Blown Away: A Small Town Military Romance (The Moore Brothers Book 1) by Abby Brooks Page A
Authors: Abby Brooks
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tells me I’ve just walked right into a trap.”
“Whatever would make you believe such a thing?” he asked, putting on a wounded face. He walked her through the rest of the agreement, which was pretty standard except for the parts that outlined that she was to keep any receipts for items purchased for the renovations and that the utilities would stay in his name and she was to pay him.
It all looked on the up and up and she signed without hesitating, thinking again of the last agreement she’d signed. There’d been butterflies in her belly back then, too. A sense of starting out on a grand adventure. Hopefully, this agreement really was the beginning of something wonderful.
Ian gathered the papers in his hand and then took his time surveying the empty living room and adjoining dining room. “You know what? I officially deem your furnishings unfit for this space.” He looked towards the still open front door. “James!” he called. “It’s safe. You can come in now!”
Juliet blinked as a slightly smaller version of Ian bounded through the front door. “Hey there,” he said, extending a hand and exposing a tattoo that worked its way from his wrist up into the sleeve of his t-shirt. “I’m James, Ian’s younger, and totally better than him at everything, brother.”
She shook his hand, her mouth still hanging open, looking from James to Ian. “Pleased to meet you,” she muttered, her manners on auto-pilot.
“Back atcha,” he said and winked before turning to Ian. “Does she know? Where do we start?”
“Does she know what?” asked Juliet, totally confused.
Ian took both her shoulders in her hands and smiled. “Like I said, I’ve deemed your lack of furnishings unfit and have brought you some replacements.”
Shock dropped her jaw again. “I can’t … I mean, I don’t need …” She was at a loss. She totally needed furniture, but she really didn’t want to take more from this guy than she already had. No more handouts, remember?
“Really?” Ian looked around the empty space. “Because it looks like you need a whole hell of a lot to me.” She started to stammer out a protest again and Ian held up his hands. “It’s not that big of a deal. I pulled some stuff out of my other properties. And as you can afford to get your own stuff, we’ll put it right back.”
“She’ll be able to help next time, right?” asked James, rubbing his shoulders. “Because I already hate you a little for the size of that couch.”
“How can you even start to call yourself better than me at anything when you’re already complaining?”
The men moved out of the house in a flurry of insults and banter and Lulu bounded out after them in a flurry of yaps and excitement.
“What the hell is that?” Juliet heard James.
“Oh that?” Ian replied. “That’s Chopper.”
Chapter Eight
Ian
“You sure about this?” James asked Ian as soon as they were out of earshot. Juliet had called Chopper—Ian had been totally serious about not calling the dog Lulu—back in the house and he’d heard her go upstairs to the bathroom. He’d seen the tears in her eyes she’d thought she’d hidden so well and knew she was going up to the mirror to eradicate any trace of them.
Ian shrugged. “Not one bit.”
James dropped the tailgate on the back of the Tundra and hopped in, starting to slide the mattresses closer to the edge. “What do you know about her?”
“I know she’s from New York. I know she’s running from an asshole boyfriend. I know she’s kind.” And pretty. And smart. And funny.
James looked surprised. “She tell you all that? Because anyone who has to tell you she’s kind, probably isn’t.”
“No, you ass. She told me about the running away thing. I figured out she was from New York by reading her damn license plates, and I watched her help an old woman off the ground rather than chase that silly yapper as it ran away from her.”
“Lemme
“Whatever would make you believe such a thing?” he asked, putting on a wounded face. He walked her through the rest of the agreement, which was pretty standard except for the parts that outlined that she was to keep any receipts for items purchased for the renovations and that the utilities would stay in his name and she was to pay him.
It all looked on the up and up and she signed without hesitating, thinking again of the last agreement she’d signed. There’d been butterflies in her belly back then, too. A sense of starting out on a grand adventure. Hopefully, this agreement really was the beginning of something wonderful.
Ian gathered the papers in his hand and then took his time surveying the empty living room and adjoining dining room. “You know what? I officially deem your furnishings unfit for this space.” He looked towards the still open front door. “James!” he called. “It’s safe. You can come in now!”
Juliet blinked as a slightly smaller version of Ian bounded through the front door. “Hey there,” he said, extending a hand and exposing a tattoo that worked its way from his wrist up into the sleeve of his t-shirt. “I’m James, Ian’s younger, and totally better than him at everything, brother.”
She shook his hand, her mouth still hanging open, looking from James to Ian. “Pleased to meet you,” she muttered, her manners on auto-pilot.
“Back atcha,” he said and winked before turning to Ian. “Does she know? Where do we start?”
“Does she know what?” asked Juliet, totally confused.
Ian took both her shoulders in her hands and smiled. “Like I said, I’ve deemed your lack of furnishings unfit and have brought you some replacements.”
Shock dropped her jaw again. “I can’t … I mean, I don’t need …” She was at a loss. She totally needed furniture, but she really didn’t want to take more from this guy than she already had. No more handouts, remember?
“Really?” Ian looked around the empty space. “Because it looks like you need a whole hell of a lot to me.” She started to stammer out a protest again and Ian held up his hands. “It’s not that big of a deal. I pulled some stuff out of my other properties. And as you can afford to get your own stuff, we’ll put it right back.”
“She’ll be able to help next time, right?” asked James, rubbing his shoulders. “Because I already hate you a little for the size of that couch.”
“How can you even start to call yourself better than me at anything when you’re already complaining?”
The men moved out of the house in a flurry of insults and banter and Lulu bounded out after them in a flurry of yaps and excitement.
“What the hell is that?” Juliet heard James.
“Oh that?” Ian replied. “That’s Chopper.”
Chapter Eight
Ian
“You sure about this?” James asked Ian as soon as they were out of earshot. Juliet had called Chopper—Ian had been totally serious about not calling the dog Lulu—back in the house and he’d heard her go upstairs to the bathroom. He’d seen the tears in her eyes she’d thought she’d hidden so well and knew she was going up to the mirror to eradicate any trace of them.
Ian shrugged. “Not one bit.”
James dropped the tailgate on the back of the Tundra and hopped in, starting to slide the mattresses closer to the edge. “What do you know about her?”
“I know she’s from New York. I know she’s running from an asshole boyfriend. I know she’s kind.” And pretty. And smart. And funny.
James looked surprised. “She tell you all that? Because anyone who has to tell you she’s kind, probably isn’t.”
“No, you ass. She told me about the running away thing. I figured out she was from New York by reading her damn license plates, and I watched her help an old woman off the ground rather than chase that silly yapper as it ran away from her.”
“Lemme
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