Chapter 12
twelve
MAC
When I was eight, I accidentally stole my neighbor’s dog.
Well, it wasn’t an accident. Not really. I’d wanted her dog and thought I’d be a much better pet owner. So I’d taken him.
Mrs. Landrum’s land bordered Grandpappy’s. She was friendly with my family and attended service on Sunday at the same church. But I really felt like her chocolate Lab, Baker, needed more attention.
After school most days, Baker would come to visit me in the fields, and we’d run and play.
And one day, I just decided he should come home with me instead.
Oh, and I renamed him Brownie Sundae.
I managed to hide him in our barn for two days, bringing him food and water. But my dad heard him barking and caught me red-handed when I snuck out of the house with my pillow and a blanket to sleep in the barn so Brownie wouldn’t be lonely.
Dad hadn’t yelled or gotten angry. In sleep-rumpled pajama pants and a faded white tee shirt, he’d simply sat down on a hay bale and stroked the dog’s ears while I gave a convincing argument and a laundry list of reasons why I should be able to keep Brownie for myself .
My father had then gently explained that what I’d done had been theft, and while my intentions might have been pure, Baker wasn’t content to stay in our barn.
“There’s a reason you had to trap him in here, MacKenzie,” he’d said. “If you’d opened that door, he would have run on home.”
He reminded me that because of my actions, Mrs. Landrum was probably very worried about Baker. And while she might not be able to play with the dog the way I played with him, she still loved him.
And so, at four in the morning, my father made me walk beside him through the corn field and across Mrs. Landrum’s pasture to bring her dog home. He hadn’t explained away my behavior. He’d expected me to own my mistakes and speak for myself.
I still remembered walking in frustrated silence, almost wishing my dad had yelled at me so I would have had an excuse to be angry at someone besides myself.
And that was exactly how I felt now, sitting in my Jeep, fighting angry nerves and willing myself to get out of my vehicle and go talk to Brady Judd—to own up to my bad behavior. Whether I was apologizing for animal thievery or being a remorseful ghoster, swallowing my pride never really got any easier. It still tasted like bitter regret.
I’d thought about just texting Brady. But the apologetic equivalent of a you up? text didn’t seem like the most sincere course of action. And the simple fact was, he deserved better than that. I didn’t want to be someone who made excuses for hurting people.
So, here I was, at Abby’s on the Friday before Christmas, surrounded by more Kirby Falls High alumni than had attended my ten-year class reunion.
The holidays were always a busy time. Former classmates returned home to celebrate with their families and usually made their way here, to the bonfire, to visit old high school friends. Tonight was rowdier and louder than a normal bonfire, that was for sure.
But the last two weeks had been busy. This was my first real chance to get close to Brady. Grandpappy’s had been inundated with tourists who wanted to go on tractor sleigh rides, visit Santa’s workshop barn, drink hot cocoa, and eat peppermint bark from the Bake Shop .
I’d worked all three days of the Holiday Market downtown and had my interview for the general manager position as well. It had gone well, but they were waiting until after Christmas to select a candidate.
There’d also been a quick trip to Detroit with my family to pick up Becca and bring her back home. That was a whole different story, but it had been a frantic few days of travel with no time for sightseeing. I’d made Larry drive and kept my face plastered to the window, taking in the view while we’d been in the city.
Now, however, I was here, and I was determined to clear the air with Brady. See if he was open to another date, maybe? This time without the asterisk.
He needed to know that I was sorry for hurting him, and I wanted to earn his trust despite my shitty, selfish behavior.
I took a steadying breath and inhaled the smell of woodsmoke as I weaved my way through the parked cars overflowing the field. When I reached the barn, people were standing around in clusters everywhere. I stopped briefly and spoke to the folks who said hello, but I was too focused on finding Brady and making things right. So I promised to circle back around and catch up with them later, many of whom I hadn’t seen in years.
As I made polite conversation and scooted my way through the crowd, I searched for Brady. I stayed alert, training my eyes to pick out his tall form or puffy vest among those gathered. It wasn’t until I’d completed a pass around the bonfire and was on my way back toward the covered patio that I accidentally stepped into his path.
