Chapter 12 - Brenna
brENNA
The smell of breakfast pulled me from my sleep—bacon sizzling, vegetables being sautéed, bread toasting—and the best part? Being able to imagine Atticus downstairs, preparing it.
The Tuesday-morning sunlight painted patterns across our tangled sheets, and I stretched, feeling pleasantly sore and very well-loved. We’d barely made it up the stairs last night after Emma and Kodiak left before our clothes started coming off, falling on the floor as we raced to bed.
“Morning, counselor,” Atticus said from the doorway, wearing only pajama pants and holding two mugs. “Tea for you, liquid motivation for me.”
“What time is it?” I sat up, taking the cup from his hand and inhaling deeply. A girl could definitely get used to this.
“Zero seven hundred.” His weight made the mattress dip when he settled beside me. “Sleep well?”
“When you finally let me sleep.”
“I don’t recall any complaints at the time. In fact, I distinctly remember begging.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I will not deny it.”
“And did you get everything you asked for?”
“Fishing for compliments, Finch?”
“Always.”
I snuggled into him. “Do I smell bacon?”
“It’s my new cologne. Wanna lick me?”
I shook my head and laughed. “You’re so weird.”
Atticus shifted so I could rest my head on his chest. “All this talk about licking has me hungering for things other than breakfast.”
“I’d hate for the chef to think we don’t appreciate his efforts.” I raised my head and kissed up his neck to his lips.
“Believe me, he doesn’t care. Especially since he’s in bed with a naked woman.”
He repeated one of my favorite moves where, in what seemed like a heartbeat, I was on my back, legs spread, with him settled between them.
I raised my pelvis and pressed against him. “Why are you still wearing pajama bottoms?”
They were off before I finished speaking. “Did you start without me?” he teased, rubbing himself against my wetness.
“It’s my body’s natural response whenever you’re close to me.”
He eased inside me slowly, then thrust until he couldn’t go deeper. “God, I love this. Love you.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist and rested my hand on his heart. “I love you, Mason.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“Mason.”
I smiled. “I love you, Mason.”
When he started to move, my back arched and my body met his, thrust for thrust, both of us repeating our love again and again.
“I feel a little guilty,” I said when we eventually made it downstairs to eat and saw it was close to zero eight hundred.
I had on the dress shirt Atticus had worn at dinner the night before, and he’d put his pajama bottoms back on.
When he walked by me to reheat our breakfast, he pulled me into his arms, reached under the shirt, and squeezed the cheek of my naked bottom.
“Favorite breakfast ever,” he said, pulling my body flush with his.
“We haven’t eaten yet.”
“You, in my shirt and nothing else, moments after I was inside you? Come on, what could be better?” he said as he squeezed my cheek once more before letting go. “So, why do you feel guilty?”
“I’m supposed to be working, not on a romantic getaway.”
“It was your idea for us to go undercover as a married couple. Which means being romantic is working. Now, sit down, and I’ll have our food reheated in a minute.”
“I can help.”
Atticus shook his head. “Check your email instead.” He was standing at the stove but looked over his shoulder at me. “Better yet, why not send Luke a message and let him know you’re ‘officially’ in town?”
“I would like to see him…”
While he waited for the microwave to ding, he rested his hands on the counter. “He said something when we met for breakfast that’s stuck with me.”
“Uh-oh.” I had my phone in my hand, but set it on the counter.
“It was good. I think.”
My eyes scrunched. “What did he say?”
“Luke was giving me crap, like he always does, and he mentioned you.”
I put my head in my hands. “Oh God.”
Atticus grabbed my wrist. “Hold on. Let me tell you the rest. So we’re shootin’ the shit, as it were, and I jokingly thanked him for pointing out all of my lesser qualities—”
“To me?”
He nodded. “And he said he was just looking out for you, then added, ‘on the other hand, a guy can change, right?’”
I wasn’t sure how to interpret my brother’s comment, except I could see it might be in Atticus’ favor. “Interesting.”
“So I guess we have to figure out how to handle it if we get together with him.”
“We?”
“Yeah, Bug. We.” He came around the island, turned my stool to face him, and put his hands on either side of me. “I’m not sneaking around with you when we get back to real life. Loud and proud, baby.”
“But—”
He dropped his hands and walked away. “It’s that or nothing, Brenna.”
“Wow.”
His eyes met mine. “If that’s not what you want—”
“Not that you’re even giving me the chance to speak.”
He huffed and put his hands back on the counter.
“I meant ‘wow’ as in ‘good.’”
“So why question whether we both get together with him?”
