“That broccoli is just about ready for harvest.”
Celia looked up from weeding to find her landlord and friend, Pauline Padgett, smiling at her from the fenced edge of the large vegetable garden. Years ago when she was still in high school, Pauline had given Celia her first job at Pauline’s Praline Sweet Shoppe, but eventually gout had sidelined the older woman. Still a dynamo in a scooter tricked out to look like a three-wheeled Vespa, the heavyset, gray-haired woman Celia thought of as a second mother had a way of knowing all things.
“The spinach, the lettuce and Swiss chard are all going nuts, too.” Celia waved a gloved hand at the row of huge cauliflower plants in front of her. “Not too sure about these guys, though. Something’s eating them, and I don’t want to look too closely to find out what it is.”
“An avid gardener who’s afraid of bugs.” Chuckling, Pauline shook her head as she settled back onto her scooter. Celia grinned, because when it came right down to it, she’d be the first to admit she didn’t make sense. “I’ll have Willard take a peek at the cauliflower to see what can be done. That reminds me,” she added with a snap of her fingers. “He wanted to know if you’ll need any help hilling the sweet potatoes and potatoes. I think he wants to use his new baby tractor. He’s looking for any excuse to use it.”
“Pauline, the sweet potatoes are in the old water troughs that used to be in the barn, and there’s just one row of potatoes. Hardly worth dragging out his spiffy new toy for just one dinky row of potatoes.”
“But that’s just it, honey. It is a toy, and he’s dying to play with it. Help me out and let him play in your garden, please?”
Celia straightened, nudging her wide-brim straw hat back. “Is it my imagination, or did that sound desperate?”
“I’ll be honest with you, honey. Ever since I sold the shop and I’m spending more time at home, Willard is driving me out of my tree with all his projects. Projects he wants to share, God help me.”
“Aw.” Celia grinned as she bent to dust the rich, dark soil off her jeans. “I think that’s sweet.”
“It would be, if his many suggestions didn’t come straight out of the loony bin.”
Celia laughed. “Like what?”
“For one thing, he suggested that instead of using my scooter to get around in town, I should load up his mini-tractor and use that instead.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding? He wants everyone to see his new baby. Can you imagine what I’d look like toodling down the sidewalk on that thing? I’d die of embarrassment.”
“I would say Willard needs a hobby, but since his hobby seems to be you, I’m thinking you should be the one to get a hobby.” Tossing her tools into an old painter’s bucket she used to lug her gardening paraphernalia around, she made her way toward the gate that had once been a stall door from the converted barn. “Weren’t you going to start a cooking blog? I’m living proof you’re a great teacher. You taught me everything I know about cooking and baking.”
“I can’t type for beans, so blogs are a no-go. Instead, I’ve decided I’m going to make one of those video blogs. What are they called, vlogs? You know what I mean.” Suddenly her eyes gleamed behind her rimless glasses. “And there it is, the perfect excuse to get Willard out of my hair.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I need a studio,” she said with a decisive nod. “Even if it’s just a little she-shed. Willard can keep himself occupied by building it however he wants, which means he won’t be underfoot all the time. Then I can hide in it on the excuse of filming a video. There’s no downside to this.”
“Wow, that’s actually pretty brilliant.”
“Honey, when you’ve been married to the same man for as long as I have, you find ways to make sure he doesn’t drive you completely around the bend. And speaking of men,” Pauline went on, leaning on the scooter’s pink handlebars, “do you have any plans to see Ryland Brody now that he’s back in town?”
“He’s back?” Celia went still as an odd little shock zipped through her. It had been almost a week since her interrupted tour of Green Rock Ranch, and in that time she hadn’t heard one fricking word from Ry. She’d grown from insecure and needy to outright pissy about the whole thing, to the point where she’d given serious thought to sending him nothing more than a bunch of middle-finger emojis. Just the thought of it sweetened her mood.
But in the end she’d kept her hands off her phone. Sending even that fury-driven text would have meant she was the one reaching out to him first, and she’d decided somewhere along the way that she would die a thousand deaths before contacting him. Yes, they’d shared some serious bone-melting kisses and yes, the heavy-breathing aspect of their relationship had been accelerating at a breakneck pace.
But so what?
