by Liz Isaacson
He looked away from her family to watch the children, but he still caught the elbow Helene threw into Edgar’s side. They both looked dubious, and Brennan couldn’t sit there for another second.
“Excuse me.” He made a hasty escape inside the house, his heart pounding and his brain buzzing with anger. It was hard to think, but he made it into the bathroom and pulled out his phone.
Text me when you get back, he typed out to Cora. I’ll come meet you in the driveway.
Ugh, she texted back immediately. Is everything okay?
He looked at himself in the mirror and found himself red-faced and upset. Sort of.
Sort of?
How much longer will you be?
Waiting to check out now.
Brennan waited a few more seconds and then flushed the toilet, just in case someone had followed him inside. He wouldn’t put it past Laura—or Helene, for that matter. Instead of returning to the backyard, he went out the front door and planted himself on the steps. How he was going to make it through another five hours of this, he didn’t know.
His truck ambled toward the house, and Cora pulled into the driveway, her eyes singular on his. He stood, his heart racing as he felt the weight of her family’s eyes on him. He wasn’t sure if they were watching or not, and he didn’t check behind him to see.
He just marched toward Cora, who got out of the truck to meet him. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Feeling bold and powerful and completely out of control, Brennan swept his arms around her, dipped his head, and kissed her like he’d never kissed a woman before.
Her surprise came through in the unyielding nature of her mouth. Then, as if by that same magic he’d described earlier, her hands drifted up his arms and across his shoulders, setting fire to his skin beneath his shirt. Her nails gently scratched as she moved her fingers into his hair, and Brennan couldn’t control the shiver of desire and delight that tripped through all his bones.
Her mouth softened and welcomed his, and Brennan prolonged the kiss as his anger and anxiety seeped away.
Chapter Five
Cora had been gone for seventeen minutes. She wasn’t even sure what kind of buns she’d bought. She’d grabbed the first four bags she’d seen and raced toward the checkout.
Something must’ve happened in those seventeen minutes, because she’d found Brennan sitting on the front steps, alone.
And now she was kissing him. Admittedly, she hadn’t kissed a man in years, but wow. This was by far the most sensual and passionate kiss she’d had since the first couple of months of her marriage—which she still hadn’t told Brennan about.
His hands burned through the fabric of her dress, and everything in her screamed at her to pull away and end this show. But she couldn’t, and she kept kissing him—at least until her mother cleared her throat.
Cora pulled back then, and Brennan turned to reveal her mom and Helene, both of them standing there watching. Cora tucked herself into his chest, her thundering heart matching the cadence of his.
“Did you get the buns?” her mom asked in a voice made of acid. “We’re waiting on you.”
Cora wanted to toss the bags of bread at her mother and get out of town. She wasn’t sure what she’d done that had sparked so much ire in her mom and sister.
Yes, you do, she thought. And it wasn’t something she’d done, but rather something she hadn’t. She hadn’t included them in her life since the divorce. They’d all loved Brandt so much, and none of them understood why he’d left.
Cora didn’t quite understand that either, only that she wasn’t enough for him and the result was him filing for divorce and leaving town, all in the same day. Her mom and sister had come to the same conclusion—Cora was flawed and had driven Brandt away.
Since then, she’d felt like a stranger in her own family. It was easier to avoid family functions like this one, and Brush Creek sat far enough from Vernal that she couldn’t just pop down to see them on a Sunday afternoon after church.
You know, if Cora went to church. Which, most of the time, she didn’t. Another disappointment for her mother to dwell on.
Brennan stepped away from her to retrieve the buns. He handed them to Helene and her mom, and they left.
“What in the world?” she hissed as they went through the garage to get to the backyard. She searched his face, but he kept his eyes glued toward her family’s retreating forms.
“Brennan,” she said, finally drawing his attention to her. His glorious eyes devoured her, and she liked it. She’d had men look at her like this before, and she’d never liked it.
“Sorry,” he said.
“You kissed me.”
“As if I didn’t know.” He touched his lips as if reliving the experience.
“What happened?” she asked again.
“They were talking about you, and I just…I just got stressed.”
Cora sighed, wishing she had pockets to stuff her hands into. She hated this dress. All dresses, as a general rule. To see her mom strutting around in one like she was attending the Oscars made Cora’s head pound in a way that no painkillers could ever touch.
“Well, that’s going to make things more difficult.”
“What is? Me kissing you? Which, by the way, not sure if you noticed, but you kissed me back.”
And she’d liked that too. Wanted to do it again, in fact. Shoving the thought from her mind with all of her willpower, she turned to face the house. “I guess I didn’t tell you that I’m a complete disappointment to my mother.”
“You failed to mention that, yes.”
“And Helene goes along with it, because it makes her feel better about her own, unfulfilled life.”
“Her husband isn’t even here,” Brennan noted. “Edgar’s wife is here, and all the kids. But Matt didn’t come.”
“Really?” Cora’s eyebrows went up. “I wonder why.” She put her hand in Brennan’s again, liking how it fit there, like his hand was just one size bigger than hers and had been made to protect her. “Probably another reason why she’s so vitriolic toward you. You’re a reminder of what she doesn’t have here.”