Brady pulled up short, and I smiled reflexively. “Hey.”
“Hi,” he replied.
“How are you?” I asked, giving myself a mental high five for managing normal conversation.
“I’m good,” he said cautiously, like this might be a trap.
“That’s good.”
Then I noticed what he was wearing. His jacket was missing and so was his puffy vest. The green flannel he wore was tucked into dark-wash jeans. But the slightly dressy attire wasn’t what gave me pause; it was the leather suspenders cresting the tops of his rounded shoulders before descending his lean torso .
“What’s this?” I asked, reaching forward and snapping one of the straps.
“Excuse you,” he scolded, leaning away.
“What are you wearing, Brady?” I couldn’t get over them. He looked even taller somehow and just ... rural fancy. He looked really good.
“They’re suspenders, you heathen.”
I grinned, following the material with my eyes. “I see that.”
When my gaze finally made it to his face, Brady wore a satisfied smirk. “You like them.”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “They’d be great to strangle you with.”
He snorted out a laugh, and we stared at one another, amusement mirrored on both of our faces. This sort of teasing wasn’t exactly normal—it was too benign for us—but it did put me at ease. The sharp edges were gone, and I felt like maybe there was a chance for me to say my piece and have it received. Not an angry confession mumbled into the ground beneath my shoes, but something genuine and honest.
Abruptly, before I lost my nerve, I blurted out, “Hey, can we talk? I need to say some things and?—”
“Sure,” Brady interrupted, eyes drifting over my shoulder briefly before returning. “But I need to get these drinks back.”
Suddenly, I noticed his hands. All this time, I’d been so distracted I hadn’t realized Brady had been standing there holding four beers, the necks clutched awkwardly between his fingers.
“Oh, sure. Of course.”
“I’ll catch up with you, yeah?”
I nodded quickly and stepped to the side.
As I watched, Brady returned to the bonfire. A small triangle of people opened up to welcome him, and he handed out beers to Abby and two women I didn’t recognize. One of them leaned in and squeezed his arm, mouthing a thank-you.
Something hollow and achy settled in the pit of my stomach the longer I stood there staring. The four of them laughed and chatted, and Brady didn’t look in my direction once.
The women were pretty. All glowing pale skin and long blond hair. They looked younger than us by a few years. I definitely would have remembered them from high school, but they were strangers, barging in on a local gathering ... for locals. Who even invited them anyway?
My thoughts had a jealous, spiteful edge, and I forced myself to walk away and go find someone to talk to. It worked for a while, but I was distracted waiting for Brady to come back so I could apologize like I’d planned. And I was angry that I cared so much. We weren’t in a relationship. We’d had sex one time. He could talk to whomever he wanted. It was none of my business.
But my eyes betrayed me. They sought him out, punishing me when I witnessed his carefree laughter over something one of the women had said. Twice, the person I was talking to had to repeat themselves because I’d gotten sidetracked when the girls had leaned in to take a selfie with Brady.
I was disgusted with myself and pretty sure I should just leave. Forget this whole stupid night. But then the foursome approached. I was under the awning talking to Benny Jameson, one of the bartenders over at Trailview Brewing.
“Oh my gosh,” one of the women said suddenly. “You’re here.”
Benny’s smile brightened. “Yeah. Glad you ladies could make it.”
“Thank you so much for inviting us,” the other blond said.
Ah, so Benny the bartender invited some pretty leafers to our bonfire in an effort to get laid. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
“We’ve been having the best time,” the first blond added. She squeezed Brady’s arm again as she said it, and I wondered briefly if he’d have a bruise there tomorrow from all the flirty manhandling.
“Hi, I’m Aerrin,” the same woman said, turning to me.
“Oh, hi,” I said once I realized she was introducing herself. “I’m?—”
“That’s A-e-r-r-i-n,” she interrupted. “I know people your age are used to the more traditional spelling. ”
I felt my eyes widen comically. “People my age?” I asked as Brady snorted into his beer.
Aerrin, not Erin—the traditional spelling, I guess, what the fuck—laughed like I’d told the funniest joke.