I got up and took our food out of the microwave. “Let’s eat while we talk about this.”
“I lose my appetite when my feelings are hurt.” His lower lip stuck out, and I smiled.
“Let me see if I can clarify what I meant, so neither of us has to starve.”
We dished our food and sat at the dining table instead of the bar.
“I’m listening,” he said, fork raised but not yet digging into his food.
I thought longer than I probably should have about what I wanted to say, but I wanted to make this better, not worse. “I’m scared.”
He stuck a piece of bacon in his mouth and took his time chewing, then swallowing. “You wanna know how many women I’ve told I love them?”
“Sure.”
“Four.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that was the exact reason I was worried about this thing between us, but he covered my hand with his.
“My mother, my two sisters, and you. And you’re the only one who I love-love. Got it?”
“Okay, but—”
He shook his head. “No buts. No matter what you say, I’ve got an answer.”
“Let’s hear them,” I said, folding my arms.
“Why am I so sure about how I feel when it’s been one hundred and eleven hours since we first slept together? And by that, I mean slept. Almost forty-seven hours since the first time we made love.”
“Yeah, that’s one question.”
“Here’s the answer. Because it’s been four thousand seven hundred fourteen days, nineteen hours, and forty minutes since the first time I met you.”
My eyes opened wide.
“And that’s how long I’ve known you. That’s how long it’s been since the first time I saw your dimples, the first time I wondered what it would feel like to kiss you—even when I knew that, if your brother didn’t kill me, I’d probably go to jail because I was eighteen and you were sixteen.
I still wondered, Brenna. And every time I saw you after that and we’d hug, I didn’t want to let go.
I wanted the rest of the world to fade away and leave us alone just so I could spend a few more minutes knowing how it felt to hold you. ”
“Atticus—”
“No, this is Mason talking. And that’s another thing. You want to know how many women I’ve wanted to call me by my real name?”
“Four?”
“One. My mom and sisters do it anyway. You, I wanted it. Want it.” He weaved his fingers with mine.
“And as far as my being worried about what Luke will think, how he’ll react…
I don’t care. If he doesn’t take one look at us together and figure out that I love you, then he’s not as smart a guy as I’ve always taken him for. ”
“What if he, you know, punches you?”
Atticus shook his head. “He won’t. But if you don’t feel as strongly as I do, you should probably tell me now.”
“I do.”
“Good.” He leaned forward, almost close enough to kiss me.
“Why are you so sure Luke won’t start a fight with you?”
“I said he wouldn’t punch me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, why not?”
“I won’t have the element of surprise, so I’ll be one step ahead of him.”
“You’d punch him first?”
He leaned closer and, this time, kissed me. “Seriously, Brenna, it won’t come to that.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said under my breath.
“So, call him.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Want me to do it?”
“What would you say?”
“Hey, Luke. It’s Perry. I’m having breakfast with your sister right now…” He eased his hand under my shirt and up the inside of my leg. “And she’s—”
“Never mind. I’ll do it. I just hate lying to him.”
“Then, don’t.”
“You think I should tell him we’re together?”
“Invite him to join us for dinner, then we’ll tell him.”
I dialed Luke’s number before I could lose my nerve.
“Hey, Bug. I was planning to call you today.”
“Yeah? I was wondering if you have time to meet for dinner.”
“Of course I do. When and where?”
Atticus held up his phone. On the screen was a restaurant in Sonoma.
“A Girl and a Fig in Glen Ellen tomorrow night?” I asked.
“Perfect. Can’t wait. What about Finch, can he join us?”
“Yes,” I said rather than pretend like I needed to ask, or Luke needed to.
“Awesome. I’ll make a reservation for seven. Can’t wait to see you both. Love ya, Bug.”
“Love you too,” I said right before the call ended.
“You look…”
“Confused?” I suggested.
“That works.”
“Do you think he already knows about us?”
Atticus shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow night. Now, what should we do today? Talk about Morrison?”
“We should probably brief the team.”
“You’re right. But first, can we please eat?”
I froze when the first thing that came to mind was that Atticus sounded just like a little boy. A little boy that he and I would have some day.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. Just, um, really hungry.”
As I put jam on a rock-hard piece of toast, my cell rang with a call from a blocked number.
“Bronwyn Nolan.”
“Mrs. Nolan, this is Patricia calling for Mr. Morrison.”
Atticus immediately moved closer, abandoning the eggs to listen.
“Good morning, Patricia.”
“Mr. Morrison wanted to personally invite you and your husband to an exclusive gathering this weekend at Valley Ridge Resort.”