Can't Resist Him

by Molly McLain

  “Uh...sure.” What he really wanted was to pass out on the couch and dream about Jenny, but he knew what his Gramps was doing. He did it every time he showed up late like this. Or more to point...late and half in the friggin’ bag.

  An hour, two cups, and a debate about this year’s MLB prospects, Gramps must’ve finally decided Brody had sobered up enough that he wouldn’t shake the shingles off the roof with his snoring, because he stood and yawned.

  “You remember where the blankets are, kid?”

  “Front closet. Top shelf.”

  Gramps gave him a thumbs up and headed for the back hall. “Get a good night’s sleep, huh? I got a list a mile long for you work on in the morning.”

  Brody grinned. “Granny got hers together, too?”

  “You know it.”

  “Good.” He chuckled and watched the old man shuffle down the hall. When the door closed behind him, Brody sighed and scratched a hand over his head. Since he couldn’t deploy, he might as well plan on spending all his free time in North Platte. His grandparents weren’t getting any younger and their lists for him got longer each time he came. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he’d be able to see Jenny more often, too.

  After he gathered the blankets and settled in on the couch, he let himself look at his phone. On the drive over, he’d had to put the damn thing in the glove compartment so he’d keep from checking it every five seconds to see if she’d texted him back.

  And she had.

  His message from earlier: FYI, you taste just as sweet as I expected. I want more.

  Her response: You can have as many kisses as you want. Are you strong enough to stop there?

  Probably not, but for her, he’d try.

  Instead of waking her up with a response, he tossed the phone onto the end table beside one of those damned porcelain cats and slid beneath the blankets. Her face, surrounded by all that ridiculous fur, came to mind and, like he’d done so often since Vegas, he started at the top and slowly made his way down, replaying every little detail. Her dark, glossy hair, not quite as dark as it had been the first time he’d noticed her a few years back, but prettier this way. More natural. Her brow, too tense most of the time. Too etched with harried thoughts and uncertainty that he wanted to smooth away. Her eyes, God, those deep, soulful, dark brown eyes. They gave away so much of her emotion and he doubted she even knew it.

  Somewhere between her fairy nose and her soft lips—he’d verified that tonight—he must’ve fallen asleep. He knew this because he woke up in a cold sweat, with his heart racing. Ernie and Troy had come to him again, this time walking ahead of their hummer and the supplies they carried into the village. A village they were supposed to build up and help, not fucking die in.

  He called out to his buddies—tried to scream—because he knew what happened next. He knew that the second their truck crossed the plane of that dilapidated, broken down shack, the bomb would blow.

  Despite his warning, his buddies didn’t stop, and Brody woke up when the blade of shrapnel plunged into Ernie’s chest.

  “Motherfucker,” he huffed out, his voice shaking as badly as the rest of his body. He pounded a fist into the cushion beneath him, instantaneous rage snapping inside of him. When was this shit going to end? What the hell did he have to do?

  Swinging his legs over the side of the couch, he sat up and pushed a hand back over his hair. The little pendulum clock on the mantle glinted against the moonlight streaming in through the window, and he squinted through the darkness to see it. Four in the morning? Thank God. Only two hours until daylight.

  Not that it mattered, because two or ten, he wouldn’t sleep again. Fumbling in the dark, he found his phone on the table and thumbed it awake. Before he could think better of it, he replied to Jenny’s text.

  I’m not the man you think I am, but you make me want to be.

  Chapter Eight

  Early Sunday afternoon, Brody’s text still echoed in Jenny’s head. I’m not the man you the you think I am... What did that mean exactly? Was he hinting at what Reed had told her Friday night or was there something more?

  A hundred different questions whispered in the back of her mind as she did a quick pick-up around the house, even stripping her bed of all its comforter and sheets and throwing them into the laundry room to wash, lest she be tempted to break her own rules on their very first date.

