The Gratitude Guarantee (Boyfriend in the Bargain #4)

15. Zach

15

ZACH

T he level of chaos that ensues when we get back to Hartford House for breakfast is directly correlated to how much fun it is.

I have no idea what’s happening at first as we all pile into the house and a spontaneous multi-player rock, paper, scissors match immediately begins around me. I go with the flow and play along when Kevin challenges me, only to be informed later that the tradition is to pair up with the person closest to you and challenge them to a best two out of three to determine who gets to go straight to the showers and who has to go cook breakfast. The losers get their shower after we eat, while the winners clean up.

It's a good system, actually. And very on-brand for a competitive family like the Hartfords.

I lose against Kevin and Brenna loses against Isaac, so off we go to the kitchen along with Elaine, Bella, and Ben. Elaine takes charge right away and assigns jobs. In a matter of a few minutes, I find myself elbow to elbow with Brenna, mixing pancake batter in two huge bowls. I’ve never made pancakes from scratch before, but Brenna knows the recipe by heart and it’s actually pretty simple. By the time the first round of showerers returns, we have a huge platter of fluffy golden-brown pancakes waiting on the island, along with an impressive array of toppings. One thing I’m learning is that the Hartfords don’t do anything halfway.

The other thing I learn as we serve ourselves and find places to sit at the island and in the dining room is that Brenna has a serious sweet tooth. As Kenzie predicted just before her tumble, Brenna piles her pancakes high with sliced strawberries and whipped cream. She then drizzles—or maybe pours would be more accurate—a generous serving of chocolate syrup and caramel sauce over all of it, with a dash of sugar sprinkles on top.

“Is that all you’re getting?” Brenna asks incredulously when she sees my pancakes with only syrup, butter, and a sprinkle of crushed pecans.

“I’m a simple guy. Don’t hate on my simple pancakes,” I say, giving her a look. “You just do you, boo.”

Brenna laughs uproariously at this. “I’m pretty sure nobody says that anymore.”

I shrug. “I just did.”

The pancakes are consumed in way less time than it took to make them, and then the five of us who cooked excuse ourselves to take our turn in the showers.

“Why don’t you go first?” I tell Brenna since we’re sharing the second-floor bathroom.

“You don’t mind?” she asks, pausing in front of her room with her hand on the doorknob.

“No. I don’t mean to generalize about women here, but I’m betting you’ll need some extra time to get dressed afterward, so it makes sense for me to go second while you’re doing that.” I shrug. “At least, that always worked for my parents.”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, the hazel color seeming more intense in this lighting. “That sounds like a good plan to me, as long as you’re not stalking me in the hall when I come out like you did earlier.” One eyebrow arches playfully.

“We both know that’s not what happened,” I protest, pointing a finger at her. “I was brutally attacked for no good reason.”

She puts her hands on her hips in mock outrage. “You scared the living daylights out of me!”

“And Ben was ready to body slam me when he heard you scream,” I continue, warming up to my version of the story. “Then what would you have done?”

She puffs air at a whisp of hair that has escaped her braid and now tickles her cheek. “I’m going to body-slam you right now if you don’t quit teasing me and let me go get cleaned up.”

Her words are flippant, and I know she’s being funny because there’s a zero percent chance her tiny self could take me down, but my stupid brain immediately kicks into gear and imagines us tangled on the ground in the hallway. I swallow and push the image away before the details can clarify, taking a step backward and forcing a laugh to distract myself. “I’d better go then, so you don’t embarrass yourself trying.”

She swings the door open. “I could totally do it. You’d better watch your back.”

The door closes behind her before I can respond.

I let myself into my room and flop onto the bed, scrubbing my hands over my eyes. What is happening to me? I feel like I have mental and emotional vertigo. Yesterday, I got into Brenna’s car as a friend. Now, less than twenty-four hours later, I’m noticing little details like how her nose scrunches adorably when she laughs and feeling all kinds of sparks.

Freaking sparks.

I’ve been waiting for sparks for years and now there’s a veritable firework show while I’m on a break from romance and hanging out with a woman who doesn’t want a relationship. Is this all a matter of wanting what I can’t have or is there something more real happening? I’m confused on so many levels. This trip was supposed to be a distraction from not dating. It was supposed to be fun and easy.

To be fair, I have to admit I am having fun. Being with Brenna’s family reminds me a lot of hanging out with Grant’s family when they’re all together with his brother and sister and their spouses and kids. It’s the best kind of madness, a delightful pandemonium of teasing, bickering, and caring for each other in so many ways.

I hope if I ever do get married that my wife will want a big family like this one. Unbidden, an image of Brenna holding a strawberry-blonde toddler with my brown eyes on her hip flashes through my mind.

I roll over and press my face into a pillow to mask my groan. How did I go from friends to picturing Brenna as the mother of my kid so quickly? I need to jump off this train fast before I end up on one knee with a little velvet box like an absolute lunatic.

Still, though…sparks.

I need a distraction from my planned distraction, so I pull out my phone and check my email. Sorting through the junk and answering the one new customer inquiry I got kills a few minutes, followed by a few news articles and a quiz about what kind of dog I would be. I keep one ear open, trying to hear when she leaves the bathroom, but everything is quiet in the hall. I’m hesitant to go out and check for fear of playing into her accusation of hallway stalking, but eventually, I crack my door open and check.

Sure enough, the bathroom door is open and the light is off. I’m not sure how long she’s been out, but it’s my turn so I stride in and close the door.

The shower feels great, exactly what I needed to clear my mind. I’m feeling much better as I slide open the shower curtain…and realize that in my state of disturbance, I forgot to get myself a towel. Or bring clean clothes to change into.

I stand in the tub for a minute until the worst of the dripping has ceased, then step out and hesitantly start searching for a towel. I leave a trail of water on the tile floor as I open cabinets and find toilet paper, cleaning supplies, washcloths, extra toothbrushes, and one thin, worn bath towel so small that it’s really like an oversized hand towel. At this point, I’ll take what I can get and I do the best I can, scrubbing the worst of the moisture from my hair and skin.

I eye my clothes where they lay in a heap on the floor. I guess I could put them back on, but they’re pretty sweaty from the race earlier and are now also pretty wet from being dripped on when I got out of the shower. I visualize the distance from the bathroom door to my room. It’s only a few feet. I can get across in like three seconds.

Wrapping the tiny towel that barely hangs down far enough to cover my rearend around my waist, I clutch the edges closed on the side with one hand and use the other to ease the door open and peer out with one eye. The hallway is empty. I crack it open far enough to stick my head out, craning my neck to see in both directions while keeping my body behind the door. All the other doors are closed.

I’m risking it.

I fling the door open, darting across the hall and turning the doorknob to my room in one smooth motion—only the door doesn’t open. Panic rising, I jiggle the knob harder.

Why won’t it open?

A sound to my right makes my stomach turn, and I feel a rush of air swirling around my damp bare legs as Brenna opens her door and steps out into the hall.