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

“Ray?” Brooke’s tired voice floated through my dreams.

“Hmm?”

Pressure shifted on my chest. “Were we out here all night?”

I rubbed my eyes, blinking and taking in the morning haze. Sunlight streamed through the tree branches, camouflaging us in waltzes of light and shadows.

Brooke and I were still on the picnic blanket, but we were lying down. I was stretched out and she was curled up into my side. Her chestnut curls were splayed across my chest. At some point during the night, she had slid her hand up my shirt, and it was resting on my stomach.

“I think so,” I murmured as I pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Jesus Christ, my back hurt. But I didn’t say anything about it. She looked comfortable on my chest. I would deal with the repercussions later.

Reminders of last night filtered through my mind.

Her coming home. Showing her the swing. Eating a late dinner and watching the sunset. Talking.

Kissing her.

Brooke stretched like a cat, stiffening and curling her toes, then tucking back into my side. “Am I fired?” she yawned.

I chuckled. “Not today.”

We lay there, slowly waking with the sun. She traced little circles on my skin, and I grazed my fingers up and down her spine.

“How is it possible I missed someone this much?” she said softly. “The moment I left the ranch on Friday, I started counting down until I could come back.”

Something ate away at me like acid. “Sounds like you just missed the ranch.”

We had kissed last night, but I chalked it up to something that happened in the heat of the moment. Brooke had a shitty weekend with her roommates and was just glad to get away. That’s all this was, and I couldn’t let myself forget it.

I was a steady paycheck, and she was a distraction.

I had almost leapt off the edge and jumped down the rabbit hole of despair and self-loathing when Brooke’s eyelashes lifted, hitting me with a shock of blue. She gave a small shake of her head. “I missed you.”

Her words pulled me back from the crumbling cliff, but I couldn’t let myself dwell on them.

“How’s the sunburn?” I asked, pushing her hair away so I could get a look at her shoulders.

Freckles dotted her tanned skin. It was still a little rosy, but the worst of the burn had faded quickly.

“Almost gone.”

I traced a string of freckles, connecting them like a constellation. “I suppose the sun can’t burn itself.”

Brooke lifted her chin, bringing her lips in proximity to mine. I sifted my fingers through her hair, cupping her cheek.

The moment was shattered by the roar of a diesel engine.

“What are they doing up this early?” she murmured into my chest.

“Ranch life never stops, Sunnyside.” I stroked her velvet cheek with my thumb. “But we better get inside before someone comes down here.”

The light in her eyes dimmed, but she nodded. “Yeah.” Brooke rolled off of me and sat up. Lines from sleeping on me streaked her arms and cheek. “I know you know how to get up by yourself, but do you want a hand?”

I fought back the urge to snap at her and tell her to get inside. It was an ingrained reflex from over a year of telling my family to leave me alone so I could figure things out for myself.

I appreciated that Brooke offered help, but also acknowledged that it was just that—an offer. She knew I could do it on my own.

I pointed at my chair. “Bring it over.”

While Brooke scrambled to push it over, I pressed my palms to the ground and pushed up to sit against the tree trunk.

“Do you want it beside you or in front of you?”

“Beside me. Make sure it’s locked,” I said as I laced my hands behind my thighs and pulled them up so my feet were flat on the ground.

Brooke’s eyes locked on mine and, in them, I saw kindness. Not pity. “Do you want me to go inside?”

“No. Give me a hand, will you?” I asked as I braced one hand on my chair and reached out to her with the other.

Brooke’s palm was soft as she slid it into mine. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

Using my legs first thing in the morning was usually out of the question, but I needed to get inside. I counted down and pushed up against my wheelchair as she helped pull me up.

My knees buckled long enough for me to drop down less than gracefully into my chair, but almost immediately gave out. “Thanks.”

Brooke squeezed my hand, then hurried to gather the blanket and picnic basket while I made my way up the ramp.

“Breakfast?” she asked when we convened in the kitchen. “What sounds good?”

Cereal sounded good. But after sleeping on the ground, my body was fucked up, and I didn’t know how well I’d be able to use a spoon.

