Loud: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Male Romance) (18 page)

“It's my dad's fiftieth birthday.
It's gonna be a pretty big occasion, so I wanted invite a few of my friends.
And after everything Mr. Patak told my parents about you, they insisted that I
invite you. So…interested?”

I smiled. Hell yeah, I was
interested. “Absolutely. Tell me where and when and I'll be there.”

“Great. Well, it's this Saturday
at two in the afternoon. I'll text you the address.”

“Awesome. Saturday it is then.”

She looked like she was about to
say something else when Garrett sat down beside her just as the professor
walked in. She glanced back over her shoulder once more and flashed a smile
that made me feel warm before she turned her attention back to the front of the
class. My attention, however, was now on everything but class.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

Brooke

Dad's birthday barbecue weather
turned out to be pretty perfect. The sky was clear, the sun was bright, and it
wasn't too hot. A gentle breeze hummed along and kept everything just cool
enough.

I still couldn’t believe I’d
actually invited Emerson to the barbecue. I hadn’t planned to. When my parents
had initially suggested it, I'd made up excuses as to why he wouldn't have been
able to make it, having absolutely no intention of inviting him. They'd
accepted that I'd be coming alone, which was exactly what I’d had in mind. But
then, when Emerson and I had started talking in chemistry class, the invitation
just kinda popped out of my mouth, seemingly of its own accord. I’d even lied
about the fact that I had invited some of my friends. That was not even the
case. Naturally, Leslie was invited, but she was the extent of it. And, she had
something going on with her family, so she wasn’t going to make it. It was just
going to be a bunch of my parents’ friends, a few family members, me, and
Emerson.

And the truth was, I didn't
really mind at all. If I was being honest with myself, I’d have to admit I was
even a little excited about it. Over the past few days, I'd hardly been able to
get Emerson off my mind. We'd had a great chat during our practicals on
Wednesday. In fact, we’d talked and laughed for at least half an hour before
even starting the experiment, by which time another pair of lab partners had
showed up, giving us dirty looks as they waited for us to rush through the
experiment after we had gone way over our booked time because of all the
chatting.

And then, Friday, I was handing
out flyers for one of our RAG projects advertising an outdoor film festival for
movies made by the students at the university’s film school, when Emerson
immediately left his group of friends he'd been throwing a football around with
and offered to help. But not before he asked about the details. I told him all
about how the films would be shown on an outdoor projector on one of the campus
lawns where people could bring picnic baskets and deck chairs, and that all of
the proceeds from the tickets were going to a charity that built schools in
rural parts of Kenya. He took most of my flyers and jogged around campus,
handing them out to everyone he came across.

Also, strangely enough, his
apartment had been pretty quiet over the past week. I don't know if Emerson had
finally managed to convince Chris to keep his music down, if Chris had been
away for a while, or if there had been another reason for the silence. But
whatever the reason, Leslie and I had appreciated the peace.

Then there was the lack of other
sounds coming through the wall. I still hadn't found out if it had been Chris
or Emerson behind those particular noises, and I really didn't want to know. As
long as they had stopped, I was happy.

Part of me felt relieved that the
extracurricular commotion had stopped, especially if Emerson had been
responsible. Because it meant that… Well, let's just say I hadn't seen Melissa
or her friends around the apartment building, either. Maybe that meant Emerson
felt-

I stopped my train of thought.
The last thing I needed to do was start jumping to conclusions. I couldn't
afford to get into anything right now, not that and maintain focus on my
studies.

Then there were the remnants of
Andrew.

Although, weirdly enough, that
seemed to have lost most of its sting. Especially after what Emerson had done
for me at Patak's when Ben walked over to the table. Even though the whole idea
of me moving on, finding a new guy, and feeling really happy and doing really
well for myself had been an act concocted by Emerson in the face of Ben's
smugness, it had actually helped. I had finally started to feel like I was
moving on, or at least like I was ready to move on and start a new chapter of
my life without the shadow of Andrew hovering over me.