  Gah. Was this even a date? All she knew was that he’d called this morning to make sure she had winter boots. That’s it. He wouldn’t tell her what he planned for them and, by the time his truck tires crunched through the snow in her driveway just before one o’clock, she was on pins and needles, wondering.

  Blowing out a nervous breath, she met him at the front door with a smile. “You found me.”

  “I did.” He waved as he made his way up the freshly shoveled sidewalk, looking ruggedly hot in heavy winter boots, jeans, and a black and camouflage hoodie. He even wore a black stocking cap, just like all the other Nebraskan farm boys in the winter, but on Brody, the look was downright panty melting.

  Considering she had on her biggest, oldest pair of granny undies that was no small feat.

  “Nice place you’ve got here.” He climbed the front steps and glanced around the big yard, littered with apple trees, and down the length of the modest, ranch style house. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was hers and the fact that he liked it made her inner peacock preen.

  “Thank you. I bought it from my aunt and uncle when they retired to Arizona a few years ago. Come in.” She pushed open the screen door and waved him in, where he again took everything in, nodding appreciatively at her simple, but carefully chosen decor. Her plush caramel-hued couch with its pink and crème throw pillows. The coffee table she’d bought at a garage sale and refinished herself. Even her sewing machine and the quilt that sat half finished beside it.

  “Yep, I totally dig this. It’s very homey. Very you.” With that, he dipped his head and stole a warm, gentle kiss that sent shivers racing down her spine as the heat spread throughout her body. “Hey,” he said when he was done.

  “Hey,” she said back, breathless, one hand hitting the wall behind her for support as she literally swooned.

  He grinned. “You good?”

  “Uh huh.” Maybe she should’ve left her legs unshaven, too.

  “Great. You got your boots ready? We should probably get going.”

  She pointed to the pair beside his feet on the entrance floor and dropped to the bench to put them on. “Maybe you should tell me where we’re going. Since you’re as bundled as I’ve ever seen you, I assume we’re going to get cold. I might need long underwear or something.”

  Another ovary-quivering smile split across his face. “As sexy as that would be, I think you’ll be fine. Eventually.”

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  He shook his head, his mossy eyes sparkling. “Nope. All you need to know is that I’ve taken care of everything.”

  Hmm. “So mysterious.”

  To that, he winked. Five minutes later, she climbed into his truck, feeling like a giddy teenager. She and Reed hadn’t gone out in years and Jake, the last guy she’d actually dated, preferred that she do all the planning. Never once had he taken the initiative on his own.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Brody said as he started the engine and the new Shinedown song pulsed through the cab. “Shit, sorry about that.”

  God, she loved that adorable blush on his face. “You’d hear the exact same thing if we got into my car right now.”

  “Yeah? You like it hard and loud, too?”

  She snorted and his cheeks went from pink to red.

  “Good to know we both have the same twisted sense of humor.”

  “Well, it is the best kind to have.” She buckled her seatbelt as her stomach growled. “You implied there might be food?”

  “Yep, and I might’ve gone a little overboard.”

  “Good, because I’m a lot hungry.”


  ***

  He could’ve taken the expected route and asked her to a late lunch at one of the local restaurants, though he figured that wouldn’t have made for a very memorable date. But as he pulled to the shore of a frozen-over Sugar Lake, he second-guessed what he had been sure was a grand slam idea.

  “Um, I probably should’ve asked if you’re one of those people who won’t go out on the ice.” He glanced over at Jenny, her fingers clutched around the edge of the seat and her face as white as the snow covering every surface around them.

  She nodded quickly. “Yeah, maybe.”

  Shit. “I’ll just grab everything from the fishing shanty. We can head back to your place to eat.”

  “No.” She said the word adamantly enough, but she remained just as frozen as the wide, ice-covered expanse before them. Given the late season, only a half dozen portable shelters dotted the flat plane. Tony’s sat just left of the center, with no neighbors for several yards, hence, Brody’s initial excitement in bringing Jenny out. They could hang out all afternoon without a single interruption. Maybe they’d even catch some fish.

