by Laura Ann
Brody pushed up from the frame and sauntered in her direction. Letting his arms fall to his sides, he leaned toward her as he moved in. “I make you feel out of control, huh?”
Tia gulped and her pulse suddenly picked up. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she defended. I meant it exactly like that.
Brody stopped just inches from her. “I see.”
Tia was mesmerized by the silver color of his eyes and she couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her when those orbs darted down to her lips.
“Pity.” Bringing his eyes back up, he walked around her and went to the sink before starting to wash his hands.
It took Tia a few heartbeats before she felt like she could move. Blinking rapidly, she did her best to regain her equilibrium. What the heck was that?
“Ready?” Brody rumbled from behind her.
Spinning, she glared at him to hide her reaction. “Ready for what?”
Brody raised his eyebrows and amusement danced in his eyes. “To make dinner?”
“What?”
“Dinner? Ready to make dinner?” Brody waved his arms around the space. He was so large his arm span covered nearly the whole kitchen.
Tia’s eyebrows scrunched and she puckered her lips. “You want to help cook dinner? I thought the deal was I had to cook for you?”
Brody shrugged. “I’m good at following directions.”
Tia narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, before mimicking Brody’s shrug. “Alrighty, then. Why don’t you grab a knife and start chopping the carrots?”
“Got it. Knife, carrots, chop.” With a firm nod, Brody looked around and grabbed what he needed.
Tia kept a close eye on him, cringing when he began massacring the poor, orange vegetable. “Stop!” She cried when she could take it no more. “You’re doing it all wrong.”
Brody raised his brows and looked down at the carrots. “I took them from large pieces to small pieces. Isn’t that chopping?” He eyed her sideways.
“Only if you want bruised and battered food.” Tia rolled her eyes and walked over where he was standing. Planting one hand on her hip, she held her other hand out.
Without a word, Brody popped the knife in her hand. “Teach away, Yoda.”
“Killing the carrots, you are,” Tia scolded as she scooted into his spot.
As he stepped out of the way, Brody chuckled and settled in to watch.
“Okay, first of all, you’re going to take your finger off if you don’t curve your fingers like this.” She demonstrated how to hold her non-chopping hand. “And you should grasp the knife like this, then when you chop you have greater control.”
“Right ... control.” Brody teased.
Tia shot him a glare before continuing. “Leave the tip down and only pick up the back, like this.” She continued chopping, making her way quickly through the carrots.
Suddenly a heated presence closed in on her back; causing Tia to freeze. “You’re doing my job,” Brody’s deep voice tickled her ear.
A shudder ran through her body and Tia nearly gave in to the impulse to lean into the strong chest behind her. “Fine.” Dropping the knife she darted to the side, breathing better once she was out of the reach of his magnetism.
Without a word, Brody picked up the knife and began chopping the carrots the way she had shown him, albeit a bit slower than her practiced movements.
Taking a deep breath, Tia focused her thoughts and went back to getting the rest of dinner ready.
Forty-five minutes later she set the last dish down on the little bistro table in the corner of her kitchen before settling into a chair.
Brody leaned over the table, the tiny chair squeaking underneath him, and took a deep sniff of the table. “That smells better than anything made at the cafeteria.”
Tia snorted. “It better. I haven’t worked as hard as I have to let my food taste like something from a school cafeteria.”
Brody went to grab one of the dishes of food when Tia reached out and slapped his hand. “Hey!” He scowled at her.
“We haven’t said grace yet.”
Brody quieted but glared at her while he rubbed his hand.
Trying to hold in a laugh, Tia said a quick prayer, then pronounced ‘amen’. “Now you may eat.”
“About time,” he muttered.
Tia rolled her eyes before joining him.
CHAPTER 7
Brody leaned back in his seat and slapped his hand on his belly. “A man could get used to meals like this.”
Tia felt heat rise through her cheeks before she stood up from the table and began clearing away the dishes.
“Here,” Brody’s voice was soft and closer than she expected since she hadn’t heard him rise from his chair. “Let me help with that.”
Tia backed away from where she had been working, making sure she didn’t touch the giant man behind her. “You also helped with dinner, so I don’t see why you should have to do the dishes.”
Brody snorted. “You mean by killing the carrots?” He raised his brows and pursed his lips at her as if daring her to admit his botched work.
Tia bit her lip, but a giggle escaped anyway. “Well, as long as you don’t break any dishes, I guess we’ll be good.” She raised an eyebrow at him.
Brody looked down at his large hands, turning them over from front to back and front again. He glanced up at her and scrunched up one side of his mouth. “They aren’t the most coordinated hands.”
Tia found herself admiring his hands. No, he was right, they didn’t look smooth and elegant, but they did look strong and capable. Who knew hands were attractive? Looking up to meet his gaze, she found herself once again mesmerized by the color. “Well, they look strong enough. See what you can do, cave boy.”
“Not a boy,” Brody muttered under his breath as he began cleaning off the table.
Unable to let him do it all, Tia worked to put away the food while Brody loaded the dishwasher.