So maybe, just maybe, I was
ready. Ready to start something fresh, something that could breathe life back
into my stitched up heart. But if anything was going to happen, it had to
happen on its own and it had to be taken slowly. There would be no sense in
rushing anything. I was on the verge of feeling ready, but not quite prepared
to jump. But I was getting there.

A knock on the front door jolted
me out of my thoughts and brought me back to the present. I checked the kitchen
clock. Emerson was right on time.

I'd planned to take the bus to my
parents' house for the barbecue, but Emerson had insisted on taking me on his
bike — not that it had taken much arm twisting to get me to agree.

I checked in the mirror one last
time to make sure my makeup and hair were in place and then I opened the door.
Emerson was standing there with a big grin on his face.

“Hey, Brooke!”

“Hi, Emerson, you're right on
time!”

“Always,” he said with a wink.
“You ready?”

“Yep.”

“Great, let's go.”

We walked downstairs and headed
out to his bike, which he hopped onto and started up. Now that I’d had some
experience riding on the back, I felt a lot less nervous about being on the
monster of a machine. In fact, I actually felt pretty excited.

I climbed up onto the back and
wrapped my arms around Emerson. A hot thrill shot through my veins as my hands
slid over his rock-hard, bulging abs before I locked my fingers together. It
was night and day compared to Andrew's very average, slightly soft belly.

I almost instinctively ran my
hands up a bit higher, wanting to feel his broad, solid chest, but I stopped
myself.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice
slightly muffled through his helmet.

“Yeah, I'm good,” I said.

“Great. Hang on!”

He clicked the machine into gear
and took off. I tightened my grip. He must have realized I was more comfortable
on the motorcycle because he was driving a fair bit faster than he had the
first time I rode with him. I couldn't deny it was still a little scary, but
also thrilling…and a turn on. It was pretty hot seeing how smoothly and
confidently he was able to control such a powerful machine.

We arrived at the barbecue half
an hour later. I dismounted with a huge grin plastered across my face. Emerson
chuckled.

“It looks like someone isn’t so
afraid of motorcycles now, huh? You look like a kid who's just gotten off a
rollercoaster.”

I blushed and almost giggled, but
tried not to come off as too much of a schoolgirl about it.

“It was fun,” I said, keeping it
simple and smiling. “I felt a lot less nervous this time around. Oh, and just
so you know, my dad will probably want to see your motorcycle. He was very much
into them when he was younger. I think he even used to race when he was our
age.”

“Sweet. I guess we'll have a lot
to talk about then.”

“I guess you will,” I replied
with a smile. “Come, let's go in and say hi.”

We had to walk through the house
to get the backyard where everyone was gathered. Having Emerson with me felt a
little strange, especially considering the last time I had been home with a guy
it had been Andrew. Still, I put the weirdness aside and walked in. My mother
was in the kitchen putting some final touches on the salad.

“Brooke, dear!” she said with a
smile as soon as she caught sight of me, hurrying over to give me a big hug.

She then saw Emerson, waiting in
the wings to be introduced. She smiled at him and extended a hand, which he
took.

“You must be Emerson,” she said
with a smile. “Lovely to meet you.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you,
too, Mrs. Baker,” he said. “Thanks so much for inviting me here this afternoon.
I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, please, call me Cam. And the
more the merrier, I always say,” she added with a laugh. “We've got a huge
feast prepared for y'all! Go on out back and say hi to your dad, BeeBee, and
introduce Emerson to the others. I've gotta finish up this salad, then I'll see
you outside.”

“Thanks,” said Emerson. “I can't
wait to try that salad, it looks amazing.”

“Old family recipe,” she replied.
“You'll never look at salad the same way again after trying this!”

“I suspect that might be the
case!” he replied.

“Come on, Emerson, let's go
outside and meet the others,” I suggested.

“After you, BeeBee,” he cracked a
grin.

“Ya caught that, did ya?”

He followed me through the house
to the backyard, looking around him as we walked.

