2. Brody #2
Shit. I do not want to give her the wrong idea. Or the right idea. I don’t even know what ‘idea’ I’m talking about anymore. I mean, it’s exactly what I would have done for any friend—or my best friend’s sister—coming into town.
“I asked last week…before I knew…”
That brief glimmer of light in her eyes dim.
Damn, did I hurt her feelings? Make her think she’s not special?
Shit. I’m sort of damned if I do, damned if I don’t.
Jaxon leans forward. “Before you knew what?” he asks, his tone full of curiosity.
“Oh, before I knew how late you’d be getting in,” I say quickly, proud of myself for thinking so fast on my feet, and hating myself for the lie. I hate liars. “I didn’t know your flight would be so late, or that you’d be getting off a cargo plane.”
Getting off.
Jesus Brody, what are you, twelve?
“Ass first,” she mumbles, and I can’t help but laugh. I shouldn’t be laughing, and I don’t know why I am. Maybe the tension is getting to me. A tiny grin forms at the corner of her mouth, and when a chuckle burst from her throat, it lightens the mood in the truck and my muscles relax.
Okay, maybe we can do this.
She rubs her stomach. “Actually, jiggs dinner sounds just about perfect. Couldn’t even get a pretzel on the cargo plane.”
I nod and drive the short distance to my aunt’s restaurant. I ease my truck into my regular spot, and kill the ignition. We all climb out and because the outside temperature is rising, I don’t bother plugging it in.
The restaurant is quiet at this hour—only a few locals scattered around, forks paused halfway to their mouths as the three of us walk in.
Small towns don’t do subtle. I give a curt nod, shielding Jami from the open curiosity pointed our way.
The last thing she needs tonight is feeling like she landed in a fishbowl after everything she’s already been through.
I guide her straight to the back booth and she slides in, her movements tired but graceful, Jaxon settling beside her. I take the seat across from them—bad idea, because it gives me a full view of her. One glance and I’m a hot mess all over again.
I spot Verna heading over, pulling her notepad from her apron pocket. I give her the biggest smile I can muster—part greeting, part ‘please don’t see through me’. She slows her steps, tilts her head, following my gaze straight to Jami.
Oh, no. No. No.
That grin.
Someone call for help.
She’s too damn astute for her own good. Or mine.
“Hi there,” Verna says brightly, stopping at the table. “You must be Jami.”
Jami offers a polite but weary smile. “You must be Verna.”
Verna’s eyes crinkle as she taps her pen on her chin. “Ah, so that’s why Brody asked me to make a special dinner tonight.”
My stomach drops. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I grumble, kicking her a look that translates roughly to cease and desist.
She ignores me. Naturally. “He didn’t tell me you were such a pretty thing.”
Oh, for the love of—
“Verna,” I warn, voice low, throat tight. “I just met her too.”
One eyebrow lifts. “Did you?”
Heat prickles the back of my neck. I shrug out of my coat. “Yes. We’re all having jiggs dinner, right?”
At the same exact moment, Jami and I reach for the drink menu. Our hands brush—barely a touch, maybe a millisecond—but it’s like someone plugged me into live current.
We both jerk our hands back, fast.
“Oh, sorry,” she whispers.
“No, you go ahead,” I say at the exact same time she tucks her hands onto her lap.
“I already know what’s on it,” I add fast, too fast.
She tilts her head, studying me. I know what she’s thinking—why reach for a menu you’ve memorized? I’m not about to admit that I needed something to do with my hands that didn’t involve reaching across the table and…
I drag my attention back to Verna, who’s openly snickering now.
Fantastic.
“I’ll have the usual,” I grumble.
“Same,” Jaxon chimes in.
“Two beers. How about you, sweetie?” Verna snickers before adding, “Something cold, or something…hot?”
Is she fucking with me?
“I should go for hot,” Jami says lightly. “But I’ll have a white wine. Is that on the menu?”
Wine. Of course it’s wine. Just like that night at the pub. The memory hits fast and hard—her laughter, the taste of sauvignon blanc on her lips, the way I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her.
“Brody?”
My name snaps me back. “Uh—what?”
Verna gives me the world’s most exaggerated eye roll. “We’re short-staffed. Would you mind grabbing a bottle from storage?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Escape accepted.
I slide from the booth just as Jami asks to freshen up, and I head down the dim hallway, past the washrooms. In the backroom, I stare into the cooler far longer than necessary before grabbing the sauvignon blanc—the same one she drank that night.
I’m halfway back down the hall when Jami steps out of the washroom. She startles when she sees me, pressing her back against the wall, hand flying to her chest.
“Brody,” she breathes. “I didn’t expect—”
My gaze drops to her mouth. Her next words vanish, swallowed by the slow sweep of her tongue across her bottom lip. She says my name again, softer this time. Needier.
Something inside me snaps like an overstrained paddle.
“Jami,” I murmur, bracing a palm against the wall beside her head, instinct dragging me closer. My mouth hovers inches from hers. Close enough to feel the heat of her breath. Close enough to make the worst kind of mistake.
God help me, I want to.
But there’s no universe where this ends without consequences.