“And I’m Beckleigh,” the other woman said. “Soooo nice to meet you.”
“Sure,” I murmured, irritated for a million reasons, none of them feminist or anything I’d be proud of in the light of day.
I stood in the strange conversation circle while Aerrin and Beckleigh told stories about their own high school friends, who lived in Arizona, apparently. I cut Benny a glare for inviting tourists, but he was too busy staring at Beckleigh’s lips wrapped around a beer bottle to notice.
When I risked a glance in Brady’s direction, he seemed totally at ease, listening and laughing, joining in with a funny anecdote, hitting it off with the outsiders.
Eventually, Benny meandered away when it was clear the women weren’t interested in him. Feeling like an awkward fifth wheel, I excused myself, but no one seemed to notice. I made my way inside the barn to where Abby had renovated and added bathrooms about five years ago. Just as I was finishing up in the stall, I heard the door open.
“I get to take the lead this time, okay?” Aerrin said, and I froze.
“Yeah, that’s fair,” Beckleigh replied before smacking her lips together a few times. “We deserve a good time after that guy the other night just wanted to watch.”
“Right?” Aerrin said. “I am ready for some fun.”
“And I think these bonfire boys look like lots of fun,” Beckleigh added with a giggle.
My heart was beating hard, and no matter how much I reminded myself that Brady wasn’t mine, I couldn’t help the sudden urge to be sick.
I stayed completely still, making sure my shoes didn’t scuff on the concrete floor.
A moment later, the door opened again, and the two women left .
I counted to forty-five, hoping they’d all be gone by the time I exited the barn. I didn’t want to see the before part of whatever good time they were planning on having.
I was such an idiot. I’d naively come here tonight to apologize and work things out. But of course Brady had other options. He was a friendly, good-looking guy. And now I knew he was good in bed. I shook my head and stepped out of the dark interior of the barn.
Stopping abruptly, I realized I should have counted to sixty because Aerrin and Beckleigh were just now disappearing around the side of the barn and into the field where all the cars were parked. Maybe Brady was warming up his truck. That sounded like something he’d do.
Cursing myself and my own stupidity, I spun around to return to the bonfire. I’d seen Hazel Bradford with a bag full of s’mores supplies. I would go and eat my feelings and then head home.
But before I could take a step in that direction, there was Brady, casually leaning against the awning post, watching me. He had a smirk on his face, dimple threatening in his right cheek. I realized suddenly that he’d seen me staring after his new pals, probably looking like the last kid picked for dodgeball in PE class.
“What?” I snapped reflexively, feeling my cheeks heat from mortified embarrassment.
He straightened and held up his hands in surrender, grin still perfectly in place. “Nothing at all.”
My eyes narrowed and I couldn’t help the accusation in my voice. “Aren’t you missing out on your threesome?”
Brady took a step in my direction. “Nah. Abby’s going to join those nice ladies and have an interesting night.”
I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but something loosened in my stomach. Probably the anxious, jealous knot that I’d spent the evening twisting and tying off.
“Why not you?” I asked. “You seemed to hit it off.”
“Oh, they offered,” he said easily, managing another step closer. He was so close, I could have reached out and tugged on his suspenders again if I’d wanted to—which I did not. “Not my thing. Too many feet. ”
That surprised a laugh out of me despite my irritation.
Brady stepped right into my space, one hand coming to rest on my waist as he dipped his head close to my ear. Then he whispered, making the fine hairs along my neck shiver, “I prefer to give a woman—singular—all my attention. And when I’m touching someone like that, I want them to know it’s me.”
His lips grazed the shell of my ear as desire made me unsteady. I rested my hands on the hard planes of his chest as his grip on my waist tightened.
“And,” he went on, voice low and deep, “I don’t like to share.”
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes.
“You were jealous,” he teased, nipping my earlobe.
“I was not,” I lied, finally finding my voice amid the upheaval in my mind and body.
“You were,” he insisted, nudging me to take a few steps back into the barn.
“You shouldn’t play games like that, Brady.”
