Owen barely made it through the Sunday morning rush. He was working on two hours sleep, not to mention his body ached—in the best possible way. He yawned for what seemed like the hundredth time and stretched out his sore muscles.
“You look like shit, cuz,” Leslie said as she came into the kitchen carrying an empty tray.
“Gee, thanks,” Owen deadpanned.
“No problem.” She winked and put the tray down by the sink with a clank. “We’re out of apple turnovers, and Mrs. Jenkins ordered two dozen assorted cookies for an open house she scheduled tomorrow.”
“Uh huh,” he said absently, looking up at the clock. He leaned back from the counter, mindlessly kneading dough for rolls. From this angle, he could see the front door perfectly.
“And we could use more blueberry and banana nut muffins.”
“Mhmm,” Owen glanced up at the clock again.
“And I’m gonna need the next week off and an advance in my pay.”
Owen snapped his head up, glaring at his cousin. “What? Why?”
“Of course, that you hear,” she said with a teasing grin.
He gave his cousin the finger and tried to hold back a smile. “Such a pain in the ass,” he muttered to himself.
The bells above the front door jingled, and Owen quickly looked up. He couldn’t help the smile that time. God, the man was gorgeous. Brody’s big muscled body practically took up the whole doorway. Heat rushed to his face remembering that big, strong body moving with his last night. Over him. Under him. Inside him…
Leslie took that moment to step in Owen’s line of vision and give him a sneaky grin. She looked back toward the front of the store then turned to Owen with a raised eyebrow. Rubbing her hands together as if plotting something evil, she pivoted and walked out to greet Brody.
“Fuck.” Owen quickly washed the flour from his hands and rushed out to tame the little imp.
Leslie was leaning on the counter, unashamedly looking Brody up and down. “Well, hello there, Mr. Carpenter,” she said with a leer, twirling a red curl of her wild hair.
Brody looked at her in confusion, and Owen bumped his cousin with his hip, making her stumble to the side with a glare shot his way. “Give it a rest, Red.” Owen glanced back at Brody and heat immediately raced to his face—and down south. “Hey.”
A smile split Brody’s gorgeous face. “Hey.”
Owen could see his cousin looking back and forth between him and Brody. He elbowed her, and she yelped and smacked his arm.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Leslie asked, never taking her eyes off of Brody.
“Do I have a choice?”
She gave him a look to say he must be out of his fucking mind.
Owen exhaled in annoyance. “Leslie, meet Brody Walker. Brody this is my nosy, loud—ow!” Owen reached down, rubbing his throbbing shin that his cousin so graciously kicked. “Did I mention sweet?” he added sarcastically, flashing her a dirty look. “My incredibly sweet cousin, Leslie Goodman.”
“Hey there,” Leslie said. “I have heard a lot about you.” She wiggled her eyebrows and gave a cheeky grin.
“Didn’t you say you needed to do something in the kitchen?” Holy hell, please go in the kitchen.
“Nope,” she said, popping the “p” on her lips for emphasis. Evil woman. “So Brody, I hear you’re doing an amazing job at Owen’s place. Hope he’s not working you too hard.” Leslie smiled innocently with a shit-ton of innuendo behind her words.
Brody blushed and Owen groaned, leaning on the counter and covering his face with his hands.
Brody recovered fast though. “I don’t mind working up a sweat.” Owen snapped his head up just as Brody shrugged, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Won’t catch me in an office. I’ve always been more hands-on.” This time it was Owen’s turn to blush.
Leslie’s mouth dropped open. “I like this guy.” And then she giggled. Fucking giggled!
Brody cleared his throat and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “So, I was thinking I might pick up some pastries for my aunt and for my mom’s nurses. Got any suggestions?”
The facetious look drained from Leslie’s face and she reached over the counter and squeezed Brody’s arm. “I’m sorry to hear about your mom. That’s gotta be hard.”
“Thanks. It’s been difficult.” That quickly, Owen could see Brody’s good mood deflate.
Leslie must have sensed the shift too. “Let me get a box and you can pick some things out.” Owen gave her a grateful smile, and she winked at him. She helped Brody pick out some of the best-sellers, refusing to take any money. Brody looked over at Owen for help, but he just smirked and shook his head. His cousin may drive him crazy, but she read him well. There was no way he was charging Brody.
“Thanks.” Brody put his money away and glanced up at Owen. “Well, I better get going. My mom’s pretty much done for the day by four. Maybe my aunt can have these for dessert.”
