Until We Fly (Beautifully Broken 4)

Probably.

She shakes her head slightly, the edges of her mouth tilted up.

“Such a gentleman,” she murmurs. She slides into the chair by my bed, graceful and elegant.

“You don’t recognize me, do you, Brand?”

My head snaps up when she uses my name.

She does know me.

I examine her again. Her face. Her nose. Her hair. Her eyes.

Ms. Greene.

The Greenes.

Good lord.

I fight a groan. I’ve been gone from here too long. I’ve forgotten too many things. In this case, the Greenes are an Angel Bay staple. They own a huge lakeside estate that they only reside at in the summers, and they’re members at the country club where I used to work.

I do know her. Or, I remember the girl she used to be. She’s certainly grown up now.

“I used to park your father’s car at the club,” I say slowly.

Nora smiles. “And you picked me up out of the dirt once. Do you remember that?”

I do.

Nora was younger, a teenager then, and her horse had thrown her off. I’d been walking to the clubhouse to get a soda for my break and I’d seen the whole thing. She’d gone sprawling into the dirt, and the first thing she’d done was stare furtively around, to make sure no one had seen.

It was a nasty spill though, so I had gone to check on her. Her hands were shaky and I didn’t want to leave her alone, even though it was strictly against the rules for valet staff to mingle with club members.

“Did my father see?” she’d asked me quickly, her lip caught in her teeth. There was a spot of blood from her braces, and I’d reached out and wiped it off for her. She wasn’t concerned about her cut lip, though. She was terrified that her father had seen her mistake.

“No,” I assured her. “I’m the only one around.”

“Thank God,” she’d breathed.

“Do you want me to go get him?” I asked her quickly, thinking that he might help her calm down.

She’d grabbed my arm, hard, her fingernails sinking in. “Please don’t,” she’d begged, her eyes suddenly full of tears. “Please.”

It had shocked me, her immediate and adamant refusal. It was like she was scared of him. I’d assured her that I wouldn’t get him, and I’d taken her inside to calm her down myself. I stayed with her for half an hour.

“I got written up for that,” I remember slowly. Nora’s face clouds over.

“You did?” she asks in confusion. “Why in the world?”

From the astonished expression on her face, I almost believe that she doesn’t know.

“Your dad complained,” I tell her simply. “Someone mentioned it to him, and he reported me. Valets weren’t supposed to socialize with members, you know.”

“You weren’t socializing,” she points out. “You were helping me.”

I shrug. “It was a long time ago.”

But her eyes are still dismayed. A part of me finds satisfaction in that. Maybe she’s not the ice bitch I expected her to be. With a father like hers, though, I don’t know how that’s possible.