“I was just being friendly,” he said, walking me back another step.
“Friendly?” My tone was disbelieving. I wanted to pull back and see his face, but I liked being close. It was easier to be honest that way. He’d maneuvered us into the shadowed corner of the barn, the side opposite the restrooms and out of sight from the bonfire-goers.
“Yeah. Friendly,” Brady insisted. “Things look very different when I want to be more than that.”
My hands drifted, finding the straps of his leather suspenders. I gave them a sharp tug, and that was all the invitation Brady needed. He reached down and grabbed my ass, pulling me against him, mouth meeting mine in a frenzied kiss.
The weeks and distance fell away. He was here, and I was right back where I started—unable to get enough of him and unwilling to come up for air.
I couldn’t get close enough, and maybe he felt the same because a moment later, Brady gripped the outside of my thighs and lifted. I wrapped my legs around his hips and hung on to his shoulders as he straightened to his full height, taking me with him. His hands came back to my backside, keeping me supported and lining us up in a way that had me moaning into the kiss. He was thick and hard against me, and I didn’t want to stop.
“We’re going to get caught,” he managed between kisses that were all enthusiasm and zero subtlety.
“I don’t care,” I said, dragging my nails along his scalp.
“Liar.” He chuckled, pressing his hot mouth along my jaw before sucking on the sensitive skin of my neck. “I thought you wanted to talk anyway.”
“I do,” I gasped as his teeth scraped below my ear.
“Well, what did you want to tell me?”
My fingers gripped the suspenders once more. “That these are really doing it for me.”
I felt his smile bloom against my skin, warm and pleased.
“It’s true,” I insisted. “You should wear them all the time.” Then, my naughty thoughts took a detour to those suspenders in my bedroom and Brady tied up and at my mercy.
My thoughts were officially in the gutter. No, lower than the gutter. All my dirty imaginings might as well have been in the ditch that floods in the west field. I couldn’t think beyond his hands on my ass, his ragged voice in my ear, and the hard ridge of his dick right where I wanted it.
“Then I’ll wear them all the time,” he replied, softly. “Just for you.” With a final kiss to my jaw, Brady pulled back to look at me. “Tell me what you wanted to say. Before.”
“Oh,” I breathed, having trouble switching gears between full-speed impending orgasm and the steady idle of real talk.
Our little corner was shadowed, but I could make out his earnest gaze, equal parts wary and curious.
“I shouldn’t have ignored your texts and avoided you,” I confessed. “It was a shitty thing to do, and I’m sorry for it. I was wrong.”
He nodded, just a small dip of his chin. “So, did it work?”
I frowned. “Did what work? ”
“Am I out of your system? Did you get what you wanted?”
With my thighs still wrapped around him, I hugged his hips as if to say, What do you think? Then I sighed. “About that ...”
“Oh yeah?” And if I wasn’t mistaken, there was some amusement there, hidden in the dark.
I snapped one suspender in retribution and he squeezed my ass.
“I would be open to maybe continuing our arrangement,” I offered.
“ Arrangement ? Are we in a historical romance novel? Or are you trying to Pretty Woman me?”
“Brady,” I groaned, face-planting into his collarbone as I fought my laughter. He smelled like sand and sunshine and I loved it.
“My affections can’t be bought, Maximus.”
“You know what I mean. We could do more of this,” I said, tightening my thighs once again. Date, hook up, amorous congress, bam-bam in the ham-ham—whatever he wanted to call it.
Brady was quiet for long enough that despite the hardness I still felt between my legs, I began to worry that he might not want more.
“What are you thinking?” I whispered, hoping I didn’t sound too eager or desperate.
“Okay,” he finally replied. “I’m in. But I want to keep this thing between us. Nobody else.”
Shock had my mouth dropping open. I wasn’t opposed. I was just ... surprised. “You want us to be a secret?”
“Yeah, can you handle that?”
I snorted, despite the weird feeling I couldn’t name. “I can handle it. Can you?” Brady wasn’t known for being subtle. Also, he had a big mouth.
“Sure,” he replied confidently. “Sounds like fun. We can sneak around. Be covert. I’ll get my camo back out.”
