There's Warmth: A Friends to Lovers Romance (Where There's Smoak Book 1)
There’s Warmth
WHERE THERE’S SMOAK SERIES
BOOK 1
BY: NADINE HUDSON
Copyright © 2021 Nadine Hudson
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Description
Conner thinks it’s all in good fun. Playful banter. He thinks all his flirting and sexual innuendos are harmless...And that’s exactly what I want him to think. He can never know how much each smirk or touch twists me up inside.
He’s been my best friend since we were kids. I could never jeopardize our friendship over some stupid childhood crush-even if that childhood crush has bloomed into something so much sexier as we’ve gotten older.
Regardless, I can’t do it. I need to maintain our friendship and my heart unbroken above all else. Conner Smoak has more notches in his bedpost than I care to count and I can’t bear the thought of ending up as one of them. Not after everything we’ve been through together.
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Table of Contents
Description
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One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
What Happens Next?
Follow Me!
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About the Author
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One
Brooke
“A little brown sugar, some onion powder, a pinch of garlic powder, and that should do it,” I comment quietly to myself, wiping my hands together after adding my ingredients to the pot. I pick up a large wooden spoon and give it a good stir before slowly bringing it to my lips and blowing softly. I sip the red juice from the spoon, closing my eyes and smacking my lips, as I study the flavor. “Hmm...it still needs something,” I ponder aloud to myself.
I hear my front door open and close, distracting me from my thoughts for a moment.
“Hey, Brooke!” I hear from the living room. My heart starts to pound like it always does when he’s around. But after playing it cool for all these years it’s much easier to manage the instantaneous reaction he has on my body.
“Hey, Conner!” I shout back. “C’mere a second.”
He strolls into the kitchen looking as sexy as ever, a case of beer in one hand and a small convenience store bag in the other.
“What’s up?” he asks, glancing in my direction as he passes, putting his things down on the table behind me. His cologne fills my nose as he walks by. Green apple mixed with a woodsy scent. I inhale sharply and then quickly compose myself.
“Taste this chili,” I request, scooping another bite from the pot. Holding one hand under the spoon and blowing it carefully, I raise it to his mouth. He parts his lips and makes a slurping sound as he sucks the juice from the spoon. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine being that spoon. I quickly shake off the thought.
“It’s missing something, right?” I ask, waiting for his confirmation.
His large blue eyes turn narrow as he stares at me, still mulling over the sample in his mouth. Finally swallowing he responds, “Yeah, needs hot sauce.”
My face lights up. “That’s it! I knew I was missing something.”
“Happy to help,” he announces, smiling back at me before returning to his things on the table.
“So what are you doing here anyway? No date with the flavor of the week tonight?” I tease.
“Oh c’mon, Brooke. You know there’s no woman I’d rather spend my Friday night with than you.”
If only...
No, Brooke! Don’t go there!.
“And by that you mean, she realized that you're all brawn and no brains and canceled on you?” I deflect quickly, forcing my intrusive thoughts deep down where they belong.
“What are you talkin’ about? I’m the whole package baby,” he boasts, flexing his arms in front of me.
Even through his shirt I can see the outlines of his well-defined body. I look him up and down with the best unimpressed expression I can muster before returning to the stove to tend to my chili. Dear Lord! He’s sexy.
“Then why are you really here? If you’re the whole package, I know you’re not here because you can’t cook and you’re hungry,” I jab and giggle to myself.
He laughs.
“Okay, you caught me. I’m starving and I can’t do take-out again. And for the record, she didn’t cancel on me. I canceled on her. I’m too hungover from last night to go out again,” he explains, pulling a spoon from the drawer and scooping himself another bite from behind me. He’s so close to me that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. It causes a sensation to stir inside of me that I try to shake off quickly.
“So you came here because…” I trail off, prompting him to answer.
“Because I knew you’d be home and you make the best food,” he replies, matter-of-factly, licking his spoon clean.
“What do you mean you knew I’d be home? What if I had a date?”
He froze for a moment with his eyes wide, spoon still in his mouth.
“Well, I might have considered that,” he starts, waving the spoon at me. “If it wasn’t for the fact that you haven’t dated anyone since what? High school?”
“It was shortly after high school, actually. And who’s fault is that?” I snap back, trying to sound irritated. “The last guy that tried to take me out was Tony and you and my dad sat in the living room together until he got there to pick me up. Then, the two of you proceeded to play twenty-one questions with him and before he left, you threatened to end his life if he laid a hand on me.”
Ever since the start of our junior year of high school, Conner had this tendency to be crazy, overprotective. I never really understood where it came from, but I found it endearing and alluring all at the same time. Like maybe it was his way of saying he loved me too, but he could never really put it into words. Unfortunately, I have long since abandoned that idea and his sudden change in personality remains a mystery.
