12. Ro
Iloitered outside the entrance to the school gym, shifting from foot to foot, psyching myself up to meet Brody. He’d left a note pinned to the fridge that morning asking me to meet him at seven for some skating practice. I’d been like a cat on hot tiles all day.
The warm breeze whipped around me, blowing tendrils of hair across my face. I’d only seen him fleetingly over the last two days. Once, he’d passed me at the front door, coming in as I’d been going out. We’d only exchanged a look and an awkward smile. The other time, he and Coop had been deep in conversation at the dining table and I’d hung around in the kitchen trying to look busy, desperate to hear what they were talking about.
While making a completely unwanted batch of butter cookies, I’d learned he’d met with his friend, Alex, and had visited an old contact in Robin Springs. Brody used to play for the Robin Springs Rockets junior hockey team back in the day.
I’d clanked baking trays and beat the cookie batter with abandon, but Brody didn’t give me more than a perfunctory glance. He obviously hadn’t resorted to stalk-baking, like me. Hadn’t dwelled on thoughts of our bodies pressed together in the gym. Nope. He probably had a million and one other things on his mind, like his leg, the doctor’s verdict, and most likely, a woman or three.
I checked my watch. Ten past seven. Officially fashionably late. Eve always said appearing too keen for a man wasn’t a good idea. Not that this was a date or anything. Still, she’d say an air of mystery did no harm. Sucking in a breath, I strode around the corner of the building and through the open gym doors.
The overhead lights made a dazzling contrast to the darkness outside. As I entered, at least a hundred bugs followed me, lured in by the artificial brightness. The minute I stepped inside, Brody looked up. He stood in the middle of the gym, straightening a small orange cone with his foot. At least another dozen marked out a circuit. His eyes matched the light blue of his T-shirt, and, teamed with his beaten-up jeans and his tan, he looked magazine-cover ready. Deep breath, Ro. It was only Brody.
“You got my note.” An easy grin grew on his lips, threatening to weaken my thighs and melt my calves to jello. “I wasn’t sure if you’d had a better offer. Stood me up.”
Impossible. “Well, I had a couple of things on, but I know how you went to the trouble getting access to the gym, so I declined.” It was a barefaced lie. More like a long evening of crocheting in front of the TV with Gran lay ahead of me. My owls were finally behaving - ish. But in the circumstances, I’d chosen a night with my girlhood crush over a night of hooking stitches and wondering what he was doing.
I walked toward the stand, finding Brody’s jacket on the lowest bench. With his eyes on me, I sat down, slipped off my Cons, and put on my trusty neon pink knee pads, wrist guards, and new skates. I’d spent a lot of time in the park wearing my new wheels in. Getting a feel for them.
Brody watched me as I pulled them onto my feet, and damn if my fumbling fingers hadn’t forgotten how to tie shoelaces. Resorting to bunny ears, it took me three goes before I could stand and meet his eyes. He stepped toward me, and a rush of heat ran through my body. With a forced grin, I took off for the other side of the hall.
“Got to warm up,” I yelled over my shoulder, my voice echoing off the plain brick walls. Only the school banners broke up the monotonous masonry. I circled back, getting any skittish wobbles out of my knees. Brody was back in the middle of the hall, and I pulled up alongside him.
“Looking good, Ro.” He ran his eyes up and down my legs like he did the other night, and my cheeks warmed. Why the hell had I worn such tiny shorts? But of course, he’d be talking about the skates, not me.
Brody sent me off for another warm-up lap around his makeshift circuit, and I concentrated on keeping my feet going in the right direction under his scrutiny. Halfway around, he beckoned me back. “Okay, tonight we’re going to focus on speed and agility. Two essential things on the derby track.”
I tilted my head to the side. I had speed and agility. Didn’t I?
“To get a spot in the team, you need to skate twenty-seven laps of the track in under five minutes.”
“That’s very specific, but it doesn’t sound too hard.”