“I’m just gonna eat a granola bar.”

There was a hint of doubt in Brooke’s face, but she didn’t question it. While she made herself some toast, I grabbed the power bar box from the lower cabinets. I blew my hair out of my face so I could see between the flavors, but it just kept flopping in my eyes.

“When was the last time you had a haircut?” Brooke asked as she spread butter over her toast.

I found a chocolate chip bar and shut the cabinet. “Been a while. I don’t feel like going to a barber. I’m probably gonna just buzz it.”

“Can I cut it?”

I almost laughed, but I held it in.

I liked Brooke and, with the exception of driving and cooking, I trusted her.

I did not trust her with scissors near my head.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’ll just buzz it.”

“Please,” she begged, clasping her hands together. “I love cutting hair.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve cut hair before?”

“Yeah! I did three semesters in beauty school before I switched to early childhood development, but the classes were so boring that I dropped out after a few weeks. I love kids, but I hated school. I even tried massage therapy since it was hands-on. I really loved that, but everyone said I talked too much and they couldn’t relax.”

And yet all I could think about was her hands on me.

I cleared my throat and turned away so she wouldn’t see my shorts starting to tent. “So that’s why you’re waiting to go back to school? Until you know what you want to do?”

“Yep,” she said, taking a bite of toast. “That, and I can’t pay for it at the moment. But maybe I’ll figure out what I want to do with my life between now and twenty-five. So can I cut your hair? I’ve done clipper cuts before. And if I mess it up, you were going to buzz it anyway.”

I was going to say no, but she hit me with those fucking Bambi eyes.

“Please,” she whispered.

I found myself in the bathroom with my shirt off and a towel around my shoulders, watching Brooke rummage through my cabinets. She found the clipper guard in a drawer under the sink, plugged it in, and hit the power button for a test buzz.

I already regretted everything.

Then she touched me.

“Ready?” Brooke asked as she stood behind me and ran her fingers through my hair to get a feel for it. Her breasts pressed against the back of my neck as her fingertips glided along my temples.

I wanted her to keep doing that.

I mumbled something unintelligible.

She smelled like the outdoors. Like grass and sunshine and fresh air. One hand draped over my shoulder, her thumb stroking my neck as she scrolled through her phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a little refresher tutorial.”

“I thought you said you’d done this before?” I growled. “You’re cutting my hair using a YouTube video?”

Her laugh was melodic. “Just a refresher. It’s been a while. I can always give you a mohawk.” Her fingers combed through the shaggy length that brushed past the collar of my shirt. “Or a mullet.”

“Just buzz it.” Or just keep touching it. But I didn’t say that part out loud.

“Can you lift your chin a little?” she asked, grabbing my comb.

I licked my lips and met her eyes in the mirror. “This is me sitting straight.”

“That’s fine,” she said, running the comb through my hair. “As long as you’re comfortable.”

I wasn’t, but it had nothing to do with my posture. It had everything to do with the fact that I hadn’t been touched like this in a long time. It wasn’t just the way we had kissed last night. It was her hands on me in simple touches that weren’t meant to move me or fix me.

“I have a rod in my neck,” I said, focusing on her fingers moving across my scalp. I closed my eyes and listened to her giggle.

“So, you’re like the real-life Iron Man.”

I chuckled. “Something like that.”

Her body was soft and warm against my head as she leaned forward. “Is it okay if I touch your scar?”

Usually, I would have said no, but I wanted her to touch me more than anything. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Two fingers pressed against the back of my neck as she worked the comb through a few tangles.

I missed the feel of her when she reached for the clippers. “Ready?”

“Just don’t slit my throat, Sunnyside.”

Brooke threw her head back and laughed. “I won’t slit your throat. Promise.”

“Don’t give me a bowl cut either.”

I sat still while she worked the comb and clippers through my hair. Her soft breaths made me melt as tufts of hair fell onto the towel she had draped around my shoulders.

The aches and pains from falling asleep outside didn’t go away, but they did fade.

Far sooner than I wanted it to end, Brooke turned off the clippers and set them on the sink.

