Christ, it gutted him, knowing he hadn’t been there with her. That he hadn’t even been there to answer the phone when she called him over and over.
Throwing his bag in the passenger seat, he started the car. It was already ten, and when he called the number she’d left him for her house line, it rang through to voicemail.
“This is Brody O’Donnel for Gwen. Could you ask her to call me? It doesn’t matter what time.”
If she called back tonight, he’d be on the road. If she called tomorrow, he’d already be there.
It was 7:00 a.m. before Brody was able to wrap his arms around Gwen. He’d gotten in to the hotel around three, managed a few hours of sleep, and been awake by five thirty thinking about her. Hoping she’d gotten some rest. Praying that nothing had happened with her dad overnight.
And when his phone finally rang, he was walking out the door of the bakery on Dobson’s Main Street. They stayed on the phone until he pulled into her drive, and then she was coming down the front steps, a cordless phone still in her hand as she walked into his arms and buried her face against his chest.
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she murmured within his arms.
“I’m so damn sorry I didn’t listen to my voicemail earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up.” He was sorry he hadn’t been there for her in any way that mattered during what had sounded like the scariest hours of her life.
She shook her head and peered up him with a watery smile. “Brody, you didn’t know. You get half a dozen sales calls a day. More probably.”
But he should have thought it through.
Gwen led him into the house, past the living room where her family watched movies and played trivia games at Thanksgiving, the stairwell where she’d carried him with her on the way to her room that same day, and into the kitchen where her mother was sitting at a round table beside Ted.
A guy Brody was trying like hell not to resent for being there for Gwen when he hadn’t been. But Christ, it was always Ted.
When he looked up, Ted’s expression was every kind of not-happy-to-see-you, man, but he stood anyway, extending his hand. “You finally made it.”
Asshole.
Mrs. Danes was coming around the table while Gwen made the introductions. Her mother was friendly and warm, asking him to call her Wendy, thanking him for the coffee cake, for making the drive, for being there for Gwen. She looked rattled, as if she hadn’t slept a wink, and he could hardly blame her. If it had been Gwen in the hospital… He couldn’t even think about it.
“We’re getting organized for the day ahead,” Wendy explained, pouring him a cup of coffee as she listed all the different people they needed to meet with at the hospital that morning.
Brody sat beside Gwen, his hand on the back of her chair as she flipped through a stack of paperwork she’d brought home from the hospital the night before.
“Anything I can help you with in there?”
Tired eyes met his, and she gave him a grateful smile. “Maybe. At this point, I’m not even sure what I’m looking at.”
“I can help with it.” Ted stood up and took his empty mug over to the dishwasher. “We went through all of that stuff when my mom was in the hospital two years ago.”
Wendy nodded, quickly getting up and shooing Ted away from the sink. Then giving him one of those what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you maternal looks, she pulled him in for a hug. “Thank you, Ted.”
It was clear how deep her affection ran for the guy. He was like a son to her.
If only he could have been like a brother to Gwen. It sure as hell would have been easier to like the guy.
Gwen headed upstairs with her mom to finish getting ready. Which left Ted and Brody staring at each other from across the table in Gwen’s parents’ sunny kitchen with the pale-yellow wallpaper and garden motif.
“So how long you sticking around?” Ted asked.
“Not sure. As long as Gwen needs me.”
“So you’re leaving now, then?”
Brody forced a short laugh. This guy wasn’t going to get to him. “Good try.”
That washed-out stare met him from across the room. “Pretty sure she could have used you yesterday.”
Having Ted remind him of his failures wasn’t Brody’s favorite thing, but he deserved it. Like Ted deserved credit for what he’d done.
“You really came through for her.” And even though he didn’t want to say it, Brody knew it was true. “You’re a good friend.”
Ted nodded, his mouth twisting into a frown. “Gwen and I are a lot of things to each other. She calls… I answer. We’re always there for each other. That’s how it is with us.”
Right.
Grabbing his keys, Ted shrugged into his coat. “I’ll get the car warmed up. Whenever the girls are ready, tell them to meet me out there. You can follow us to the hospital.”
Brody closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath in through his nose. Ted was pushing his buttons, and yeah, not a lot of doubt as to whether he was doing it on purpose. But everyone was tired and a little raw, and just because Ted was using epically bad judgment, that didn’t mean Brody was going to make it worse by reacting.
“Everything okay?”
Brody opened his eyes and smiled as Gwen stepped into the room.
Holding out his arm as she stepped in to his side, he dropped a kiss at the top of her head. “It is now, gorgeous.”
“My mom’s about ready, and then we can go.”
He nodded. “Ted’s warming up his car to give her a lift. But we can head over now if you like.”
Pushing up to her toes, she pressed a kiss beneath his jaw. “Perfect.”
Yeah, he thought so too.