There’d been no promises on either side when they’d gone their separate ways. In fact, Ry had barely spoken a word at all to her once they’d left the ranch and he’d dropped her off at her place. At the time she’d assumed he was preoccupied with business hassles. She’d heard from her mechanic and friend, Coe Rodas that Ry and his brother Fin had flown the ranch’s Cessna to Houston on business, while their half-brother Des stayed home to keep things under control. So she knew Ry was busy.
Everyone in Bitterthorn knew.
That wasn’t the point.
Not everyone in town had been kissed by Ry in a way that promised some hot and sweaty, headboard-breaking, porn-star sex right around the proverbial corner.
She’d been kissed that way, though.
So whether she wanted to admit it or not, she’d been waiting.
Waiting for Ry to remember to tell her that he was going out of town on business.
Waiting for him to call or text to see how she was getting on without him.
Waiting for him to tell her when he would be back home.
Waiting.
Like a damn moron.
“Men are dicks,” she muttered out loud, then put a gloved hand to her mouth when she realized she’d spoken out loud. “Sorry, Pauline.”
“No, no.” With a sympathetic click of her tongue, Pauline waved a dismissive hand. “If that look on your face means what I think it means, there’s no need to apologize. I take it Ry hasn’t called you to let you know he’s back in town?”
“There’s no reason why he would, or should.” Resolutely lifting her chin, Celia unhooked the gate’s latch and pushed through. “That man is not my boyfriend, and I’m sure as hell not his girlfriend. He’s just a member of Texas royalty who deigned to offer me a job.”
“A job that you still haven’t decided on taking?”
“Actually, I’ve decided,” Celia said with a nod. Pauline didn’t have to know that the decision was made right at that moment, after all. “I’m taking that job, and you know what? I’m going to work the hell out of it. With all the hours the Pure Angus project is sure to take, I’m going to make enough money to put Bitterthorn in the rearview mirror once and for all.”
* * *
Unbelievable.
Celia’s damn curtains were open again.
Jaw taut, Ry reached for his phone in its holder on the truck’s dash, only to change his mind when he noticed the upper half of the Dutch door was open as well.
Shit.
Out there in the middle of fucking nowhere, with her nearest neighbors a good fifty yards away, and Celia had her whole damn house wide open. The woman clearly needed to have the situation explained to her in no uncertain terms.
That was something that had to be done face-to-face.
And while he was at it, he thought as he slid out of his truck, he needed to square a few other matters with her as well.
The tightness he could feel in his mouth softened when he caught sight of Celia through the open upper half of the Dutch door. Though there was a screen door in place to shut out the bugs she so hated, he could easily see her at the long dining room table, her legs folded lotus-style in her chair while she busily typed away on a laptop. Behind her, the small sound system pulsed out the sultry, sexy Mazzy Star classic “Wild Horses,” and he could see her slender bare foot absently tapping along with the beat. Her hair was up in a messy bun, exposing the graceful long line of her neck and shoulders exposed by a ballerina pink camisole. Surprisingly, a pair of glasses perched on her nose, the dark rims complimenting her coloring and making her look downright studious.
He’d thought he knew all about her, but he hadn’t known she wore glasses for close work.
What else didn’t he know?
Eyes never leaving her, he knocked against the screen door’s frame and watched in satisfaction as she jumped.
“We talked about this,” he said the moment her gaze slammed into his. Damn, even with those cute glasses on, those black magic eyes still knocked the breath right out of him. “When the sun goes down, you close the curtains. The door too, though I can’t believe I have to tell you that.”
Much to his irritation, she didn’t move from her chair. “Screen door’s latched.”
“That flimsy shit’s not going to stop anyone who really wants in.”
“Like who?”
“Like me.” He reached out and tested the screen door. Latched or not, it wouldn’t take much to get past it. “Want me to prove it? Or do you want to save me all that muscle-flexing trouble and let me in?”
“These are my only choices?” With a noisy sigh she got up and padded to the door. In the short time it took for her to cross the room, he noted she wasn’t wearing a bra, and the low-riding black board shorts hanging off her delicate hip bones had sleeping pink and white sheep all over them. Desire sank its sharp teeth into him when he realized this was what she slept in. “I see another choice. How about I just shut the door?”
The lack of warmth in her voice finally registered. “How about you open up and give me a proper welcome home?”
