Fiance for Keeps
Page 6
“Let me guess. An abused wife with kids fighting for custody?”
“Close enough. A restraining order. Should be a slam dunk.” He shrugged.
“And when you look at those women, you see me. Don’t you?”
Avoiding the question, he got up and refilled his water and lifted the glass to his mom to see if she’d like one. At her nod, he took his time, getting another glass down, filling it with ice, and then letting the water dispenser fill at a snail’s pace before handing it to his mom. Unable to think of anything else to do, he poked his head in the fridge and dug around for nothing in particular.
“Brody, baby.” His mom reached out and took his hand, holding tight until he shut the fridge and sat down. “What happened to me was never your fault. Your dad . . . He was big and strong and mean as the devil himself. When you were little, I did everything I could to protect you.”
“I know, Mom. I don’t blame you.”
“You should. It was my job to protect you, not the other way around. I should have left. Taken you and disappeared to the other side of the country. But I didn’t. I was too afraid, and you have no idea how many times you protected me during your teen years.”
The old anger flowed through him, as it always did when he thought of the man who fathered him. He’d never blamed his mom for the beatings the old man had dealt out. Even as a kid, he knew there was only one villain and both he and his mom were the victims. Thankfully, by his junior year in high school he’d grown tall enough and filled out enough so that the SOB feared laying a hand on him, and things had settled down for a while. Then, right before spring break, his mom had run late getting dinner on the table and the bastard’s temper had gone off the deep end. Brody hadn’t been home when the first punch flew, but he’d been there for the last.
When the old man collapsed, clutching his chest, both Brody and his mom had looked long and hard at the man who had caused them so much pain and suffering before calling 911.
Neither had shed a tear when the doctor pronounced him dead.
“I couldn’t stop him and neither could you, but the work I do, it gives me a chance to stop other animals like him. Beside, my best girl is ditching me for some chiropractor.” He gave his mom a lopsided smile, knowing it was her weak spot.
His mom pushed away the half-eaten bag of chocolates, rolling her eyes. “Can’t stop with just one. Never buy those for me again. I’ve already devoured the bag Jason brought me Friday. Okay, I get why you’re working again tonight, and I agree it’s important, but tell me one thing: When was the last time you took a full day off?”
Crap, when was it? Last week? No. He ran through his mental calendar, checking off the days. When he finally figured it out, he groaned again, because he knew it would earn him the look. Instead of telling her the exact date, he went with a little white lie.
“A couple of weeks ago. Things have been crazy at the office and Legal Aid is always in need. The holidays bring out the worst in mankind. Tell you what—next Saturday I’ll take the whole day off. I’ll pick you up and we can head up to Boston, hit Little Italy, have lunch, and then stop at that pastry shop you love. What do you say?”
“How can I say no?” She reached over and took his hand. “You know I love spending time with you and being your best girl, but I wouldn’t mind sharing that time and title with someone else. Maybe someday even getting a new title, say like nana.”
“Give Jase and Cherry about a year and I think they’ll bestow that title on you. As for the other, I’m in no hurry.”
His mom eyed the bag of chocolates instead of looking at him. “You know, I ran into Denise a couple of weeks ago. She looks good and she’s still single.”
“Mom . . .”
“What? I’m just saying, maybe you two should give it another try. She made you smile and laugh. I miss hearing you laugh.”
“I laugh all the time.”
“Not like you used to.”
Maybe so, but he doubted dating Denise again would make him laugh. Scowl, yes; hell, even growl, as proved yesterday. “When the time’s right, I’ll find someone. Until then I’ve got work and you to keep me busy and you can get your wedding fix when Dave and Tawny tie the knot in a couple of months. What time is this Dr. Love picking you up?”
“Brody Andrew, really. First, give me credit for having some common sense. I’m meeting him at Jorge’s Cocina at six. Second, his name is Dr. Stewart and he’s a nice man with a good chiropractic business.”
“I thought you were going to Newport?”
“Change of plans. The restaurant was booked.”
“If he offers to adjust anything, you tell George and he’ll kick him out of the restaurant. Actually, I think I’ll give Tawny’s brother a call and have him keep an eye out for you.”
She swatted his leg, laughed, and got up to put his glass in the sink. “You will not. I’ll be fine, baby.”
Brody kicked back farther in his chair, crossing his ankles. “How do you know? You’ve only known what he’s like in a group setting and it isn’t like you have a ton of dating experience. He could be a serial killer.”
It wasn’t that Brody was trying to be an ass or bring his mom down. He honestly wanted to know how she knew she could trust her instincts after her husband. There was no way she knew the old man was a sadistic bastard before they got married, and since he kicked the bucket, Brody hadn’t known his mom to go out with anyone. While he contemplated how to keep her safe and happy, his mom cleaned up the few dishes in the sink. When she turned back around, he saw determination in her eyes and knew she’d be okay.
“You have the uncanny ability to look at a person’s face and know instantly if someone is lying to you. You’ve always had it. You catch their eyes shifting, or spot some minuscule tic in their jaw or a change in their tone or something. Maybe you learned it at a young age from all the lies your father told. For me, though, all I can go on is how I feel inside.”