Brody lifted his eyebrows, then his phone. “Let’s see, shall we? Let’s start with a few practice laps.”
He counted me down, and I set off around his track. I started off just fine, pulling some tight corners and keeping to a reasonable speed. The slick floor of the gym made it easier. Brody counted down the laps with a shout when I rolled past him, and each time I pushed harder. At lap eight, he waved for me to stop, which I did, pulling in hard breaths.
Brody looked at his phone, a furrow forming between his brows. “You need to go faster. Stay low, get your shoulders back, and push your crossovers really hard. Don’t hug the inside line. Skate an ellipse. You’ll use less energy that way.”
Now my brow creased. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”
One corner of his mouth ticked up. “Rowena, when I want something, I go after it. I do nothing by halves.”
I bet he didn’t. Despite any natural talent, nobody got to his level in professional sports without mammoth effort. Why he’d made me his current project, I wasn’t sure. He was probably bored kicking his heels in Tuft Swallow. Life in his hometown must be quite a comedown compared to the opportunities he’d have in Denver.
“Ok, here’s what we’re gonna do.” He rested one hand on his hip. “We’ll go for the full five minutes. If you don’t make the required number of laps, you make me breakfast in bed. For a week.”
In bed? My jaw practically hit the floor. I had no problem throwing together some eggs or a bowl of cereal for him every day. But bedside delivery? I couldn’t imagine he’d make it easy for me. There had to be a catch.
“What if I make the time? What do I get?”
Brody chuckled, a low throaty sound from somewhere deep in his chest. “That’s the Ro I know. Name your price.”
Was he serious? I could demand anything of him? How did more time in the boxing ring and a shirt-free policy in the house sound? I settled my raggedy breath, unsure if it was the exertion or the crackle in the air between us that made it tremble. “I’ll settle for those crocheted gloves. Have you even started?”
A grin spread like warm honey over his lips. “I’m still in the research phase.”
My heart sank a little. He hadn’t done a thing. I’d left out some yarn and a couple of crochet hooks a few days ago. The last time I’d checked, they were still there. All he had to do was look up a tutorial on YouTube.
With a sigh, I skated an arc around him. “Shall we, then?”
I stopped opposite Brody on the very inside of his cone-ringed track. He counted down from three, and at his echoing, “GO!” I pushed off and skated as if my life and my chastity depended on it. I mean, a whole week of delivering breakfast in bed to Brody had to be a bad idea, right? There’s no way he slept in full-body pajamas.
Every time I sped past him, he shouted out the lap number, and each time I dug down and pushed harder, the grind of my wheels drove me on. I hadn’t skated this hard for years. Not since Mom passed. Back then, I’d trashed my pair of boots skating the long, straight road between Tuft Swallow and Spitz Hollow over and over. Spent hours trying to drive away my sadness with the movement.
My lungs were on fire now, and when Brody called “twenty-five,” I drove even harder. I wasn’t sure what I was trying to forget this time, but even the thunderous hammer of my heart couldn’t drown out thoughts of the achingly gorgeous man timing my laps.
“Twenty-Seven. Stop!”
I slowed up, sucking in deep lungfuls of stale school gym air. I skated toward Brody, and judging from the smile on his face, I hadn’t made the required time. He was no doubt planning his breakfast menu for the next week. When I reached him, my breath was coming under control, but my body dripped with sweat. I cursed my decision to put on some mascara before I left work. By now, I’d probably be wearing it around my knees.
One of his eyebrows quirked as I came to a stop, and he dragged his eyes over my face. “You look hot.” He followed the line with a wink. Damn him. I’d just slugged my guts out for five solid minutes, and all he could do was throw me a cheap, flirty line.
“Stop it, Brody. Either you take this seriously, or I’m out of here.”
He shrugged. “I can’t help it. You’re too cute when you get mad.”
I threw him a filthy glare, my chest still rising and falling like a rolling ocean. “Just give me the verdict.”
