Can't Resist Him

by Molly McLain

  “That’s probably a good decision.” His father nodded, but Jenny didn’t agree. Being a Marine was in Brody’s blood. If he went out like this, he may never find the closure he needed.

  “What do you say we leave the ladies to the gossiping while us men head outside to look at that tree, threatening to drop dead on my garage?” Grandpa Brekowski got to his feet, slowly and not without difficulty, batting away his daughter when she tried to offer help. “Sit down, Lena. I’m not dead yet.”

  Jenny covered a smile with the back of her hand. How many times had she heard that same statement from her own mother?

  “Try not to miss me too much.” Brody snuck a kiss before he pushed away from the table and followed his dad and grandfather to the door.

  A sudden, unexpected surge of lust crept up her spine as she watched him go. He didn’t look any different than he did at her house or at his. Just a guy whose t-shirt and jeans clung a little too tightly to his big body. A guy who, beneath the dark ink and badass uniform, put his family first. Always. A guy who could love her like thunder and lightning at night, but become an acquiescent rain shower who ate crepes with his grandma the very next morning.

  He really was human, this man she’d fallen in love with. And she wanted him even more because of it.

  ***

  “I think we can take care of this for you today, Bob.” Hands on his hips, his father looked up at the tree with two dead limbs looming a little too closely to the back corner of the garage. “Just need some rope and a little gas and oil for the chainsaw.”

  His grandfather sat on an overturned bucket, breathing harder than usual, his nod turning into a wheeze. “Yeah, I thought so,” he coughed. “Surprised they lasted the winter, to be honest.”

  “Small miracles, Gramps.” Brody ruffled the old man’s shoulder on his way to his truck. He had standard-issue ties and a safety harness in his toolbox, for instances just like this. Seemed he was the go-to guy for all things height-related since he earned half of his salary in a cherry picker.

  Ten minutes later, he was strapped into the harness, with his father holding onto the rope tied to the first limb. Brody climbed toward the branch with the chainsaw in hand.

  “Better move back, Gramps! Just in case!” he hollered down once he had a better view of the ground. “Dad, get ready to move fast!”

  He waited until his grandfather hobbled back toward the house and his dad gave him a thumbs up before he lobbed off the branch. It crashed down in the backyard, well enough away from Granny’s flowerbeds and the sandbox he used to play in as a kid.

  The second branch took a little more effort to tie because the ladder only extended so far, but he finally got it fastened and went through the same drill. “Ready, Dad?”

  This time his father saluted him and he laughed, glancing back at Gramps to make sure he’d stuck close to the house.

  Gramps was on the ground.

  “Dad!” he hollered and his dad’s attention snapped across the yard. He dropped the rope and ran, full sprint.

  Brody hurried to unfasten himself and get down, all the while glancing over his shoulder.

  Gramps wasn’t moving.

  “Brody, hurry!” his dad yelled and, dammit, he would if he could just get off the fucking ladder.

  Feet on the ground and the straps still fastened around his thighs, he ran to his grandfather and dropped to his knees, running through the protocol he’d done hundreds of times.

  “Grandpa!” He shook the old man’s shoulder, but got no response. “Call 911 and go get Mom,” he shouted to his father.

  The next several minutes passed in a blur of chest compressions, mouth-to-mouth, and his mother wailing from somewhere behind him. Sirens broke through his single-minded focus and the paramedics seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  He crawled back on his knees as they took over, ripping open Gramps’s shirt for the AED. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe either. The fog began to tunnel in around him, darkness coming fast.

  He saw Ernie lying on the ground before him. He saw Troy and his mangled body a few feet away. One leg gone, one arm bit off at the elbow. All around him, the smoke got thicker and the fire hotter. The shouting felt like gunshots in his ears and the smell of blood—some of it his—made him sick to his stomach.

