Driven to Distraction

by Lori Foster

  “Where’s the nearest dentist? Doctor?”

  “For that, you go east.”

  She laughed. It seemed no matter what you needed, you had to travel some direction out of the town.

  “All in all, it’s good. Fresh air, not a lot of traffic. You know everyone and they know you.”

  The way he said it, he made it all sound very pleasant, rather than intrusive.

  As he circled around to the entrance, she said, “You have a lot of property for the office.”

  “Most of the houses located off the main drag have three-acre lots. We have ten. Land here was cheap back when Mom and Dad bought it. The office was a shop then.”

  “Was your father a courier?”

  Brodie shook his head. “When he wasn’t working on cars, he raced them. For a while he was a local star, but he never made it big.”

  “He’s a mechanic now?”

  “Off and on, when he needs the money. He does bodywork, too, and interiors. It’s one of the really useful things he taught me.” Brodie stroked a hand over the car’s dash. “Soon as I find the time, I’ll have Matilda showing off her sexiness.”

  Mary choked.

  “In fact,” he said, “once she’s painted and you’re in the passenger seat, I’m betting everyone we pass will stop to stare in admiration.”

  Most people, Mary knew, would stare at Brodie. He definitely drew attention everywhere he went. “I think you’re trying to soften me up with flattery.”

  Voice going low and suggestive, he said, “You’re already soft.”

  Soft enough I just might melt. When he turned on the charm, the man was irresistible. “Brodie—”

  “Hey, I know sexy, okay? I’m telling you, the combo of this car and you riding shotgun...” He gave a low whistle. “That’ll make an impression.”

  Absurd compliments aside, it occurred to her that she’d stopped being mad at Brodie minutes after waking.

  He did have a good excuse for why he’d handled things as he had. Still... “In the future, if you’re going to approach Therman about something, I’d prefer you discuss it with me first.”

  “No problem.”

  He said it so easily, she blinked. “You mean it?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. It was never my intent to exclude you anyway, and I definitely didn’t mean to piss you off.”

  No, his intent had been to avoid dangerous situations.

  As a grown woman she could decide what she did and didn’t want to do. She didn’t need his interference to protect her, but...the jobs involved him as well. That meant he had just as much right to refuse as she did to accept.

  If that had been the only issue, she might not have minded, but given the new sexual dimension to their relationship, she knew Brodie had been largely concerned for her, and...

  Yes, she’d overreacted.

  She wasn’t used to anyone looking out for her—not as a child and not now.

  “Solving world problems, Red?”

  He’d used that low, intimate voice again and she really wanted to kiss him. “Just considering things.” Something occurred to her. “I enjoy chatting with you. You’re so informal about everything that it helps me to be less formal, too.” Being driven with definite goals in mind meant anything less than professionalism felt foreign to her.

  Except here with Brodie.

  He scratched the whiskers on his throat. “Yeah, I don’t do formal any more often than I absolutely have to. Guess that means we complement each other’s styles, right? You professional and me laid-back.”

  She wasn’t sure what it meant, but she knew she didn’t want to fight with him. “I’m not mad anymore.”

  His slow smile put a dimple in his cheek.

  Yeah, she probably shouldn’t have just blurted that out. “I, um, thought you should know.”

  Reaching over, he cupped her knee. “Thanks for letting me off the hook.”

  Needing a new subject fast, she cast around and remembered him carrying on again about Matilda. “The interior really is beautiful. You did a great job.” Very professional—whether he wanted to call it that or not. “It looks factory new, but better.”

  “Soon her exterior will look great, too.”

  “You said you’re painting her red?”

  “Yeah.” The smile turned into a grin and he winked at her. “Red is fast becoming my favorite color.”

  * * *

  BRODIE PULLED UP in front of the office, glad that the lot was clear. Sometimes Jack worked late, and other times Charlotte hung around for paperwork. With what he had planned, hovering family wouldn’t have helped.

  Howler had remained awake after Gina’s short visit and now the dog whined. He was probably more than ready to stretch his legs and take a leak.

  After Brodie stepped out and moved his seat forward, he realized Howler was anxious for another reason. A low growl vibrated in his throat and he stared beyond Brodie, toward the back of the track.

  “What is it?” Mary asked.

  “I don’t know.” Normally he’d turn the dog loose and let him run around the property a little, but tonight didn’t feel right, so he attached the leash before unhooking the harness.

  Howler almost knocked him over, he lunged so quickly from the car. Even after he ran out of leash, he continued to strain against it, his gaze on the track where the setting sun bathed the sky in brilliant colors, leaving the line of trees no more than a black silhouette.

  “Easy now.” While patting the dog’s neck, Brodie studied the scene but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  Howler gave him a worried look, stared a little more, then gave up to take a pee. “Good boy.” He allowed the dog to lead him to a clump of weeds. “What’d you see? A rabbit? Deer?” Or something else?

  Howler had a good nose. He’d once tracked down a wounded raccoon hiding behind their garbage bin. Luckily he was gentle to other animals and other than barking a bit, he hadn’t hurt the already frightened critter.