He held his phone out to me so I could read the screen. Four minutes, thirty-seven seconds. I’d made it with time to spare. I brought my eyes up to meet Brody’s, matching his grin.
“I knew you were fast enough. Your legs are pretty solid.” He must have caught my grimace. “In a good way, I mean.”
Brody brought a hand to the back of his neck, and I was almost sure a blush of pink hit his cheeks. But no. Brody Flockhart would never blush. He’d more likely parade down Main Street in a furry chipmunk suit than show weakness. Reveal any chink in his macho armor.
“Did you watch the videos I sent you?” he asked.
He’d showered me with derby videos all day, the laser focus he talked about in full evidence. “There were quite a few to get through, but yes.”
Some of the clips had scared the crap out of me, but others? They were exciting. The women wore their passion like a badge of honor. I envied them for their drive. Coming up with new cheerleading routines didn’t quite give me the same buzz.
“So, you understand the rules?” he asked.
“Kinda.” It was a half-truth. There was a structure and a set of rules, but the clips he sent me looked like a big jumble of people most of the time. With a lot of shoving
“And?”
I huffed a laugh. “There seemed to be a lot of falling over.” Seriously, with some of the accidents in the clips, I feared for my teeth.
“Right. It’s full contact, so you must know how to protect yourself. But not just you. You need to protect your jammer and block the jammer on the other team.”
The videos he’d sent talked about the difference between the jammers, who scored the points, and the blockers who tried to stop them. I drew my brows together. “So, lots of falling over?”
Brody grinned, shaking his head. “Only if you let yourself get taken down. As a defenseman, my job on the ice is to block people. Stop them from getting through to score. Derby is just as brutal.”
“But with less padding.”
Brody snickered, the sound curling gentle fingers around my heart. “You’ll be fine, Ro. With that speed and your skills, you’ll be out of the pack and scoring before you know it. The manager is gonna snap you up.”
I wish I had Brody’s confidence.
He chewed at one side of his lips. “Look, if you’re really worried about the close contact. How about I give you a taste?”
My head snapped around. “Sorry, what?” He looked back at me, a neutral expression on his face. I wasn’t trying to read more into his question than he intended, but the words close, contact, and taste, all in the same sentence, made my head whirl and my breath thin.
“Try to get around me. I’ll show you how the other skaters will block you.”
The suggestion on its own didn’t sound too tricky. Brody reached out his arms for me to skate toward him, which I did, but when I pulled up, my body filled with heat. Gran always described him as “strapping,” but every time we got this close, he dwarfed me even with the extra height of my skates. He wasn’t on par with the Hulk, but he’d give your average lumberjack a run for their money. At least I just about cleared his pecs this time, so they wouldn’t be a distraction.
Brody turned his back, sending a wave of mint and lemon straight into me. I breathed in and tried hard not to focus on the nape of his thick neck and the fine blond hair that formed a V at its base.
“Okay, see if you can get past me.”
I hesitated, not sure which way to move. Theoretically, I should be able to get around him. I was faster on my skates than he was on his feet, wasn’t I? But his back presented an impenetrable wall of muscle, and…damn, I could feel the heat of him through his T-shirt.
“Come on, Ro. What are you scared of?”
Oh, I don’t know. Making a fool of myself? Getting my heart broken again? Just the usual.
His eyes met mine over his shoulder. The deep tone of his voice caressed my ears, and the slightest hint of a smile plumped out the profile of his cheeks. Why, oh, why, did he have to look so pretty? I took a breath and moved off, heading to his right, the opposite direction to his turned head.
As soon as I did, though, he moved in the same direction as if he’d sensed what I was going to do. It wasn’t clear air or empty track that greeted me, but one of Brody’s outsized shoulders. I narrowed my eyes before pushing off in the other direction. I had the speed to outmaneuver him. He had other ideas, though, and no sooner had I gone a few inches than his back brushed up against my chest. I sucked in a breath, not sure if I was startled by his speed or the fact that my nipples hardened immediately at the contact.
