The Marriage Pact

by Dinah McLeod

  “That I do,” he grinned wickedly. “The way I figure it, if I get a glass or two in you then I can ask anything I want to,” he said as he uncorked the wine.

  “What do you want to know, exactly?” I asked, watching him fill our glasses.

  “How was Minnesota?”

  “You don’t need to get me drunk to ask that!” I exclaimed with a giggle.

  “Maybe not.” He handed me a glass, which I accepted. “But maybe I do. I want to know how it really was.”

  “Meaning?” I asked as I sipped. It had been almost a year since I’d bothered with any type of alcohol—drinking alone wasn’t much fun—and it had an instantaneous effect as it hit my bloodstream. Brody loved exploiting the fact that I was a lightweight—damn him.

  The swing shifted as he sat back down. “Meaning, did you leave someone behind?”

  “Someone?” I echoed, although I knew very well what he was really asking.

  “Someone I need to be worried about?”

  “A guy, you mean?” I grinned knowingly. “No, there isn’t anyone.” I took another sip, feeling it tingle along my throat as it went down. “Well, there was. But he… he found someone else.”

  “He’s an idiot,” Brody answered immediately. “Should I shake his hand or punch him in the face?”

  I shook my head, unable to wipe the grin from my face even as we talked about my ex. “What does it matter to you, anyway? Since we’re asking questions, why haven’t you found anyone?”

  “Oh, I’ve found plenty, I just threw them all back.”

  “Brody!” I exclaimed. “Seriously!”

  “I am serious, Shan. There hasn’t been anyone special in…” His eyes bore into me and I caught his meaning without having to hear him say the words aloud. “Well, in a long time.”

  “I see.”

  “Hmm,” he agreed noncommittally. “What a pair we make. I don’t know about you, but I sure thought life would turn out differently.”

  I twisted the stem of the glass, liking the cool feel of glass on my fingertips. “Yeah. I thought when I was a doctor I’d finally have everything I’ve ever wanted, but…”

  “You help people, though. That must be worth something.”

  “Oh, it is. But it also can be… kind of lonely.” I admitted, saying the thing aloud that I’d been afraid to tell anyone for the last decade and a half.

  “Then I guess it’s good to be home. Staying with your mom must help with that.”

  “Hmm.” I smiled tightly—if he only knew. In that moment, vulnerable from the intimate kiss we’d shared and the alcohol buzzing through my bloodstream, I considered coming clean. He’d listen, and God knew I needed a listening ear. I was so mixed up emotionally when it came to the stuff going on with Mom—it would feel great to get it off my chest and share the burden with someone.

  “I guess both of our moms thought they’d have grandchildren by now, huh?” he asked, and the moment passed.

  “Maybe yours,” I teased. “Mine sleeps easy, because she knows even if I don’t come through, she’s still got Jonas.”

  “Lucky you,” he said, his expression frozen between a grin and a grimace. “I get the whole ‘when are you going to find a nice girl’ speech at least once a week. She even left Match.com up on my computer the last time she came by my place.”

  “She didn’t!” I giggled, but I could definitely picture her doing it. “What’d you do?”

  “Oh, that was easy. I told her if she kept it up, I was going to make her a profile.” He reached over and grabbed the bottle of wine, leaning over to fill my glass as I giggled. “It’s not a half-bad idea, actually.”

  “I don’t know; can you actually picture your mom dating?”

  “Nope, but then again, I can hardly do it myself.”

  We fell silent after that, sipping our glasses and listening to the music of the chirping crickets. I thought we’d sit like that for the rest of the night, sipping wine and listening to the music of the world around us when Brody reached over and took my wine glass.

  “OK, that’s enough for you.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked with a laugh.

  “You know how you get when you have too much wine, Shan.”

  “Well,” I leaned over and snatched my glass back. “Let me worry about that. In case no one told you, you are not the boss of me.”

  Brody arched a dark brow. “Oh, is that so?”