She leaned against the doorjamb, looking like it would take a court order to make her move toward the locks. “Sorry, but I’m kind of busy. You probably should’ve come along sooner for that kind of thing. You know, like before you left to tell me that you were leaving, or like when you actually got home.”
Aha. “I’m here now.”
“If you’re waiting for applause, you’re going to be disappointed.”
Sass. If only she knew how hot that was. “I don’t want applause. I want to be let in.” For starters, anyway.
She shrugged. The doors stayed where they were. “We all have things we want in life. For example, I would’ve liked to have been remembered before now.”
“I did more than remember you.” Keeping his eyes on hers, he reached for the screen door’s handle. One pull would probably do the trick. “I couldn’t stop myself from remembering everything about you, from your taste to your scent and everything in between. And you know what, darlin’? I think you had the same problem, and that’s why you’re pissed at me now.”
“Who says I’m pissed?”
“These doors. If you were missing me, why didn’t you call me?”
“I’ve been too busy fielding job offers to miss you. I think the job offer up in Dallas is probably the best fit so far. At least that was the feeling I had after driving up there yesterday for a personal interview, and I got the impression Velni and Associates felt the same.”
He went still. Des had reported only that he hadn’t seen Celia or her car around town, and that her best friend, Lucy Jax hadn’t mentioned seeing her around. Since she was actively looking for ways to move out of Bitterthorn, the job offer might be legit...
“Open the door, Celia.”
“Nah. I like the door as it is. Why don’t you go home and continue to forget about me? Life was so much more peaceful.”
His jaw knotted. “Enough with the sass, and open the fucking door.”
“I thought you liked sass.”
“What I don’t like is the combination of sass and doors. One of them’s gotta go.”
“Neither the sass nor the door is going anywhere, so it looks like you’re the one who’s going.”
Fuck it. “You’re not overly attached to this screen door, are you? Because I’m about to blast through it. You might want to stand back.”
She didn’t move. “That’d be breaking and entering.”
“I’m aware.”
A dark brow lifted. “Are you aware that it’s illegal?”
“It’s like this, darlin’. Your nearest neighbor’s way the hell and gone and you’re here all by your little lonesome. Do the math. You have three seconds.”
She scoffed. “You’re so full of bullshit.”
“Glad you haven’t forgotten that I’m a bull. I can guarantee with a high level of authority that in the end, a bull always does whatever the fuck he wants. One.”
“I told you, I’m busy, Ry.”
“And I told you I’m getting through these doors. You know I can tear through this first one, and a Dutch door that’s half-open is nothing. Two.”
“Oh. That’s a good point.”
Slam.
“Damn it.” Ry sucked in a sharp breath and held very still until the impulse to rip the screen door from its hinges slowly...slowly...faded. “Celia, open the door.”
Her voice sounded from directly behind the heavy wood of the now-closed Dutch door’s upper half. “What part of I’m busy don’t you get?”
“You want to hear about busy? I’ve got a cryogenic canister packed with about a million dollars’ worth of straws—that’s Angus bull seed—that busted somewhere between here and Houston, destroying its contents and the possibility that I’m going to see that money in my goddamn bank account. I’ve got a bunch of stupid-ass whiners at the insurance company pointing fingers at more stupid ass shipping employees who, yeah, probably fucked up in shipping the canister. But since that’s what shipping employees do, that’s why I bought the fucking insurance. Meanwhile I’ve got a highly influential rancher who’s pissed off because the cows and heifers he’d wanted to artificially inseminate have now gone out of estrus, so he’s going off like a fucking bomb online, screaming to anyone who’ll listen that Green Rock Ranch is a slip-shod business, no doubt losing us even more money. Yet here I am, standing outside your door instead of dealing with all that shit, because I can’t be anywhere else. When I should be thinking about taking care of my business, all I can do is think about you—how you taste, how you feel under my hands. How much more of you I need to discover. That’s that power of you, darlin’. Just the thought of you can erase every damn crisis I’ve got hanging fire.”
For a moment there was nothing but silence, and in that moment he thoroughly believed she’d wandered off and he’d been standing there talking to a door like a total fucking jackass. Then the sound of a lock turning hit his ears, the whole Dutch door swung open and she undid the hook from the screen door. But instead of stepping back to invite him in, she stood in the doorway, her arms braced against the doorjamb to block his way. “We can talk like this.”
