by Lex Martin
She nods, her beautiful eyes playful. My brother’s eyes, I think sadly.
I stop in the doorway and watch Katherine scurry back and forth across the kitchen, checking the pots and pans on the stove.
“You do realize you’re only feeding two point five people, right?” I ask.
“Point five?” She glances at me over her shoulder. Her hair is tied up, which emphasizes her graceful neck.
Jesus Christ. Since when are necks graceful?
I try to focus on her question. “I believe Little Miss Sunshine here qualifies as the point five.”
Kat chuckles. “I suppose so.” She holds up a spoon of homemade stuffing. “Wanna bite, baby?”
“Uh, yeaaah.” Is it weird that she just called me baby? It doesn’t stop me from charging toward the food.
Kat gives me a deadpan look. “I meant the actual baby.”
“Oh.” My lips twist as I scratch the back of my neck. “That makes sense.”
She barely keeps in a laugh as she holds the spoon to my mouth. “Here, goofball.”
I give her a cheesy grin as I gobble it down. “Damn, this is good.” The beaming smile I get from Kat makes my chest hurt just a little bit.
And that hug she gave me last night? Yeah, that killed me too.
I meant what I said the other day. If we had met in Boston, I’d be pursing her like a fly ball at Fenway. But we’re not in Boston.
As tempted as I am to take her up on her offer, she’s a sweet girl. A good girl. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t sleep around, not that I have a problem with that, but I know enough to see she’s not a casual sex kind of woman even if she seems to be willing to try it for me.
None of this stops me from wishing things were different. I can’t stop thinking about her. How I could feel her heat when she straddled my lap. How she writhed beneath me when I pinned her down. How she moaned and gasped my name when she came against my mouth.
The truth, though? I’m going to be thinking about her long after I’m back home. And not because we never had sex.
Boston seems like a different world, and for a fleeting instant, I wonder what it would be like to stay here.
My eyes travel to Kat, where she makes our Thanksgiving dinner, and a strange, raw emotion cuts through me. I hoist Izzy higher, trying to shake off this absurd idea of remaining in Texas because there’s no way I can afford it.
Kat waves that wooden spoon at me. “Dinner won’t be ready for another half hour. You know, there’s a camera on Cal’s laptop if you wanted to Skype with your parents. Is your dad still in the hospital?”
She has this little apron wrapped around her tiny waist and that gorgeous hair all tied up on top of her head. Her glasses are perched at the end of her nose.
Looking over her shoulder at me, she lifts an eyebrow, and I realize I still haven’t spoken. “Um, yeah, he’s still there, but I think my mom has her laptop. She likes to play Candy Crush.” I place the baby on the counter, keeping my hands on her waist so she doesn’t take a tumble. “That’s a good idea. They’d probably like to see the baby.”
“And you too, silly. I’m sure they miss you.”
Yeah, they probably do. Inwardly, I groan.
As if sensing my reluctance, she asks, “You haven’t talked to them about adopting Izzy yet, huh?”
“No, I’ve pussied out the last few times we’ve spoken.”
“Brady,” she says sternly, shooting me a look. “Let’s not use that word around the baby.”
“Oh, shit. You’re right.”
She sighs and shakes her head.
Okay, so I have a little ways to go when it comes to using age-appropriate language around Izzy.
“Go call them if you’d like. You don’t have to talk about anything serious. Just say hi. And oh! Be sure to tell them that Bandit nearly ate you for breakfast this morning.”
She laughs. Like it’s funny that little raccoon fucker tried to bite me. Again.
“He’s a menace.”
“He’s a baby.” She turns to look at me so I can see that she’s rolling her eyes.
I swing Izzy into my arms, and she giggles and grabs my face. “Bray, Bray, Bray!” I don’t think hearing her say my name will ever get old.
“What do you say, kid? Wanna call Granny and Gramps?”