He sat up. “Do you want me to be your wingman, Mom?”
“Goodness no.” She laughed and looked horrified at the same time. “What I’m getting at is, you aren’t the only one with a working BS meter. When I talk to Kevin I’m happy and light and kind of giddy from the possibilities of what could be with him. I’ve talked to a few others from dating sites where I didn’t have that feeling.”
His head jerked up. “You’ve been on dating sites? Never mind, I don’t think I can take hearing about those men. Tell me something else, Mom, and then I’ll drop it and get out of your hair. Aren’t you afraid you could be wrong, that he could be like Dad? Nice up until you’re tied to him?”
There was more to it than his questioning his mom’s judgment. She wasn’t the only one who’d thought the person they’d chosen to spend their life with was one way, only to find out they were complete strangers. In the last couple of months, ever since they’d hooked up at Jason’s wedding, Brody had questioned his decision not to go after Denise, both after she’d called off their wedding and when it was obvious she wasn’t going to call him after their weekend fling.
His mom came and sat back down, taking his big hands in her small, soft ones. She waited until she had his full attention. “No, I’m not. I don’t think karma’s that much of a witch, and should he turn out that way, I’ll kick his butt to the curb.”
She squeezed his hands, then let them go as she studied him for a few seconds, making him squirm like he had when he was a kid. “You didn’t make a mistake with Denise, Brody. That girl loved you with her whole heart and you returned her love in equal measure. I love you, but I’m not so blinded by motherly pride that I can’t admit you’re not perfect. You work too much. You’re driven to succeed. You’ve got a savior complex and boy, do you know how to hold a grudge.”
“Thanks, Mom. Always good to know my strong points.”
“Hmm. You’ve got a lot of wonderful qualities too, but you don’t need me to stroke your ego. My job is to keep your feet on the ground. You and Denise were you
ng, and she’s just as much of a workaholic with a goal to achieve as you. Have you ever considered that the timing wasn’t right five years ago? You two had so much ahead of you, both fresh in your careers. Things are different now. She’s done with her residency. You’ve got your firm established. Maybe it’s time.”
“I’ll give your sage words of advice some thought.” He stood and pulled his mom into a quick hug. “Call me if you need me tonight.”
Chapter Five
Flu season: every health-care worker’s worst nightmare.
Denise left the exam room and headed straight for the locker room to change into fresh scrubs. It would make her third set of the day. She desperately wanted—and needed—to go home and soak in a long, hot bubble bath. But that luxury would have to wait as she had another hour left on her shift.
Jenna snagged her as she came out of an exam room. “Looks like we’ve got another one.” She handed the chart to Denise and promised she’d be back in a minute.
The entire ER department had been hopping all day long, trying to keep up with the patient load and the cleanup. Not an easy feat with five—oops, make that six people with the stomach flu. She held tight at the door as her latest patient confirmed Jenna’s diagnosis and let the nurse assistant take care of the man. The assistant scooted past her and mumbled something about lucky doctors.
Ah, yes, the glamorous life. Every day up to their elbows in stuff that made most people turn their heads. Balancing life or death, dealing with distraught family members, and digging through bureaucratic red tape. She wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Or would she? Lately the satisfaction and thrill she’d once found in her job had been missing.
An hour later, as she handed in her last patient’s paperwork, one of her fellow doctors hailed her from down the hall. He passed off instructions to a nurse and jogged down to meet her.
“Hey, need a huge favor. Please say yes,” Dean Webster said.
Denise smiled and leaned back against the wall. “How about maybe until you tell me what you want?”
“Oh, yeah, right. The wife is really giving me a hard time about working tonight and I was hoping you’d want some overtime and could cover the rest of my shift. Just until nine.”
It didn’t surprise her that Ashley Webster wanted her husband home and Denise didn’t blame her one bit. At eight months pregnant and with a toddler running around, who could fault her for wanting her spouse home? Denise could do it, put in another five hours. It wouldn’t kill her and it would mean the world to Ashley, who probably just wanted to put her feet up and relax for ten minutes.
“Please?” Dean held his hands up, pressed together, and gave her big, sad, innocent eyes.
Her phone pinged and she held up her finger to tell him to wait while she checked the message. Brody
Meet me at the Piazza at 7. Need to talk.
She met Dean’s gaze, guilt tugging as he pleaded with her to say yes. Normally, it would have worked. She hated to disappoint him, but she had a date.
A real date.
Not an online chat. Not stale coffee in the hospital cafeteria. Not some guy making weird eyes at her while smiling nonstop from across the room (creepy!). Not a weekend hookup, amazing though it had been. An honest-to-God real date with a hot meal—and guy—and face-to-face conversation.
Well, sort of. Hey, it was V Day and seven p.m. meant dinner and she’d take it. Besides, she was tired of being the dateless loser at work and seeing the pity in her coworkers’ eyes.
“As much as I’d like to help out a pal, I can’t tonight. I’ve got plans.”
“What, dinner with the girls?”
“A date, with a living, breathing male who happens to think I’m smokin’ hawt.”