I didn’t have time to dwell on the thought, though, as each time I tried to move, to escape the wall of his body, he penned me in. At this rate, I’d have to reverse and skate right around him. I clamped my teeth together, perspiration clinging to my top lip. With a dummy move to my right again, I brought my heels apart and off the floor, forming a V with my toes, ready to push backward.
Brody must have mind-reading powers, too. As soon as I steadied myself to move off and leave him for dust, he whipped around the side of my body, blocking my exit, his solid chest at my back. I couldn’t even push off forward with my feet in this position. How the hell could he move so fast? Wasn’t he supposed to be injured?
Hot breath and a distinct chuckle licked at my neck, then a slight pressure squeezed my middle as two warm hands circled my waist, stopping me from tipping forward.
“Careful, you don’t want to fall.” Brody’s silky voice washed over me, and I closed my eyes. I already had. Years ago.
“I can see how you get your reputation.”
Brody tightened his grip a little. “What reputation?”
His words were barely more than a whisper, and a shiver ran over my body, kicking up the racing of my heart. I wobbled a little before lowering my heels to the gym floor. Wheels or not, I was at serious risk of fainting with desire right now. But the lilt in his voice told me it was all play for him. Just like always.
“Your reputation for being annoying.”
His breathy laugh skittered across the skin of my ear, and a tingling nudged somewhere far too low for my peace of mind. “Is that what I am?”
How could I tell him how much more he was to me? How much his very presence in my house, in my town, consumed my every thought. How I lay awake at night touching myself in the dark, dreaming it was Brody’s hands instead. For my sanity, he could never know. Besides, we were in the middle of a brightly lit school gym. It was hardly the place for secret confessions. A change of subject was a much better idea.
“You’re quick on your feet and annoying. Aren’t you supposed to be injured?”
“I can still move when I have to.” And move he did. Brody removed his hands from my waist, sending another shiver across my skin.
I sighed, a mixture of relief and frustration. “And you’re not even on skates. I’ll be hopeless at the trial.” I took advantage of my freedom with a reluctant push forward and spun around in an arc to face him. His signature smile gave no hint that he’d been conscious of our closeness. No change in his breathing hinted that he’d struggled to sleep at night in the room below me.
“You won’t. The coach, the other skaters, they’ll see your speed and love it.”
I rolled my eyes. “How do you know?”
“I have some contacts.”
I scoffed. “So you told me before. And you’ve probably slept with them all.”
Brody’s face dropped like somebody had switched off a light, and a furrow at his brow replaced his smile. Crap, why the hell could I not apply a filter to my racing brain?
I pinned a grin on my face, trying to dig myself out of the hole my harsh words had dug. “Hey, come on. Tell me it’s not true. Coop has told me stories over the years. His trips out to Denver. The parties. The women. Who can resist Flock, eh? Those poor ladies are only human, after all.” Every word was like spitting pins, and a bitter taste filled my mouth.
The bravado, the swagger I expected in return, didn’t come, though. Instead, Brody dipped his head a little. In the bright light of the gym, he reminded me of a much younger version of himself. “I’ll admit I’ve had my fun, but that’s not where my head, or any part of me, has been these last six months. Being injured takes its toll. There’s insecurity. The anxiety. The pressure to stay at the top.”
“So why do it to yourself?” My voice was softer now, my grin replaced by a gentle smile.
He closed his eyes for a long beat. “I’m not good at anything else. I have to keep playing. Without hockey, if I’m not ‘Flock,’ who am I?”
At the tremble in his voice, my heart lurched. I hadn’t considered he’d ever feel vulnerable. I’d always thought of Brody as bulletproof. Invincible. My brother’s exasperating, larger-than-life best friend who cruised his way through challenges on his looks and his skill on the ice. I’d never seen this side of him. Or been allowed to see it.
