by King, Asha
He wanted to see what she’d say.
“No.” She smiled wryly and took a long drink of her beer. “Worked in a mail room, watched all these journalism students get the internships I kept applying for. So I waited tables on the side and then got a job as a receptionist at a law firm.”
“Oh. That sounds...”
She cut a look his way. “Crappy?”
“Just not what I pictured. You seemed to really love the paper.”
She said nothing, just drank more of her beer, and he did the same. It occurred to him he should say something smart, something interesting—anything at all—but he was still stuck on the thought of tasting her plump lips and dragging his fingers through her hair.
“And you?”
Brady shrugged. “Diploma in accounting.”
That gained him a grin from her pretty lips. “Seriously?”
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
“Gardening’s preferable?”
Old pain flared up though her question was innocent enough. She had no idea. “I hated accounting. Then...stuff changes. So I quit and found work where I could instead. Like...” He gestured to the flowerbeds, half free of weeds now.
“I guess most people don’t end up where they think they will. It’s weird.” She pulled her feet up to sit cross-legged and the bench swung lightly. “Everyone from high school is like married and having babies now. I had to stop even looking on Facebook because I can’t picture them with any amount of responsibility.”
“Do you remember Erin Allen?”
“Yes! The fact that she was going through to be a doctor singlehandedly scared me away from venturing near hospitals in the future. God, I hated her.”
He figured. Blonde, cheerful, bossy. She’d won class president in high school, beating Niara though Brady was never sure why—except that it was clearly a popularity contest. “Not a doctor. Two kids, one on the way—stay at home mom.”
“I...am now frightened to believe the children are our future.”
Brady chuckled, enjoying the easy familiarity with her, the wry sense of humor. He drank his beer in silence, as did she, and the silence wasn’t awkward, didn’t trouble him. It was relaxed and comfortable, and he basked in it. The shade of the porch was nice, her company even nicer, but at last he set the bottle down and stood. “I should get back before I get too comfortable.”
Color touched her cheeks, darkening them beautifully as she gazed up at him with those stunning chocolate eyes. “Do you mind if I...poke around out here and help? House gets real quiet. Still don’t have T.V. or internet.”
His heart raced but he smiled calmly. “Not at all.”
****
There was comfort to be taken in the fact that, more than likely, Brady was probably used to women staring at him as much as Niara had been.
Sure, his jeans were streaked with dirt and hair swung against his forehead in damp ropes and sweat darkened his shirt as he worked, but the rugged look was sexy as hell. The sight of his corded muscles flexing as he dug had made it hard to concentrate, Niara pausing every so often to just...watch.
Ron was a lawyer in the office where she’d worked. Suit. Tie. Briefcase. Nice blond hair, clean shaven. Everyone commented on what a lovely couple they made in their wedding photos.
Brady was everything Ron wasn’t. Rough from head to toe and she wondered how far that extended in life—wondered at what those calloused hands would feel like pinning her wrists above her head as that muscled body worked against her.
Heat touched her cheeks and it wasn’t just the late morning sun.
This wasn’t like her. At all. She’d been on three dates in the months since her divorce was finalized, two more prior to that since the separation. None of them went well, leaving her unable to contemplate ever getting back on the horse.
Now she wanted to not only climb on that horse but ride it ’til sunrise.
Yeehaw.
And she’d never in her life looked at a man this way—never had someone cause fire to lick under her skin and scorch her from head to toe. Oh, it was a bad idea. Bad, bad, bad. She didn’t even know him that well in high school, and that was eight years ago. He could secretly be a serial killer. Or a cultist.
Or just a really hot gardener.
He was...sweet. His smile warmed her from head to toe, leaving her grinning too, and an electric charge flushed her skin every time they made the slightest contact. She’d catch his gaze while they talked and for a moment, everything in her past was just gone. The heartbreak, the insecurity—that Niara was miles away if she ever existed at all. This near to Brady and she felt like someone else. Perhaps someone she used to be.
Too bad Deena’s not here... She scratched that thought pretty quickly, though. Deena, while appreciative of a good-looking man, was not the height of moral support, and would have her so embarrassed, she’d be drowning herself in the river by noon.
The yard was actually looking good. Gardens weeded, some maple saplings moved and replanted. Around back there were broken branches and sticks previous owners left dumped on the grass, and they had to be gathered. The hedges could use trimming. But Brady had been working hard to get things cleaned up around her property. He even offered to go over the exterior and interior for her, and give his opinion on costs so she could be sure no one would rip her off.
She took a break, switching to a bottle of water to drink, but left a cooler by the porch with beer and soda as well in case he wanted something else. Her back ached, arms and legs were sore, and heat beat down on her head as she stood on the porch and watched Brady push a wheelbarrow of weeds and dried leaves toward her compost pile.
“Any plans for the back, once it’s cleaned up?” he called, nodding toward the big empty space in the rear of her property. “Pool? Hot tub?”
And there was a fair amount of space to consider before it dipped off to the water and a dock that needed repairing. “I kind of want a vegetable garden. If you can in a few weeks—and don’t mind advising me—I’ll hire you again to work on it.”