Okay, so she knew tonight had more to do with business than pleasure, but once upon a time, Brody had thought she was cute and sexy, and maybe he still did. The point was, it was Valentine’s Day, and everyone else had someone to go home to or to get flowers from. They didn’t all work every holiday voluntarily. Maybe if she put it out there that she was alive and dating, the universe would throw her a bone—other than the show—and she’d find a great guy.
Jenna joined in the conversation, a smirk on her face. “Going out with Brody?”
“Nope.” Liar, liar—she’d need to carry a fire extinguisher at this rate.
“Really? Dean, go ask Shad.” Her friend hip bumped Dean out of the way and turned back to Denise. “What about you-know-what?”
“Haven’t heard yet if it’s still on or not, but can’t a girl have some fun in the meantime?”
Denise and Jenna high-fived as she turned and left most of the staff with their mouths hanging open.
Three hours later, Denise was still shaking her head in wonder. Never had she turned down any coworker’s request to stay late or switch shifts. She’d always put her wants and needs second to the job and wow, did it feel great to put herself first for a change. No need to rush from work to her date with barely a moment to put on clean clothes, much less have time to do her hair and makeup. As she passed by the restaurants, she caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the windows.
Dang, she looked good.
She’d bypassed a dress (February in New England—no thanks) and went for skinny black jeans and an oversize sweater that slipped off one shoulder, with her black jacket and heeled ankle boots. Very chic. Very French. A look that said this might be Valentine’s Day, the supposedly most romantic day of the year, but this was business and you’re not getting lucky.
At five before seven, Denise stood in the center of the Piazza di Amore, the Plaza of Love, next to the fountain, and looked around for Brody. During the summer huge urns filled with flowers scented the air with their sweetness, while music played from the speakers and locals and tourists packed every chair. Not so much today. The restaurants along Atwells Avenue and bordering the square were hopping, but the Plaza was still on the too chilly side for hanging out.
Couples bustled by, huddled together as she stood waiting. After about ten minutes, she pulled her cell out and sent him a quick message. He had five minutes to get there or she was leaving. She’d probably be a Popsicle in three.
To pass the time, she dug a penny out of her purse and faced the fountain. She and Jenna never failed to cast a wish when they passed by the square, and she was determined that one day, one of those dreams would come true. With her teeth chattering, she tossed the penny in and heard her phone ping.
You look beautiful.
She turned in a circle until she saw him at the far end of the square, walking toward her. He wore a dark suit with a pale pink shirt underneath and walked with the grace and determination of a panther on the prowl.
“What did you wish for?” His voice was hushed and dark, sliding over her, igniting all her nerves on fire.
“Not to freeze to death tonight.”
His eyes lit up and his gaze dropped to her chest as a smile spread across his face.
“Did you hear from the show? You could have texted me their answer.” She ran her hands up and down her arms, trying to get warm.
“My plans for tonight changed and I thought, why waste a good reservation? We can talk over dinner.”
He offered her his arm. Before she took it, she had to know something. “Who were you originally planning on dining with tonight?”
“What does it matter? You aren’t afraid to have dinner with me, are you, Denise?” Again he asked in that low, dark, smooth tone of his. There was no way she could walk away from the challenge and he knew it.
“Of course not.” She slid her arm through his. “Like you said, why waste a reservation?”
Costantino’s Venda Ravioli was slammed, as always, but they were seated without a wait and with a view of the Plaza and the fountain in the middle. As the heat from the restaurant warmed her, she thought at least one wish finally had come true. The hostess handed them menus and they passed the time until their waiter showed up pretending to s
tudy the selections. Both agreed on bruschetta to start, followed by ravioli all aragosta, lobster ravioli. Brody ordered a bottle of Chianti, knowing it was her favorite. The guy had the memory of an elephant.
“How’s your mom?” Denise asked. She had fond memories of Dena Nichols, who would have made the perfect mother-in-law. The two of them had gotten along from the start and unlike her own mom, Dena never fussed over her.
“On a date.”
Now that got Denise’s attention. “What? Really? Wow, that’s great. Right?”
“Great.” He practically growled the word.
“Why are you growling? Don’t you like the man?” She propped up her chin in her hand, totally fascinated by Brody’s response.
“Haven’t met him.”
The waiter arrived with their wine and appetizer and Denise took the opportunity to study Brody. He had fine lines next to his beautiful brown eyes. Absently, he rubbed at the back of his neck while scanning the Plaza. What was he looking for? Had the man completely forgotten how to relax?
Finally, the waiter left and Denise figured it out, what was really bugging Brody. “Ah, I get it now. You’re mad because you didn’t get a chance to interrogate him first. Don’t deny it.” She took a sip of her wine and pointed a finger at him. “Do you remember that guy who asked your mom out when we were in collage? He delivered bread or something to the store she worked at.”
“No.”
She laughed and shook her head at him. “Sure you do. You called his employer, pretending to do a background check on him for a rental property.”
He popped one of the crusty bits of bread in his mouth and smiled. “I was looking out for her. She’s too soft, only sees the good in people and not who they really are.”
“You almost got him fired. He owned his home and his boss thought you were trying to get info on him to sue him. Your mom was beyond mad for weeks. Has she even tried to date after that?”