Her breasts pressed against the back of my head as she worked her fingers through the front of my hair to get it back where it needed to be.

“What do you think?” she asked, stepping back and laying her hands on my shoulders. I opened my eyes and caught her hopeful look in the mirror.

I had to admit, it wasn’t half bad. It was a hell of a lot better than the shaggy mess I had been rolling around with, and more preferable than a buzz cut. A shower and a little hair gel, and I’d look like the old me.

Something about that thought didn’t bring on the pang of acid exploding in my gut that I used to get whenever I thought about the man who existed before the accident.

“Not bad,” I said.

Brooke’s face lit up as she carefully peeled the towel away so hair didn’t fly all over the place. “Really?”

I caught her hip before she could walk out with the towel. “Thank you.”

Her grin was infectious. “If you had a sink with a sprayer, I’d wash it out for you. Getting your hair shampooed is, like, the best part of getting your hair done.”

I glanced at the shower and the handheld sprayer hanging from the cradle on the wall. The thought of her in the shower with me made my cock spring to life, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to take advantage of her.

I could get in and out of the shower on my own, and she knew that.

But there we stood, crammed in the bathroom, with neither of us moving.

“Yeah,” I said as I swallowed. “Having someone else wash your hair feels good.”

She tipped her head to the side. “Is it hard for you to get your hair washed at a salon? You know, laying back with your head in the bowl?”

“Yeah.”

A soft smile lifted her lips. “I’ll wash your hair if you want. Everyone deserves to feel good.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of the situation.”

She dropped the towel into the sink. “You’re not taking advantage of me, Ray.” She smirked. “Besides. I can run faster than you.”

The laugh that ripped out of my chest was long and loud. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed like that.

Brooke smiled as she nudged my shoulder toward the shower. “Get in and leave your shorts on. I’m gonna change.”

I was sitting on the shower seat when she came back, and I nearly dropped my jaw. She had changed into a bikini top and a pair of athletic shorts.

God help me, Brooke was going to kill me.

“Ready?”

I kept my mouth shut and closed my eyes as she turned on the water and tested the temperature.

“Lean back against me so the water doesn’t run into your eyes.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice.

Her stomach was soft and warm against my shoulders. The swells of her breasts felt like pillows.

Closing my eyes, I exhaled slowly. “Is this alright?”

“Perfect,” she replied, dousing my hair and switching to the rain shower while grabbing my shampoo.

Steam enveloped us, providing warmth as she poured the shampoo into her hands and began massaging it into my scalp.

“Fuck,” I softly groaned.

“Good?” she asked softly.

“Yeah.”

Neither of us said anything else as she slowly worked the shampoo into my hair and grew it into a lather. Brooke kept a hand on my arm, her fingers tracing my tattoos as she rinsed it out of my hair.

I had a bottle of conditioner, though I never bothered using it. Brooke opened the bottle and squeezed a dollop into her palm, massaging it into my hair.

There was something about this moment that transcended the physical connection I was used to feeling during sex.

It was care, connection, intimacy, and tenderness. It made me feel human again. Like a man.

She made me feel like I could be wanted.

The hot water eased the tension in my shoulders and back, as her hands washed away my demons.

“Ray?” she asked quietly while rinsing out the conditioner.

“Hmm?”

“What’s the scar on your spine from? The accident?”

“Kind of.” I sighed. “Cass got me into this experimental human trial.”

“I remember you saying something about that.”

“A bunch of surgeons implanted electrodes in my spine to stimulate my muscles and nerves. It was really invasive, but it has given me some mobility back. More than I could have expected.”

“How did she get you into the trial?”

I chuckled. “She knows people. And not many of them have the guts to say no to her. She probably keeps a blackmail file handy for when she needs to cash in favors.”

Brooke’s hand trailed down my back. “Are you glad you did it?”

I glanced at the water pooling at my feet. “At the time, I wasn’t. I allowed myself to be used like a lab rat because I thought it was all I was good for.”

“What about now?” she asked as she went back to spraying the little flecks of hair off my shoulders.

I caught her hand in mine. “Yeah. I’m glad I stuck around.”