  “You bet it is, buster.”

  “Fine. Finish that glass, but that’s it.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me with a penetrating, meaningful look. “I may not be the boss of you, but it is my wine.”

  “Fair enough,” I said before I tipped the glass to my mouth and drank the smooth liquid down.

  “All done?” he asked, taking the glass back and setting it down. “Dance with me.”

  “What? No,” I was already shaking my head as he stood up. “No, I don’t dance.”

  “You say you don’t, but I seem to recall doing that very thing just a few years back.”

  Ah, so there it was. I knew it had to come up sooner or later, and it was almost a relief to see it on the horizon. At least now we could laugh about it—albeit awkwardly—and call it a mistake. Who ever heard of anyone following through on a marriage pact, anyway?

  “Yes, but—”

  “Come on,” he said, extending a hand. “Dance with me.”

  “You know, I really should check on my mom, she—”

  “Is fine.”

  God, he could be so charming and persuasive sometimes! It just wasn’t fair, the things he could talk me into. “OK, fine,” I agreed, taking his hand. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I seem to recall stepping on your toes last time.”

  “Twice,” he agreed, helping me to my feet and pulling me in close in one fluid motion. “But I’ve had nine years to heal, so don’t you worry—I can take it.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried. You talked me into this, so you deserve whatever you get.”

  “Now, now,” he scolded lightly. “You haven’t changed one bit, have you, Shan? You’re just as feisty and sweet and as beautiful as I remember. Actually,” he paused, studying me seriously, “Even more beautiful, it looks like.”

  “Bad lighting,” I quipped.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I could stay out here forever, listening to the wind, you all snuggled up to me, looking at you in the moonlight…”

  Me too, my heart answered and even though I didn’t say the words out loud I could see by the way Brody smiled down at me that he’d heard them just the same.

  Chapter Seven

  The blaring of my alarm shocked me out of a deep, dreamless sleep and I bolted upright in my bed. It was still dark outside and my clock showed me that it was four-thirty in the morning. Considering how late I’d stayed up dancing with Brody, I couldn’t have gotten more than three hours sleep, but knowing he’d be here any minute was more refreshing than any cup of coffee I’d ever tasted. I raced toward the bathroom, deciding I didn’t have time for a shower, anyway, and spritzed myself with perfume before changing into shorts and a t-shirt. When we were saying goodbye on his porch last night, he’d grabbed my hand and impulsively suggested that we go fishing at the lake, something we used to do when we were kids. I had been hyped up on endorphins from being with him, from the moonlight and the dancing, and just as impulsively, I’d agreed.

  Though one look in the mirror was all it took to make me wonder if it hadn’t been a huge mistake. There were bags under my eyes and my hair was a mess; a mess that even detangler and a brush couldn’t fix. Still, I didn’t have very long to worry about it, because a few seconds later the first pebble pinged against my window. I rushed over and slid it open, leaning out to wave at Brody.

  “You coming?”

  “Yeah, thought I’d pull a Brody and climb on down.”

  Even two stories up, I could see the surprise coloring his face as though he stood right next to me. “Don’t even think about it, young lady.
”

  There it was again, that stern, commanding voice. How did he do it? Why did it turn my insides to jelly, making me obey? “Yes, sir,” I replied flippantly. “I’ll be right down.”

  I closed the window and ran for the door, taking the stairs two at a time until I made it outside. I’d just shut the door, careful to be as quiet as possible, when I found myself face-to-face with Brody. He pulled me to him, tilted my chin up, and ravaged my mouth as hungrily as if we hadn’t seen each other for days. I melted into him, returning his kiss.

  “I like that,” he murmured when we pulled away. “You should call me ‘sir’ more often.”

  “Oh, is that what the kiss was for?” I giggled. “Well, in that case, maybe I will.”

  “You ready?”

  “Yep. Do you still have my fishing pole?”

  “Sure do. I got the bait and tackle, too. Let’s go.”