“Gwamps!”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
As we head for the hall, I catch the smile on Katherine’s face as she stirs that giant wooden spoon into a pan. “Hey.” I wait for her to turn to me. “Have you had a chance to call your parents yet? We can hold off on dinner if you want to do that first.”
Her smile falters, but she pastes it back on. “Um, yeah. Maybe.”
It strikes me then that she could have gone home for Thanksgiving, but she chose to stay here instead. And make you dinner.
I rub the stubble on my chin. “Everything okay back home?” She half nods, half shrugs. “I know you said your dad is pretty conservative. Is he okay with you living alone here with me?”
Her chest heaves with a sigh. “He is definitely not okay with me living here with you, but it’s really not any of his business.”
Shit. That doesn’t sound good.
Her shoulders slump. “Don’t worry about it. My dad is never happy with any of my decisions. Or at least that’s how it feels.” Another deep sigh leaves her. “Go Skype. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
I squeeze her arm, feeling somehow responsible for whatever is going on with her parents.
After a quick phone call home, Izzy and I return to the kitchen. I hear Katherine’s voice. She sounds tense.
Her back is to me while she faces the sink. “Tori, seriously, tell Dad I’m fine. Brady is completely normal. He’s not a serial killer or anything.”
I pause at the mention of my name. Izzy squirms in my arms, and I tighten my hold on the little ninja.
Kat shakes her head. “No, and for the millionth time, I am not going back to that job in Austin. I don’t care if that makes me the biggest loser on the planet, it’s not happening. And if Eric calls again, tell him—” Her whole body stiffens. “Ugh. He’s such an asshole. Just hang up on him next time. I’m serious. You cannot give him my number.” She sighs. “Yeah? You think he’s such a great catch? Fine. You date him.”
Who the fuck is Eric?
Realizing I’m eavesdropping like a dick, I back out of the kitchen and return to the office to give Kat some privacy. The baby and I emerge once I think that phone conversation is over.
“That was fast,” Kat says as she reaches into the cabinet for some dishes.
I want to ask about that guy Eric. It’s none of your business, man. Don’t make things weird.
Leaning over to strap my niece into the high chair, I motion toward the office. “My parents couldn’t really Skype right now. The doctor came in and needed to go over the plan for my dad. He might go home soon.”
Kat’s face lights up. “That’s fantastic! I’m so happy to hear that. I bet you’re relieved.”
“I am so fuck—” I pause and look down at my niece who’s watching me with that toothy grin. “I am so freaking relieved.” When my eyes lift to Kat, she winks at me in encouragement for not totally corrupting my niece before she goes back to serving dinner.
Despite our failed hookup the other night and the fact that I’ve been terrified things would be weird between us, they’re not, at least not any more. Kat and I enjoy watching the baby blow bubbles in her apple juice, and for one brief moment, everything seems right in the world. I love her laugh. It’s light and airy, and when I tell her a stupid joke, I feel like a lucky asshole whenever she smiles.
If I’m being honest, I thought sharing all of this domestic stuff with a woman I barely know would be awkward as hell, but with Kat, it’s surprisingly normal. When I’m not overrun with sexual frustration, I really like being around her. There’s something calming about her.
She feeds Izzy a bite of mashed potatoes, and I have a brief
flash of her doing that for our own baby.
What in the ever-loving hell?
Not the kind of fantasy I need right now. I have to cut this shit out. A week and a half with this girl, and I need to book a one-way ticket to an insane asylum.
Gritting my teeth, I try to focus on the hard-and-fast truth—I have to sell the farm. Even with my brother’s modest life insurance, I can’t deal with this place while I dig my parents out of their financial pit back home. So staying here to play house with Kat isn’t really an option.
So much for everything seeming right in the world.
“Are you working tomorrow?” I ask, hoping she’s free.
“No, thank God. Working on Black Friday is a fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemies.” She pushes her glasses up her nose. “Why? What’s up?”
