Chapter 2
brODY
The elevator doors close and our reflection stares back at me.
Months ago, Shay had said we looked like Tom and Jerry, this tiny mouse leading the big, grumpy cat around by his tail.
She’d meant my dick, and at the time, it’d mostly been true.
But since then, Erica has been leading me around by something much more dangerous.
My heart.
And that’s scary as fuck.
Even if not having her by my side is an even scarier proposition. Who knew I was a ‘fraidy cat all along? Certainly not me.
But I am. I live with a tiny seed of fear deep in my gut, a worry that I’ll fuck this up, which is the last thing I want. Because this is good. We’re good. And I’m a dumb fuck with no idea what I’m doing.
Obviously, I think.
Downstairs, we bypass the bar where I got confused so long ago, and head to the resort’s restaurant. It’s full of dark-wood paneling, white tablecloths, plush carpeting and dim chandeliers.
The suited ma?tre d’ leads us to a table in the back, private and romantic. I pull Erica’s chair out and she drops into it, prim and proper. I smile at the idea of both of us trying so hard to be fancy and fit in with this frou-frou crowd when we’re more pizza and beer on the couch types.
I sit too and the ma?tre d’ dips his chin before disappearing.
I look down at the table, which is set with a large gold plate and surrounded by more silverware than Cooper uses to set Mama Louise’s whole table for family dinner.
And that’s just on my side. Erica’s got another set of silverware on her side too.
I confess across the candlelight. “I have no idea why we need so many utensils just to eat dinner.”
Erica shrugs, but fingers a small spoon on the edge of her setting. “Me neither, so I won’t be offended if you use the wrong one. Hell, I won’t even know.”
“Thank fuck.” I can dress up, but I’m still a rough cowboy through and through.
The waiter comes by, popping a cork on a bottle of champagne and pouring two glasses while Erica and I look at each other in confusion.
“Compliments of Mrs. Bennett. She also took the liberty of having the chef plan your meal, but if you’d prefer, I can list our evening’s specials.”
What. The. Fuck. Is. Katelyn. Up. To?
Erica’s eyes are wide and horrified, looking from the glass of bubbly champagne to me to the waiter.
I take a deep breath. “Look, I appreciate whatever Katelyn arranged. We both do.” I reach across the table, taking Erica’s hand. “But we’re not really fancy people. Can we get your best steaks, medium-rare, a potato of some sort, whatever vegetables you recommend, and a couple of beers?”
The waiter blinks. Actually, maybe his eyes are twitching. “Of course, sir.” He disappears to the back, and I’m sure he’s laughing his ass off at the redneck who ordered beer over champagne, and steak over whatever fancy shit the chef prepared.
Katelyn laughs. “Oh my god! That was hilarious. I think he might’ve had a small aneurysm right there in front of us.”
“Hope I didn’t scar the poor guy,” I say dryly. “But I’m a simple man with simple tastes. And we’re gonna need our strength for tonight.”
“Promise?” Heat blooms in Erica’s eyes and the flecks of gold are fire, not candlelight.
“Fuck yes,” I growl.
The waiter interrupts our eye-fuck, reappearing with two glasses of dark amber liquid. “Would you like for me to remove the champagne?” he asks blank-faced.
“Yeah, but if Katelyn asks, we drank the whole bottle and loved it. Got it?” When the waiter nods, I add, “Enjoy it yourself.”
He smiles warmly at that and takes it away, ice bucket and all.
Alone at last, I raise my glass for a toast. “To us.”
Erica clinks her glass to mine, “To us.”
We sip the beers, talking about this and that, but I can feel the pressure strangling me again when Erica mentions Emily and Dan, who are recently engaged after a whirlwind romance.
“I think Emily might end up eloping, to be honest. After her years of talk about fairy tale weddings and cupcake gowns, she told me that she’s just ready to be Dr. and Mrs. Daniel Deardon.
I swear to God, she actually said the words, ‘I want to be married, not have a wedding’.
Can you believe that? Guess he really was The One this time. ”
“Good for them,” I say carefully.
Erica frowns. “Sorry, family is off-limits. I forgot the rules.” She waves her hand through the air as though she can wipe away the last few minutes of conversation. My gut begs to differ.
The rules were more a light joke than anything, a declaration of our intention to be together without the busy-ness of both of our lives interfering.
“It’s okay. Actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you about…” I trail off, swallowing thickly. I pause, taking a long drink of my beer for a little liquid courage.
Man up, Tannen. Just say it.
“Brody? You’re freaking me out.” Erica’s brows lift and she reaches across the table to take my hand, rubbing soothing circles on the skin between my thumb and index finger. “Just say it, whatever it is.” The sentiment is strong, even if her voice sounds a little wavery.
Badass, face shit head-on girl. I want to be as tough as she is, so I gather up my balls and dive in.
“I suck at this stuff,” I gesture from her to me.
“And I didn’t really think about what this whole fancy weekend away would seem like until the girls were giving me shit.
Even then, I blew it off as their usual meddling.
It wasn’t until the guys said something, and then Mama Louise too.
I just didn’t…” I pause when I see the confusion still written on Erica’s face.
“I love you. You know that, right?” I ask, trying to start again.
“I love you more than anything, and want to wake up with you every morning and go to sleep every night with you. I want hear about the crazy shit you do with cars even when I don’t understand a word because you look so happy and excited about it.
I want to see you hold a baby goat again, and maybe even our own baby one day.
I want to do all those things with you because I love you so much. You are my future.”