Brody bunched his hands at his sides and the skin at my palms prickled to touch him. To undo the knots of his fingers. I took the tiniest roll forward, my skate clattering on the polished wood below my wheels.
“Brody…”
As I moved toward him, his eyes widened, and he turned away, running his hands through his unruly hair.
“Okay. Let me see you stop.”
I blinked. “Sorry?”
“Show me how you stop.”
Did he think I was a beginner? That I didn’t know how to stop in a pair of rollerskates? At a loss for anything sensible to say, I skated out a little, turning back in his direction. Before I hit him, I executed a tight turn, spinning on the spot with my arms above my head like a ballerina.
After a few rotations, I slowed, but just before I stilled, his hands were at my waist, stalling my momentum. But this time, there was no playfulness in his eyes, no laughter in his voice. “As beautiful as your dancing is, you can’t turn like that on a derby track. You’ll get pulverized. Use a hockey stop.”
“A what?”
“You need to change direction and move off as fast as you can.” Brody demonstrated, keeping his feet parallel before bringing them to a right angle like a skier. “It’s probably harder on skates without blades, but I think you could do it. Stopping like this will give you a better chance of keeping ahead of everyone else.”
I tried the move, standing still. I almost tripped over.
Brody scowled, then kicked off his sneakers, leaving him standing in white socks. “This’ll give you more of an idea. Hold my hips.”
I swallowed. “You want me to hold your hips?” I had to check I’d heard him right.
“Yep. Come around back, and you can feel their movement.”
Holy hell, was he serious? He wanted me to feel the movement in his hips? Brody didn’t know how many times I’d dreamed of feeling any movement in his hips, let alone in my hands. But my fantasies took place in entirely different circumstances. I hung back, hoping the neutral expression I was going for wasn’t coming across as uptight.
His smirk made a welcome return as he studied me. “It’s okay. This isn’t a pickup line. I just want you to see what I mean.”
With a mental eye-roll, I cursed myself. Message received loud and clear.
I pushed off and stood behind him, my trembling fingers hovering at his sides. He brought his hands to the outside of mine and pulled them down to rest on his hips. The hard outline of his bones fit nicely into my palms. I held my breath, desperate to release it, but huffing and puffing would signal I wasn’t entirely at ease. I wanted Brody to think I manhandled sex gods all the time.
Before I was ready, he twisted his feet around on the floor, bringing them to a right angle with ease. At the end of the maneuver, he kicked his glorious hips out to the side. “Do you feel that?”
Did I ever. It was all I could do to hang on for dear life. Seemingly satisfied that I’d “felt” enough, Brody released my hands and stepped back, a glint of something a little worrying in his eyes. “Okay, your turn. Skate out, turn around, and come at me. Just stop before you hit me.”
My gut churned at the thought. “Seriously. What if I miss? Plow into you?”
Brody shrugged. “Then my team won’t renew my contract, and you’ll have to look after me til the end of my days.”
I swallowed away a fist-sized lump in my throat. I’d happily sign up to look after him. Breakfast in bed forever, but a life of eating scrambled eggs with me in Tuft Swallow was probably the furthest thing from his mind.
He cocked his head, hands back on hips. “Come on. I trust you.”
“But what if I don’t trust me?”
“Ro. You’re incredible on those wheels. It’ll be fine. Just get a good run-up. It’s harder if you’re going slow.” Well, if Brody would risk it, who was I to argue?
I skated about ten meters out before turning and glancing heavenward. The bugs that followed me inside earlier darted and played in the overhead strip lights. I took a breath. I just had to be brave, skate as fast as possible toward the only man who had ever left me breathless, and make sure I stopped before I ruined his ice hockey career. No problem.
My heart battered against my ribs. I had this. With a silent prayer to St. Lidwina, patron saint of skaters, I took off in Brody’s direction, my legs feeling as if they were encased in thick treacle. With each stride, his face drew nearer, and blood rushed around my body even faster. But he didn’t flinch. Kept his eyes on me the whole way. Wide open and trusting.
