Until We Fly (Beautifully Broken 4)

And honestly, I’m tired of fighting it.

Chapter Eleven

Nora

It takes forever to find a car rental place with a convertible, but I manage. Over an hour later, I pull back up to the cottage in a sporty red convertible with the top down.

Brand is reclining on the porch steps, his legs stretched out in front of him as he waits in the shade. His eyes widen a bit as I round the car and walk toward him.

“What did you do?”

I giggle. “Well, I didn’t sell the Jag or anything. I rented this for the day. Let’s drive around the lake with the wind in our hair, then have a picnic.”

Brand raises an eyebrow. “Did you cook any part of the lunch?”

I roll my eyes. “No. It’s already in the car, pre-bought. All I need is you now.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t argue. He just picks up his crutches and heads toward the car. His bulging biceps flex as he takes each step.

I gulp, remembering how they’d flexed as he’d balanced above me last night, how his skin had glistened in the moonlight, how he had groaned into my neck. Warmth gushes into my panties.

Gah.

Brand glances at me. “What?”

My cheeks are burning. And he noticed.

I shake my head. “Nothing. Are you ready?”

“Always.” His lip twitches again. He drops into the car, and puts the crutches in the small back seat. “Ready.”

I fasten my seatbelt and pull my hair into a quick ponytail, before I drive out of the driveway and down the road.

The breeze from the lake is fresh and clean this morning, blowing gently against our faces. The sun gleams on the top of the water and the temperature is absolutely perfect.

I stick to roads that hug the lake, rather than drive on the highway. We leisurely drive, chatting about nothing and everything, as though we don’t have anything more important to do at all, as though his dad wasn’t conniving and hateful, as though he doesn’t have that stupid will hanging over his head and I don’t have a hateful job waiting for me at the end of the summer.

It’s really nice.

Brand glances over at me. “Why did you go to law school?”

The question surprises me. “Why did you go to the Rangers?”

He shakes his head. “That’s not the same thing. Being a Ranger suited me. Being a lawyer doesn’t suit you.”

My mouth drops open as I look at the road again. “Why do you say that?”

Brand shrugs. “Because you’re not cold-hearted or ruthless. It’s a strange occupation choice for you, that’s all.”

I feel my cheeks flush again, and I wish they wouldn’t.

“You don’t know me,” I tell him firmly. “If the situation calls for it, I can do what it takes. My dad has drilled that into my head since I was a toddler. Be a good Greene, Nora. Do what it takes. It’s worked out okay for me. I was valedictorian of my senior class, and then I graduated Stanford Law School with a perfect GPA.”

“That’s nice,” Brand smirks. “We can put that on your gravestone after you work yourself into the ground.”

I scowl. “What does that mean?”

Brand levels a gaze at me and I look away. “It means that there is more to life than striving to be someone you’re not. I get that you want to please your dad. I saw him back in the day, back when I worked at the club. He’s a…commanding person. Intimidating. I can see why you’d want to please him. But your life is your own.”