“The hell we can.” The image of her eyes widening in shock was something he was sure he’d never forget as he bent to lift her, one arm under her ass and the other across her lower back. This put her legs around him before she could do a thing about it, while it also put his face exactly where he wanted it to be—in the sweet smelling valley of her thinly veiled breasts.
Hello, heaven.
“Ry, put me down now.”
“I will. Eventually.” Unable to help himself, he moved his cheek against the soft fullness of one breast, then groaned when the nipple beaded to a hard peak. If that wasn’t a demand for his mouth, he didn’t know what was. “You mad at me, darlin’?”
“Seriously? You have to ask? Yes, I’m mad at you.”
“Good.” Slow and deep, his cock began to throb and he nearly groaned again. “Means you missed me.”
“You can’t be serious.” The arms that had automatically curled around his neck began to push away in a bid for distance. Like he was ever going to let that happen. “The last thing I did was miss you. In fact, it barely registered that you were gone.”
“Really.” Satisfied, he grinned and set her back down on her feet, only to tighten his arms around her when she tried to move away. “You sure as hell missed me. Good. That’s exactly what I wanted.”
That made her freeze in place. “What you wanted? What do you mean by that?”
“If you want it spelled out, fine.” He made sure her eyes were locked on his before continuing. “I was doing my damnedest to make you miss me. It worked, so even though you’re mad, I’m going to crow my ass off about it.”
“Wow.” Her teeth snapped shut so sharply he heard them click. “Just...wow. Come to find out, you’re a game-playing dick. Who knew?”
That wiped the smile off his face. “What I am is bound and determined to open up those gorgeous fucking eyes of yours so that you see a few pertinent truths you’ve got going on in your life. Truths you need to face.”
“Like what?”
“Truth number one—you did miss me, and that’s why you’re so angry. You’re also angry because I know what it means.”
“I already said that I didn’t miss you. Do I need to repeat myself?”
“It means,” he went on, ignoring her, “you prefer to have me where you can see me. But you would’ve taken your own sweet time getting around to facing that fact, and I’m not a patient man. So yeah, I made you miss me, and you now don’t have any choice but to accept that as fact. You. Missed. Me.”
She scoffed even as her face flooded with color. “You’re crazy, you know that? Why would I miss someone I hate?”
“Another fact—you don’t hate me. If you hate someone who’s fucking up your life, you don’t miss them when they’re gone. You turn cartwheels when you finally get rid of them and all their fucked-up shit. Believe me, I know.”
That made her frown. “Why is it you sound like an expert on the subject?”
“Maybe someday I’ll tell you all about it, but right now we’re focusing on you, not me.”
“I’d rather not focus on anything except you leaving my house. I don’t like games, or people who play them. The sooner I see the back of you, the better.”
“And there’s one more fact,” he went on grimly. “You’re a game player too, whether you want to admit it or not. Since you don’t like it when someone turns the tables on you, your answer is to stomp off in a damn snit.”
She gasped. “What? I don’t play games.”
“You keep your cards close to the vest, Celia. And you do it just to keep me guessing what the hell’s going on inside that head of yours. Hell yeah, I forced your hand to make you acknowledge what’s starting to light up between us, and I’m not going to apologize for that. I want to see all the cards you’re holding, and you can be damn sure I’ll play any trick in the book to do it.”
She made a sound of frustration. “I cannot believe you. Being cautious is not playing games, Ry.”
“It is in my book.”
“In my book I call it being smart. Something I obviously need to be when you’re in the mood to turn me into a basket case.”
Typical. Maybe he should get used to being the bad guy in her eyes. “If you were a basket case, why didn’t you just pick up the damn phone and call me?”
That made her blink “What?”
“You heard me. If you wanted to hear from me, why didn’t you pick up the phone and call me? I know you have my number, I made sure of that.”
“Well, I...” For a moment she couldn’t seem to find the words. “Look, I wasn’t the one who left town. It should have been up to you to reach out, not me.”
“So in other words, hell would have frozen over before you picked up the phone.” He shook his head. “And you think you don’t play games.”
She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You make it sound like I was doing some kind of power play to make you bend first.”
“Weren’t you?”