“You don’t eat dinner with them?” Leslie asked speculatively.
“No, my aunt eats dinner pretty early. My mom doesn’t have much of an appetite.” The pain was so clear in Brody’s eyes. He couldn’t hide what this was doing to him, and Owen felt helpless.
“It’s settled then,” Leslie said, picking up the pastry box. “You’ll come to dinner tonight at my aunt’s house. You know Owen’s mom, right?”
“Leslie…” Owen started to argue.
“What else have you got to do?” She held the box to her with a sly smile.
Shit. She’s holding the man’s pastries hostage.
“I appreciate the offer, but—”
“Don’t be silly. Aunt Sandy always cooks for an army, right Owen?” She looked at Owen and widened her eyes, nudging her head in Brody’s direction.
Owen looked back at Brody’s worried gaze. Damn woman put Brody on the spot; now it was up to him to diffuse the situation. He opened his mouth, but saw something flash in those brown eyes; something akin to longing. Then it hit Owen; when was the last time Brody had been part of a family dinner? Even when he’d lived with his parents, had he really ever had what Owen took for granted? Owen ate dinner every Sunday night with his mom, aunt, and cousin. Usually, Jonah was a part of that too. But he’d picked up some more hours at the gym.
Owen could give this to Brody.
“Come,” he simply said.
“Are you sure?” Brody asked in surprise. “I don’t want to intrude.” Those big eyes full of longing, and a vulnerability Owen wasn’t used to seeing in the man in front of him, were locked onto Owen’s, begging for reassurance. That guy from so long ago seemed to truly be gone. Whether it was by choice or by force didn’t matter. The man in front of him carried all the truth Owen needed.
“You won’t be. I want you to come.” There was a connection between them, something tethered them, pulling them toward each other—and Owen was okay with it. Actually, if he were being honest, he was starting to crave it—crave Brody.
Again, Owen could feel his cousin studying both him and Brody, but he didn’t take his eyes off the man.
“Okay. I’ll be at your mom’s at…?”
“Six thirty,” Leslie chimed in.
Brody nodded and took the box of liberated pastries from Leslie. “Thanks again,” he said as he lifted the box in gesture. “I guess I’ll…I’ll see you both tonight.” He turned to walk out the door, shooting Owen one more gorgeous smile over his shoulder before he left.
Owen waved, watching as Brody crossed the street and headed in the direction of his mom’s house. This could be good for him, Owen thought. A home-cooked meal, some conversation—and probably town gossip, if he knew the women in his life at all. For once, his cousin had a good idea.
“You nailed the carpenter!” Leslie said loudly, and Owen jerked his head up and looked around. He took a relieved breath when he saw there was no one in the store.
“Jesus! Why don’t you say that a little louder? I don’t think Jim at the post office you heard you.”
Leslie opened her mouth, but Owen slapped a hand over it to shut her down. “Zip it, Red.” He pointed at her and narrowed his eyes. “You better be on your best fucking behavior.”
Leslie knocked his hand away. “Pretty sure Brody only cares about your fucking behavior,” she teased.
“I swear. Sometimes you act like you’re fourteen.” He rolled his eyes at her smiling face, trying to keep his own at bay.
“You nailed the carpenter,” Leslie said in a sing-song voice as she backed through the door to the kitchen with a wicked grin.
Owen couldn’t hold the laughter in anymore. He hung his head and sighed. “Well, this should be interesting.”
~ɤ~
Brody sat in his car outside of Owen’s childhood home. What am I doing here? He didn’t know the first thing about family dinners. His family never ate together. His father had expected his dinner to be served to him in front of the TV with a beer, and his mother had eaten at the counter in the kitchen. Brody ate anywhere…a friend’s house, the diner…as long as it wasn’t at home. Gabe sure as hell never invited him to a family dinner. Hell, Gabe didn’t even like his family.
He studied the white ranch-style home. There was definitely a woman’s touch on every inch of the outside. A colorful wreath of flowers hung on the red door with two potted plants on either side of the front steps. There was a candle in every window, as if the house was in a perpetual state of Christmas—even though it was the beginning of May and still pretty light out at that hour.
My mom will never have this again.
Who was he kidding? Did she ever really have that? A peaceful, beautiful home to be proud of, filled with love? He thought of the overgrown bushes and the paint peeling on the wooden stairs. He’d work on cleaning things up as soon as he was done with Owen’s kitchen. But what’s the point now? He hated himself for even thinking that.