“I’d like to check out that nursery by the highway and talk to them about our fields. That’s where Melissa got all of her supplies, right?” I’ve seen a few receipts, but I should make sure first.
“Yeah, ask for Hank. He knows everything. He’ll help you.”
I push some cornbread around on my plate. “Would you mind coming with me? In case I have any questions?”
“Sure, although I’m by no means an expert.”
“Trust me when I say you know a helluva lot more than I do.”
She shifts in her seat and clears her throat. “I wanted to ask you about that farmers’ event we were supposed to host. Do you want to cancel it? I have to tell our neighbors if you do. And if we’re having it, I need to whip up some soaps and a few other products we sell.”
She’s trying to be nonchalant, but I can tell she wants to do this.
I rub my forehead, hating how much I want to bail, but the least I can do is follow through on the last plans my brother made.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
“I’d need some help creating a pen for the animals for the petting zoo,” she says hesitantly.
Reaching over to the counter, I grab a spiral and start jotting down notes so I don’t forget this shit. I blow out a breath. “You’re not going to make me pet the raccoon or anything, are you?”
She laughs. “No. I promise.”
“Fine. Write out a list of what you need me to do. When is it again?”
“Two and a half weeks.”
“Does this mean you’ll make me more hot chocolate?”
Her grin kicks up. “Any time you want.”
Returning my focus to dinner, I shovel down the rest of my meal before I remember one more question. “Can I ask another favor?”
“Of course.”
“You can say no. I mean it.”
She motions for me to lay it on her, so I continue. “I’d like to check out a tattoo parlor in Austin.”
Her eyes travel over my arms in a way that heats my skin. The girl likes my tats. Duly noted.
“You’re getting more ink?”
“No, it’s owned by a friend of a friend, and I hear there’s an opening for an artist. My roommate is shipping all of my gear to me. Should be here in a few days. My portfolio is online, so I don’t need it for an interview, but I'd like to check out the vibe. They know my situation and are cool if it’s only temporary.” I could certainly use the cash.
Her head tilts, making her crazy ponytail flop to the side. “How did I not know you were a tattoo artist?”
I shrug. “Maybe because we’ve only known each other for ten days.”
She nods, biting her bottom lip. Something about her expression tells me this hurts her feelings for some reason. It’s not like I know that much about her. Like the real reason she’s hiding out here on a farm in the middle of Bumblefuck.
But I don’t like that this is creating distance between us, so I quickly add, “I really haven’t inked much lately. I was pretty busy with my parents’ landscaping business for the last several months.”
She releases that bottom lip and her expression brightens. “I’d love to see your work.”
“Sure.” I smile back reassuringly. “If this hammers out, though, I’ll be working a few nights a week, and I’d need you to babysit. With pay, of course. If we work around your schedule at the diner, do you think this could happen? I’m just hoping to make a little money to keep things afloat around here until the insurance pays or until I sell this place.”
Her eyes dip and she stares at the table. “Whatever you need, Brady.”
“Hey.” I wait for her to look up. “I don’t have a choice.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend.
She stares back, looking just as devastated as the first time I told her I’d be selling the farm. But she nods slowly. “I know. I’m not judging you for needing to do this.” She sighs, and the sound settles around my heart and squeezes. “I just wish things were different.”
Me too, sweetheart. My gaze settles on her lips. Me too.
31
Katherine
The knock on my bedroom door barely registers until I hear Brady’s voice. “What are you doing?”
I scoot closer to my tiny TV. “Shh. The Lone Stars are kicking for a field goal.” When they make it, I jump off my bed and do a little dance.
I’m mid hip-thrust when I turn to him and stop my celebration. Because seeing Brady watch me gets my attention. His heated eyes wander slowly down my bare legs and back up again. Which makes me realize I’m only wearing a tiny white t-shirt and undies. But I didn’t expect to see him again tonight.
After he helped me put away our Thanksgiving leftovers, he headed to his room, and I went to mine. And now that he’s fixed the temperature in here, it’s almost too warm, which is why I’m wearing the thinnest t-shirt I own.