“Don’t you dare try to turn this back around on me, pal. You’re the one who left town without telling me a word about it. You’re the one who made me so crazy I wound up dreaming about you every frigging night. You’re the one who should have called, but didn’t.”
“And you’re the one who didn’t call, either.” When she made a sound of disgust and turned away, he caught her back up in his arms in the same position, ignoring her struggles to get free. “Did you really dream about me?”
She pushed against his chest. “Forget I said that. In fact, let’s just forget this entire conversation. Let me go and go away.”
“Why would I want to forget about this when I’ve learned so much? For instance, it’s obvious to me that we need to make some rules around here.”
“Are you deaf? I told you to let me go.”
“Rule number one—whoever leaves town needs to call first to let whoever stayed home know that everything’s fine. Again, I’ll take that hit since I was the one who went out of town. Agreed?”
“You’re out of your mind,” she muttered, though it didn’t escape him that she’d finally stopped pushing him away. “You can’t just pick me up whenever you feel like it.”
“Okay, that’ll be rule number two. Make sure you adhere to that rule as well.”
That made a reluctant smile tug at the corners of her mouth before she ruthlessly crushed it. “We don’t need rules to act civilly toward each other, Ry. I just don’t like being ignored. You don’t know how much I hate that.”
There was something dark behind her words that made him hold her closer. “The one thing I could never do is ignore you, darlin’. That shit’s just not possible.”
There was still no sign of her resurrected smile. “And the only reason I’m pissed is that you seem to be taking me for granted.”
“Never.” He moved to a couch that seemed to be more pillows than actual furniture, and settled in with her straddling his lap. “How do you think I’m taking you for granted, darlin’?”
“I know we’re not dating in any official way, but a call or text to let me know that you were back in town—hell, that you were out of town in the first place—would have been appreciated, if only so that I could tell you that I’ve made a decision on your proposed project.”
There was so much in that statement that needed to be unpacked, but he zeroed in on what he saw as the most important facet. “What the hell are you talking about? We are dating. This is us dating, right now. Tell me what you need me to do to make you feel like it’s official, and I’ll do it.”
“What you need is a reality check. Just because we happen to be in the same room together doesn’t mean we’re on a date. For crying out loud, I’m in my jammies.”
Jammies. Holy fuck, his head would explode if she got any cuter. “You’re sitting on my lap, with these gorgeous legs of yours straddling me the way they were created to be, and I’ve got my hands on your thighs without you saying boo about it. If this isn’t a date, what the hell is it?”
“It’s...” She groped around for the right word. “Happenstance.”
He tilted his head, considering. “Do you know, I’ve lived thirty years on this planet, and I don’t think I’ve ever had the opportunity to use that word in conversation before. I’m impressed.”
“My point is that while you didn’t think we were so involved you had to tell me you were leaving, or that you’d come back—which is fine, by the way—you still seem to think you have every right to drop in on me after ten at night and expect...” She again seemed at a loss for words. “Spontaneous lap-sitting.”
He burst out laughing, crushing her close while the lust-filled hunger that had him twisted up inside deepened into something else—a sweetly painful ache that seeped into every part of him. “Darlin’, I don’t know if I was expecting spontaneous lap-sitting, but I’m sure as hell getting it, yeah? And I don’t see what the problem is, since you’re not fighting it.”
That immediately had her shoving at his hands. “You assumed I’d be alone here, waiting for you like some dewy-eyed schmuck—”
“Dewy-eyed schmuck?” That was almost as good as spontaneous lap-sitting.
“—when it’s entirely possible I could’ve had some other man over, or I could’ve been over at someone else’s place, or out on a date, or already asleep. That’s how you’re taking me for granted. No woman on earth is going to put up with that kind of crap.”
At once, his humor died. “You’re not seeing anyone.”
“See? That right there. You’re assuming we’re together because we’ve shared a couple kisses, but we’re not.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He tangled a hand in her hair and forced her gaze to lock with his. “I’m saying I know you don’t have a man in your life because I’ve got eyes on you, and there’s no one. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Her expression was torn between shock and outrage. “You’re spying on me?”
“It’s not spying if I have my brother Des looking out for you in case you need help and I’m not around to be there for you.”
“Unbelievable. You are so unbelievable.” Her voice ended on a dangerous growl. “How? I didn’t even see any of your brothers this past week, much less speak with them.”