I got halfway before I realized I had to think about stopping. But with all the hip-holding and the talk of his reputation as a womanizer, I couldn’t remember what he’d shown me. Something to do with parallel legs. Or was it ankles? Feet made more sense, but surely moving my feet would have me going over on my ankles. I’d end up mangling both of us.
A bead of sweat raced between my shoulder blades, and, about to do something parallel with some part of my lower anatomy, I hesitated. The thought of ruining his career sat front and center in my mind.
Instinctively, I put out a foot, scuffing the floor with my toe stopper. But being a derby skate, it wasn’t the same size as the one on my usual skates. I faltered, tripping over the front of my wheels.
With a loud, “No!” I scrambled to regain my balance, but the last thing I saw was Brody’s wide eyes and his hands lifting to catch me.
The impact when I hit him took the air out of my lungs. I flew like Superwoman. In just his socks, Brody had no traction on the polished floor, so he flew with me. Perhaps a little less like Superwoman, though.
Within seconds, we came to a messy halt, the hard floor and my jawbone connecting with a solid clunk. I closed my eyes, only vaguely aware that I had hold of Brody’s thighs. Like an explosion had perforated my ear drums, all sound muffled, squealed, and the lights had gone out. Had I dislodged my eyeballs?
I dragged my eyes open and lifted my head to check. Nope, they worked. When I looked up, Brody mouthed something at me, his eyes as wide as windows. I moved to take in the full damage of the crash, but a sharp pain tore into the back of my head.
I had a helmet on, so it was unlikely to be a concussion, and although my chin had made contact with the floor, I’d had whiplash before, and it didn’t feel like this. Before I could think, Brody’s hands were down at my neck, undoing my helmet strap.
“Don’t move.”
His words made no sense. I had to move. I couldn’t just lay here on the floor between his legs. My face was far too close to his groin for comfort. I must’ve landed almost cheek to zipper. I attempted to push up for a second time, but again, a tearing pain hit the back of my head, and my wrist guards slid on the wooden floor, sending me down again.
“Ro. Stay still.” Brody scooted in closer, leaving me between his solid thighs. I let out a shuddering breath when he gently lifted off my helmet. “Are you okay?” He ran his hands down the bare skin of my arms, then back up to my face, cupping my chin. “I think you’re alive, but I’m not sure how we’re going to untangle you.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Brody gave a gentle tug to my ponytail, and I followed his fingers with my eyes. Holy hell. In a freak act of nature or the superhuman powers of St Lidwina, my hair was snagged in the zipper of Brody’s jeans.
Heat filled my body. Neither of us was likely to be carrying scissors, and the prospect of being joined to Brody’s crotch for eternity, though somewhat tempting, wasn’t practical.
“What can I do?”
He was up and sitting now while I was still face-planted between his legs. ”I’m trying to work it out, but it’s like untangling fishing wire.”
I sucked in my lips. “Oh, gee, thank you. I know I’m overdue for a conditioning treatment, but that’s a little harsh.” His fingers stopped their work for a beat before he chuckled and carried on, trying to release me.
A minute later, we were still in the same predicament, and judging from Brody’s little growls, the tangle was getting worse. The only alternative to slow torture, face to package, was to release the actual problem. His zipper. A squeak of rubber against the varnished floor caught my attention for a second, but with more pressing matters on my mind, I dismissed it. I took a breath, dying a little inside with what I was about to suggest.
“Just undo it. Undo your zipper.” I swear the corners of Brody’s mouth twitched a little. Of course, he’d be finding this hilarious. He was still living through his third-grade comedy era.
“Okay,“ he ground out. “But let me know if it hurts. If it gets too much.”
He worked away a little longer, trying to un-snag my hair, when the whine of his zipper rang out in the hall, announcing its opening. I held my breath.