  We hopped in his beat-up truck and drove the two and a half miles to the lake. I’d rolled my window all the way down, and he had the radio blaring as wind blew my hair all over the place—just like old times.

  After we parked, we climbed into one of the two boats that were propped up beside the water. Brody pulled us through the water with his strong, muscular arms, and I had a front row seat. In no time we were across the lake and pulling beside the old pier and he hadn’t even broken a sweat. It didn’t take but a minute or two to bait our hooks and cast our lines and when we sat side by side on the dock, that was like old times, too.

  With the fishing pole in my hands, I snuck a glance at Brody and then looked away. Unable to stop myself, I looked again, a bit longer this time, admiring his broad shoulders and well-muscled arms. Time had certainly been good to him. The third time—damn my greedy eyes! They just couldn’t get enough of him—he caught me looking and grinned.

  “Bored?” he mouthed, to which I immediately nodded. He knew me too well.

  While we’d certainly gone on any number of fishing excursions over the years, I couldn’t recall us ever catching so much as a guppy. Fishing was a quiet hobby and I got bored easily. It was one reason my chosen profession fit me so well—it was hard to get bored in an emergency room or over an operating table.

  “Can we just—”

  “Shh!” he hissed, but his heart wasn’t in it; he was grinning from ear-to-ear.

  “Maybe the fish are asleep.”

  “This is an old argument. Fish don’t sleep at this time of day and even if they did, you’d still wake them up and scare them with that loud mouth of yours.”

  “Oh, that’s right, I forget, you know everything.”

  “Damn straight.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “You know, I keep meaning to check into your little theory about fish being nocturnal.”

  “Google, baby.”

  “So do it,” I challenged. “And if you’re wrong…”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t be about to challenge me, would you?”

  I grinned at him. “If you’re wrong, you have to take me for ice cream after.”

  “I’d still take you for ice cream.”

  “I know, but it wouldn’t be victory ice cream and that’s the best flavor there is.”

  He chuckled at me. “Fine. And if I win?”

  “Well, what do you want?”

  “I don’t think it’d be right to talk about it in front of the fish,” he said with that slow, sexy grin that turned me to mush. Without another word, he reached for his phone and began tapping away as his fishing pole rested on the deck.

  “Well?”

  “Just a sec.” His eyes scanned the phone and with another click, I watched as his smile widened. It stretched as far as it could across his face and then he began to hoot. “Yeah, baby!”

  “Shh! You don’t want to scare the fish, remember?”

  “Oh, you’re just mad you lost the bet.”

  “I doubt I was wrong.”

  “Says so right here.” He waved the phone in front of me.

  “Let me see that.” I reached for it just as he pulled back, so I had to slide forward to grab it. Once in my hands, I scanned the screen, skimming the article that he’d pulled up. “It says that some fish are nocturnal, Brody. Which means some aren’t. Which means—”

  “That you’re being a sore loser,” he taunted. “You said they weren’t at all. Which means I still win and don’t think I don’t intend to collect. A bet’s a bet.”

  “I don’t even know what you think you’re collecting on! You never said—”

  “Oh, I think you know,” he winked.

  “I am not going to let you make up whatever you want, that’s not how it works!” I protested, torn between being indignant and wanting to laugh.

  “Let’s talk about it later—after ice cream.”

  Mollified, I picked my fishing pole back up and began the long game of waiting. It was at least another three minutes before I pulled my line out of the water, only to see that the worm had been bitten off the hook. “Dang it,” I sighed. “Can you pass me the bait?”

  “Probably got away when we were arguing,” he commented, passing me the tin can. “Now, see, that’s what you get for—”

  “Shut up, Brody.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I looked up, a snappy retort on my lips, but it died there when I met his penetrating gaze. Jesus, Lord. I felt the air whoosh out of my lungs. He was more eye candy than any man had a right to be. Just the sound of his voice started that churning low in my belly and the way his eyes looked right now, so serious and challenging… there was no denying that I wanted him.