Closing the fridge, Tia turned to see Brody wiping his hands on a dishtowel. “Well, thanks for your help.” She gripped her fingers together, feeling awkward now that everything was done.
Brody nodded, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Running his hand through his long hair, he cleared his throat. “Well, thanks for the meal. Guess I’ll get going.”
The tension in the air made Tia nervous and she made sure to keep her distance from the masculine body in the house with her. “Right,” she responded then spun on her heel to proceed him as they walked to the front door.
Opening the door she gave him a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”
Brody quirked a half smile. “You mean thanks for forcing myself into your home?”
Tia bit her lip. “Yeah ... that.” It wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be. She thought, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him.
“Night,” Brody’s gravelly voice was soft as he walked out the door to his beat-up car.
“Night,” Tia responded just as softly. She watched him climb in his vehicle and drive away, He’s not what I expected at all. Shaking her head, she let a smile cross her face as she closed the door and headed to her room to get ready for bed.
CHAPTER 8
Brody chuckled as he thought of the night at Tia’s a week ago. Quickly and efficiently he swept the mop around the bathroom floor, his mind wandering to more enjoyable matters as he did his job.
Not only was the meal one of the best I’ve ever had, but so was the company. Having quickly learned that Tia was all bark and no bite, he found his desire to rile and fluster her grew with every turn. He loved when she fisted her hands on her hips and tried to stare him down. Having at least six inches on the beautiful woman meant her intimidation tactics didn’t work well, but he loved that she tried.
Meanwhile, he had been trying to think of what he could ask for, for his third favor. Something that would force her to spend time with me. He dunked his mop and shifted back a few steps, continuing toward the door as he slowly backed o
ut of the bathroom; the mop swinging in front of him.
“Maybe I’ll have to ask Hank for some advice.” He snorted at the thought. “In all his lady-killing glory.” Another chuckle rumbled through his chest and throat as his decision was made. Stuffing the mop back in the wheeled container, he edged out of the bathroom and pushed it down the hall to his next destination with a cheery tune on his lips and a spring in his step.
A few hours later Brody burst through Hank’s door. “Can I still kiss the cook?” He shouted as he entered without knocking. Ah ... the perks of being lifelong friends.
“Really?” Hank’s voice carried from the back of the house. “I thought the fat lip I gave you last time would have taught you the answer to that question.” Hank poked his head around the corner and grinned at Brody. “Unless you were referring to a different cook? Say a beautiful home ec teacher?” He waggled his eyebrows.
Brody scowled as he walked towards his friend. “Lucky shot,” he muttered darkly.
“Skills my large friend, skills,” Hank corrected with a cocky grin. “And you,” he pointed his finger at Brody as he walked into the kitchen, “are avoiding the question. Have you kissed the beautiful teacher yet?”
Brody plopped himself at a barstool. “Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ in his answer. “I’ve been taking things slow.”
Hank’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. “You’ve been taking things slow? The great Brody Gruffman, winner and crusher of women’s hearts everywhere, is taking things slow?”
Brody glared. “I’m not that man anymore,” he said with gritted teeth.
Hank’s amusement softened. “I know,” he said to the man who was more like a brother than a friend. “And you still have never told me what happened.”
Brody cleared his throat and tugged his beard. “I already told you it wasn’t worth talking about.”
Taking a couple of steps across the kitchen, Hank reached over the counter and gave a good pull on Brody’s beard.
“Ow! What the he—” Brody started to yell.
“And that beard, which nearly reaches your navel isn’t worth talking about either. Or the dead animal that sits on top of your head.”
“My navel? Really?” Brody ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the long, stringy ends.
“Would you rather I said your beer gut?”
“I don’t have a beer gut!” Brody yelled, then looked down. “Don’t even drink beer,” he muttered, glaring up at Hank from beneath his dark brows.
Hank smirked and turned back to what was boiling on the stove. “So did you just come to yell and glare at me? Or did you come over because I cook better than your little cheffy-poo?”
“Frankly, at this point, I’m not sure why I ever come over here at all,” Brody said with a dead-pan expression.
“Me either!” Hank said cheerfully as he stirred the spaghetti sauce.
Brody rolled his eyes. “I came to ask advice.”
“Ah!” Hank set down the spoon he was stirring with. “You have come to the right place.” He shined his nails on his shirt. “I’m full of good advice.”
“Yeah, that and—”
“My home, my rules!” Hank raised a finger at Brody.
Brody rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway,” he cleared his throat. “I’m trying to figure out what to ask for favor number three.”
Hank crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter. “Hmmm ... that’s a good one. More food?”
Brody shook his head. “Nah ... I want to find a way to spend time with her.” He regretted the words as soon as he said them; recognizing the look in Hank’s eyes.
“Spend time with her? Am I witnessing the fall of the great Brody Gruffman?”
Brody picked at the table and shrugged his shoulders, knowing he couldn’t lie. Hank could read him too well. Definitely NOT one of the perks of having known someone your whole life.