I laughed, and I liked that his arms tightened around me when I did .
“But, Mac.” Brady hesitated.
“Yeah?”
“The next time you get scared, don’t run away, okay? You can’t keep doing that.”
My hackles were mid-rise at the accusation, but shame was climbing just as swiftly alongside it. Because Brady was right. I had avoided him after the kiss, and again after sex, because I was scared and overwhelmed.
“Just . . . stay, okay?” he said. “Stay and talk. We’ll figure it out. Or we’ll fight it out—we’re good at that. But don’t hide from me.”
“Alright,” I said softly, forcing away the righteous indignation that had come close to bubbling up to the surface.
Brady leaned forward and gave me a soft kiss for my trouble.
When he pulled back, I asked, “Can I come home with you?”
He winced, the movement barely noticeable in the dim light. “I told Abby I’d stay and shut everything down tonight. Wait for everyone to leave and make sure they get where they’re going. Put out the fire. What about tomorrow?”
“We have the Christmas party at Grandpappy’s. I promised to help.”
Brady’s lips twisted into a grin, white teeth flashing. “I’m invited to that, you know?”
“Oh really?” A spark of anticipation burned away the disappointment from a moment ago.
“Yeah, maybe I’ll see you there.”
“Maybe you will.”
He patted my backside and slowly lowered me to my feet. “And maybe we can do some undercover work.”
“Okay, but start an argument or something so no one gets suspicious.”
Brady nodded emphatically. “Yeah, and make sure to call me an idiot.”
With my hands still wrapped around his suspenders, we grinned at each other, proud of our plan .
The unsteadiness that had plagued me receded. The imaginary waves settled, and I felt like I was on solid ground for the first time in weeks.
The scent of woodsmoke and ocean breeze followed me home.
“Mac,” Will called, his head hanging out of his office door. “You got a minute?”
“Yeah. Let me drop these tablecloths off, and I’ll be right there.”
I’d spent the day helping my mother, Chloe, Bonnie, and Aunt Maggie in the Bake Shop. We were prepping treats for the Christmas party this afternoon. After I’d finished decorating the last batch of sugar cookies, Mom had asked me to head over to the barn to pull the event linens out of storage. We had about two hours until the party started, and our friends and neighbors would be arriving soon.
The Judd family would be attending, as well as some of the other small business owners in Kirby Falls. Even our part-time and seasonal employees were invited along with their families. We were expecting a big turnout.
And Brady was coming too. The thought put an extra spring in my step as I unloaded my items and made my way around the back side of the bakery to Will’s adjoining office.
I rapped a knock before going inside.
The room was warm from the electric heater in the corner. Will’s desk was plain and mostly bare.
For once, his dog wasn’t fast asleep in his bed. The reason why was perched in the only other chair in the room. Becca smiled at me as she stroked Carl’s ears. She passed him a hunk of string cheese before standing. “Hey, Mac.”
I smiled back, so glad she’d returned to Kirby Falls where she belonged. She was good for Will, and I was happy for them. “Hi, Becca.”
“I’m going to head out and help Maggie and Chloe set up.” She squeezed my arm as she passed. “You two have fun.” Then she winked, and I wondered what that was all about .
Will gave Becca a small smile and followed her out with his eyes. Carl trailed after her, nearly as besotted as my grumpy cousin.
“What’s up?” I asked, taking the seat Becca had vacated.
Will’s face morphed into a serious one. “We were going to wait until next week, but I talked with my parents and your parents, and they thought it was best to go ahead. So it wasn’t hanging over you during the holidays.”
I straightened as sudden nerves clenched my belly tight. Was he about to tell me I hadn’t gotten the manager position? Were they going with one of the other candidates? I knew they’d interviewed Ethel Jennings. She was a transplant, but she’d been in Kirby Falls for a few years now. Her background was in sales. She’d retired early and moved from Florida because she and her husband had fallen in love with our town after visiting every autumn for nearly a decade.
Ethel was capable and smart. She served on a number of committees and even volunteered at the library with Mrs. Crandall. I bet they were picking her. She was older and more polished and about a million other things I wasn’t.