  “Brody,” Jenny cried softly in his ear and somehow her arms were around him, her heat at his back. She wasn’t supposed to be there. Not in this mess. Not where he couldn’t protect her. “Stay with me, baby,” she pleaded, pressing her lips to his temple and rocking him like his mother used to when he’d have bad dreams as a kid.

  Only this wasn’t a fucking dream. This was his life. One screw-up after another.

  “You did what you could,” she murmured. “You tried.”

  But not hard enough. Never fucking hard enough.

  Chapter Eighteen

  No matter how she tried to see them—a tribute to life or a celebration of eternal salvation—funerals always gutted Jenny. Add in the Marine honor guard in their dress blues—Brody included—and she’d gone through all of the tissue in her clutch before the priest even began Brody’s grandfather’s graveside service.

  She couldn’t look at Brody, standing at attention with the other pallbearers, including Sam. But then she couldn’t look away either. He’d become a stony, emotionless pillar since that morning in his grandparents’ backyard. He’d gone back to Omaha to get some things together for his parents while they stayed with his grandma and, even though she’d offered to go along, he’d refused. He’d tried to blame it on her work schedule, but she knew the truth—he’d needed the time alone.

  His distance hurt, but she got it. Grief was a torturous, sometimes relentless bitch and not only was Brody dealing with the loss of his grandfather, but the renewed loss of Ernie and Troy and every other Marine friend he’d had to bury, as well.

  Feeling so helpless sucked. Feeling so desperate to do something to get through to him, only to be turned away was nothing she wished upon anyone.

  But she wasn’t just anyone. She was a woman who’d become an expert at steeling her resolve. A pro at giving and giving and giving some more. She might have vowed to never offer more to a man than she got back, but that was before Brody, and up until this past week, he’d given her more than she could have ever hoped for.

  That’s why when she’d found him on the couch this morning, looking like he hadn’t slept at all, she’d refused to give up.

  “You okay?” she’d asked, curling up beside him, sharing her warmth and whatever comfort he’d let her give.

  “Yep. Fine.” But his eyes never left the ceiling and, when she pressed a kiss to his shoulder, he didn’t even acknowledge her. Just kept staring off into space, completely wrapped up in whatever was going on in that handsome, conflicted head of his.

  He was that man again now, standing a few feet away, his eyes trained on something on the far side of the cemetery. Probably nothing at all. Just that place he had to go to in his head to keep it together. Or block it out. Whatever it was he had to do to make it through.

  His Grandmother Caroline did better than any one else at the service. She kept her chin high and she even offered comfort to Lena when she broke down and Brody’s father couldn’t console her. Even when the honor guard presented Caroline with that pristinely folded flag, she stayed strong, shedding but a single tear as she thanked the stoic Marine with a tender pat to his cheek.

  Would that be her someday? Receiving Brody’s flag?

  God. A hard, painful lump swelled in Jenny’s throat and she bit her lip to keep from crying until she drew blood.

  She’d fallen completely in love with him, this amazing, too proud man that had swept in and stolen her heart with his honesty and his flaws and his unrelenting strength. Despite his own fear, he’d given her a pair of comforting arms to fall into that first night in Vegas and so many nights since. They were the same arms she offered him now—and would continue to—no matter how hard he pretended he
didn’t need them.

  Taps rang through the air making her shiver, the honor guard marched out, and the priest sent Robert Brekowski up to eternal rest with a final petition. She did her best to hold it together when she hugged Lena and Caroline, but when Brody embraced his family, she lost it all over again.

  And she was supposed to be his rock? Good Lord.

  “You ready to go?” He approached her after he paid his respects and accepted handshakes and hugs of his own. All she could do was nod. Just being here is enough. I don’t need all the perfect words. She wasn’t sure it was true, but she told herself this over and over again.

  When Brody finally led her to his truck, he helped her in, but he didn’t talk. Just got behind the wheel and drove them back to his grandparents’ home, where the rest of the family congregated. All neighbors and extended family since Lena was an only child.

