His Redemption

by A. F. Crowell

  Unable to censor myself, I burst out laughing with a ridiculous snort right in front of the hostess and three couples waiting to be seated. With wide eyes, I slapped my hand across my mouth in horror. “Sorry.”

  Brody approached the desk and all three of the bubbly hostesses damn near dropped their panties along with their jaws. “Good evening, we have a table for three reserved. Under the name Davis.” He watched on as they finally snapped out of their lust-filled daze.

  With a Colgate smile, the beautiful blonde spoke up first. “Oh, yes, of course. Give me one minute, let me see if your table is ready.”

  Brody turned back around and strode up to us. “It’ll be a minute. Would either of you care for a drink from the bar?”

  Jane smiled and politely declined. I, however, needed a good stiff drink.

  “I’d love a Belvedere martini.” I knew better than to offer to pay for my drink. Brody Davis seemed like the kind of man that would be offended if I did. I stood with Aunt Jane and watched as he walked to the bar.

  For the record, the guy has a really great ass.

  The walk back from the bar wasn’t too shabby either. I soaked up all the sexiness that was him. The dark hair, styled for work, carefully combed back but begging to have hands run through it, messing it up. He was blessed with the body of an Adonis. I would bet all of my Louis Vuitton luggage that under that handcrafted Italian suit he was all Marky Mark in the Calvin Klein underwear ad. Blue eyes that could bore a hole deep enough to hit oil and lips that begged to be bitten. Often.

  He was every woman’s fantasy and every man’s idol. He had the looks, money, charm and, apparently, a sense of humor. Oh, and had I mentioned you could probably fit quarters in the dimples in his cheeks? Unbelievable hot. Prince-like manners and etiquette that were endearing and refreshing. The men that I had encountered, including my friend Jeff, were nice enough but they lacked Brody’s je ne sais quoi.

  “Your martini.” As he handed me the stemmed glasses I took notice of his matching cocktail.

  “So you’re a martini man?” Before he could answer I took a sip of the crystal-clear liquid. The smooth, dry drink tempted and tantalized my taste buds, reminding me of my first martini. That was a story for another time.

  “Sometimes. Depends on the company and the mood.” His words were seductive and alluring. It made me want to know more.

  “And what is it you typically drink? Because I’m willing to bet it’s not a martini. You don’t seem a James Bond type to me.”

  He grinned and I almost pissed myself. Damn those dimples straight to hell. This man was tempting and my thirst had not been quenched in several weeks. As I practically drooled over this guy my good sense came back. My aunt was standing less than two feet away and we were in a crowded restaurant.

  “Scotch, beer, wine… Whatever the situation calls for.” Then quietly and confidently he added, “I have many tastes.”

  Holy. Shit. I think my panties just went up in flames.

  “Yes, one of which makes you ill-mannered and most apologetic the next day.” Aunt Jane sounded like she was alluding to prior bad acts.

  “Sir, your table is ready,” the blonde hostess called to us as she waved.

  Brody ushered us forward, following the young lady toward the back, which was actually the front of the restaurant. Coming in the back really messed me up; not that I had great skills when it came to directions anyway.

  Brody took the opportunity to order a tomato, roasted corn, and boiled peanut salad as well as steak tartare for appetizers. He assured me that the salad was quite scrumptious, despite it having boiled peanuts. Eww. Boiled peanuts sounded disgusting, but I would politely try them. As a child, I had an intense dreaded relationship with food. My mother always told me I had to try it anyway. She drilled that into my psyche as a child. On many occasions, it’s served me well.

  While we looked over the menu, Jane and Brody spoke about his daughter, Lillian, about whom I knew a little from my phone conversations with my aunt. She beamed joy when he told her that the baby would be staying with them for the weekend. In that moment I wondered why she never had children of her own. She obviously adored them.

  “Your appetizers,” the waitress said as she placed the plates of food in the middle of the round, rustic wooden table. In unison, we all thanked her.

  “Would you care to try some of the salad?” Brody asked as he doled some onto Aunt Jane’s plate. Just as I was about to speak a red bean-looking thing fell off his fork onto the table and rolled my way.