He looked away as he dumped the wheelbarrow and carted it back again. “Easiest thing is to get an old box spring and mattress, and make a raised garden. Fairly simple to set up, inhibits weeds. Once you’re online again, look it up maybe.”
Did that mean he wasn’t interested in being hired again? Maybe she was reading too much into it. “Break?”
“Sure.” He took a bottle of water from the cooler and walked up to the porch.
She turned, took the few steps to the swing, and shivers touched her back, acutely aware of his nearness. Part of her longed for him to come up behind her, wrap his arms around her torso so she could lean into him, feel the hard length of him against her ass—
Deena. This is all Deena’s fault.
Jittery, Niara sat, tucked the cool bottle of water between her knees, and pulled an elastic band from her pocket to loosely bind up her hair. Goose bumps ran down her neck as a breeze brushed her skin, and she swallowed a lump in her throat when Brady sat next to her. The swing shifted under his weight, squeaking slightly. He was near enough that his elbow brushed hers and more happy tingles danced over her flesh.
“Can I ask you...”
She glanced over at him to find his gaze firmly on hers.
“...what brought you back here?”
Nervousness clawed its way up her throat. She didn’t want to talk about it. She liked this clean break—liked having someone, maybe especially him, not knowing everything. But she was locked on his kind blue eyes and she knew she wanted to tell him—wanted to lay herself bare and let him know everything if he asked.
Her lips parted to speak.
The porch swing groaned.
They both froze and looked up. Old, peeling white paint specks fell, wood splintered. The hook on Brady’s side gave, popping out of the wood above them, and they tumbled in a heap; the swing dumped him first, then she sprawled over him. Water bottles thumped and rolled on the porch, and the swing creake
d, hanging from just one hook.
Niara scrambled back, or at least off him, and banged her elbow on the porch as she landed. They stared at the swing a moment longer, met one another’s gaze, and broke into laughter.
She slumped flat on her back, rubbing at her elbow, while Brady pushed the fallen cushions aside. She sighed, shook her head. Of course, something else had to break too.
He shifted onto his side, propping himself up onto one elbow, and turned his gaze up to the porch ceiling. “It’s fixable. Sorry about that—”
She chuckled again, shaking her head. “Not your fault. Just one more thing around here. I knew what I was getting into with the place—I really did.” Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe she’d just been too damn impulsive, running away—again—when she hated her life, thinking she could find something better.
Brady looked back at her as breathless seconds passed. From this position he was above her, hair falling in his eyes, a healthy glow to his tanned skin from the sun. Her gaze trailed again to his lips, full and kissable, imagining how they’d feel against hers. Tension crackled between them, swelling as the moments passed. This near, she felt the heat radiating from his body and yearned to have his arms around her. Just the steady, intense look from those piercing blue eyes had her breath catching, her nipples pebbling, and fresh moisture soaking her panties.
And when he leaned down, his mouth capturing hers at last, she yielded. Her back arched, arms snaked around him as he kissed her. When his lips parted, she mimicked him, her tongue moving to meet his. Heat rolled through her entire body, straight down to her curling toes as she felt his weight on her.
That mouth—it was perfect. Lips demanding, yet soft as silk, sensuous and caressing. Rough, calloused fingertips dragged along her cheek, back through her hair. A delicious shiver ran down her spine at the feel of those hands on her at last, and she absently hooked one leg over his, drawing him into her.
When the kiss ended, leaving her swollen lips suddenly bereft, she blinked her eyes open and stared up at him.
What the hell did I just do?
Her heart beat wildly in her chest and she was panting, staring, half mortified that she’d kissed someone she admittedly didn’t know very well but also seriously wondering why they couldn’t go back to the kissing part.
His gaze darted to the side as he pulled away. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry? What? “Why?”
He glanced back at her at the suddenly blurted question and fresh heat touched her cheeks. Still, he said nothing, and she had the distinct impression that despite the apology, he wasn’t sorry in the least.
And in truth, she liked that.
Brady rose and extended his hand to help her; she accepted but stumbled as she stood, letting his firm hand right her because she was on edge and tingly all over and didn’t trust her legs to keep her upright.
“I should...” He nodded back toward her yard where there was still work to be done, but he hadn’t released her hand and she didn’t want him to.
It was a bad idea. Bad. Deena would encourage it which was precisely why she should walk away, lock herself back in her house, and not come out again except to pay him at the end of the day.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” she asked, certain that wasn’t what she’d been intending to say, but deciding to just go with it.
A beat of silence passed. “Sure.”
Sure. Sure. He was staying for dinner. It was...date-like. Happy butterflies whirled around in her stomach, dampening when she realized her cupboards consisted of ramen noodles and not much else. “I should probably get food, then.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No, no, I need to. I...” At last she released his hand, peeling her fingers back one by one, and stumbling on not-quite-working-right feet toward the front door. “I’ll grab my purse and do that now. Be back in a bit.”
She had no idea what she was doing, but couldn’t fight the huge grin lighting her face as she rushed back in the house.
