10. Brody
Brody
Jami closes her laptop and pushes back from the kitchen table. “You do Sunday dinner every Sunday?” she asks, like the concept of families sitting around a table weekly is alien.
“No, sometimes we do it on Saturday.”
“Oh.” She frowns, setting her glass in the dishwasher. I lean against the counter, biting back a grin as I let my words land.
She casts me a fast glance. “Wouldn’t that be Saturday dinner?”
Jaxon and I laugh. He throws an arm around her. “Can’t get anything by you. Right freaking smart, you are.”
She turns to glare at me. “You’re so annoying, Brody. It was bad enough growing up with Jaxon and all his stupid big-brother stints. Now I have to put up with you too.”
Jesus, I like her.
“Two brothers to annoy you,” Jaxon jokes. “How lucky are you?”
She pinches his side. “I can’t wait to get my own place.”
Jaxon jumps back. “Come on, you know you love it here with us.”
“Nasty face hairs in the sink, smelly shoes by the door, and long showers that drain the hot water tank? I think not, big brother.” She glances at me, and my heart skips.
Honestly, this last week—especially after the kiss that was supposed to douse this flame—has been hard. Thankfully we’ve both been busy: eating at our desks, grabbing dinners at different times, avoiding each other… mostly.
Except…
In the mornings, when she walks into the kitchen, low-rise pajama pants revealing a creamy slice of skin.
Torturous.
At the social, watching pickleball and making smoothies.
Agonizing.
At night, passing each other outside the bathroom.
Excruciating.
Oh, and in my dreams. Always in my dreams.
Hard.
“You sure they don’t mind me coming?” she asks, pulling me back.
“If you didn’t show…” I slice my hand across my neck. “Toast.”
She looks down for a moment, troubled. “That’s nice of them to invite me.”
That look reminds me she needs a friend, not a guy to complicate her life. And honestly, I don’t need the complications either.
No, dude, you just need her touch.
“You say that now,” I mock-shiver. “Just wait until the interrogation begins.”
“There’s not going to be an interrogation,” she snorts, unfazed. She throws up a dismissive hand. “Everyone in this town already knows everything about me. Just this morning, I was leaving the Cozy Cup, and Mr. Cheeseman asked me about my new toothbrush.”
I laugh. “He did not.” Yeah, he probably did.
“He did,” she insists. “He told me I should get one with softer bristles. Wouldn’t be so weird if he was my dentist, but he’s not. He’s the mayor who also drives a plow truck, Brody.” She throws her hands up, and Jaxon and I laugh. “The mayor who drives a plow truck.”
“It’s a small town. We multitask. And as the mayor, he just cares about his citizens.” I assure her. “That’s what mayors are like in small towns.”
“I’m glad he didn’t see what else I bought,” she murmurs as she turns.
Unable to leave it, I ask, “What else did you buy?”
She spins, pointing a finger at me. I catch a hint of pink in her cheeks. “Not your business.” I open my mouth and she continues with, “Your mom really doesn’t want me to bring a dish?” she asks, smoothly changing the subject—though now I really want to know what else she bought.
“Nope. Ma’s love language is feeding people. That’s something that runs in my family.”
“Skipped you, though, huh?”
“He’s a pretty good cook, actually,” Jaxon pipes up.
“But even better at annoying people,” she points out with a sassy grin.
I smile. It’s nice to see her happy, shoulders relaxing, finding a purpose here.
She’s only here for the summer, but she’s jumped right in, helping at the social, keeping herself busy, either to keep her mind off past mistakes or build a future. I’m hoping it’s the latter.
“Coat on, now.” I guide her toward the archway, and down the hall.
Something about the way she lets me move her body absolutely wrecks me, and my mind betrays me—replaying the way she liked it when I held her down on my therapy bed, and the soft moan that followed.
My cock thickens.
Great. The last thing I need to be sporting through Sunday dinner is a boner.
I grab her coat from the closet as she pulls on her hat. When I turn back to her, my chest tightens.
My God. She’s adorable.
“Just so you know,” I say. “There will be an interrogation.” A beat. “My ma, my aunts, and my sister will want to know everything about your love life. They’re relentless.”
“It’s simple.” She shrugs. “I don’t have one.”
“Good to hear,” Jaxon grunts, grabbing his coat and tugging his hat down over his ears. “And that’s all I want to hear.” He pushes past us. “I’ll go warm the truck.”
The door shuts behind him, the engine rumbling to life outside. Jami zips up her coat and I watch her for a second too long, my heart thudding as I fight the pull between us.
“I’ll talk to them,” I say. “Tell them not to ask too many questions. But they’ll probably start trying to set you up. You’ll hear things like Mr. Peddle’s cousin’s nephew’s son Devon is still single.”