She’s crying, tiny tears leaking from the corners of her eyes to track down her face and I think I’m fucking this up. I’m trying so hard not to, but I am.
“Brody?” she whispers.
“This weekend…” I say slowly, “I just wanted us to get away together. I’m not…” I sigh heavily, hoping I haven’t ruined everything. “I’m not proposing this weekend.”
There’s a moment of complete and utter stillness. Time stops, breath stops, my heart stops.
“Okayyy,” she drawls out.
I rush to reassure her. “I will… one day. When I have something to offer you, when we’re ready, when…”
She cuts me off. “Brody, I didn’t think you were going to propose this weekend. Or at least I didn’t until you started saying all that stuff.” She looks confused, but not mad. If anything, I think she looks relieved?
“You didn’t? They all said it was obvious and you’d be disappointed if I didn’t.” I’m trying to explain, but my brain is fuzzy with snippets of the lectures from my family, Tannens and Bennetts alike. “Even Cooper said you’d want a big, sparkly diamond.”
She grins at me, fighting back laughter. “You’re taking relationship advice from pre-teens now?”
I blink, and then blink again. And laughter bursts out, deep chuckles that tell me I haven’t done this in way too long. “Oh fuck, I think I am. How pitiful does that make me?”
Erica giggles along with me, wiping the tears away, which are now from the belly laughs she could no longer contain. “I think it’s pretty adorable actually.”
“You really didn’t think that?” I ask, making double-sure I’m not still fucking up.
She shakes her head. “I’m gonna kill them all.
Still up in my business and trying to tell me this, get me to do that.
They had me so fucking messed up. I’ve been nervous for days, trying to figure out how to tell you that.
” Exasperation washes through my body and I sag, not realizing until just now how much tension I’d been holding over this.
“Maybe don’t kill them yet. We’ll need them to help with the wedding…” she pauses dramatically, a light gleaming in her eyes, “when we have one. Later.”
I meet her eyes, feeling bold now that she’s reassured me that we’re okay how we are. “When we have one,” I agree.
“Did you mean all that stuff?” Erica asks quietly.
I don’t need to ask ‘what stuff’, I know exactly what she means. “Every word. I love you. You are my future, and I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of every single day we get.”
“I love you too. And you don’t need anything more to offer than what you have right now, your heart. That’s all I ask for.”
“You have it. Fucked up and scarred as it might be, it’s yours,” I grit out honestly.
“Mine’s yours too. Fucked up and cynical as it is.”
The silence this time is full of promises and understanding -- of where we are, of who we are, and of where we’re going. Together.
Two fuck ups who managed to find each other and fall madly in love.
The waiter interrupts, presenting two plates with a flourish. “Filet mignon, pomme frites, and haricots verts.” He sets them in front of us with a smile. “Bon appetit.”
I look down. “Looks like steak, French fries, and green beans to me.”
“People can call it whatever they want, we know what it is.”
She winks with a smile, and I think that sounds pretty accurate and a damn good way to tell my family and hers, because I know Emily would love a twin wedding, to shut the fuck up
about us.
Because we’re good.
“Eat up, Cowboy. You’re gonna need some strength for all the things I’m gonna do to you this weekend. We should probably go ahead and order room service pancakes for breakfast too.”
Fuck, yes. I love this badass, ball-busting, filthy-mouthed, speed demon woman who is kind at heart, loves big and deep, and with a ferocity not many could handle.
But I can.
“Yes ma’am,” I bark, ready to get this show on the road.
Dinner was probably delicious, and that’s exactly what we’ll tell Katelyn later, but the truth is, I don’t remember a thing other than shoveling it in as fast as possible with zero fucks given to what fork I was using. It didn’t matter in the end since we had the one course and bailed upstairs.
I open the door to our room, shoving Erica inside but she spins.
Hands on my chest, she walks backwards toward the bed, pulling me with her by my shirt as the door shuts and locks behind us.
She pulls my shirt up and I help her get me naked since that seems to be her goal.
Standing in front of her with nothing on while she’s fully dressed in her dress and heels feels wrong, but so damn right at the same time.
“Lay down,” she orders, pushing me toward the bed. It seems like a damn fine time to follow orders, so I do. Lying back and propped on my elbows, I have a perfect view as she reaches for the tie at her shoulder. With one pull, the dress drops.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper. Each and every time I see her nude, I’m awed by how beautiful she is and that she wants… me.
Erica climbs on the bed, kneeling over me to face my feet. “Room’s got a pretty good view, huh?”
I pop her cheek, “Smart ass.”
She laughs as she lowers down, taking me in her mouth. She knows the sight of her ass and pussy, just out of my tongue’s reach, drives me wild and the addition of the heels she kept on, a rare thing for her, makes it even more special this time.
Too fast, I can feel myself getting close to the edge. “Ride me, Erica.”
She lifts up, lining up with my cock as I prop up against the headboard pillows. She sinks onto me, pulling a groan from us both. I grab a handful of her hair, holding it out of the way so I can watch her take me.
When she arches, leaning back, I can see her reflection in the bathroom mirror across the room. She’s amazing, lost in pleasure, lost in us.
Just like I am.
Mark was right. This could’ve never been casual and I was a fool for thinking it could be. Because I love Erica with everything I am, and one day, when we’re both ready, I’ll give her my last name too.
But not tonight.
We don’t need that to know what we have in each other.
And together, we fall again, trusting that we’ll always be there to catch each other.