  “Thank you for being here today,” he finally spoke when they’d parked. “It means a lot. To me and my family.”

  She swallowed back her lingering emotion, her hands twisted together in her lap. “I don’t know what to say. I...don’t know how to make this easier for you. Finding you like that this morning...”

  He tossed his cover onto the seat between them and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Some shit you can’t fix, Jenn. It’s just gotta run its course. Or not. Who the fuck knows.”

  She nodded, lips pressed together. “But I’m here either way. You know that, right?”

  His heavy eyes swung her way and he smiled. A weak, unattached sentiment that made her heart ache all the more. “Yeah, babe, I know.”

  Did he? She wasn’t convinced. Still, she smiled back, because maybe this was one of those fake it ’till you make it kind of situations. “You look handsome today, in case I haven’t already told you.”

  This time the twitch of his lips was genuine, even if that same light didn’t meet his eyes. Reaching for the door, he winked. “Let’s go, sugar, we’ve got potato salad to eat.”

  ***

  He was tearing her apart.

  Brody watched Jenny watch him from across the living room. She tried to keep busy, clearing away plates and getting drinks and dessert for his relatives, but her too-alert, too-concerned eyes never strayed far from him. Especially when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  She was more than anything he could have ever hoped to find in a woman. A lover. A friend. She had shown him more unconditional affection in their short relationship than most of the family milling about in this tiny house ever had. But for what reward? He was no fucking prize.

  He’d been kidding himself and misleading her thinking he was anywhere near ready—or even capable—of being an adequate partner for her. She deserved a man who had his shit together, not some loser who rode his emotions like a bad fucking carnival ride.

  This past week...shit. Sleep had been non-existent and not because of the dreams, because Ernie, Troy, and now Gramps were in his head every second of the day anyway. Their voices and faces, laughing and mocking him. Their cold, colorless hands reaching out to grab at him around every corner, desperate to dig their haunting fingers into his flesh and not let go.

  He was sliding down that guilt-ridden slope again and this time Jenny rode shotgun.

  A smart man would let her go. A considerate man would put as much space between them as possible.

  But a man as lost as he was? He held on to the lifeline she gave him because without her, he’d drown in a second.

  ***

  They arrived in River Bend just before dark, the hour drive from North Platte feeling like it took days. Brody hadn’t said more than a few sentences and even the coffee he’d been chugging couldn’t mask the exhaustion that had settled into his shoulders.

  When he pulled into her driveway, Jenny gave a mental sigh of relief. Maybe he’d finally sleep tonight. Maybe she would, too.

  “You did good today,” she said softly when he shut down the engine. “I’m proud of you.”

  He pulled the keys from the ignition and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “It’s what I do, Jenn. So many times now, it’s become routine.”

  She didn’t believe that for a second and not just because they’d buried his grandfather this morning. Still, it wasn’t a debate that really mattered, and his body language said he’d clam up completely if she pushed for more intense conversation right now.

  “Let’s go inside.” Touching his forearm across the console, she tried for a reassuring smile. He was a mess, she was a mess, and together it felt like they teetered on the edge of something more precarious than either had the strength to deal with right now. But still...she wouldn’t give up. “I’ll make something quick for dinner and we can climb into bed early. It’s been a long day.”

  He nodded and they both got out, moving slow. He offered his hand as she climbed the front steps after him and something about him standing there at her door in his dress uniform hit her hard. Like a punch directly to her breastbone, taking the air from her lungs.

  “You okay?” He frowned and his hand closed around hers, the rough skin of his thumb smoothing over her knuckles.

  She nodded even as her steps faltered and a sob rose up in her throat. “Yeah. Totally.”

  “Babe...” He came back down, lifting his hands and curling them around her shoulders. But it wasn’t the gentle touch she’d come accustomed to from Brody. There was no tenderness in his eyes. Just...disconnect. Like he was going through the motions, and that scared her more than anything they’d been through this past week. She’d been down this road before. Too many times. She wanted to fight, but there was that fear in the back of her mind that wouldn’t let go...