* * *
The next few days were filled with appointments and errands and calls to medical supply companies to get the house outfitted for Gwen’s dad’s recovery. The Daneses’ house had a guest room on the first floor where they could set her dad up. His recovery was expected to take some time, and even though they were hoping to get him up on crutches as quickly as possible, the stairs would be rough to navigate and a risk he shouldn’t be taking.
By Friday, Mr. Danes was in good spirits. They had his pain managed, and his release was scheduled for the next day.
Brody couldn’t blame the guy for itching to be ready to go home, but he knew what that was going to mean for Gwen. They’d already talked about it, and instead of driving back with him to Chicago, she would be staying in Dobson to help. It made sense, and Brody wouldn’t have asked her to do it any other way…except for one thing. He would have liked to stay and help too. At least for a while. He hadn’t been there for her when she needed him the first time, but he could be there for her now.
Yeah, he had his own business to run. But he had people he trusted to do it for him. He could take the time off, and he wanted to.
He’d offered, then offered again last night at the hotel. But Gwen had rested her head against his chest, playing with the buttons of his shirt like she always did, and said no. Things were going to be chaotic when they got her father home. They’d have nurses in and out for the first few days to help Gwen and her mom take care of him, and there wasn’t going to be much downtime. What she hadn’t said—but he could guess—was that the Daneses didn’t know him well enough to feel comfortable with him hanging around the house, getting in the way while he was trying to help out.
He got it. But he didn’t like it.
And he liked it even less the next morning when they were standing beside his car in Gwen’s parents’ driveway and Wendy gently patted his arm, reassuring him that Ted would be there through the end of the weekend to help, so they’d be fine.
Gwen had stepped into his arms, hugging him tight. “Sorry we can’t say goodbye in private,” she whispered.
“It’s okay, gorgeous. Keep your new phone dry, and I
’ll call you tonight.”
She laughed, burrowing closer. “Promise.”
And then as if getting into his car to leave wasn’t fucking hard enough, he wasn’t even out of the driveway before Ted was walking out the front door to come down and wrap his arm around Gwen’s shoulder. Fucking standing there with her while Brody drove away.
Chapter 20
“Gwennie, so help me God, if you and your mother don’t stop fussing, I’m calling the ambulance to take me back to the hospital.”
Gwen’s hands snapped back from the pillow she’d been fluffing behind her dad, and her mother let go of the throw she’d been adjusting across his good leg. Exchanging guilty looks, they each took a step back from the bed.
It wasn’t the first time this had come up. Gwen had been trying not to hover, but this week had done a number on her. Seeing her dad—her hero, the strongest man she’d known growing up—hurt like this was killing her. She’d been more scared the night of the accident than she’d ever been in her whole life. And now all she wanted was to take care of him. Be close to him. Do what little she could to make things better.
Though right now, doing a little less was what the man needed.
“Sorry, Dad.”
He waved her closer and pressed a kiss to her head. The scruff from his usually clean-shaven jaw prickled against her forehead. It was so weird, seeing him like this.
“Don’t be sorry. But you know, there is one thing you could do for me.”
Her mom perked up. “Sweetheart, what do you need? I’ll get it. Let Gwen sit with you.”
He laughed, wincing a little when he moved wrong.
“Wendy, how about you keep me company, and maybe Gwennie here could run over to Shelby’s and grab me a slice of pie for later.”
Pie? “What kind do you want? I’ll make you one.”
Patting her hand, he shook his head. “The kind that comes from the pie case at the coffee shop, Gwen. That kind. And as it happens, I know a guy who’s waiting to give you a lift over.”
Gwen let out a small laugh. “He’s waiting?”
Leave it to her dad to recruit Ted into giving her a break. Any other time in her life, she would have been delighted, but now? It made her nervous. When Ted had driven her from Chicago, they’d spent hours alone together, but with the uncertainty of what had been happening with her dad and the flurry of calls back and forth from her mom and his parents, the last thing either of them had been thinking about was the state of their relationship. And in the days since they’d been there, sure, Ted had been around almost nonstop, but again, it had been about him being almost as much a part of this family as she was.
She’d been so grateful to him. But in addition, she’d been grateful for the reprieve from having to take the next steps in hashing out their relationship. But with an hour ahead of them at the coffee shop where they’d spent their first paychecks together, she feared that reprieve might be at an end.
Still, the last thing her dad needed was to be worrying about what was going on with the two of them—which he would if she started making excuses to avoid spending a few minutes alone with the guy she’d spent half her life making excuses to get closer to. And even if it made her uncomfortable, the least she could give Ted before he headed back to Chicago the next morning was a slice of pie.
She gave her dad a kiss, told her mom to call if she needed anything, and walked the familiar steps from her back door to Ted’s.
“So, I guess you’re the man assigned to getting me out of my dad’s hair, huh?”