  But I couldn’t have him. Not yet, not right now. No matter how badly I wanted to, it was just too soon. “I’m sorry,” I apologized meekly.

  “It better not happen again,” he said in a voice that left no doubt he meant it.

  I looked away from him and plucked a plump, squirming worm from the can and began to work it onto the hook.

  “That’s what I love about you, Shan. You’ve never been afraid to get your hands dirty.” The sexual innuendo made my belly tighten.

  “Oh, so that’s why.” I tried for a smirk but it fell flat. “Well, that’s good to know.”

  “Come on, you know what I mean.”

  That I did. If that husky tone full of desire didn’t tell me, then the way he looked at me certainly made it clear. “I’m bored,” I announced, just as he knew I eventually would.

  He chuckled. “Do you want me to take you home? No one serves ice cream this early in the morning.”

  “No, I don’t want to go home.” I dangled my fishing pole back in the water and laid it down on the deck, folding my arms behind my head. “Let’s play a game.”

  “What kind of game?”

  Even though I couldn’t see his face, his gravelly voice sent a delicious shiver running through me, especially the emphasis he put on game. “Truth or dare.”

  “Geez, what are we, fifth graders?”

  “Come on,” I wheedled. “You used to love truth or dare.”

  “Nope, because you always talked me into dares.”

  “OK, no dares then. Just truth. You go first.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Just pick something,” I chided.

  “OK, what’s your favorite color?”

  I snorted a laugh. “You know the answer to that: Green.”

  “Just checking, making sure you haven’t completely changed on me.”

  “My turn. What happened to that girl you were with, at the wedding?”

  “Who? Claire? Nothing happened. I mean it, that’s pretty much why we broke up. She, ah… wanted more. She was looking for a husband and I was looking for a distraction.”

  “I hope you didn’t put it to her like that,” I commented, turning to look at him just in time to watch him wince.

  “Not verbatim.”

  “Ouch.”

  “No kidding.”

  “So, why just distractions? Why haven’t you looked for
… you know. Someone to grow old with.”

  “Because I don’t intend to grow old.”

  I snorted in response but as soon as I opened my mouth, he cut me off.

  “Besides, fair is fair and that is two questions. Your turn.”

  “OK, let’s hear it.”

  “Did you look for someone to—what did you say?—grow old with?”

  The air stilled around me as Sam’s face was pulled forth from my memory. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “And? Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “His name was Sam. And he, well, like I said last night, he lost interest.”

  “Well, let me reiterate what I said last night: he’s an idiot.”

  “Maybe.” I couldn’t help allowing myself a small smile. “I don’t know.”

  “I do. So, what, were you engaged?”

  “No, he hadn’t given me a ring, but I’d thought we were serious. Obviously, I thought wrong.”

  “Is that why you came home?”

  I sat up and turned to face him. “Yes and no. I mean, it was almost two years ago and I haven’t seen anyone since. But yeah, I kind of realized I didn’t really have a reason to stay. I didn’t have much of a life outside work and that’s pretty sad considering how long I was in Minnesota.”

  Brody nodded, considering my words. “And you’re back? To stay, I mean?”

  I looked at him thoughtfully, trying to gauge the expression on his face before nodding. “Yeah… I think I am.”

  “You know what? Let’s get out of here. I’m sure there’s someone open who’ll make us some cones.”

  I grinned and let him help me up. “You’re on!”

  We collected the tin can with the remaining worms and the tackle box before making our way to the boat. Brody had just begun to row when I remembered my phone and pulled it out of my back pocket. Seeing no new messages, I sighed and pocketed it once more.

  “What’s up? You’ve been checking your phone a lot this morning. You waiting for a call?”

  “Not exactly. I mean, I’ve been hoping Becky will call, or at least text. But…”

  “Nothing yet, huh?”

  “Not a word,” I confirmed glumly.

  “Well, she is on her honeymoon. She’s probably… preoccupied.”