  “I’m fine. Really. Just...tired.” She squeezed his hand and pasted on a smile.

  Once inside, he excused himself to the bedroom to shed his uniform while she kicked off her heels and pulled leftovers from the fridge. Thank God for emotional eating this past week, because she had a little bit of everything to pick from. Meatloaf, chicken salad, rice, mashed potatoes... By the time Brody returned, wearing a pair of satin basketball shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, she had a plate heaped and ready for him.

  “Jesus, woman. Where did you find all of this?” He took the plate and a seat on the other side of the island, elbows on the counter and ready to dig in.

  “I cook when I’m upset.” She lifted a shoulder and tied her hair up before joining him.

  “It’s been a rough week. I’m sorry I haven’t been great company.” He stirred his food around more than he actually ate, but she was happy with the few bites that made it to his mouth.

  “You really don’t need to apologize. I understand. It was hard when I lost my Gran a few years back. She was like a second parent to me.”

  “It’s more than that, though.”

  “I know.” She pressed her lips together and nodded. “I get that, too.”

  “I’m just...” Brody pushed his plate away and balled his fists on the countertop. “So fucking pissed, you know? I hate how this has all gone down. That there’s not a damn thing I can do to change it.”

  Yep. Got that, too. Life wasn’t fair, but somehow she didn’t think reminding him of that would help. “I’m sorry, baby. I wish there was something I could do...”

  “You’ve done plenty.” He turned his head toward her and, for a second, soft emotion replaced the stormier version of late. She shivered. There’s my man. “But this is going to get worse before it gets better, you know that, right?”

  She set down her fork and took a careful breath. “I had a feeling.”

  “I need you to be ready for that.”

  She nodded and covered one of his hands with hers. “Your girlfriend’s a pretty badass chick, Superman. Maybe you haven’t noticed.”

  His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “I’ve noticed. Believe me.”

  “Good. So you should know I can handle whatever it is you’re holding inside.”

  The thunderous haze in his eyes went ev
en darker and ripples of anticipation fluttered in her belly. “Be careful what you ask for, sugar.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. She was playing with fire, but at least Brody was communicating. “Is that a warning or a promise?”

  “Both.” He voice dropped an octave and his eyes fell to the low neckline of her simple black dress. “You done eating?”

  “I think so. You?”

  He gave his head a brief shake, before pushing the plates off to the other side of the counter. She gasped as the porcelain crashed against the floor and louder again when he hoisted her up in their place.

  “Nope, babe. I haven’t even started yet.” His fingers slid up the outside of her thighs, until he reached the bands of her panties and—snap!—twisted them free.

  “You’re awfully destructive tonight.” She wet her lips and prayed that hungry, wild-eyed look on his face meant what she thought it did.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Hope you’re really as tough as you claim to be.” He dropped to the stool again and—oh, God, yes—positioned himself between her legs. He kissed the inside of one thigh and the delicious scrape of his evening stubble had her hips lifting off the island. “Uh uh, sugar.” One big arm hooked around her leg, he pushed her pelvis back down. “Tonight we play by my rules.”

  His rules? When had he developed rules?

  “Pull the top of your dress down. Bra, too.”

  Um...okay. Like...?

  “Don’t be shy, Jenn.” He looked up at her with a feral, crooked smile. “You know you’re beautiful. You know I love your tits.”

  Ohhhh! His words hit her like he’d leaned in for a lick. Her sex went hot and any second now he’d see the evidence.

  He grinned as she loosened one sleeve and then the other, doing as he’d asked. Or rather...demanded. “Good girl. For that, you’ll be rewarded.” Then he dipped his head and tasted her for real. Slow and deliberately torturous, taking his time sweeping from the bottom of her slit all the way to the top where she wanted him the most. When he finally hit that spot, barely teasing his tongue around her clit, she cried out.