19. Brody
Brody
I zip my coat all the way up and tug my toque down over my ears, watching Jami do the same. Her fingers fumble with the edges, and I reach over and help her. The second our hands touch, sparks of want zing through me and I quickly pull away, like a child caught with its hands in the cookie jar.
All right then.
Since I drove us here tonight, my eyes sweep the pub for Jaxon, scanning the warm haze of laughter and clinking glasses.
I need to know if he’s ready to leave, or if someone will have to give him a ride home.
That’s what this town is about, looking out for each other, making sure no one’s left stranded.
I glance at Jami, who has been fighting a yawn for the past hour, and I may have fibbed when I told her I was ready to go. I know she doesn’t want to be the one to drag me home if I weren’t ready, but I want to go…because it’s what she needs
I spot Jaxon leaning over a pool table with Rachel and a couple of others, cue in hand. When Jami grunts, I glance at her again to find her fiddling with her gloves, curling the fingers, twisting them as if they’re knots she can’t untangle. Damn, she’s really tired.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her, crossing the room.
Jaxon whispers something to Rachel and she laughs. Maybe my mother was right calling it with those two. She was absolutely wrong trying to match Jami with Liam, however. I catch his eye and jerk my thumb toward the door. “We’re headed out. You ready?”
“I’m going to hang out for a bit,” he says.
“I can come back, or—”
“I can give him a lift,” Rachel says before I can finish, and when Jaxon nods, I weave back through the crowd. The smell of spilled beer and freshly popped popcorn follows me, the hum of conversation filling the space.
Jami is waiting by the door, her posture stiff, her hands stuffed in her pockets. “He’s going to hang out a bit longer,” I tell her.
She tries to stifle another yawn. “If you want to stay, I can walk.”
Little Miss Independent. Always ready to carry her own weight. Fuck that.
“Come on.” I slide a hand across her back, a gentle pressure, and guide her out the door. The second we step outside, the cold slaps our bare skin. Snow crunches under our boots, the wind twisting around us. I tug up her hood, letting it frame her face, keeping the bite of winter at bay.
“Brody,” she yelps.
“What?”
“Look.”
I follow her gaze. Streaks of green and crimson flame across the sky. I grin at her awe as she takes it all in.
Her breath fogs in the cold as she exhales. “Aurora borealis,” she whispers, like she doesn’t want her words to break the magic. “I’ve never seen them before. They’re… so pretty.”
“You should see them from the cottage. We turn off all the lights, and it’s… something else. You’d think the sky was showing off just for us.”
I let her stand there a moment longer, until her teeth start chattering. I press my hand gently to her back. “Come on, let’s keep moving,” I say, guiding her to the truck.
We find the truck and climb inside. Jami cranks the heat, twisting the dial all the way to red, and holds her gloved hands up to the vents even though nothing but frigid air breathes out at us. The engine hasn’t even had time to wake up yet.
She shivers harder, shoulders drawing in. “Where is this cottage of yours?”
“About twenty minutes that way.” I point north, and she follows the invisible line of my finger.
“Do a lot of people have cottages?”
“Plenty.”
“Why?”
I grin as I slide the truck into drive and pull us onto the road, tires crunching over packed snow. “What do you mean, why?”
“I mean…” She gestures vaguely out the windshield. “What’s even out there? It’s all wilderness, isn’t it? Middle of nowhere. Nothing to do. Nothing to see. No one around.”
“That’s kind of the point.” I glance at her, watching the way the dashboard lights carve soft shadows along her face. “I think you’d love it.”
She snorts, a laugh caught somewhere between disbelief and curiosity. “I’m going to have to take your word on that.”
“What are you doing next weekend?” I ask casually, like I’m not already picturing her there, wrapped in flannel, boots by the door, hair smelling like cold pine and woodsmoke.
Under the glow of the dash, I catch the tiniest smirk tug at her mouth. “Liam mentioned something about snowmobiling at his cottage. Jeez, Brody. I know you’re older than me, but I didn’t think your short-term memory was going already.”
I shake my head, amused. She’s poking at me on purpose now, testing, seeing if she can get a reaction by dangling Liam’s name between us. Fine. I’ll bite.
“I told you,” I say evenly, my words firm, not up for debate. “If you’re going snowmobiling at a cottage, it’s going to be at mine.”
She straightens in her seat, chin lifting, suddenly all haughty attitude and mock offense. “You know, you’re kind of bossy.” She wobbles her head thoughtfully. “Maybe even a bit of a bully.”
I lower my voice. “Are you telling me you don’t like that, little birdie? That you don’t like it when I get all possessives. When I tell you what to do?”
I can’t see her face clearly, but her sharp exhale says everything her mouth doesn’t. She likes it. Likes handing herself over.
That works out great, because I like taking care of her.
“Next weekend,” I say. “We’re going to the cottage. I’m going to show you what it’s all about.”