  Brodie had caught the thing, taken it to a wildlife rescue and later rewarded Howler with lots of loving.

  When Howler finished his business, he put his nose to the ground and started dragging Brodie this way and that, and eventually toward the office.

  It wasn’t until then that he realized Mary was heading toward her car. “Whoa.”

  She glanced up, blue eyes quizzical, that patented fake smile on her mouth.

  Not buying it, babe. He knew the sound of her laugh now, had seen her megawatt smiles versus a polite facsimile. He knew when she was faking it. “Where are you going?”

  The question seemed to confuse her. “Home?”

  Brodie jogged toward her with Howler happily loping along. “But you’re still tipsy.” And damn it, when was the last time he’d literally chased a woman?

  He slowed his pace and approached her more casually.

  He wanted her to stay. He needed her to stay. Now, how to convince her without looking like a sap?

  With a dismissive laugh, she said, “No, I’m not,” and dug in her purse for her keys.

  “No?” Knowing she might spook if he came on too strong, Brodie leaned on her car with a relaxed vibe. Howler helped, plopping down next to her to stare up adoringly. Good dog.

  Seemed he and Howler shared a similar infatuation.

  “Then you meant to tell Gina that we’re involved? I can assume it’s okay for me to share, too?”

  She paused with her hand in her briefcase, then slowly withdrew it. “I was tipsy—then.”

  “Ten minutes ago?” She might not be a veteran drinker, but she was smart enough to know effects didn’t wear off that fast. Besides, it really hadn’t been that long since her wine-induced chattiness—and she knew it.

  She gave a great huff. “Okay, so we both know I wasn’t.”


  Admitting it outright and facing her deception—yup, that was Red. He grinned. “Always so honest.”

  She flapped a hand. “I’m not good at lying. It gets too complicated.”

  “And you aren’t at your sharpest now—so stay with me.”

  “Stay?” Her eyes widened, and she squeaked, “Here?”

  Seeing her like this, uncertain and so damn sweet, made him want her all the more.

  He couldn’t embrace her because Howler had gone back to sniffing the ground and it required a good hold on the leash to keep him from pulling away.

  But Brodie could kiss her, and he did. Slowly. Lingering.

  Around them, the sun faded away and shadows crept in. A second later a security light flicked on.

  She stepped closer.

  He cupped the back of her neck and angled his head for a better fit. A deeper fit.

  Curling her tongue around his, she slipped her hands up his chest. Her belly pressed against him.

  The woman wanted him, almost as much as he wanted her. “You have what you need in that overnight case you always carry,” he whispered against her mouth, encouraging her. “Stay with me.”

  Dropping her forehead to his chest, she drew in long, slow breaths. Like a grave confession, she admitted, “I want to.”

  “I know.” He kissed her ear. “Stay.”

  Her hands tightened, knotting the material of his shirt. “I’m not sure I should.”

  She rarely gave in to what she really wanted—but with him, she could, and she needed to know that. “It’s been a crazy couple of days, Red.” He brushed his thumb over the warm silkiness of her cheek. “Stay.”

  Her head lifted. “So you think I need to be coddled? Because I don’t.”

  The inclination was to joke, to maybe palm her ass and tell her he’d make it worth her while. But he couldn’t do that, not with her, not this time.

  Instead he told the truth. “No, you don’t. But maybe I need to coddle you. For me, Red.” Now he caught her ass, mostly because he couldn’t help himself. She had such sexy curves that even in moments like this, when he was trying to be real, he couldn’t resist her. “Stay because I need you to.”

  So many emotions flashed over her face, most of them confused, a few hopeful, many in denial.

  He held his breath.

  Until she whispered, “No one’s ever wanted to...”

  “I know.” And fuck them all. Her poor sick mother, and the townspeople who hadn’t looked out for her, even Therman with his misguided intentions, they all owned that lost look in her eyes. “Stay for me, Red.”

  He’d keep repeating it as many times as he needed to.

  “Okay.”

  Brodie didn’t know if it was what he’d said, or the fondling of her butt that had convinced her. She might not realize it, but she was an innately sexual woman. Hiding it for too many years hadn’t diminished her nature.

  Going on tiptoe, she gave him a short, firm peck on the mouth. “I’ll need to be out of here early, though, okay? I don’t want to have to explain to your brother or Charlotte.”

  She wouldn’t need to; they’d understand well enough that she’d spent the night and would never put her on the spot by questioning her about it. “No problem. Neither of them will get in before nine and Howler always gets me up before that.”

  Speaking of Howler, he did his circular “getting comfortable” move, ready to crash, but Brodie wanted him comfortable inside—so he and Mary could be inside as well.

  Near a bed.

  Or a couch. Or a table.

  His imagination was already on the run.

  They locked up the cars and he carried in her overnight case. Once he got through the door, Howler made a beeline for his food dish in the small kitchen, standing over it with an expectant expression on his long face.

  After kissing Mary’s temple, Brodie said, “First things first.” He filled the dog’s dish, going through the program of pretending to eat it until Howler was convinced to dig in.

