Chapter 2
Brody
First thing I do when Willow saunters back into her room is text my boys, sans Zane of course.
Me: She’s going to be the death of me.
Hayes: What are you still doing there? Just rent a fucking hotel room, dumbass.
Notice the single father didn’t offer me a place?
He’s got enough on his plate, so I don’t blame him.
Besides, he’s right. I should. I should totally just rent a different place.
I like having my own space, and I don’t need to stay here in such close confines with her, torturing myself.
Haven’t I tortured myself enough already over the years?
After nearly destroying the relationship I have with my sister, I promised Lacy that I’d never go after one of her friends again. But that was before Willow.
Wendell: You should stay. She might need some help. It’s not like this is easy for anyone.
Me: You’re the gentleman, you should have asked her to stay with you.
Wendell: I did. She said it was more convenient to stay at her brother’s place.
Pax: She could always stay with me
…
Everyone’s typing but no messages are coming through. Except that’s a big N-O for me. Pax throws way too many parties, recklessly. I can’t insert Willow into his life knowing the types of people that would be coming and going.
Me: Nope. Not happening. I’ll figure it out.
I always do.
I have no other choice. What with me finally patching up my relationship with Lacy, I can’t jeopardize that again. I already messed up with Willow once, ages ago, thank God Lacy knows nothing about it.
But it takes me all day to get over seeing her in that lacy bra thing she was wearing along with the shortest booty shorts known to mankind. Fuck that. Mankind should not know about, never mind see her in, that scrap of fabric.
Hours of working out and making good use of the steamroom leads me to wind down in front of the TV with dinner, when I see Willow.
Actually, I hear her shuffling into the kitchen before I see her, so I call out that there’s shepherd’s pie on the counter if she wants some.
When she mumbles an ungrateful thanks, I whip my head around to give her an earful.
“Sounds a bit ungrateful, considering—”
My body freezes. I play hockey at the highest level, first string. I see some of the roughest guys on the ice and I’m the enforcer, the protector of my team. I don’t stutter. I’m not indecisive. I make the hard calls. And quick.
But right now…my blood has all raced to my dick like it’s running from the bulls in Pamplona, and I definitely can’t think straight.
Something warm plops into my lap. My dropped gaze confirms it’s a solid chunk of mashed potatoes and ground beef.
I scoop it up and put it on my plate in a futile attempt to gather my wits because over there, as casual as a cherry tomato in Greek salad, is Willow, seated at the table wearing nothing but those booty shorts and fucking nipple tassels.
A growl forms in the back of my throat. Unsure of what I’m about to do, I clang my plate to the coffee table and stalk over to her.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” My face is hot. Because I’m angry. Furious. Raging. It has nothing to do with the semi in my pants and the flashes of her strewn out on my bed rampaging my brain.
“Whatever. I. Want.” She eggs me on and takes another bite while I do not notice the way her lips suction around the spoon.
“Where the fuck did you get those?” I don’t even care that I’m sounding like some uptight caveman.
With a smirk, she catches my eye. “Same day delivery, baby.”
I resist the urge to reach out and twirl one of those stupidly sexy tassels.
Willow has always been a smokeshow, but I cannot comprehend what kind of game she’s playing.
She wants her independence. Her freedom.
Sure. But I’m living here too. Which reminds me…
she knows that I think she’s attractive, but she couldn’t possibly be making a move for a second chance with me. My pride flares up.
“So you bought those for me?”
Her face blanches and her spoon stops midair. “What?”
“You just said, same day delivery.” I lean down, palm on the table, nose in her face. “Baby.” I let my eyes roam down the slope of her neck and linger on her tits. Jiggling just a little while she fumbles for her next comeback.
“I would never…”
“You just said it though.” I can’t resist. My finger inches close enough to twirl the tassel on her left breast, and I watch a shudder roll through her.”
“Your ego needs its own postal code, Brody. I didn’t buy these for you. They’re for me.”
“So you just enjoy eating dinner like this on the reg?”
“Ya—”
“Even though you just bought these?”
“I mean, no.” She shrugs one shoulder, and I watch its effect on her tits. “I wear what I want, when I want.”
“But I’m the only one who’s seen you…like this?” The hoarseness in my voice surprises us both, and our eyes lock. Like we’re caught in some homing beacon, we stay fixated there until she breaks it.
“Let me eat my shepherd’s pie in peace.”
“You mean my shepherd’s pie.”
She shoves the plate away from her and stands upright so fast that we come chest to chest—ish, she’s a good few inches shorter than me—but all the same, I feel those tassels brush against my torso.
“You can have it.”
It takes me a second to realize she’s talking about the food. “You may as well be wearing nothing,” I growl at her.
“Don’t be ridiculous—”
“Oh, I’m being ridiculous? Of the two of us, me—fully clothed—you—tassels—I’m being ridiculous? I don’t think so.”
“That’s the problem with you, Monk. You always have to do what’s right, so you always think you’re right. You always know best, don’t you?”
“Always. Go change. Your food will be waiting for you here when you’re done.”
“I’m not a child, Brody. You can’t just boss me around—”
“Take. Them. Off.” With each word I crowd her into the table until my hips are pressing her into place.
Her breaths are coming in shorter and her eyes dip to my mouth.
I remember exactly what she tastes like, feels like, smells like.
And if she wants to kiss me as much I want it, this is the worst idea ever. I can’t break my promise to my sister.
“I’ll do what I want.” She pushes past me and blazes a trail to her room, and I don’t know what possesses me to follow her. But I do.