  “Uh, sure,” I said a little too enthusiastically trying to cover up the fact that I was totally grossed out. Handing my plate over, Brody added a small amount of greens, corn, tomatoes and boiled peanuts. Aunt Jane also took the opportunity to put a small piece of the steak tartare on my plate. Of course, I tasted that first. Trying to work up the nerve to taste the strange salad combination, I looked over at my aunt and Brody, who were quietly eating their appetizers.

  “You look really unsure about that salad, Em. You know this isn’t your mother’s house. You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to.” My aunt smiled as she spoke.

  “No, I do want to try it. I’m just trying to figure out what I think it will taste like before I eat it. I want to see if I’m close,” I lied through my teeth and then shoved a bite past my lips. Much to my surprise, it was delightful. The combination of flavors worked with the greens and dressing. “Hmm, not bad. Not exactly what I expected, but it isn’t horrible. The peanuts are really squishy.”

  “You’ve never had boiled peanuts, have you?” Brody asked as he finished the last bit of his salad.

  “Definitely not.” Lifting the martini glass, I took the last sip and sat the glass on the edge of the table.

  The rest of dinner was just as interesting. I ordered the fried shrimp while Aunt Jane ordered the braised short rib and Brody ordered the shrimp and grits. Once the waitress placed the food in front of us, my curiosity was sated. He was really eating seafood with breakfast porridge.

  He must have seen my nose crinkle. “What was that face?”

  Flattening my brow and regaining my composure, I smiled. “What face?”

  Aunt Jane snickered.

  “That face you just made. You turned up your nose like you just smelled sour milk,” he said as he grinned.

  “I did not,” embarrassed, I blurted too loud. Taking a deep breath, I felt the heat creep into my cheeks as a slow smile spread over my face. Jesus, this man unsettles me at every turn. If I had a mirror, I would have seen my cheeks had turned a rather unsightly hue of crimson. Since I was a child, whenever I was embarrassed or lying, my face would sell me out. My reddened mask gave me up on Senior Hook Day and then again when I lied to my parents and told them I was staying at my best friend Veronica’s house one Friday night.

  Brody quietly chuckled while I turned my attention to my dinner. Taking a small bite into the golden fried shrimp, I thought I had just died and found seafood heaven. “Mmmm, oh God, this is amazing.”

  Brody looked from me to Aunt Jane. “How is yours?”

  “Perfect as always. I don’t think I have ever had a bad meal here.” She sliced another small morsel off the rib, slipped it into her mouth as her eyes rolled back in delight.

  Looking back over at his weird concoction of food, I decided to do the polite thing. “What about yours Brody? Does it taste good?” I was able to keep a straight face this time.

  “Why, yes Emmery. It’s delicious. Would you care to try a taste so you can agree?” He cocked his head with an arrogant smile, offering me his fork.

  Damn you, Mom.

  “I’d love to,” I said. Looking at the fork that he’d had in that wicked mouth, I opted to use my own and dipped it into the gritty porridge that was topped with gravy and shrimp. As I brought the fork back with a tad of the three ingredients, I prayed to the heavens above to help me from gagging.

  Shrimp, gravy and grits. Who the hell eats this shit all together? Wh
at drunk redneck thought, “I know, let’s throw last night’s shrimp on top of this morning’s grits and then top that steaming pile of nastiness off with some Thanksgiving gravy”?

  As the steel prongs left my lips and the flavors swirled on my palate, something strange happened.

  I liked it.

  And I don’t mean I thought it was okay and could have forced it down should I have needed to. No, I mean I loved it. Licking my lips, I looked down at my plate then over to his. “Not bad.”

  I seriously contemplated asking him to switch dishes with me, but in order to do that I would have to admit he was right. And that was not happening. I sensed Brody was a little too confident and I was not the person to stroke his tiger-sized ego. Been there, done that and not going back. While Brody was pretty to look at, the only thing I had an inclination for was a quick roll in the hay with Jeff.