“Vitriolic. Wow, big word.” He chuckled, nudging her into a walk with his shoulder. “She said you were too skinny and too masculine. I disagreed.”
Cora paused at the mouth of the garage. “You disagreed, huh?”
He gazed down on her, a definite edge in his eyes that hinted at more than a charade. “I think you’re gorgeous. Beautiful. Strong. Powerful.” He brought her closer, and she inhaled the stringent, manly scent of his cologne. “I think watching you carry three bags of bark is sexy, and that’s a word I never use.”
A ruddy blush crept into his face, but he didn’t duck his head or look away from her. “So maybe I wanted to kiss you to show them how feminine I found you. Or maybe I just wanted to kiss you.”
Her head swam with the heat of his body, the nearness of him, and everything he was saying. She had no response, because she hadn’t expected this to be the problem she’d find when she returned.
True, her family could be cruel. But she’d been dealing with that for four years. She had defenses against it.
But she had no defense against Brennan and the wonderful things he’d said. Nothing to ward off a kiss that emotional and powerful.
“Maybe you’d sit by me at church tomorrow?” He touched his lips to her forehead and dragged his nose along the side of her face. Her eyes closed as she stilled, tensed, waited for his mouth to claim hers again.
“I don’t go to church,” she whispered.
“Ever?” His breath mingled with hers, dangerously close and terribly far away at the same time.
“I mean, I guess I go sometimes.”
“How about tomorrow, then?”
She gave one nod of her head without thinking. All she knew was she felt something for Brennan she hadn’t felt in a long, long time, and she liked it. Liked the vibrant, alive feeling it gave her, the same way racing through the nigh
t on her motorcycle did.
With her eyes still closed, she tilted her head, her mouth catching the edge of his. Aligning quickly, easily, she initiated a much slower, softer kiss this second time around. It was just as wonderful and just as life-changing as the first time.
Apparently her mother and sister had gotten their nastiness out while she was gone, because the rest of the party went just fine. She wanted to ask Helene why Matt hadn’t come, but in the end, she didn’t want to cause any ripples.
So she kept her head down, spoke when spoken to, and tried to keep her father involved in the conversations. Her mom always acted better with her dad around, and when he got up to clean the grill, Cora said, “Well, we need to get back to Brush Creek.”
She stood, her hand still in Brennan’s. He’d stayed right at her side, and he was a great conversationalist, good at asking questions that required long answers, and good at offering help when cleaning up.
“So soon?” her mom asked.
They’d been there for three hours. “It’s a long drive.”
“It’s an hour.”
Cora started to sit, trying to get back under that radar. But Brennan said, “Well, I have an appointment this evening, so we really do need to go a bit early.” He flashed a look at Cora, who straightened again.
Cora hugged her family while Brennan waited by the back door. He shook hands with her father, and they made their escape. She finally took her first full breath in hours once she was seated in Brennan’s truck.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, turning toward him and taking her motorcycle helmet onto her lap. The shiny red surface showed her face back to her, and she recognized her anxiety and annoyance.
“It’s fine.” He drove with one hand draped over the steering wheel. “I liked your dad.”
Cora nodded, still studying herself in the helmet. “I like my dad too. He didn’t blame me after—” She cut herself off, shocked she was about to utter her ex-husband’s name.
“How often do you visit them?” he asked.
“Three or four times a year.”
“Mm hm.” He glanced at her and she looked up from her reflection. “My family is intense too,” he said. “There are a lot of us, so just getting everyone together causes a fair bit of stress.”
Cora leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I’m sure it is. I’m still sorry. That was way more than I should’ve asked you to do.”
He said something, but she couldn’t catch what as he’d spoken too softly. She let her mind drift and the next thing she knew, Brennan had said her name and touched her arm.
“We’re home,” he said. The golden sun shone behind him, haloing him in beautiful light. Her lips lifted into a smile, and in her sleepy state, she thought he was the most handsome man she’d ever met.
“Hey, you.”
He smiled at her too, and that magical conduit that had first bound them together formed again. Brennan cleared his throat, further waking Cora from her cat nap. She straightened and bent for her motorcycle helmet, which had fallen to the floor at some point during the drive.
“So,” he said. “I was still wondering about church tomorrow. You never said if you’d come or not.”
Cora’s pulse skipped a beat and then another one. “I haven’t been in a while.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I go to the red brick building right on Main Street. It’s an hour—tops—in the summer, and I’ll even cook you lunch after.” His eyes shone with an inner light that intrigued her.
So she said, “Sure, church. What time is that?”
“Ten-thirty. Do you have to work tomorrow?”
“I’m on the dinner shift,” she said. “So I have to go into the station about three and make dinner for everyone. I’ll sleep there tomorrow night too.”
“What do you make for dinner?”
She chuckled at the thought of cooking for a dozen men. “I order pizza when it’s my turn,” she said. “I’m not much of a cook.”