  Smiling, Mary leaned against the small bar that divided the kitchen from the living room. “That’s one of your most endearing qualities.”

  Still down on one knee, he asked, “Fake eating kibble?”

  She laughed. “Doing what’s necessary to reassure that big sweetheart of a dog. I’m so glad you found him.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” With Howler now occupied, he stood. “You want the two-minute tour?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He looked around, then said, “Might be one minute. It’s a small place.” And damn it, he hadn’t actually cleaned up lately. Most of the dishes were in the dishwasher, but he’d left yesterday’s cereal bowl in the sink.

  When was the last time he cleaned the floor?

  Too late now.

  He gestured. “Kitchen. The bar is where we had most of our meals. Jack and I sat on that side, our backs to the TV, and Mom sat on this side, keeping her eagle eye on us. You can’t know how intimidating it is to have her looking over my homework during dinner.”

  “Did it cause you to get good grades?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes. Other times, it just made me squirm.” Stepping around her, he waved a hand at the couch, two chairs and a few tables—all facing the big flat screen on the wall. “Living room. Small, but we made it work.”

  Tracing her fingers along the back of the fattest chair, she smiled. “There were only the three of you, so plenty of chairs.”

  “Are you kidding? We had friends over all the time. There were a lot of nights that Mom stayed in the kitchen to give us room while we filled every cushion and sometimes the floor.” He looped an arm around her waist. “When Jack and I got older, we filled the room with girls. Mom had a strict rule about us even looking toward the bedrooms.” He laughed with the memory. “She seemed to think we’d do things in there that we didn’t do elsewhere—at least until she caught Jack out in the woods across the track when he was sixteen.”

  “Oh, wow.” Mary’s voice dropped to a scandalized whisper. “Your mother caught him having sex?”

  “Caught him trying.” He shook his head. “It was close. If she’d gone looking for him five minutes later, he’d have really been busted.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She walked a safe distance away, then started calling him so he’d have time to zip up and the girl could get her top back on. We both got lectured then, again, about how to treat a lady.” Remembering made him laugh. “Poor Jack.” He looked down at Mary. “I hear the girl made it up to him later.”

  “Did your mother know that?”

  “I’m sure she suspected. I mean, she knows us, right? She knew what she was dealing with.” Detailing all the ways that his mother had been awesome might make Mary more aware of how hers had failed, but even better, it’d detail for her how a mother should be. He felt like she needed that.

  Like she craved it.

  When she met his mom—and she definitely would, maybe in a few weeks—he wanted her to be prepared.

  Pausing by a door, he said, “Bathroom. I’m a slob, I know. So sue me.”

  She peeked in, seeing the overflowing hamper with a T-shirt hanging out, the open shower curtain, the towels slung over the rod, and the double sink piled with his toothbrush, razor, cologne and such.

  When the hell had he accumulated so much junk for grooming?

  Mary straightened his razor. “For a man who doesn’t shave often, you like it all handy.”

  “Yeah.” He frowned. “I should start putting it away, huh?”

  Her lips twitched. “I’m teasing.”

  “Still...” He glared at the mess, then led her to the next room. “This was my and Jack’s bedroom.”

  “Oh.” She stepped in, looking around in smiling awe. “Bunk beds?”

  “Original, from about th
e time I was five.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and propped a shoulder on the wall. “Those crooked curtains? Mom tried her hand at sewing. It was pretty hilarious, but they matched the bedspreads.”

  “Race cars,” she noted.

  “Yeah.” Damn, he had so many good memories that he wished he could give some to her. He pulled her close and growled, “I’ve never had sex in that bed.”

  Her lashes lifted. “Top or bottom bunk?”

  “Bottom.” Of course, his hands went to her bottom and he asked huskily, “Want to give it a try?”

  Her mouth twitched again. “Maybe another day.”

  Meaning she’d come back? He’d hold her to it.

  “Show me your bedroom, then I’d like to clean up.”

  In that moment, Brodie decided he would get her in the bunk one way or another. Not tonight, but soon.

  He’d mark a milestone with her.

  They strolled into his bedroom and, trying not to be obvious, he walked around picking up discarded socks, shoving crumpled receipts into his pockets and kicking shoes under the bed. “Growing up, this was Mom’s room. That second closet has the washer and dryer in it. She used to fold everything on the bed, putting it in stacks for Jack and me, then we had to put it where it belonged. That is, until we were twelve or thirteen, then she taught us how to do all of it.”

  “You did laundry?”

  Why did that surprise her? “Yeah...” He looked around again. “Despite the evidence, I still do. We had to take turns with chores. Dishes, laundry, cooking, cleaning. Mom said we needed to know how to take care of ourselves.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can cook, too, but she does it better, so...”

  “So you often finagle her into doing it for you?”

  “She loves it.” Very true. “Coddling is her game. She talks a hard line, but it was always backed up with smothering affection.” Though he doubted it would ever seem smothering to Mary. “What about your mom? Was she sometimes affectionate?”

  Under the guise of looking around the room, Mary turned away. After a full minute had passed, she shrugged. “She liked to play with my hair.”