I took a deep breath to settle myself. “Okay. Lay it on me.”
Will paused dramatically, and I almost reached across the desk and punched him on the arm. “We would like to formally offer you the position of general manager.”
“Really?” I squeaked as some big, nameless emotion swelled in my chest.
My cousin fought a smile. “Yes. Really. You’ve stepped it up in the last few weeks.”
“Thanks, Will.”
“And since you’re family, you’ll be really easy to fire if you fuck up.”
I glared as he chuckled at his own joke.
With a smile still lingering, Will offered, “Congratulations, Mac. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Will,” I repeated, but this time emotion made my voice rough.
Something pride adjacent warmed me from the inside out. I knew it wasn’t some huge accomplishment when everyone on the hiring committee shared your DNA. But I’d gotten the job. From now on, I was determined to do more with my townie existence than just scrape by.
Clearing my throat, I let my gaze roam the small office. “So when do I get to redecorate?”
Will’s stare was baleful. “We’ll start training next week. And January first, it’s all yours.”
“I can’t wait.” I grinned.
When I stepped out of my future office, Will came with me. He said he was off to help Becca and our moms finish setting up for the party.
I carefully pulled the door shut with a quiet snick. It was at odds with the loud excitement coursing through my veins. I’d found a goal and set out to accomplish it. And it felt good to have succeeded. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually been working toward something instead of openly avoiding it. Probably high school, honestly, with my teammates on the soccer team.
As I walked slowly across the wooden decking to the front of the building, I pulled out my phone, eager to share my good news.
And I knew just the person to tell.
Me: Guess who’s the new Manager of Farm Operations and Social Media Director?
It didn’t take long for the reply to come through, and I rolled my eyes affectionately when I read it.
Grandma Nola: Is it Larry? No, wait, did they offer it to Becca? I haven’t met her yet, but she sounds like a peach.
Me: Ha. Ha.
Grandma Nola: I’m just pulling your leg. Congratulations, MacKenzie Eloise. I knew you had it in you.
The recognition from my favorite person in the world had me clutching my phone a little tighter, suddenly grateful we were texting and not on a video call.
Me: Thanks, Grandma .
Grandma Nola: We’re in the RV. Should be in Kirby Falls by Monday morning. Can’t wait to see you, sugar.
I smiled, excited to have her and my grandfather home for the holidays.
Me: Drive safe. See you soon.
I was just returning my phone to the back pocket of my jeans when I heard a low “Psst!” from behind me.
Spinning around, I caught sight of Brady peeking around the corner of the building. “Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey,” I whispered back, crooking my finger and urging him closer.
He looked good. Brown hair messily styled to within an inch of its life, blue eyes dancing with mischief, puffy vest in place over a bright yellow flannel.
“No suspenders?” I pouted when he came to stand before me.
His grin widened. “I knew how they affected you. Couldn’t have you mauling me in front of our family and friends on our first covert operation.”
I gave him a flat stare, but it was ruined by the fizzy happiness bubbling inside me, spilling out alongside a smile I couldn’t contain.
I scanned the area around us. We were on the back side of the Bake Shop with only a plowed winter field for company. I checked my watch and figured we had time.
Reaching out, I snagged Brady’s hand and towed him inside Will’s office. My office , I mentally corrected.
The blinds on the lone window were already closed, but I locked the door in case Will or Becca wandered back over.
“Ohhh, another stakeout?” Brady asked, clearly enjoying sneaking around.
I urged him to sit on the desk and then stepped between his legs, unbuttoning his flannel as I went. “Only if you prefer a stakeout without pants on.”
Brady stilled my hands, which had just latched on to the waistband of his jeans. His gaze searched mine, but I could see the excitement there, too. It mirrored mine .
I was giddy with the prospect of this new ... thing between us. I still didn’t understand it, but now I was free to look and touch and taste. And I wanted to do that right now.
“I don’t have a condom,” he finally said.
I nodded. “That’s okay. Change of plans.” And then I dropped to my knees, unzipping his jeans as I went.