“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t,” he muttered, letting her hair go, “since I threatened them all with the beating of their lives if any of them ever chose to take you up on your bad case of Brody worship.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me.”
“Brody...worship?” If he thought she’d been outraged before, it was nothing compared to the fury that darkened her features now. “Okay, you just went way too far. I don’t freaking worship any of you. Let me go, and get the hell out of my house.”
“I’m not holding you, but I’m also not leaving.”
In a flash she was on her feet. “I’m serious, Ry. I’m now officially no longer in the mood for company. Especially company that insults me to my face.”
“Brody worship, especially the kind you used to lavish on me and my brothers, is an insult when you’re the target of it,” he nodded, determined to get through this now that it was out in the open. “For what it’s worth, that’s what my grandmother called it after spending a lifetime of enduring a cheating husband. She said it with so much hate that I’ve never forgotten it. It’s like hero worship, you know? Except it’s all twisted up and perverted, to the point where it makes people cast aside what they know is right. Honest to God, it’s like a curse.”
“I said I want you to—”
“I’ve heard this fixation shit goes all the way back to when the first Brody made his mark here in Texas. And you know what sucks? The gig sounds so damn good at first. Women fucking throw themselves at Brody men like they think we’re rock stars or something. The money, the luxury, the prestige that goes with the Brody name—all that useless shit acts on a certain type of woman like a crazy-ass siren song. When you’re a kid who doesn’t understand shit, that sounds like a wet dream. But I’ve seen the dark side of that curse up close and personal, and I want nothing to do with it.”
“Ryland—”
“You know my brother Desmond is actually my half-brother, yeah?”
She glared at him so balefully he could almost believe she was trying to murder him with her thoughts. “Everyone knows that. So?”
“So, Des is living proof that Brody worship is real, and it’s the most destructive force I’ve ever seen.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she gritted out through clenched teeth. “There’s no such thing as Brody worship. You make it sound like your family has a damn cult following.”
“In a way it does, and you were a member of that cult just as much as anyone at one point in your life.”
Twin splotches of color stained her cheeks. “Get out. Just...get out.”
“Des’s mother was a married woman with a goddamned child of her own,” he pressed on, needing her to see why things had unfolded the way they had. “Yet none of that stopped that bitch from going after my old man like a heat-seeking missile. And what’d that spineless bastard do? Lost his head and gave in to the call of a stiff dick, just like his father before him. And he did it because some fangirl threw herself at him like a cat in heat, swept up in a fit of Brody worship.”
“How dare you.” A flash of what looked like pain tightened her expression. “I won’t stand here and let you compare me and my actions to a, a...a cat in heat, do you hear me?”
He held up a hand. “If you think I’m saying that, then you’re not listening. I’m saying that my father knew about the Brody worship curse, but he still got blindsided when a woman he was attracted to gave him the green light. He loved my mother, God knows he did. And before it all went to shit, my mother adored him. But because he got the hots for a piece of ass who had a Brody fixation, he put a permanent scar on their marriage, turned our lives into a never-ending war-torn hell, and fucked up Des something fierce. And my old man did it all because he didn’t make himself smack down the other woman who targeted him.”
“Smack down,” she repeated bitterly. “Like you did with me.”
“Hell, yes, exactly like I did with you. I went out of my way to smack all that Brody worship bullshit out of you so that you’d never again think that getting fucked by any one of us—it didn’t matter who—was going to be an event you could brag to your friends about.”
“Great. Mission accomplished.” The flash of tears in her eyes behind those glasses hit him hard, even as her face and neck turned the color of brick. “I wouldn’t come near any of you now if my life depended on it.”
“I’m fine with you not going near any of my brothers. That’s exactly what I want. But you’re going to have to reevaluate that plan when it comes to me.”
“Not going to happen,” she vowed as the furious tears spilled over at last, and she wiped at the wetness so fast she almost knocked her glasses off. “Get out, now.”
“You’re still not hearing me.” At last he got to his feet and set a course straight for her. She backed up, then kept backing up when he refused to take the hint that she wanted nothing to do with him. “The thought of having a fangirl pursuing me leaves me cold, you understand me, Celia? I’m the one who does the pursuing.”