I pull at the hem of my top before I realize it’s ridiculous. The man had his mouth between my thighs the other day and licked me to an orgasm, for Pete’s sake. Shrug it off, Kat.
Kat sounds like the girl who can walk around in her underwear and not care.
I motion toward him. “What’s up?”
His jaw works back and forth. “Why are you watching the game in here in the dark on that thirty-year-old box? I’m watching it in the office. On the flat screen.”
Turning, I look at the small TV. It belonged to Mel’s father and flickers on and off sometimes, but no matter. Right now, it’s doing its job, so I like it just fine.
I consider his question a moment. “I didn’t think you wanted me there.”
He curses under his breath and presses his palms into his eyes. “Why would you think that?”
Oh, I don’t know. Kicking me out the other night? Not taking me up on my offer to hook up?
Yes, I get that he likes me, maybe even wants me, but I’m not going to throw myself at him while we watch TV. Been there, done that. And something tells me that if I’m in there with him, all alone in the dark, I’m gonna try again, and I just don’t have it in me to get shot down twice. Gracias, pero no. A girl has to have some pride.
Besides, I get the distinct impression he’s firmly placed me in the friend zone, and hearing him talk about me babysitting for Izzy and getting paid only serves as a reminder that I’m his employee. I’m the babysitter. Awesome.
“Brady, honestly?” I blow out a frustrated breath and remind myself that he’s a guy who clearly still has his head up his rear. I decide I can be as obtuse as him. “I’m watching the Lone Stars beat your precious Boston Rebels all up and down the field. Is this really the best you guys can do?”
Placing my hand on my hip, I cock it out. My tiny t-shirt slides up, and I don’t miss his quick intake of breath. I suppose little black lace boy shorts do the trick. Score one for Kat and her slutty underwear. Internally, I laugh. My mother considers anything that doesn’t look like a cotton granny panty slutty.
I stand stock still, my nipples pebbling under his stare, and I fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest because I know he can probably see them through the thin material of my t-shirt.
His laughter fills my room as he mumbles somet
hing I can’t quite make out.
“Excuse me?” I ask with mock irritation.
His lips curl into a smirk. “I said I’m this close to spanking your ass.”
My mouth drops open. Why those words turn me on, I’m not totally sure. No one has ever spanked me, and I’ve never really understood the appeal. Until now. His big, calloused hand on my ass. Yes, please.
And then I do something very un-Katherine-like. I lift my t-shirt off my backside, making sure he can get a peek as I peer back at the area like I’m considering it. Then I return my attention to him and lift my eyebrow. “Interesting. But you’d have to catch me first.”
We stare at each other a beat before he lunges, and I jerk away, laughing, until we’re both tumbling toward my bed that groans under our weight. And then the big jerk tickles me.
“Not fair! No, Brady!” I squeal.
He pauses, his breath hot on my neck as he holds me down. “Shh. You’re going to wake the baby.” He rears back slightly to look into my eyes and I’m drowning in the depths of his stare.
The conversation we had this week mocks me. No-strings sex? Bullshit. It’s all bullshit, a little voice inside me screams.
His lips are closing in. Close, so close. And holy mother, does he smell good. I’m pulsing, my whole body throbbing from how he holds me down. He’s big and hard, his weight pressing deliciously along my soft ridges.
And just as I think he’s going to kiss me, the sexy bastard continues his assault and tickles me.
I gulp down a laugh, and his hand rests over my mouth. Mirth and fire and lust all swirl in his eyes as he challenges me to do something about this. So I buck up and push, still laughing, laughing so hard my side hurts.
He’s a big guy and all my bucking does is wedge his strong thigh between my legs. I’m gasping, still wiggling and fighting him, which only makes him yank my arms up and pin them together with one hand.
Oh, God. The throb grows. My panties flood with warmth, my hips lifting on their own accord.