“I’m not bad,” he said. “What do you like?”
“Whatever you make, I’ll eat,” she said, giving him what she hoped was a flirty smile. It worked, because he ducked his head, that sexy blush coloring his face again. She’d had plenty of practice with her flirting. That wasn’t the problem. It was everything that came after the first flirtatious date.
Her lungs seized. Was this party a date? Would sitting by him at church be considered a date? And so what if they were? She liked Brennan. Liked holding his hand. Really liked kissing him.
With the memory of his lips on hers, she unbuckled and slipped from his truck. He followed her to her motorcycle, where she paused to pull her hair into a ponytail. “Thanks for coming with me,” she said.
“Once you got back from the store, I thought it went fine.” He slid his fingers up her arm, curling them behind her neck. His touch sent shattering sparks through her, but when he tipped her head back and dipped his head toward hers, she froze.
He did too. Their eyes met, and though Cora wanted to kiss him again, she wasn’t sure what that made her.
“You don’t have to.”
“Have to?” He straightened.
“We’re not at the party.” She giggled with a nervous undertone and backed up. “There’s no one to convince.”
Brennan frowned and fell back a step too. “So…where does that leave us?”
Cora hadn’t really been thinking in terms of us—at least not until he’d kissed her in front of her mom and sister.
“I like you,” he blurted.
“Maybe…I mean, maybe we could just…go out a little. You know, for real.”
“Right.” He nodded and rubbed his palm along the back of his head. “Get to really know each other, not just know about each other.”
“Exactly.” She put her helmet on her head and fastened the chin strap. “Thank you for going with me today.”
He nodded and stepped back as she swung herself onto her bike, fired it up, and left him standing in his driveway.
“It’s for the best,” she muttered to herself as she faced her bike into the sunset. Though she wanted to kiss him again, Cora was also less than sure about truly starting a relationship with him. With anyone, for that matter. But especially Brennan Fuller, as he indeed lit something in her that had been burnt out since her marriage had ended, years ago.
And if she allowed that fire to spark and flame, then what?
“Then the whole world will be blazing before you know it,” she told herself, turning south again and heading down the same road she’d just come back to town on. And Cora, as a firefighter, did her darndest to keep the world from burning down.
So if she set Brennan on a shelf until she could figure out what to do with him, her world could go on as normal.
As she pulled into Beaverton and stopped at the best taco joint within fifty miles, she knew her version of normal had changed the moment Brennan had molded his lips to hers.
Chapter Six
Brennan stood on the sidewalk outside the red brick church, baking in his collared shirt and bright blue tie. At ten-twenty-nine, he heard the rumble of Cora’s motorcycle, beyond glad when she turned into the lot and pulled right up to the sidewalk where he stood. She moved with the grace of a cat as she dismounted and removed her helmet. She did that head toss to let her hair down, and the motion rendered him dry-mouthed just as it had last time.
“Morning.” She flashed him a smile, but didn’t step into his personal space to take his hand.
“Morning.” He turned and opened the door so she could enter.
“Where do you usually sit?” She stepped with all the confidence of someone who’d been attending church for their entire life, but Brennan suspected it was a front. Sure enough, she paused at the doors to the chapel, her head swiveling from one side to the other.
She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, a bright orange blouse that made her hair seem like the color of midnight.
He pointed to the right. “Bac
k row,” he whispered.
Cora moved in that direction, and Brennan sat on the end of the row next to her just as the pastor got up and started speaking. Brennan couldn’t concentrate, nothing new for church. He attended every week, because his mother expected it. He wished he could be as brave as his sister Dawn, who hadn’t darkened the door of a church in at least three years.
But Brennan knew of his mother’s disappointment, and besides, he felt more peace and hope in his life when he attended church. Even when he simply sat in the pews and absorbed the energy in the building.
That was all he was able to do today, as distracted with Cora’s fruity perfume as he was. He also spent a bit of time obsessing over the beef bolognese he’d spent most of the morning putting together. It should be boiling away in a low oven, getting nice and browned and deep in flavor. He’d perfected his bolognese over the years, and if it didn’t impress Cora, he didn’t know what would.
He wanted to hold her hand, but after yesterday’s blunder in his driveway, he wanted her to make the first move more. So he kept his hands to himself and pretended to listen to Pastor Peters until the choir stood to sing the last song. Then he nudged her and nodded toward the exit.
She reached for her purse and followed him out, looping the strap over her shoulder and neck. “So I’ll meet you at your place.”
“Sure.” He actually followed her, as he’d actually had to park in the lot while she’d sidled up to the sidewalk.
Once inside, his small house felt even cozier with Cora there with him. She’d been here before, but somehow this was different. The awkwardness between them had fully bloomed, and Brennan wondered why their relationship had shifted from the easiness of last week.
He pulled the cast iron pot out of the oven and stirred the bolognese while Cora drew in a deep breath. “Smells amazing.”
“I hope it is.” He slid it back into the oven and filled a pot with water. “So, I’m prepared to tell you a couple of things about me,” he said. “How do you feel about doing the same?”