but you were the one hellbent on humiliation that night.”

My screech was involuntary. “Are you kidding me?” My fists clenched tight enough to turn my knuckles white. The laughs, jeers, and taunts that night were at my expense, and this joker dared to imply he had been humiliated?

He crossed his arms and relaxed in his seat. “My sense of humor is impressive, but no, I’m entirely serious. The shit you said was mean and, possibly worse, a fucking lie .”

“Me? I was mean?” I bit down on the inside of my cheek and shook my head. “You’re delusional.”

He shrugged. “If that’s how you see it.”

The gall to shift to indifference. Anger roiled beneath the surface of my skin, warming my entire body. His goading infuriated me, but the disregard was so much worse. Being ignored, dismissed.

Like he didn’t care at all.

He thought he could push me around. Business as usual with Brooke. Because I was the girl who settled for losing instead of fighting for victories.

Was. I was that girl.

I won’t be that woman.

The choice became clear. I could allow myself to go up in flames like the girl of my past, or I could rise from the ashes and blaze a new path forward.

I would demand more than fine . I would refuse to settle for taking what I could get. And god fucking dammit, I wouldn’t be the doormat Liam wiped his dirty feet on.

“Nice ego stroke, Liam, but ouch—the sting of being wrong. Hopefully, you’ll find another place soon. I can’t imagine having to live with the burn of rejection.”

His teeth raked over his bottom lip, that pump and bitable lip. I hadn’t lied. I do hope he finds a place to live soon because I can’t imagine having to live with the burn— my embarrassing burn of desire for someone who was such an asshole. God, what is wrong with me?

He smirked. “You mean that?”

My words were as weightless as dust. “Absolutely. I would kick you out if it were up to me.”

“Fine. It’s up to you, then.”

“Me?” I squeaked the word.

What did I just do, and can I undo it?

Regaining my composure, I steadied my voice. “What kind of game are you playing?”

A radiant smile adorned his face, more brutal than playful. “Maybe a dangerous one. You want me out? Fine, I’ll move out.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That felt entirely too easy.”

“Oh, I didn’t say it won’t come at a price, Brooke. Care to make a wager?”

“A wager?” My finger tapped the table. “Like a bet?”

The air was unbearably hot. A bead of sweat rolled down the arc of my back.

His delighted eyes fixed on my anxious drumming. “If you want to call it that, sure.”

“What do you propose?” Oh my god, stop talking! Get up and leave!

My intrigue was foolish. Liam had an uncanny ability to pull me into a moment, even knowing he’d leave me dangling there when all was said and done, my cheeks a deep pink and regret swirling in my gut.

But being the focus of his attention... God, I was still the same teenage girl who craved it, even knowing better.

“Ten years ago, you told me there was nothing I could do to get you to kiss me. I bet there is plenty I can do, and I bet you’ll kiss me.”

My mouth hung open. I scoffed, at a loss for what to say that wasn’t a string of insults. His sense of humor was impressive because what a fucking joke .

“Guess you can spend the rest of your life pining away.” Dumb bitch! Stop talking, get up, drive to another state, and start a new life like a reasonable woman!

His jaw clenched, and he snickered. “Fine. You want a time limit? By your birthday. I bet I can get you to kiss me by your birthday, and when I do, I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I was right.” He leaned against the table; his arms crossed with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “I’ll know you lied, and you’re still lying. A formal apology would be appreciated as well. Verbal is fine, though written works, too.”

I dropped my head and laughed. “Two weeks?” The idiot. I’d spent ten years avoiding my desire for him. Two weeks would be easy. “And what happens when I don’t beg you for this kiss? What do I get out of this?”

He shrugged. “Your pride, I suppose. The pride you cling to and claim like a badge of honor. You get to be right about me. I’m an asshole who thinks he’s everything in this world, even though I’m not. There’s nothing I could do to get you to kiss me. Nothing, not that night ten years ago, and not ever.”

'You’re an asshole who thinks he’s everything in this world, Liam, but you’re not.’ I said those words ten years ago, but they hit just as heavily in my memories. ‘ You’re wrong. There’s nothing you could do to get me to kiss you. Nothing, not tonight, and not ever.’

I couldn’t swallow the lump of emotion stuck in my throat. I had said those things to him in a heated moment of embarrassment. I never imagined he’d remember them, let alone carry them. Oh my god. Maybe I was the asshole.

“Liam, that’s not?—”

“Good enough?” he interjected. “In the event pride isn’t juicy enough, I’ll give you what you said you do want. I’ll find somewhere else to crash. We’ll be done with this.”

But I don’t want to be done with this. I shoved the thought aside, hating myself for its existence in the first place.

“I know you don’t want to kiss me. Why push it?” It had to be said, even if my stomach sank with the acknowledgment.

“Who said I don’t want to?” His eyes lit up, and I nearly choked.

“You’re messing with me.” There was no other explanation.

Feathering his hand through his hair and ruffling the shaggy locks, he squinted. “Would you believe any answer I gave?”

Fair enough.

“Where will you go if you’re not crashing here?” I shouldn’t care. His bluster and my indignity were a potentially lethal combination to my heart.

“That’s not your problem, is it, Brooke?”

I focused on a water ring stained into the oak table, tracing it with the pad of my finger. “I’m not going to kiss you.”

“So you claim.”

“We fought for years.”

He chuckled quietly and watched the trail of my finger. “A slow burn.”

I rolled my eyes. “Two weeks to turn around a lifetime of your torment? Go ahead and try. Godspeed and good luck. I have no idea how you’d accomplish that.”

Did I just give Liam permission to aspire to make me beg to kiss him? I did, yep. The feral glint in his eyes confirmed he understood the mission.

A slow, seductive smile spread over his lips, and he held my gaze. “I can be very persuasive.”

This should feel pathetic, sad, and mortifying. So why did my stomach dance with excitement at the prospect of his attention?

And why did that flutter feel intoxicating?

“You’re already thinking about it.” Cocking his head, his eyes flickered over me with unabashed interest. I almost believed he meant it.

Maybe I was cocksure, arrogant, and brazenly confident, because the idea was ludicrous. Crazy. Absolutely grade A insane. Not like me at all. Pushing back rather than being a pushover.

Which made me want it more.

I shrugged indifferently. “I’m only thinking of how sorry I feel for you if you believe I’d give in to a guy like you. Do your worst.”

There was a subtle, almost imperceptible flinch, and I worried that I had struck deeper than intended. But Liam recovered quickly. “My worst, hmm? Remember, you asked for it.”

A guilty thrill stirred in my belly, blossoming into an unexpected delight with his warning. I had asked for it, and I wasn’t the least bit sorry.

The devilish grin on his face made me wonder if I eventually would be.