“Uh,” she says. “Come again?”
I laugh, and before I can stop myself, I reach for her zipper and pull it up to her chin. Her sharp intake of breath doesn’t go unnoticed when the backs of my fingers brush her cheek.
I glance at the closed door. Listen to the truck idling outside.
She blinks up at me, and whatever resolve I had packs a bag and heads south.
“I’d kiss you again,” I murmur, gripping her chin. “If it wasn’t—”
“Like chewing gum you found under a table,” she supplies.
“Biting into a muffin someone sneezed on.”
She crinkles her nose. “If it wasn’t so… beige.”
Beige.
Ha.
“If it didn’t taste like antiseptic after the dentist.”
“That’s the worst,” she agrees.
I lean in. “Just once. Okay? No more after that.”
“Okay.”
I hold her for an extra second, letting myself savor her. This is either the smartest or stupidest thing I’ve ever done, especially before facing my family, who already know I’ve got it bad for her.
Jami.
Pretty little thing.
Her hand slides around my back, gripping my sweater like it’s a lifeline. I tuck my fingers beneath the edge of her toque, her mouth softening against mine, lips silky and warm. I angle my head, step into her, our bodies fitting together like they’ve always known how.
I break the kiss, breathing hard, my forehead resting against hers.
“That was—”
“Brutal.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
But we both know why it was brutal.
Neither of us wanted it to end.
“Brody.”
I pull back an inch. “Yeah.”
“Your family… after everything they’ve been through, they still believe in relationships?”
“Believe it or not,” I say. “They’re true romantics at heart.”
“I’m not,” she admits. “Not anymore. I’m not ready—”
“I know. Neither am I,” I say so she doesn’t feel so alone in any of this, and also because it’s true.
“But I can humor them,” she adds. “As long as I don’t have to follow through with anything.”
My hand settles on her arm—protective, possessive, and not even a little brotherly. “You won’t have to,” I promise. “I won’t let that happen.”
Her shoulders lift and she cups her hands beneath her chin. “My hero.”
“Smart ass.”
“Better than annoying and hey thanks for the kiss,” she says lightly, like it didn’t rattle us both. “It reminded me of when I was a teen and used to practice with my pillow.”
“You practiced with your pillow?”
“Yeah,” she says solemnly. “And honestly, it had better technique.”
I burst out laughing as I tug on my coat and nudge her toward the door. The cold air hits like a slap, and I step ahead, letting my coat act as a human windbreaker. Her hand lands on mine. “Close your eyes,” I say. “I’ll guide you to the truck.”
The way she holds on—so small, trusting me—it twists something in my chest. I move slowly, careful, letting the wind swirl around us before opening the door. I turn her gently and help her in. Once she’s seated beside her brother, I hop in and slam the door.
“So this is spring,” she says, eyes watering from the wind. I open my mouth to say something witty—maybe a “welcome to Churchill Falls” joke—but she holds up a hand.
“Don’t say I’ll get used to it.”
“How did your face get so red so fast?” Jaxon asks, and I suddenly become obsessed with my seatbelt buckle, pretending it’s a Rubik’s Cube I’ve never seen before.
“I’m not used to this place like you are,” she shoots back and I love how quick on her feet she is. She scoffs. “My skin isn’t leather like yours.”
Jaxon rubs his face. “Leather, huh? Give it time.”
“I don’t plan to be here that long.”
He backs out of the driveway and down the road, signal blinking for the world to admire his impeccable courtesy, even though there isn’t a soul in sight. He turns down the next street, pulling into a driveway identical to my place.
“How do you know this is the right house?” she asks.
“House number,” Jaxon says, like that explains everything.
“They all look alike. I’m not going anywhere without you two. I’d wander these streets for days.”
“Not days,” I clarify. “You wouldn’t make it past twenty-four hours without freezing to death. And if you did, the coyotes or bears would finish the job.”
“Reassuring,” she says, shivering. “And all the more reason never to venture off alone.”
Jaxon kills the ignition, and she follows me up the walkway. My stomach tightens. My family can be blunt, brutally honest, and while they mean no harm, I want to shield her from anything that could dig up old hurts.
Ma swings the door open before we even reach the steps, arms wide.
“Ma, this is Jami. Jami, this is my mother, Lori.”
“There you are!” Mom bellows, loud enough for them to hear it three hundred miles away in Labrador City.
Honestly, it hasn’t been that long since I’d seen her. “Ma,” I say, about to step into her hug when she shoos me away and swoops Jami into her arms. Jaxon snickers and I roll my eyes. Typical Ma behavior. I should have expected it.
After a hug that could easily leave Jami’s lungs on the endangered list, Ma drags her inside. “Let me look at you,” she says, grinning. “Such a pretty little thing. Come in, come in, before you catch your death of cold.”