8. Ro
Isat cross-legged on Gran’s sofa, nursing a strong coffee. I’d spent the last ten minutes unraveling the bundle of wool I picked up at The Twitch ‘n Stitch, Tuft Swallow’s only craft shop. Book lovers often described a sense of bliss, a heavenly calm, when they stepped inside a library. I felt the same when I pottered along the cluttered aisles of needles, hooks, and buttons. Currently, I was battling with a large spool of baby pink 12-ply that’d over-mingled with a green cashmere blend.
I frowned, pulling a stubborn thread of the green, tightening up the knot I was trying to loosen. “Mother f…”
“Careful what you say. Even yarn has feelings.”
My head snapped up. Brody. He’d come into the room, his blue T-shirt matching his eyes, and holy hell, did he know how good those jeans looked? With a side glance, I skimmed over his whole body. To check for consistency, of course. Yep. The entire package was up to scratch.
Brody headed across the green rug to the kitchen but stopped halfway, squinting at my top.
“Show me your pecker?” He gave a little laugh. “I know I’m not known for my shyness, but I didn’t expect you to be so forward.”
I followed his gaze to land on my chest. I’d thrown on the first thing I saw this morning, which was a red T-shirt displaying those exact words.
“So, peckers, eh?” He’d stopped at the kitchen door now, his mocking grin making my teeth clamp together. “No wonder you’re so popular if you go out wearing slogans like that.”
My cheeks blazed, and I looked at him, mouth flapping like a beached fish.“Stop! I bought it at the bird festival fundraiser last year. Practically everyone in town owns one.”
“Then you’re all equally filthy.” He chuckled, changing direction and sitting on the other end of the couch.
As he landed, the velvet cushions gave a little beneath me.
“Does the council still run that bird festival?”
“They sure do. It gets bigger every year.”
He wrinkled his nose and smiled. The soft light from the netted window lit up the highlights in his hair. “This town is so weird.”
“Maybe, but it’s home. You just have to enter the spirit of it.”
He turned his body toward me, and I pulled the yarn through my fingers a little faster.
“So, how has your training been going?” he asked.
“What training?”
“For the tryout. As your coach, I have a vested interest.”
I’d checked out the rules online and watched a few videos. Did that count as training? “Don’t I just have to show up and skate around?”
He threw one brow to the ceiling. “You have seen roller derby, haven’t you?”
“No, well, kind of.” It was more of a question than a statement, and the slight sneer on his lips confirmed he was unimpressed with my honesty.
“Derby is almost on a par with hockey. You need to be strong. Have good stamina.” He ran his eyes over my legs and then the rest of me. My insides squirmed. “Show me your guns.”
I scoffed. “Oh, come on! What is this, Miss Olympia?”
He cocked his head to the side. “No, really… Show me what you’ve got.”
My fingers burned to grab one of Gran’s embroidered cushions and throw it at him. Even so, I lifted my arms and pulled a theatrical flex, channeling my inner Dwayne Johnson.
Brody’s lips curved, and he scooched closer to me, reaching up to encircle my entire upper arm with one gigantic hand. The touch of his palm on my skin had fireflies jumping in my tummy as if each fingertip would leave a trace of him behind. I daren’t look at him, afraid of what my eyes would reveal. Instead, I stared resolutely at his wrist and the expensive watch he wore.
He let out a kind of growl, or something. It was a sound I’d never heard before, and one that had my heart racing in overtime. “Working on that pump has given you a good base, but the women you’ll be going up against are badass. They mean business.”
Finally, he let go of my arm, my skin craving the return of his fingers. A breath stuttered in my chest. I had to act cool. Brody didn’t need to know that just one touch had me yearning for more. Much more. “Are you suggesting I’m not a badass?”
Brody raked his eyes over me again, a smirk growing on his mouth. “Quite the contrary, particularly in that shirt, but some of the fresh meat will have trained for weeks. Maybe months.”
“Fresh meat?”
“That’s what they call a new intake.”
I ran my hands along my thighs. He really did know a lot about roller derby.
“Are you working today?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Okay. What time do you get off? I’ll pick you up.”
“What for?”
“We’re going to the gym.”
I gazed down at the bundle in my lap. My racing thoughts and heart tangled just like the yarn. “Seriously? I’ve never set foot in a gym.”
Brody grinned and stood. “Exactly. We need to build you up a bit. So I’ll pick you up?”
At a flash of those ocean blue eyes, I’d happily sign up for pilates, jiu-jitsu, cardio, or full-on weight-lifting. I didn’t care. Getting sweaty with Brody sounded a little forbidden and all kinds of interesting. “Not from work, though. Meet me at the school gym. Seven p.m.”
“Sounds intriguing.”
“Not really. You’ll see.”
He nodded, backing into the kitchen, pointing his fingers at me like a couple of pistols. “I’ll be there. And bring your A-game. I’m going to drive you hard.”
When he left the room, I let out a breath. Promises, promises.