  “It’s okay. I...I can try,” she added, her pretty neck working as she gulped. “You’ve already walked out there, right?”

  He nodded. “A couple times. There was a lot of stuff to carry.”

  She shot him an apologetic frown, complete with a timid nibble on her lower lip.

  “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. The fear is real. I get it. I’m happy to shift gears and rethink what clearly wasn’t the kickass idea I thought it was.”

  A small smile replaced her nervous one. “It’s a totally kickass idea. I just happened to have an irrational fear of dying a miserable, icy, blue-faced death. I mean, have you seen Titanic?”

  “Um...can I plead the fifth on that one?”

  She laughed and slowly let go of the seat to unbuckle her belt. “Do you promise I won’t die?”

  “Uh...”

  “Oh, God.” She slapped a hand over her mouth as realization flashed in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “I know.” Shit, I know. “And unfortunately I can’t promise you that. I can, however, vow to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t end up like Jack Dawson. If you’ll trust me.” He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. Hell, she knew more about his shortcomings than most.

  “I trust you.” Her warm fingers closed around his and squeezed. “Maybe hold my hand?”

  He grinned, because oh yeah. “I can definitely do that, sugar.”

  ***

  “This is actually kinda cozy.”

  “Thank God you don’t mind small spaces. I was really starting to question my judgment.” Brody fussed with the portable heater, cranking it on high and positioning it so it pointed directly at Jenny. He’d also given her the more comfortable built-in seat, while he sat on an upturned bucket. Between them sat a small cooler and thermal bag with their lunch.

  “Nah, I think you’re safe. The piggy back ride was a nice touch, too.” She bumped her shoulder into his and smiled. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “The hell I didn’t. Did you see the look on your face when your feet hit the ice? No, you didn’t. Why? Because your eyes were clamped shut.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. The infectious sound filled up the tight quarters of the shanty, making him really glad he’d gone this route, even if it had started out a little rocky.

  “How about we eat first and fish later? Unless you don’t want to stay that long.” He quirked an eyebrow as he dug the plates and utensils from a bag next to the jig poles and lure he bought before he left North Platte. He had all the same stuff at home in Omaha, too, but maybe he could leave everything with Jenny. Maybe they’d use it again someday.

  “Now that you got me out here, we might as well make the most of this.” She winked and held the dinnerware while he pulled out the food and set it up on top of the cooler. Shaved prime rib, fresh rolls, creamy potato salad, some kind of pasta with olives, and apple dip with chunks of chocolate and caramel. “You weren’t kidding when you said you went overboard.”

  “I’ve also got beer and hot cocoa.” He lifted a thermos with a modest smile. A guy had to be more than prepared when he was trying to impress a lady light years out of his league, and the pleased grin on her face made it all worthwhile.

  She chose cocoa and they made small talk about his visit with his grandpa in North Platte while they ate.

  “Wait—you mean he actually went up on the roof?” Jenny’s mouth slacked open and her pretty eyes went wide.

  “Yep. Had a quarter of the snow shoveled, too. Hard to believe he’ll be eighty-two in a few months.” He popped the last of his sandwich in his mouth and sighed. “So you’re the creative type, huh? You do hair by day and sew by night? I saw the machine in the living room.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m creative, I just like to do things with my hands. Unfortunately, I spent most of my time at the salon, so I don’t quilt as often as I’d like. I did get some squares cut yesterday, though. That was awesome. It’s like therapy for me. Totally cathartic.”

  “Baseball and fishing are that for me.” Neither of which he’d done in...hell, he couldn’t remember. Too damn long, that’s for sure.

  “Is that why you chose to come out here today?” she asked quietly, stirring her fork through the little bit of potato salad left on her plate.

