Thread: You Again? (rpfiend_123 & AnnaBeth Belle)

Mike was sitting back, lost in thought a bit as breakfast wrapped up. He didn't even notice that Brooke had started collecting the plates until she bumped into him and excused herself. Oh, thank you Brooke! He said to her gratefully. You don't have to do that. But of course, he knew she would say what she always did. Something along the lines of 'Oh don't worry about it!' or 'My pleasure!' or 'My parents would kill me if they knew I didn't help out a bit.' Even if he thought her parents spoiled her, he knew they raised her to be polite at least. He watched as she took the plates to the sink and began washing them without being told. Too many times he'd thought 'Why can't Sam be a bit more like Brooke?' but then he felt bad and realized how lucky he was to have such a pretty, talented daughter - even if she was a bit rough around the edges. He knew that it was a 'grass is always greener' kind of situation with his daughter's friend, but honestly, he knew Brooke was far better suited as a friend of the family then to actually be in the family. He had been staring at her well put-together outfit for a few minutes too long when the sliding of chairs across the wooden floor of the kitchen snapped him out of what must have seemed like an inappropriate ogling of the 16 year old. Folding his muscular arms across his chest so that his forearms rippled, he accepted a quick peck on the cheek from Sam and a Buh-bye dear from Claire. He watched Sam gather up her bag and they were off. The sound of the sink running was foreign to him when he wasn't right in front of it. He walked up behind Brooke, placing a thick hand lightly on her shoulder You're so good, Brooke. Thanks again. He gave her a peck on the top of her head a habit he'd started when she was much younger and just never gave up. Of course, he'd never do that at school! It was only something he did around the home, and always sparingly. Actually, come to think of it, it may have been the first time he'd done it when it was just the two of them. He felt his skin flush a bit and left the kitchen without an other word to change into his yard-work clothes. Soon he was out in the backyard. It was a beautiful sunny day, but getting hotter. He donned some ripped jean shorts that hugged the tone of his well formed buttocks ones that Claire tried to get him to throw away a hundred times, but he had managed to hide and a grey tank-top that one could tell used to be a tshirt, but lost the sleeves long ago. The faded blue and yellow 'M' on the front from his alma mater, Michigan University, was already dappled with spots of sweat as he began cleaning out the shed. He heard the back door close and looked up to see the petite red head strolling towards him. His large, tanned biceps glistened and flexed as he threw down a sack of concrete mix left over from where he repaired part of their driveway earlier that summer. His daughter's friend asked him a question and he stared at what she was pointing at. Oh that? He said, walking over and picking up the contraption. That's a post hole digger. It had two wooden handles that formed a scissor like joint at the end, where two red metal scoops, faded and chipped, sat. It's for digging holes for things like fence posts. I used it to build part of that fence he pointed to the tall wooden privacy fence lining the back of the yard. But I can also use it to chop you up. He pointed the scoop ends to Brooke, a foot from her face and clicked them together twice. See? he did it a couple more times, laughing to himself before setting them down and continuing his chores. Just then, he recalled what she'd said in the kitchen. You said you were gonna.. snaptalk me?.. to the school? I don't know what that is, but I'll tell you right now.. don't do it. he paused his work to point to her and give his best stern look - even if he knew it would have no effect on her. He proceeded to sweep out the shed and put everything back over the next hour or so. Brooke had gotten bored about an hour in and headed into the house. Before long, the work was done. Once he was back inside, he checked around for Brooke. Brooke? I'm gonna take a shower.. When I get out I can make us some lunch! He shouted, not waiting for a reply, and not really sure if she'd heard him or not. He stripped off his clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor and stepped into the hot shower, lathering up his pine scented soap all over his body. He was definitely fit for his age. At 50, he'd turned out quite well. Some would say TOO well. But that was, of course, to his gym-rat habits and his mostly-healthy eating. Not to mention chasing down teens all day long.