“That guy was a tool. You really should be thanking me. Didn’t he end up in prison or something?” he jokes.
“You’re a tool.” I roll my eyes, not wanting to show him my amusement. It’s true that I haven’t dated anyone in a while, but it’s hard when I went to school with half of the eligible male population in town and the other half is twice my age. Not to mention, none of them are really all that impressive, especially when I can’t help but to compare them all to Conner.
“So when can we eat?” he asks eagerly, rubbing his hands together.
“It just needs a little more time to simmer. Maybe ten minutes,” I estimate.
“Alright, well you wanna watch a movie or something?”
“No, but you can binge-watch a penguin documentary with me. I’ve been wanting to see it.” I smile brightly at him, knowing he’d rather walk barefoot across a sea of broken glass than watch a documentary.
“I will never understand your weird obsession with pe
nguins,” he answers, shaking his head. “But fine. Since you cooked for me, I’ll watch it for a little, but there will be no binge-watching. One or two episodes. That’s it,” he clarifies, cutting his hands through the air.
“Okay. Two episodes,” I promise, my grin wide.
Grabbing three of his beers from the box left on the table, he starts toward the living room. “I’m gonna need these to get through this.”
We sit together on the couch with the lights out, watching the show, Conner complaining and making snide comments between bites of chili and swigs of beer.
“They're just awesome!” I argue. “I mean look at them waddling around in their little tuxedos. They’re adorable.”
“So you’re saying…” he sits up and pauses for a moment. His expression grows serious as he thinks, “You want a man in a tux?”
“Oh for shit sake,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I can do that.” He smiles at me with a side-eyed glance as he stands.
“Where are you going?”
“Got something for ya!”
“Aww! You brought me a man in a tux?” I holler at him.
“Even better,” he answers.
He wanders to the kitchen and I can hear a faint rustling noise. Returning to the living room he tosses a small bag at me, almost hitting me in the face.
“Here,” he announces. “Dessert. I know they’re your favorite.”
Gummy bears. He’s right. They are my favorite. He can be so damn sweet when he wants to be.
I wonder for a moment if other women have seen this side of him. I cringe at the thought. Not that any have been around long enough to get the chance. Unfortunately, the best way to find Conner Smoak is to follow the long notorious trail of broken hearts he leaves in his wake. I think in his twenty-five years of life, his longest relationship lasted maybe a month. And that’s being generous. He’s dated plenty, but it always ends with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a box of tissues for her. Whoever she happens to be that week.
That will never be me. He simply means too much to me to have it all be ruined over an inevitable breakup. Not that he would even be interested in me in that way to begin with. I don’t think I’m really his type. But I have to maintain our friendship and my heart unbroken, above all else.
“Don’t lie. You bring gummy bears to all the girls.” I taunt him.
“The girls I date don’t pig out on junk food. Those are only for you my friend” he replies with a big smile.
Friend.
As deep as the word cuts, I’m glad he uses it. It keeps me in check.
Yes, Brooke, you’re friends. And that’s all you want to be.
He sits back down on the couch beside me. Wanting to keep a distance, I slide to the other end of the couch and tuck my legs up between us. This is what it’s like being best friends with the man of my dreams. My every thought and move is analyzed and calculated. It takes a lot of work and effort to keep my feelings in check. As much as I love him and love being around him, it's completely exhausting.
We start our next episode and shortly after, I find myself drifting off to sleep. A short time later, my sleep is disturbed by the background noise from the t.v. and my eyes flicker open. Glancing down the couch, I notice my legs are now spread out. My feet resting in Conner’s lap under his arm. Without moving I take the opportunity to admire the view. His short brown hair is shaved close on the sides then spikes up in a perfect mess on top. His clean-shaven chin strap beard perfectly frames a strong jawline. His eyes are narrowed and fixated on the t.v. His chest is broad and his biceps are huge and tight. Why does he have to be so hot?
Is this what it would be like all the time if we were together? I allow myself to fantasize briefly. What is wrong with me? Snap out of it!
Glancing over at me, Conner smiles.
“Hey, you’re awake,” he says quietly.
“Yea, I am now. What time is it?” I reply with a sleepy smile and a small stretch of my arms.
“Almost midnight I think. You know you talk in your sleep?”
What!? Oh my God! What did I say?
“No, I don’t,” I snap at him quickly. “What did I say?”
He doesn’t look at me, but I watch a large smile stretch across his face. Great. Here we go.
“Uh, you said something like…” his deep voice raises ten pitches higher, “Oh, Conner. You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever known. I want to have your babies. Oh, Conner.”