Brody ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Get a grip. It’s just dinner.” Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed the bottle of merlot off of the passenger seat and got out of the truck.
Brody’s heart pounded in his chest as he knocked on the front door. He heard muffled voices and chuckled, recognizing the fire-red hair of Owen’s cousin as she peeked out the long window beside the door. A familiar hand shoved Leslie to the side, and Brody heard her yelp then the deep, sexy baritone of Owen’s voice. “How about you open the door instead of being a creeper!”
The door swung open and Brody’s heart sped up at the sight of Owen. The man really knew how to make jeans and a T-shirt sexy as hell. Brody’s gaze started at Owen’s sock-clad feet and traveled up. Soft, dark denim covered strong, thick thighs. A blue, cotton T-shirt separated Brody’s eyes from what he knew was a perfectly sculpted torso and smooth porcelain skin…skin that he knew the taste of. When his gaze finally met Owen’s blue eyes, he knew by the smirk on Owen’s face that he’d been caught ogling the guy. He adjusted himself in his jeans as he blushed at being busted. How about you not go in the house with a hard-on, asshole.
“Hey. Come on in.” Owen stepped to the side as Brody entered the house. Immediately, he was overtaken with a delicious aroma.
“It smells fantastic in here.” He closed his eyes and breathed in the heavenly scent, handing the bottle of red to Owen.
“I hope you’re hungry, because my mom went a little overboard.”
“I heard that!” a woman’s voice shouted from the kitchen.
“You were supposed to!” Owen yelled back then winked at Brody.
Leslie came up from behind Owen and leaned a forearm on Owen’s shoulder, which looked a little ridiculous considering her short height. Although, Brody had a feeling this woman’s small stature didn’t hold her back from anything.
“As soon as Aunt Sandy found out you were coming, she went out and got another pot roast and more potatoes,” she said.
Brody cringed. “I wish she didn’t do that on my account.”
“Nonsense,” another voice said behind him, and he quickly turned around. A petite woman walked over to him and squeezed his right bicep. “Sandy doesn’t need a reason—” She broke off, widening her blue eyes and squeezed his bicep again. “Oh my. Way to go, Owen!” she said. Yeah, Leslie’s mom, no doubt.
Owen groaned and Brody laughed when he saw how red the man’s face was.
“Jesus Christ, really Aunt Laurie?” Owen asked abashedly.
“Language!” Owen’s mom yelled from the kitchen.
The strawberry blonde—Aunt Laurie, apparently—still firmly holding Brody’s arm, yelled back, “The man’s met Leslie. Do you really think he believes we’re all prim and proper in this house?”
“Hey!” Leslie crossed her arms in a huff.
“Come on, honey, we all know you’re one donut shy of a dozen,” Laurie said.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Owen, aren’t you teaching her anything at that bakery?”
“It means you’re crazy, Red.” Leslie turned on her heel and punched Owen in the arm with a scowl. “Don’t hit me! Your mom’s the one who said it.”
“Well, it’s the truth, honey,” she said to her daughter unapologetically then turned back to Brody. “I’m Laurie Goodman, Owen’s aunt, as you’ve probably already figured out.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
She waved her hand at him. “None of that ma’am stuff. Makes me feel old,” she said, just as another woman was coming out of the kitchen, but this one, Brody recognized.
“You are old, Laurie,” Owen’s mom said, and Brody laughed when Laurie gave the same scowl her daughter had only moments before.
“Hi, Mrs. Richards. Thank you for having me.”
“Please, call me Sandy.” She walked right up to him and nudged her sister to the side. “Okay, Laurie, let the man go.” She wrapped Brody in a hug; he stood there surprised for a moment then awkwardly hugged her back. The attention was overwhelming, and something Brody wasn’t used to.
Brody pulled back from the smaller woman. She had the same porcelain skin and blue eyes as her son, but her hair was strawberry blonde like her sister’s, with the same light streaks of gray interspersed. Brody vaguely remembered Mr. Richards with hair as dark as Owen’s chocolate brown.
All the women in Owen’s life barely made it up to Brody’s shoulders, yet he somehow felt small around these strong, confident women. Brody laughed when he glanced down and saw the apron Owen’s mom wore. The words read, “Your opinion wasn’t in the recipe.” Somehow, he figured that pretty much summed up the three feisty ladies surrounding him.
A sudden pensive look replaced the humor in Sandy’s eyes and Brody knew the question was coming. He did his best to brace himself for it.
“How’s your mom, Brody?”
