Chapter 12 #3
He walked to her, staying to the side so he wouldn’t impede the EMT now checking her forehead. The woman waved off the helpers and put her hand to Brogan’s jaw. She wore a small smile as she said a few things, to which he nodded.
It was such a touching scene, Pixie just knew she was going to start sobbing.
By the time Brogan got back to the SUV, he was soaked through to the skin. He opened the driver’s door, but then stood there, undecided.
Pixie quickly turned his slicker inside out and leaned forward to put it over his seat. “Come on, Brogan. Get out of the rain. The car seats will dry.”
With a nod, he silently got in. Just as he closed the door, Cort tapped on it.
Brogan flashed her an indulgent look that said, “I should have known,” and rolled down the window.
Wearing a black rain poncho with a big hood, Cort stood there as if impervious to the weather. “Can’t stop playing hero, I see.”
Shaking his head, Brogan said, “Not on purpose.”
“Guess it has a way of finding some people.” He grinned. “That’s Dee Pearson, by the way. She’s been around Bramble forever. She’s retired now, but she used to be a music teacher. Still gives private piano lessons. Everyone in town loves her.”
“I could have guessed she was a teacher. She has a way about her.”
Cort looked at the mess and blocked traffic. “I know the young guy, too. Gunther Prader. Was he hurt?”
“Banged up. Clunked his head pretty good. He was mostly worried about Ms. Pearson and his dog.”
“He’s a good guy. Works hard as a mechanic and has a young family at home. Any idea what happened?”
“My guess is those threadbare tires combined with the rain and slick roads. I’m just glad it wasn’t worse.”
“Especially with the fire,” Pixie said.
“I think his engine overheated. He said he’d meant to put in coolant, but worked overtime all week.”
Cort’s mouth tightened with obvious worry. “Dangerous. Someone could have been killed.”
Pixie had been thinking the same thing.
“He said he took the dog along today because his wife is sick with a cold.” Brogan struggled a moment, then admitted, “I got his address. I want to check in on him, see what I can do.”
“Good idea.”
“That’s what Ms. Pearson said. She claims I have to come by her house first so she can send a meal over to the family.”
“Even better. Marlow and I will also come up with some way to help. I remember what it was like to be his age, trying to figure it out.”
“Me too.”
“You should take the kids home now.” Cort bent down to see Pixie. “I’ll update Marlow for you. Just go home and get dry.”
“Thank you.”
Brogan glanced at her in the back seat. “Are you going to ride back there?”
“I think so.” She wasn’t about to crawl over the seat with both Brogan and Cort watching. “The kids don’t understand what’s going on, and if the thunder gets noisy again …”
He nodded. To Cort, he said, “Can you make sure it’s clear for me to back up and turn around so I can take a side street out of this mess? Too many people are out of their cars now.”
It took a few minutes’ maneuvering, with so many drivers stopped to gawk, as well as police cars and a fire engine on the road.
Once they were clear of the wreck, Brogan drove extra cautiously.
By the time they got home, the kids were cranky, the storm was raging, everyone was hungry, and Brogan was withdrawn.
Pixie was lost in her own thoughts.
What did she do with a hero she loved—a man she wanted to keep—when she had so many insecurities, and he didn’t want involvement?
Poor Brogan.
He’d planned to keep his head down, to avoid engaging with people, and yet it kept happening to him because, as Cort had said, those situations seemed to be a magnet to certain people.
Pixie had the thought that in any trying time, Brogan would be a man who stepped up and did whatever was necessary.
Being a hero was in his DNA. Despite the life he’d lived, or perhaps because of it, he wanted, needed, to help others—to give them the assistance he hadn’t received.
It was still pouring when they got home, and they all got wet dashing inside, though the kids were at least protected under blankets. Brogan went back out for the groceries. He’d just stepped inside when the lights flickered, but thankfully, they came right back on.
Since Brogan was soaked through, she insisted that he shower first and get into dry clothes straightaway.
He wanted to argue, that much was obvious from his surly demeanor, but as Pixie told him, he couldn’t hold Shayna with his clothes plastered to him.
Leaving Brogan to drip in the foyer, she said, “Just let me grab a few towels and some things from the bedroom, and then you can go in.” With Shayna and Andy both fussing, she darted into the room, grabbed clean, dry pajamas for Andy, a big sweatshirt and leggings for herself, and several towels.
As she hurried back, she heard Andy demanding his cup and a muffled reply from Brogan.
She stepped into the room in time to see Brogan peeling a wet T-shirt off over his head. He’d already removed his shoes and socks, and now he stood there dressed only in wet jeans.
Those, too, clung to him.
Pixie stalled. For one of the few times in her life, she didn’t hear Andy’s complaints. Her entire focus was on Brogan.
When he saw her, he ran a hand over his short hair. “I’m leaving a puddle on the floor.”
Spurred by the gentle reminder, Pixie drifted closer. “Oh, sorry.” She offered him the towel, then had to take a second to catch her breath as he ran the terry cloth over his chest and shoulders.
“Mam.”
Immediately, she turned to Andy. “Hold on, honey.” She dropped the clothes on the couch and raced into the kitchen to get his cup. Back in the living room, she shook out a big, soft blanket and got both kids dried off.
Pixie gave Andy his cup, then went about changing Shayna’s diaper.
She didn’t hear Brogan’s approach until his big, bare feet came into view.
Even his feet are sexy. Pixie shook her head and told herself to concentrate.
She had a lot to accomplish in the next fifteen minutes. “Do you have anything to change into?”
“Sleep pants.”
“Good. I can put your clothes in the wash as soon as you’re done showering.”
“I’ll take care of my clothes.” His hand opened on the back of her head, his fingers cupped, and then combed into her hair. “I’m …”
Pixie finished Shayna’s diaper and lifted the baby so she rested against her shoulder before looking up at Brogan, waiting.
“I’m not used to any of this. I don’t mean to be ungrateful.”
“You’re never that.” Understanding exactly what he meant, she added, “I’m not used to it, either, but I keep thinking that being with you in a storm is better than being without you in the sunshine.”
His eyes went heavy; his thumb brushed her cheek. “You’re soft all over, Pixie—your hair, your skin, the way you care for people, and the things you say.” He slowly inhaled and stepped away.
“Fend,” Andy said, reaching up for him.
Just that easily, the spell was broken. Brogan grinned. “As soon as I finish my shower, I’ll give you plenty of hugs, buddy.” He cupped Andy’s head, much as he had Pixie’s.
With that, he stepped into the enclosed porch, grabbed a bag, and headed for the shower. “Five minutes, tops,” he promised as he passed.
Pixie started to tell him not to rush, but he’d already closed the door.
Their relationship was quickly changing, and each day he appeared to trust her a little more. It was risky, but she allowed herself to hope: for him, for more … for possibly a future. She hadn’t exaggerated when she’d shared her feelings. Any day with Brogan was better than a day without him.
Now she just needed to convince him.