“So this is where you grew up,
huh?” he asked.

“Well, no, not really. This is
where I lived my last two years of high school.”

“Oh yeah, you said you moved
around a lot when you were a kid.”

“Yeah, with my dad being in the military.”

“A Navy man, huh? Am I gonna have
to salute him and give him a 'yes, sir, no, sir,' when I meet him?” he asked
with a cheeky grin.

I rolled my eyes. “He's not like
that at all! And he wasn't a drill sergeant or anything like that, he worked on
computers.”

“I was just joking,” he said with
a wink. “I'm sure he's not intimidating at all,” he added sarcastically.

We stepped into the backyard
where Dad and some of his friends were gathered around the grill drinking beer
and watching the meat as it sizzled above the coals. Despite being about to
turn fifty, my dad looked years younger. He ran marathons and was in very good
shape. So, when he noticed that Emerson was in great shape, he seemed
immediately impressed.

“Well, good day there, son,” he
said as I introduced Emerson to him. “That's a good firm grip you've got there.
You ever thought of joining the Navy? You'd make a fine candidate for the
Seals.”

“As noble a calling as that is,
Sir,” Emerson responded, “I think my talents lie in the field of science.”

“Well, there's all sorts of
things you can do to serve God and country, son. Especially if you've got
skills like that.”

“I'll keep that in mind, Sir. Of
course, I still have to graduate before I can think of anything like that
though.”

“No need to call me
sir
,” Dad commented. “Rob will do.”

Emerson acknowledged with a nod
of his head.

“Say, you want a beer, Emerson?
We've got a cooler full of ice cold ones here.”

“Thanks, Rob, but I'm still a
couple of months away from twenty-one,” he replied.

I was surprised to see him do
that; I'd have thought he'd take up the offer right away.

“Aw, that's fine! Go on and have
one,” my dad said, nudging Emerson playfully in the ribs. “No need to act like
you've never had a brewski before!”

Emerson chuckled.

“No, sir, it’s not that. As long
as you're okay with it, I’ll have one.”

“Wouldn't have offered if I
wasn't.”

“But only one, I still have to
drive your daughter home later this evening.” Emerson walked over to the cooler
and grabbed a beer. He popped the top off and clinked the bottle with my dad's.

“Happy birthday, Rob,” he said,
“and thanks for inviting me here today. I really appreciate it.”

“Thanks for coming, son!” he
replied. “Now, Brooke here tells me you're into motorcycles.”

“That's right. We actually came
here on my bike.”

“You managed to get Brooke on a
motorcycle? You must be some kind of miracle worker or she really likes you,”
Dad said without even attempting to act like he was joking.

I shot him a look and he quickly
tried to recover.

“So, what are you riding?”

“It's a Kawasaki ZX6R.”

“Nice,” Dad replied, a sparkle of
admiration gleaming in his eyes. “I'll have to go out front and have a look at
her later.”

“Feel free to take it around the
block, if you'd like,” Emerson offered.

Dad chuckled, and a look of
sadness entered his eyes.

“If only I could, son. Thanks for
the offer, but I can't ride bikes anymore.” He held up his left hand. “Carpal
tunnel syndrome,” he said. “Can hardly do anything with this left hand of mine.
Certainly can't operate a motorcycle clutch.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Emerson
said. “But I'll take you on the back if you want,” he added with a chuckle.

My dad laughed.

“Only if you promise you'll hit
one-sixty.”

Emerson laughed. “So you were a
speed demon back in the day, huh?”

“Damn straight. I used to race in
the ’80s, before this one was born,” he said, nodding his head in my direction.
“But then the wife decided it was too dangerous a hobby, and she made me hang
up my racing leathers.”

“That’s too bad. Geesh, Brooke,
why’d you have to go and make your dad quit racing?” Emerson teased with a
cheeky wink.

I laughed in response. “Well,
gee, I'm so sorry for, you know, existing and all, thereby making Dad give up
his hobby!”