As possible as it is that I had that exact dream, I know he’s joking. I push his leg with my foot and he laughs loudly. I roll my eyes at him and tuck my legs back up toward my body and turn to face the t.v.
“How many episodes have you watched?” I ask, surprised that he is still here and more surprised that he’s still watching the penguin documentary.
“A couple,” he answers nonchalantly. “Hey, did you know that penguins spend half their life in the water and half their life on land? Or that those tuxedos that you like so much are actually a type of camouflage called countershading?”
“No, Conner. I had no idea,” I answer, rubbing my eyes and sitting up. “But you need to go home. I need to get to bed.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I could always stay and keep you company,” he flirts.
Ohh God. If only. As tempting as his offer is, I have to send him home.
“Good night, Conner.”
He laughs and leans his body over mine as I continue to lay on the couch. Wrapping me in a hug and giving me a quick kiss on my head, he whispers,
“Night, Brooke. Thanks again for dinner.”
****
Conner
Tucking my head down, I haul ass to my truck to escape the downpour outside. I hop into the driver's seat, sitting what’s left of my beers on the seat beside me. Digging into the center console, I pull out my keys and start the truck, giving my soaking wet hair a quick shake. A futile attempt to dry off. I reach for my phone that was left on the dashboard and swipe across the screen to check my messages.
Ahh shit.
Six messages and two missed calls from Rachel.
Hey, Conner are you still coming over tonight?
Hello?
Everything okay?
Where are you? I’m getting worried.
Conner, please answer me.
At least let me know that you’re alright.
The last message came in around eleven and it’s already past twelve. She’s probably asleep by now. I’ll call her tomorrow. Her clinginess was one of the many reasons I had to blow her off tonight. We’ve been out together twice and she is already constantly texting and calling me. I just needed some space.
I put the truck in gear and start home.
I knew Brooke would be home tonight. As much as she likes to pretend she has a love life, I know she doesn’t. I can’t say that I fully understand it either. She’s not a bad-looking woman. Actually, she’s kind of gorgeous with her long blonde curly hair, big round eyes, and pouty lips. The curves of her body are definitely understated, by her choice of clothing, which usually consists of sneakers, jeans, and a t-shirt.
And as for personality, I mean, I’ve known her since we were young. Our parents are good friends, so as kids, we would take vacations together, go camping and on hiking trips and spend a lot of time at each other's houses. She’s as laid back as they come. Great sense of humor. Just all around a great woman. It’s still a wonder that she’s managed to stay single for so long. As if she’s doing it on purpose.
Though I have to admit, it’s not all her fault. I know I have a tendency to intimidate men that even glance in her direction, but it’s not without cause. I don’t trust them and I certainly don’t trust her judgment when it comes to men. The summer going into our junior year of high school, I learned just how naive she could be. I don’t think she even realizes I know what happened to her because she’s never told me. Regardless, I got redemption for her and he got what was coming to him and if I can spare her from having to go th
rough it again, I will.
My favorite thing about Brooke, the thing that makes it so easy for me to be around her, and the reason I enjoy spending time with her is, she’s different. She knows me inside and out and isn’t afraid to call me on my bullshit. She’s not impressed or affected by the facade every other woman foolishly stumbles head over heels for. She keeps it interesting and keeps me on my toes. She lets me be myself and most days still likes me anyway. Sure, I joke with her and try to lay on the charm, but I already know she’s not phased in the least. She’s above my cheap advances. She sees right through me. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Pulling into the driveway of my one-story, one-bedroom house, I feel exhausted. The drive home is only about five minutes, but it seems longer in the middle of the night. I should’ve just stayed at Brooke’s. It’s not like I haven’t slept on her couch before.
I grudgingly hop out of the front seat, jog to the door and rush inside. I turn on the kitchen light and am immediately greeted by Bruno, my one hundred pounds, Great Dane, lap dog.
“Hey, buddy!” I greet him almost as excitedly as he greets me. “Did you miss me, baby?”
His tail flies back and forth with excitement and I rub both sides of his face causing his floppy gray ears to flap back and forth around his head. I turn to the counter and rummage through the cupboard looking for his treats. Moments later there’s a bright flash followed by a loud CRACK outside and it’s pitch black.
“Ugh, great. The powers out.”
Patting myself down, I feel around for my phone. I find it buried in my coat pocket. Pulling it out, I turn on the flashlight and scroll down through my recent calls list until I find Brooke’s name. Six rings. No answer. She must be asleep. She probably doesn’t even realize the power is out. Well, if there’s a problem she’ll call.
Two
Brooke
I walk through the doors of the firehouse. It’s dark, quiet. A little eerie, but I’m not afraid... I look around and though I don’t see anyone, I sense that someone is there.