“Good for you. Why don’t you go find someone who wants to be pursued?”
“I’ve found the one I want to pursue. I found her a long time ago. I can’t remember a time when just thinking about her didn’t get me horny as hell. What we’re going to have...it’s going to be real. And it sure as hell isn’t going to be built on hero worship or Brody worship, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, because there isn’t an ounce of that shit inside of her.”
“I’m happy for you. Thrilled, even.” She backed into a dining room chair, then skirted around the table. “Thanks loads for the information. Now leave. I’m sick of looking at you.”
“There are lots of reasons why I’m telling you all this, though I know you’re not in any kind of mood to hear it.” He dropped his voice the more agitated she became, just like he did when he had a high-strung horse on his hands that wanted nothing more than to cave his cranium in with one good kick. “It’s pretty goddamn important to me that you know you can trust me, especially since I know what people generally think about us Brody men. They think we’re unmarriable, that we’re good for nothing but fucking and forgetting. Hell, I’ve even overheard people talking in town about that very thing, literally using that word—unmarriable. Can you believe that shit? Unmarriable. They don’t have a fucking clue. I’ll never have my head turned by a woman who throws herself at me. You can take that to the bank, Celia. I’ve seen what special kind of hell that brings, so I swear I’ll never be tempted, no matter what some idiot bitch might do down the road.”
Agony flashed through her eyes like lightning. “You mean an idiot bitch like me. I get it, you ass. Don’t you know I fucking get it?”
“But you don’t, darlin’. I’m telling you as plain as I know how that despite all the bad history the men in my family have, and all the shit that comes with being a Brody, you’ve got my solemn vow that I’ll never be unfaithful to you. When you and I are together, that’s it. We. Are. Together.”
The statement froze her in place, and while she was playing statue he took advantage by rounding the table to her side. “Wait...what?”
“But here’s the thing. That kind of deal only works if it goes both ways. I won’t have any more talk about you having other men over, or going on dates with anyone who’s not me. And I sure as hell hope I’ve cured you of your case of Brody worship, because I’m a possessive man. What’s mine is mine. I don’t share, not even with my brothers. You’re with me exclusively, or this shit ain’t happening.”
“You’re deluded,” she breathed, staring at him as if she’d never seen him before. “I just told you that I’m sick of looking at you. What part of that could possibly make you imagine that we’re together?”
“What it tells me is that my plan worked. You’re done with wanting to bag yourself a Brody. Even though it stung, it had to be that way so I could be sure of you. Now I know I can have you around my brothers and not worry you’d try and have a go at one of them.”
Her eyes narrowed furiously. “Is that why you acted so strangely when Fin showed up last week? You thought that after kissing you, I might jump on him like...like some cat in heat, as you put it? Do you actually think I’m that much of a slut?”
Damn it, she wasn’t listening. “What I know is how strong the Brody fixation can be. I’ve seen it, Celia. It can override even the best of intentions.”
“So that’s a yes. You think I’m that much of a slut. That I’d fuck any Brody who came along.”
“There was a time when you would have done exactly that,” he reminded her, and his stomach tightened as his words made her recoil as if he’d slapped her. “But not anymore. I know I can trust you now, so we can go ahead and get on with things.”
“You see? Right there.” Her lip curled back in a snarl. “You are deluded. There’s nothing to get on with, especially now.”
“Yeah there is, though right now you’re too pissed off to admit it even to yourself. But that’s okay. I had to light that fire inside you to burn away all the shit, so I understand. You need time to let that fire burn itself out. I’m fine with that, just as long as it doesn’t get out of control and burn us down before we even get started.”
“There is no us,” she shot back, shaking her head in teeth-gnashing fury. “Now for the last fucking time, get out.”
The last part was screamed, and with her hands balled up and shaking it was clear he’d pushed her to her limit. Anything he did now would do more harm than good. “Okay, darlin’,” he said gently, moving toward her. She once again took a step back, this time also dragging a chair directly into his path. He paused, then half-smiled as he shoved the chair aside like it weighed nothing, and proceeded to move past her without touching her. His hands itched to reach for her as he passed, but grabbing her and trying to force her to see exactly where they stood wasn’t going to work.
Not tonight, anyway.
“Tomorrow,” he said simply, making both her and himself that promise before he headed for the door.