“I don’t know ... maybe. Right now we kinda have a like/hate relationship, so ... “
“Sometimes she likes you, sometimes she hates you?” Hank made a face.
“Uh, no. I like her, she hates me.” Brody grinned.
Hank laughed. “Well, that does make it tough.”
“I don’t mind riling her up.” Brody’s grin turned mischievous. “In fact, I kinda enjoy it, but I’m starting to want her to kinda like me too.”
“You like to make her angry, but you want her to like you?” Hank shook his head, his eyebrows high. “You really do need help, my friend.”
“I know how to charm a woman, what I’m loo—” Brody’s voice had turned into a growl; his annoyance coming through.
Hank held up his hand and stopped the upcoming tirade. “She’s attractive when she’s worked up. Got it. You want to spend time with her. Got it. You don’t know how to do it. Got it.”
Brody let his head fall forward and bang onto the countertop. “I hate you.”
Hank snorted. “Yeah. Heard that one before.”
Brody tilted his head up and narrowed his eyes. “This time I mean it.”
“Uh, huh. Yep, heard that one before too.”
Brody slammed his hands on the counter. “I give up!” He started to rise from his chair.
Hank threw back his head and laughed. “Sit down, sit down. We can eat dinner and figure something out.” He was still chuckling as he turned around and took care of the spaghetti on the stove.
“Jerk,” Brody muttered as he settled back into the chair. “Just for that, I’m going to let you do the dishes too.”
Hank glared over his shoulder. “When have you ever done dishes anyway?”
“I’ll have you know I did dishes for Tia last week.”
“Are you serious?” Hank walked to the sink and drained the pasta.
“Yes,” Brody defended himself. Leaning over the counter he mock-whispered, “But not before I got real close behind her and made her all flustered.”
Hank snickered. “That’s all you got? You’ve been out of the game too long, my man.”
“Whatever,” Brody grumbled. “Thanks.” He pulled the plate from Hank’s hands and dug in.
“So,” Hank said between bites. “Something where you can spend time with her. Maybe you should ask her for a cooking lesson?”
Brody shook his head, his mouth was full and red sauce was dripping down his beard.
“Dude! Manners. Seriously.” Hank scrunched up his face and handed Brody a napkin. “You’ve been out of society too long, no wonder you can’t get a date.”
“Man, are you gonna help or not?” Brody wadded up his napkin and threw it at Hank.
“Yeah, yeah. Ideas ... let me think.” Hank chewed; his eyebrows scrunched in concentration. “Too bad you can’t just stay at her house, it would give you time together and be better than sleeping in your car or my couch.”
Brody’s eyes widened and a smile spread across his face.
Hank’s eyes also widened, but this time in panic. “Hey, now, wait a minute Brody. You can’t just go sleep at her house, that crosses way too many boundaries. Not to mention she would never go for it.”
“No, don’t you see? It’s perfect! It gives me time with her, which gives me the chance to convince her I’m not so bad.” Brody rubbed his hands together; mischief dancing through his eyes.
“No man, seriously. You can’t do this. That girl is gonna think you’re nuts. No sane woman lets a man come sleep in her house. Especially not one that looks like a total creeper.”
Brody brushed him off. “Nah. It’ll be perfect. You’ll see.”
Hank shook his head and went back to his pasta. “Don’t come crawling to me when she kicks you to the curb.”
“Thought I always had an open invitation to stay here.”
“You do. But I’m telling you right now this isn’t going to end well and when it all falls apart, you’re going to have to suffer the consequences before you can come back in.”
“I see.” Brody tilted his head and stu
died his friend. “Well, it’s nice to know I’m loved.” He ducked and laughed when Hank threw his fork at him.
CHAPTER 9
Tia had no words. She stood in her doorway, her jaw had gone slack and her mind had gone blank. When a bug got zapped in her porch light, the buzzing sound finally made her blink. “You want to what?”
“For my third favor, I want to sleep at your house.”
As the words registered better this time, red filled Tia’s vision. She ground her teeth so hard, she felt like one might break. “I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am, but—” she lifted her hand to slap Brody across the face but he stopped her mid-sentence.
“Whoa, there, slugger.” He grabbed her wrist before she could swing. “You took this all wrong.”
“Took it wrong? Are you kidding me? How would you take it if a man you are barely getting to know suddenly wanted to sleep at your house?” Her chest rose and fell in harsh pants as she worked to keep her temper in check.
Brody released her wrist and raised both of his hands in a surrender motion. “Maybe I would be excited that I could let someone have a bed who doesn’t have one.”
Tia stilled. What does he mean he doesn’t have one? “Are you telling me you’re homeless?”
Brody tugged on his beard and shifted his weight from one side to the other. “Well, I wouldn’t say homeless exactly, but sorta.”
Tia’s face scrunched together and she tilted her head. “Sorta? Either you’re homeless or you’re not, Brody Gruff.”
“Fine. I’m homeless.” Brody straightened his shoulders and stood to his full intimidating height.
“You have a job. How the heck are you homeless?”
Brody cleared his throat and shifted some more. “I don’t get paid.”