  His first instinct was to deny it, but he caught himself before he acted on a habit he’d become too used to. That was the one thing he’d taken away from his sessions with Dr. Sherman—owning up to his insecurities rather than pretending they didn’t exist.

  “Maybe? I guess I didn’t consciously think about it, but...” Last night sucked. And tonight he’d back in Omaha, further away from her, with no clue when he’d see her again.

  “Well, let’s eat dessert and get to fishing then.” She smiled brightly and, not for the first time, her acceptance hit him hard. Did she genuinely care or was she just telling him what she thought he needed to hear?

  “You go ahead. I cleaned up all the meat, so I’m good.” He stifled a burp...unsuccessfully, and she laughed. “Excuse me. God, I’m batting a hundred today, aren’t I?”

  Just like that, she stopped spooning the apple dip onto her plate and turned to him, her brow furrowed. “I know we’re technically in the early stages of our friendship, but I don’t feel like I’ve just met you. Honestly, it sorta feels like we’ve known each other forever.”

  That. A million times over. “Yeah. It’s crazy, but I’m with ya.”

  “Then do us both a favor, okay?” She paused and he nodded. Hell, he’d do just about anything for her...already. “Keep it real with me. Just like you were in Vegas and just like you were earlier when you brought me here. I want to know you, Brody—not the guy you think you need to be to keep me interested.”

  Goddamn, she knew where to land a punch when she wanted to, didn’t she?

  “Come here a second. I want to tell you a secret.” She crooked her finger at him and like a moth to a flame he leaned in. Her breath fanned against his cheek and he shivered, her warmth a pleasant contrast to the chilly air around them. “I’m already interested, Superman.”

  ***

  With a dozen bluegill in their bucket, Jenny and Brody called it a day on the lake. They packed up the remaining food and Tony’s portable shanty, and with lots of deep breathing, Jenny made it off the lake on her own two feet.

  Brody turned his truck into her driveway just before six o’clock and she hated that he had such a long drive ahead of him.

  “If you didn’t have to work in the morning, I’d ask you to stay.” Resting her head against the passenger seat, she turned to face him.

  “And I’d take you up that offer. Unfortunately, I’ve got to be in St. Louis by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “More driving?” Now she really felt bad.

  “Some. I’m working this job with a few other guys, so we’ll switc
h out behind the wheel.” He shut off the engine and sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to leave. Spending the week with you would be a hell of a lot more fun than tolerating those assholes.”

  She smiled. “What’s the project this week?”

  “Doing some prep work for a big gas line expansion project this summer,” he grumbled. “Not quite as interesting as making old ladies feel like a million bucks.”

  “Are you teasing me? Because I’ll have you know the old ladies are my favorite clients. They don’t tip worth a damn, but they have the best stories.”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  “Can’t tell. Hairdresser code of ethics and all that.”

  He dropped his head back against the rest and laughed. “I bet you hear a lot of shit.”

  “See a lot of it, too. You know I run a full service salon, right?”

  He shot her a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “Put it this way—the ladies in Cameron County sure like their jewelry.”

  Eyes wide, he asked, “You do piercings, too?”

  “No.” This time she laughed. “I don’t do them, but I see them. A lot of them. While I’m waxing.”

  Brody launched forward in the seat, his inner teenage boy coming out in full force. “Are you kidding me? You wax other chicks?”

  She giggled again. “It’s not as exciting as it sounds. Believe me.”

  His eyes darkened and he groaned. “Not gonna lie, Jenn, that’s a fucking hot image.”

  “Somehow I knew you’d say that.” She rolled her eyes and nodded toward her front door. “Walk me in?”

  They barely made it to the porch before he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. Likewise, she wrapped her arms around his waist and burrowed into his hoodie. Sucking in a deep breath, she held it, locking his now-familiar scent into memory.

  “Text when you get home?” she asked, her voice muffled.

  “Yes, ma’am. It’ll be late though. You okay with that?”

  “More than okay. I want to know you made it safely.”