  Dinner continued with an easy conversation and concluded with all of us passing on dessert. When the check came, I quickly snatched it off the table in record speed. I’m not sure he even had time to blink. My AmEx card was already in the folder and back in the waitress’s hands before he could even begin to protest. But protest did he ever.

  “No, you are not buying dinner, Emmery. Miss, excuse me.” He tried to stop the waitress. Little did he know that when I went to the ladies’ room earlier I passed by the computer where she was entering another table’s order and asked her to only give me the check. I warned he might be a little disgruntled. She smiled and obliged with a simple nod.

  “Brody, the least I could do is buy you guys dinner. After all, you are allowing me to stay here in your house.”

  “Exactly the point. You are our guest.” His voice was stern and his eyes shone a different shade of blue. It was darker than the sapphire jewels that twinkled earlier.

  Aunt Jane chimed in. “Children, this is absurd. Why does it matter who pays for dinner? Brody, you can pay next time.”

  “Exactly, Brody. You can pay next time,” I said mockingly, grinning ear to ear. He cut his eyes to me and I swear I think I heard him growl.

  “Fine,” he grumbled. Just as Aunt Jane started talking about what to do the next day he pulled his cell from the inside breast pocket of his suit and swiped the screen. “Please excuse me. I need to make a call.”

  “So, what if we just hang out at the house in the morning and then go into downtown Charleston around lunchtime? I could take you around the Battery and Open Market. There are tons of shops and beautiful homes. We could walk around if it’s nice,” she said as she lifted her wine glass from the table, taking another small sip.

  “That sounds great. We could have lunch before we get started and then just explore the city. I’m in no rush and have nowhere to be. I’m completely at your disposal.”

  “We will make a day out of it.”

  Chapter Five

  ~Brody~

  Tonight’s dinner was enlightening. Emmery was nothing like I thought she would be. Sure, she was beautiful, but she was also smart. She was also highly exasperating and a smartass. I was still reeling from the fact that she paid for dinner. It’s not the first time a woman has offered to pay for dinner. But usually the minute I insisted I pay, they conceded. Not this woman—she never batted an eye or wavered.

  As I paced the deck on the back of the Fat Hen, my call finally connected. “Lei, you texted me about Lilly. Is tomorrow still good for me to pick her up?”

  The angelic voice on the other end of the call said, “Yeah, Jax has to go out of town for a case and his parents are leaving first thing in the morning. I’ll have a chance to clean the house and sleep for a few hours. Maybe I’ll bring her over there myself and Ruger can tag along to get a little run in before I leave. If that’s okay?”

  “You never have to ask. You know my door is always open. Why don’t you stay with us? I’m still not completely comfortable with you in that house all alone.” My mind wandered back to nine months prior when she was attacked in that very home.

  “I’ll be fine. I have a security system, Ruger and a nine millimeter that is in my bedside table,” she sighed, sounding annoyed. Every time Jaxon had to leave for a case, I offered for her to stay. She had only ever taken me up on the offer twice and the last time was six months ago.

  “Why don’t you talk it over with Jaxon. I’m sure he would feel better knowing that his pregnant wife was safe and sound with family than all alone in a house that she was previously attacked in.”

  “Really, Brody? You’re gonna go there?” She sounded pissed. “I told you to stop throwing that in our face. It was not Jax’s fault.”

  “Stop. That’s not what I meant. We have all come a long way from a year ago. Just talk with him. He may feel differently now that you are carrying his child,” I said, trying my best to mitigate the anger I had just roused in her.

  “Sorry, I’m a little touchy I guess. Hormones. Anyway…” Her voice lulled as she sighed. “I’ll talk to Jax in a little and see what he thinks.”

  “It was my fault; no apology needed. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Okay, bye, Brody.”

  “Bye, Leila.” Hanging up the phone, I turned to walk back inside but Jane and Emmery were exiting the restaurant. “Sorry for the interruption. I wanted to get plans nailed down with Leila for this weekend.”

  “Does this mean we will be able to keep Lillian for the night?” Jane asked as her eyes lit up.