Chapter Three
“It’s not a date-date, it’s a he’s-staying-for-dinner thing.” Niara turned the ignition off, pinched the phone between her ear and her shoulder, and unbuckled her seatbelt.
“Staying for dinner is a date-date,” Deena insisted. “Bring condoms.”
Nia sighed. “That’s your middle name.”
“It is,” her friend agreed. “Along with, ‘Show him your boobies.’”
No matter what happened, she sincerely hoped Deena never, ever came to visit. Ever.
Purse in hand, she exited the car and started for the grocery store. “I’ll call you back. I’d rather not have this discussion while I’m deciding on salad.”
“You’d better.”
Niara hung up as she entered the small, simple grocery store. Chill air met her full blast and she shivered as she picked up a basket. Bagged salad kit: check. Fresh loaf of bread: check. Main course, though...something simple, but good. Frozen lasagna? Damn it, she hadn’t even asked him if he had food aversions. He could be vegetarian. Or allergic to gluten. And this tiny store didn’t look like it would have a whole lot of selection.
She opted for two different lasagnas and a stir fry just in case he preferred that instead. Ice cream for dessert. Maybe she could stop for a bottle of wine on the way home.
Nervousness danced in her stomach—a date. A date she was excited for. She was grinning as she stepped into the line at the one open checkout till, tapping her feet and clutching her basket handle in both hands. She wanted to call Deena again, but then the whole store—such as it was—would hear the conversation, and in small towns, news traveled fast.
“Now, I don’t think I’ve seen you since high school.”
She started and glanced over her shoulder. Young-ish guy, white with blond hair. Roughly her age though she couldn’t quite place him. Given the grin he gave her, he had no such difficultly and knew her right away, though there were about a dozen women of color in their tiny high school back then, so it wasn’t hard.
“Just moved back,” she said politely. Was he...Miles? Mike? Something like that? She should’ve glanced through her yearbook before venturing into town.
“It’s been years.” He shook his head, hefting the basket from one hand to the other. “Man.” Mischief glinted in his eyes. “Quite the timing you have.”
“Oh?”
“My buddy...you remember Brady Trewin?”
Dread plummeted in her gut and she thought she nodded but couldn’t be sure. “Vaguely.”
“He had such a thing for you in high school. We thought he was going to say something before you moved. Man, he’s gonna kick himself—he’s moving tomorrow. Crazy timing.”
He’s what? “Where’s he going?”
Miles or Mike or whoever shrugged. “Don’t know. Cross country, see if he can find work out west. He’s been planning for about two years now.”
“Ma’am,” the cashier called, but it was a moment before Niara got her head on straight and shuffled over to unpack her grocery basket.
He was leaving. Tomorrow. Why the hell was he even working today?
Because he had a crush on you in high school.
It was years ago but it was true, she remembered him hanging around a lot. He ran errands for the paper, got some of the basketball players to sit down for an interview with her. And come to think of it, he was always around for those sessions, ready to help. The way he looked at her today, the way he kissed her—the pieces all clicked into place.
And even as the strange realization hit her, like blinders lifting from her vision...her stomach twisted in knots.
She liked Brady Trewin. She hadn’t felt like this in years, not since she first met Ron. Maybe not even then. Her heart thumped sickly and she swallowed a lump in her throat as she watched the clerk ring through her groceries. She went through the motions of bringing out her debit card and paying, then packing everything in a brown paper bag.
“Hey, I’ll see you around,�
� the guy called from her behind her.
She flashed a smile and nodded, then left the store in a daze. Once she was back in her car, grocery bag on the seat next to her, she pulled out her phone and dialed Deena again.
“Did you get condoms?” her friend answered.
“He’s leaving.”
“Already? But you didn’t get his pants off yet.”
Jeez. “No, he’s leaving town. For good. Tomorrow.”
“This is perfect!”
Clearly Deena had somehow missed precisely what was going on. “Are you listening to me? I like him. I have a dinner date with him. I would like more dates with him. And he’s moving out west. Tomorrow!”
“So go back there and kiss him. One night, honey. That’s it, and it’ll be easier since he’ll be gone tomorrow. One night to let go and fuck some hot guy and get it out of your system. We both know Ron screwed your head up. Big time. But you need this.”
And I want this. She was both terrified and aroused by the thought, of heading home and leading him to her bedroom and tasting him, touching him, all afternoon and night. And Deena was right—it just might be easier—because she was already thinking it. Planning it. Contemplating if it was possible.
Plus he had a crush on her in high school. If he was still attracted to her now...
Damn it, how had she gone from being mortified at the thought to actively planning to sleep with Brady Trewin?
Her eyes closed and she remembered his lips on hers, the feel of his fingertips dragging up her cheek, the way his body covered her, owned her. Her breasts ached, wanting his touch, and her pussy clenched—she hadn’t felt this aroused in years.
“He’ll go for it,” Deena continued, perhaps feeling the silence was an invitation to do so. “He’s a man, it’s his last night in town. Just ask him.”
Right. Ask him. So Brady, how would you like to fuck like bunnies for the rest of the day? “I can’t ask him that.”