“Looks like,” he said easily, buttoning his pea coat as they walked to the car. They made small talk on the short drive over to Shelby’s, chatting about the usual things they discussed when they were home together. The restaurant out by the highway that had changed hands again, which of their high-school friends they’d seen so far, how weird some of the stuff their parents kept in the fridge was. But there were definite omissions among the usual topics as well. She didn’t tease him about whether he was going to hook up with Sally Daniels this trip, and he didn’t tease her about marrying him to get his parents off his back about “starting to think about settling down.”
They didn’t talk about Brody.
And they didn’t talk about them. Not at first.
“So, you want pie?” she asked, scooting into her side of the booth. Ted always wanted pie.
“I want a lot of things, Gwennie,” he answered, scanning the laminated menu in front of him. “But how about we start with the pie?”
And there it was. The moment she’d been hoping to avoid, when she couldn’t pretend they were just two friends out for a bite.
“Ted, don’t.”
She didn’t want to talk about this again. She didn’t want to hurt him anymore. But then he was leaning across the booth, reaching for her hand. Laughing when she pulled it away before he could touch her.
“Tell me you never felt anything for me. Look me in the eyes, Gwen. Tell me so I believe it, and I’ll drop this altogether.”
Their waitress came to the table, her pad out to take their order.
Gwen would have told her they needed a minute, or maybe she would have just asked Ted to drive her back to the house, but he was already ordering. A slice of cherry for him, chocolate banana for her, and apple à la mode to share. Coffee for both of them. Same as always.
When they were alone again, Gwen spoke quietly. “You know I can’t. But things change, Ted. People change.”
“When did you change?” His eyes were intent, his mouth curved to the slightest degree. Like he thought he had her. “Because I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m betting it wasn’t so long ago.”
She looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”
The when, the how. None of that was important. The only thing that Ted needed to understand was not now.
“It matters to me,” he said quietly. And then when the silence had stretched so long, she was sure the only word they would have left between them was goodbye, he asked, “Did you love me?”
He’d asked her before, and she wished the answer she’d given him had been enough.
Throat tight with emotion, tears pushing at her eyes, she shook her head. “No.”
Their waitress was back, and one plate of pie after another was set between them. When she left, Ted straightened in his chair, picked up his fork, and met Gwen’s eyes. “I don’t believe you. I can’t.”
* * *
By Thursday night, Brody was going nuts. He’d talked to Gwen every day, usually more than once. Sunday night, she’d sounded terrible, but when she’d told him it had been a long day, he’d had to accept it. Or at the very least accept that she didn’t want to talk about it. She’d wanted him to make her laugh, and even though she’d sounded like she was ready to cry when they first started talking, by the time they hung up, he’d had the melodic sound of her voice teasing at his ear and tugging at his heart for half an hour.
Tuesday had been better. Her father had had another appointment with the doctor, and the relief in Gwen’s voice was undeniable. They talked after she’d had dinner and then again after she’d been up with her dad around two. The second call had been brief, but man, it did something to him to know that she’d wanted to hear his voice before she went back to sleep.
But tonight, she was killing him. He was driving back down in the morning, and all day, she’d been sending him texts with little notes detailing what she missed the most right then. It had started out innocently enough, that first ping bringing him a picture of her ear…because she missed resting her head on his chest and hearing his heart beat. Ping. A picture of her pretty painted toes…because she missed how they sat at opposite ends of the couch when they were having coffee and he held her feet in his lap. Sweet stuff. The kind that made his heart ache to be with her.
And then, ping, he opened the message wi
th the picture of her mouth. Her lips were glossed and parted, so he could see the hint of her tongue behind her teeth…because she missed when he made her a cocktail and then tasted it from her mouth.
Yeah. That one had caught him by surprise, and he’d liked it so much that it took him nearly fifteen minutes to get his junk under control.
Ping, the shot of her shoulder with all that honeyed blond pulled aside so he could see the strap of her burgundy bra and the warm tones of the skin beneath…because she missed when he bit her there.
Fuck.
It had gone downhill from there…shadowy valleys, creamy swells. Dips and curves. Scraps of lace. Ping, ping, ping. He hadn’t left his office for over an hour…and then she’d really done it.
It was close to midnight when the text with no image at all came through.
Ping.
Just a few words, and he’d practically vaulted his desk to lock his door.
Gwen: I can’t send you this one.
Holy hell.
It had taken him seven tries to get the damn call to send, but when it did, she picked up on the first ring.
“Send it,” he growled.
Her laughter was soft and warm. Teasing and light.
“Mmm, I really want to,” she purred from across so damn many miles, it hurt. “But I can’t.”
She wanted to play.
Leaning his back against the door, he closed his eyes and listened to the sound of her breathing.
“Why not, baby?”
“Because it’s so…naughty.”
He swallowed hard, his dirty mind sifting through a thousand possibilities in a flash.
“Naughty is my favorite. You should send it.”
Decoy Date Page 18