“Shit,” he breathed above me, a little tortured and a lot desperate.
I worked on shimmying his pants partway down his lean hips while Brady focused on getting his shirt and vest all the way off.
He kept up a steady stream of chatter while we got him indecent. “Should we really be in here? Will is so grumpy. I don’t want him to kill me for desecrating his office.”
As I leaned in to playfully bite the edge of his hip bone, I fought the urge to tell him it would be my office in another week or so. But it felt too soon. I wanted to wait until it was real to tell Brady. This wasn’t the same as texting my grandmother out of sheer excitement. If I shared my news with someone outside the family, then it would be out there. And Will still had to train me. He could easily fire me out of annoyance, thinking I wasn’t mature enough or smart enough to take over for him.
“It’s fine,” I said.
“Are you sure?” he whispered, fingers clasping the elastic of his underwear, halting my progress.
“Yes, I’m sure. Now let go.” I batted his hands away.
He stayed propped and white-knuckled against the desk while I took him out of his boxer briefs. Given our one night together, I hadn’t really gotten the chance to explore him in the light of day.
After I’d looked my fill, I gazed up the length of Brady’s long, lean body and smirked. “I thought you’d be ...”
“If you say bigger, I’m leaving right now.”
I laughed. “No,” I managed, still amused and impatient and deeply turned on. He was plenty big enough. I squirmed a little at the memory of him inside me— thick and insistent. “I was going to say I thought you’d be more agreeable. You seem very worried about getting caught. Unless you’re trying to stall for some reason. Or maybe you don’t want my mouth on you.”
Brady swallowed, and I watched the movement of his Adam’s apple. “It’s not that I don’t want you to. It’s just that ... a blow job requires trust. You can’t ask some hookup or one-night stand to suck your dick.”
“Plenty of people do,” I argued lightly, still entertained.
“Yeah, not me.”
I reached out and wrapped my fist around his length, and Brady sucked in a sharp breath.
Perhaps it was the memory of those blond leafers, but something curious and a little spiteful made me ask, “So you do that often? The one-night-stand thing?”
“Well, no. But that’s beside the point.”
I smothered my laugh against his hip, where I placed another biting kiss. Then I remembered weeks ago, accusing him of not dating much. Now, to hear him tell it, he didn’t hook up either. Suddenly, I wondered what Brady Judd was waiting on.
Leaning back, I looked up at him once more. His eyes were clenched shut, jaw tense as I pumped his length slow and steady. “Is it okay if I get back to what I was doing?”
His lids fluttered open, and he regarded me warily.
I laughed again. “Brady, come on. Let me use my mouth. No teeth, I swear. It’ll be good. Do you need references?”
He frowned, eyes narrowed. And if I wasn’t mistaken, he sounded a little jealous when he snapped out, “No, smartass. I don’t want to hear about the guys you’ve been with.”
I grinned. “How about a sales pitch?” I touched my tongue to the very tip of him, a barely there caress that made his nostrils flare. “Need me to tell you all the things I’ll do to you?” A long, slow lick this time, up the full length of his erection. “Or would you rather my mouth be nice and full? ”
Brady made a pained grunt in the affirmative before dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling.
I took that as a binding agreement and swallowed him down.
Whispered curses flew up and over my head. When I risked another glance up, I saw that Brady’s attention was focused back on me, on the way I was moving, bobbing up and down at a steady pace, taking as much of him as I could until he tapped the back of my throat.
It didn’t take long to figure out what he liked—messy and a little rough. I worked him over while he groaned and fought for control. But I didn’t want a calm and collected Brady. I wanted him desperate, wild, and reckless ... over me.
When his hands hovered in the air like he couldn’t decide what to do with them, I guided one toward my ponytail. He made a relieved sound as he wrapped the length around his fist, as if he needed an anchor in this storm as much as I did.
As I increased my pace, I kept my gaze trained on his. With desire blazing in his blue eyes, he clenched his jaw tight and nodded roughly, a helpless groan escaping in what I assumed was a warning.