“She’s okay. Tired.” Nope, didn’t get any easier answering that question.
As if Owen could sense that Brody didn’t want to talk about it, he grabbed Brody’s hand and pulled him from the sympathetic, female eyes surrounding him. “Okay, how about we let the guy get further than the entryway, huh?” he said in warning to his family. “Come on. I’ll give you a tour before dinner.” Owen pulled Brody away, and Brody heard the women bickering behind him and chuckled. Man, they were a whirlwind.
Owen quickly led Brody down the hall, not stopping as he pointed left and right, telling Brody what the rooms were. Finally, he yanked Brody into the last room on the right, shutting the door behind them. Owen grabbed Brody’s face and kissed him; the touch of soft lips and the smooth slide of tongues drained all of the tension out of Brody’s body.
Owen broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Brody’s. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” He lifted his face to look at Brody. “Did I mention they’re all crazy?”
A loud, full laugh broke past Brody’s lips and soon Owen joined in. “They’re great.”
“Yeah, I’d hold that thought. We still have to get through dinner. I remember the first time I brought Jonah—” Owen stopped short and winced, lowering his gaze.
Brody lifted Owen’s chin and looked directly into his eyes. “Owen, you don’t have to stop yourself from talking about him. I know he’s still an important part of your life.” Brody wrapped his arms around Owen’s waist and softly kissed him.
Owen sighed into the kiss before pulling back. “Sorry. You’re right. This whole thing is gonna take some getting used to.”
“For you and me both.”
Owen nodded his head, gave Brody another quick, firm kiss then opened the door. “Come on, before they send Leslie in here after us.” That was enough to get Brody moving.
Dinner was chaotic, loud, and holy shit there was a lot of food!
The conversation never dwindled, occasionally there were two going on at once. He tried his best to keep up, but found he was just as happy and amused sitting there, listening to them. They weren’t a typical family, at least not what Brody thought was typical. Owen’s dad had been gone a long time, he had no idea about Leslie’s dad—and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.
But they were a real family. At least, the love and harmless banter between them felt real.
What did he know about that though? It had always seemed so elusive to him. But, as he sat there and watched them interact, he felt a gaping black hole in his life. He’d always known it was there, the emptiness that he didn’t know how to fill. He’d gotten used to it, accepted it even. It wasn’t until he came back to see his mom that the hole began to feel so ominous. Sitting there among an honest-to-God real family, he didn’t understand how emptiness could feel so heavy. As he sat in this warm home, with these loving—and crazy—people, he craved this more than anything. What would it feel like to have this? Not just for a night, but as part of his life.
“You okay?” Owen squeezed Brody’s thigh under the table and a warmth raced through him. Damn, he could get used to this—and that scared the shit out of him. Because what happened when he had to give it all up to go back to his life? He hated the concern in Owen’s eyes though.
“Yeah, I’m good.” He forced a smile and hoped it was enough for now. His emotions hung on by a thread. Now was not the time to think about how fucked up his family was. It wouldn’t change anything.
Turning back to the conversation, Brody caught the tail-end of a story Leslie was telling.
“Spawn of the devil, I swear,” Leslie said, shaking her head in disgust.
Brody widened his eyes, and Owen leaned toward him and whispered, “Mrs. Nelson’s four-year-old. Kid tears through the bakery, and his mom leaves the mess for us.”
“If that little brat comes back tomorrow and messes up the sitting area again, I’m gonna glue his butt to the chair.” Everyone around the table laughed, and Leslie added, “I’m serious. It’s on. I may be short, but I can take a four-year-old.”
“Precious, isn’t she?” Owen teased then ducked when a roll came flying across the table toward his head.
“Honey, don’t waste the food,” Sandy said in reprimand.
“Don’t waste the food?” Owen asked incredulously. “How about don’t throw things at your son!”
Sandy patted Owen’s cheek. “She missed, didn’t she?”
“Unbelievable.” Owen shook his head, turning to Brody with a smile.
Brody chuckled and looked around the table. Already, the women were talking about something else. Hell, he couldn’t remember when he’d had this much fun.
Owen took his hand under the table and laced their fingers together. Warmth radiated from their joined hands and spread throughout his body. What he wouldn’t give for more nights like this.
“Brody, did Owen tell you about the time he was staring at some guy’s ass in the gym and fell off the treadmill?” Leslie asked mischievously.
Owen face-palmed and groaned. “Why do I tell you anything?”
The whole table burst into laughter as Leslie began telling the story.
Yeah, I could get used to this.