She folds her arms, lips pursed in a dramatic pout. “Hmph. I don’t know about that.”
I laugh, but my eyes flick back to her, catching the tremor running through her. Maybe it’s the cold. Maybe it’s not. I tap the brakes gently as we ease down the icy driveway, headlights sweeping over snowbanks and dark trees, and kill the ignition.
“Well, I do.”
Jami is out of the truck before I can even shift into park.
“What’s your hurry?” I call, scrambling after her, boots slipping slightly on the packed snow as I race to catch up.
“Cold.”
“Seems like you’re trying to get away from me.” I step ahead of her, swinging the door wide.
“Who wants to be around a guy who’s always telling them what to do?”
I don’t answer. Inside the house, I kick the door shut behind us, and before she can bolt, my fingers grip the front of her coat. I pull her close, and the world narrows to the heat of her body, the sharp scent of winter clinging to her hair. My lips hover over hers, a breath away.
“You,” I murmur. “You’ve had a rough go, and there’s a freedom in letting me take control.”
“Wrong.” She scoffs, but it’s full of arousal. “I can’t wait to get my own place.”
I don’t let her go. She exhales, surrendering, abandoning the pretense that she doesn’t want this.
My gaze roams over her face, memorizing the curve of her jaw, the tilt of her lips.
“Oh, Little Birdie…do you have any idea how much I wanted you alone tonight, to devour that smart mouth of yours, to kiss you?”
“Brody. What about…Jaxon?” she asks.
“He’s not here,” I remind her. I brush the back of my knuckles over her cold cheek.
“Yet.”
“We’d hear the vehicle outside.” My gaze roams over her face. “I’m just talking about kissing, but if you want me to stop.”
“I don’t,” she shoots back quickly, breathlessly.
I run my thumb over her bottom lip. “It’s the first night we’ve had this place to ourselves. What else do you think we should do about that?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
“But we’re not going to do nothing, are we?” she murmurs.
“No, babe. We’re not going to do nothing.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Everything.”
She nods, giving herself over. “I don’t think we have a say in it,” she breathes out, zero fight left in her.
Her eyes flutter shut. When they open again, I’m on her, lips pressing hard, claiming, devouring, reacquainting myself with her softness. It’s reckless, intoxicating, so impossibly wrong, and yet it feels inevitable.
I back her against the door, pressing in, kissing Liam out of her brain and letting her know in no uncertain terms that she’s mine, at least for tonight, and possibly on the weekend at the cottage.
I yank down her hood, rip off her hat, and run my fingers through her hair.
She tangles her hands in mine, tugging at my zipper.
I find hers, pulling it down, sliding my hands beneath her sweater.
Her shiver is electric, a lightning bolt against my chest as my cold hands touch warm skin.
I deepen the kiss and for a moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist. Then, somewhere in the distance, or perhaps it’s near, I hear an insistent sound that pierces the haze.
“Brody.”
I break the kiss, blinking against the haze of want, to find her wide-eyed.
“What?”
“Someone… knocking at the door.”
My brain stalls, a fleeting mixture of disbelief and frustration. She nudges me with her shoulder. “Someone is at the door.”
I tug off my toque, rake my hands through my hair, trying—and failing—to calm the heat crawling across my body.
“Brody, it’s Derek.” The voice comes from the stoop.
“Oh… shit. Right.” I press a hand against the wall, taking a few deep breaths, trying to tame the wildfire raging inside me.
“Who’s Derek?” Jami whispers, voice low and curious.
“Pizza,” I tell her, trying for casual, and failing spectacularly. “I ordered it before we left the pub.”
“Pizza,” she repeats, almost absentmindedly, the tension in her body relaxing ever so slightly.
“You were hungry,” I simply explain.
Her expression softens. “Brody…” is all she says.
I swing the door open, welcoming the rush of cold. A familiar, cheerful figure stands there, holding the box out. I take it, hand it to Jami, then grab my wallet.
“Sorry to drag you out in the cold.”
“It’s all good, buddy.” Derek looks past me, and sees Jami.
“Hey Jami,” he says. “My girlfriend Amy signed up for your yoga class. She’s trying to get me to go, but trust me, I’d be like a bowling ball with a bunch of pins if I tried to do any of those poses. You’d all go tumbling.”
Jami gives a light laugh. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
I hand Derek a bunch of bills that I don’t even count. “Thanks, dude,” he says and shoves them in his pocket. “You guys have a great night.”
“This town… does pizza delivery?” she mutters under her breath as I close the door.
“Yeah, from the hotel.”
I take in the way Jami is watching me carefully, with eyes that hold warmth and hunger—not necessarily for the pizza, and something tells me this interruption might not have ruined the night.
“That was really…sweet, Brody.”
She nods, and holds the pizza out to me. “Can I go get into something more comfortable?”
“Yeah, I’ll get the plates. Meet me in the kitchen.”
Or better yet, maybe I’ll meet her in the bedroom.