But I kept doing what I was doing, content to see this through to the end. When he came a moment later, hips bucking in inelegant little thrusts, I swallowed every last drop.
With panting breaths, Brady released his hold on my hair, gently smoothing it across my shoulder. I watched, amused, as he fought to gather his composure.
“Did that meet your approval?” I teased.
He gave me a look that loudly conveyed, Yes, you idiot , but then said, “God, yes. I will never look at your red lips without seeing my cock disappearing between them.”
The casual, filthy way he said that had me squirming where I knelt, disappointed anew that neither one of us had a condom.
I forced myself to check my watch. “We need to get out there before someone notices. I’m supposed to go round up any tourists and clear the property before the party. You could head down to the gazebo to help Bonnie and Danny with the tables. Our paths won’t cross, and no one should suspect anything. ”
Brady nodded, still looking a little dazed. Twisting at the hips, he leaned back to reach for the shirt he’d flung onto the desk behind him.
I was still eye-level with his middle, and when he turned, I could see part of his backside where his lowered jeans didn’t cover. A shocked gasp left my mouth, and I grabbed his ass to keep him from pivoting back.
“What the hell is that?!”
He froze and then sighed. “Fuck.”
Unrepentant glee threatened to unhinge me. My eyes traced the lines of the small tattoo—my fingers too. “Do you have a Big Mac tattooed on your ass, Brayden Howell Judd?”
“Jesus,” he groaned, trying to dislodge my hold and pull up his pants at the same time. He eventually wrestled them away from me amid much squealing and squawking on my behalf. “Stop it. I’ll tell you.” Then he tugged me to my feet.
With a serious expression, he regarded me as his hands quickly buttoned up his shirt. I could hardly keep my smile from cracking my face wide open so that satisfied delight could spill out.
“My sophomore year at UT, I got shit-faced at some party. There may have been a bet, but I was drunk enough that it seemed like a good idea to go and get a tattoo from some disreputable place that would tattoo a wasted nineteen-year-old.”
When he didn’t say more, I prompted giddily, “And it’s a Big Mac because ...?”
Another sigh escaped, but I could see the curl of his lips and the threat of his dimple when he said, “You know why. Abby gave me shit constantly about you. He was just as drunk as I was and thought it would be a great idea to immortalize our rivalry with your name tattooed on my ass. Something got mixed up in my inebriated communication with the artist, and when I woke up the next morning, sore and hungover and confused, I had two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, and onions on a sesame-seed bun ... on my ass.”
I giggled like a schoolgirl, and I wasn’t even embarrassed. “This is the best day of my life.”
Brady shook his head ruefully but was still smiling. “Mine too, Big Mac. ”
My stomach pitched like I was driving and had hit a dip in the road. The amusement I’d gotten over the secret tattoo discovery morphed into something else—sudden awareness and bone-deep affection. Realization elbowed its way in, letting me know that even with so much history between us, this man could still surprise me.
To ease the pressure building in my chest, I teased, “Of course it’s the best day of your life. That was a top-notch blow job.”
Brady laughed and hugged me to him, pressing a kiss to my temple. His cologne, body spray, whatever, wrapped me up in warm sunshine and salt air. “Come over tonight.”
I leaned back so I could see his face. “You want more?”
“Yes,” he replied earnestly before giving me a devious grin. “And I want to return the favor.”
“Okay,” I agreed, easily for once. Unable to deny that I wanted him too.
Later that night, after an eventful Christmas party, Brady did return the favor. Twice.
But when I woke up at 3:22 a.m., warm and confused with his body wrapped around mine like a vine, it was easier to tell myself this was just a fling, a temporary physical relationship that would burn itself out—the way all my relationships did.
Brady didn’t wake when I extracted myself from his sleepy hold. He just grumbled softly and pushed the side of his face into the pillow where my hair had been.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I watched as he relaxed into a contented sleep once more. The corner of his mouth twisted up into a wry smile, and I wondered what he was dreaming about. Though, that was more than likely just Brady, so friendly and affable, he even smiled in his sleep.
With my cell phone, I snapped a quick picture of his face and then stood on unsteady legs and made my way home.