  “Yes, we will definitely have her. I’m just trying to convince Lei to come stay with us.” Jane gave me a sad look. “Now I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that. Jaxon is traveling this weekend for work and I just thought it would be safer for her to not be alone.”

  “Brody,” she spoke in hushed tones. “She is a married woman now. I’m sure that if it were unsafe, Jaxon wouldn’t leave her.”

  Instead of arguing I decided to let it go and just head home. “I’ll see you both back at the house.”

  Checking my watch as I walked back to my car, I noted it was just after eight p.m. It was still early enough I might be able to catch up with Damon for a drink or two. Once in the car, I pulled out my cell phone and shot him a text.

  Me: Need a drink, you up for it?

  Damon: yeah, where you wanna meet?

  Me: Mynt?

  Damon: Cool, how soon? I’m a little busy right this second

  Laughing, I realized what he meant. He was hooking up with someone. I decide to fuck with him.

  Me: Make sure you warn her you’re a womanizing prick. See ya in an hour.

  Driving back to the house, I couldn’t help think about Emmery and her smart mouth. Given the chance, my guess, she’d infuriate me and astound me at every turn. She came from money, but didn’t behave ostentatiously. Many women with her background would have made a big spectacle of getting ready and wearing something that screamed, Look at me, I’m rich. But she was dressed appropriately, looked classy and sophisticated. She seemed comfortable without designer shoes or two-thousand-dollar handbags. Seeing her get out of Jane’s car today, dressed in boots, jeans and a t-shirt, she was gorgeous. She had an air about her. I couldn’t put it into words, but there was something so familiar there.

  Arriving home, I noticed Jane’s lights on in the carriage house as I pulled into the garage. I could have sworn she was going to stay in the big house while her niece was visiting. After parking the car and closing the garage door, I headed inside and heard nothing. Not even the television. I hated coming home to empty house. The nights when I arrived home knowing Lillian was already here with Jane were the best nights of the week.

  Not wasting any more time, I headed up the stairs to my bedroom. I wanted to get out of the suit and throw on a pair of jeans and a fresh shirt. As I got to the top of the stairs, I saw the light on in the room I had set up for Leila all those months ago when she moved back in during her difficult pregnancy. Stalking toward the door, I wasn’t sure what I would find. I pushed the door open to find Emmery looking at the fr
amed picture of Leila and me with Lillian from her first Halloween. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Jesus Christ,” Emmery hollered as she spun on her heeled boots. “You scared the fucking shit out of me. What the hell, man?”

  “You shouldn’t be in here. This is not your room. Please put the picture back and get out,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Geez Pete, I didn’t think it was that big a deal. I was just admiring the decorating. All of the other rooms are tastefully decorated and I just wondered what this bedroom looked like,” she cut her eyes in my direction as she placed the framed photograph back on the dresser next to the framed ultrasound from Leila’s pregnancy with Lillian.

  “Well, it is a big deal. This is Leila’s room for when she comes to stay.”

  “Okay.” Her petite mouth made a perfect O and her eyebrows reached her hairline. “I’ll leave your little shrine alone. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  The heels of her leather boots clicked across the hardwood floors as she exited the room. Her comment about it being a shrine hit me square between the eyes and froze my feet to the floor. It took a minute for me to process what she said and the meaning.

  “It’s not a shrine,” I said sternly, bringing her momentum to a halt.

  She turned and gave me this look full of skepticism. “Okay, it’s not a shrine. It’s just a room that only your ex-wife—”

  “Girlfriend,” I interjected.

  “Whatever,” she said rolling her eyes. “Your ex, who happens to be the mother of your child, is only allowed to go in. It’s obvious that you are still in love with her and are holding out hope that she’s going to return to you.”

  “You have no idea what you are speaking about. And I would appreciate it if you would keep your crackpot theories to yourself. I’m not hung up on Leila.”

  “Okay, Brody,” she said as she turned and started back toward the door to the hallway.

  For reasons I didn’t understand, I felt the need to explain. “I keep the room like this because Jaxon travels a lot and he has plenty of enemies. I don’t like the idea of her staying by herself with my child. It’s strictly for safety concerns.”