By now, the muscles in my back burned with the effort of keeping up and clear of Brody’s crotch. Couldn’t I just rest my head on the top of his thigh and wait for rescue? “Oh, it hurts!” I whined.
“I’m almost there.” His voice was tight and urgent. “Just move your head so I can get a better angle.”
A couple of grunts later, the tightness at the back of my neck released as Brody freed my hair.
“Oh, that feels so good,” I said, my groan ringing around the hall.
“I’m thrilled for you,” said a voice, “but I hope what I just walked in on was more innocent than it looked and sounded.”
Both Brody and I turned our heads to see Finn. He stood by the doors, hands on hips with an enormous grin on his face.
Heat flooded my body, and I scrambled like a demented crab to get as far away from Brody as I could.
“Oh, man.” Brody let out a belly laugh and lay back on the floor, his hands gripping his head.
I’m glad he thought it was funny. I took a second to think back to what Finn may have actually heard, and the blood in my veins ran cold. He would’ve heard me telling Brody to undo his zipper. Not to mention a whole lot of grunting and questionable chatter.
“I had some trouble stopping, and I tripped and fell into Brody’s, well, you know, and then my hair got tangled in his zipper…and…”
Finn chuckled. “I really don’t want to know, but I have to lock up. I’ll leave you two to sort yourselves out, only next time, get a room.”
He winked and turned to leave. I shook my head and stared down at Brody, still lying on the ground, his ribs shaking with laughter. “It’s not funny. Unlike you, I have my good name and a reputation to maintain in this town.”
Brody pushed up to his elbows, lime green trunks still poking out of his zipper. “You forget, I know all about your reputation. This little adventure would only add to your popularity.”
I narrowed my eyes and brought my hand to my chin, sucking a breath in through my teeth as I touched it.
Brody sprang up to a full sit. “Are you okay?”
“I think I grazed it when I fell.”
He scooted across the floor. I was on all fours, but when he reached me, I sat back on my heels, my wheels digging into my butt cheeks. He lifted his hands to my face, his thumbs gliding over my jawline. I’d always imagined his skin would be rough, manly, and calloused, but the soft sweep of his fingers had me holding my breath and pressing my thighs together.
Meeting my gaze, Brody gave me the tiniest smile before he tilted my chin up a little, checking for injury. “Yep, you scuffed your skin. Like a friction burn. You may get a bruise.”
“I don’t know about a bruise, but I feel like I shattered my teeth.”
“Smile for me.”
“Sorry?”
“Smile, Ro.” Brody’s soft blue eyes drilled into mine, but I opened my mouth and smiled despite myself. He ran his eyes over my mouth before letting go of my face and bringing his hands to his thighs. “Perfect.” His voice was almost a whisper, and my heart jumped in my chest. “Your teeth, I mean. Your teeth look perfect. Intact.”
I closed my eyes, and my lips curled. Of course, he meant my teeth. Why was I looking for meaning in every word he spoke? Every gesture. Brody was my friend, nothing else. The sooner I remembered that, the better.
“I’m so sorry, Ro. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
My heart lurched. He’d already hurt me. He just didn’t know it. Five long years ago, when he never replied to my note. “I’m more worried about you. I hope I didn’t snap anything new.”
He winced. “I’m fine, but I think we should stop for now.” Brody got to his feet, his movements stiff. “And I think we should get you a mouthguard.”
He reached down to help me up. I took his hand. “I thought we’d be here all night. What happened to ‘no surrender,’ Mr. ‘I always get what I want’?”
Brody threw me a side-eye before letting go of my hand. “Never doubt my dedication, but I have to look after my assets, too. And right now, that’s you, Ro.”
I dusted down the top of my thighs, grateful for my faithful old knee pads. “I’m tougher than I look. I didn’t get to be Captain of the Cockettes without ruffling a few feathers.”
His laughter filled the gym. “That’s a terrible joke.”
I smiled. Right now, in the middle of the gym floor, standing in his socks, he was the old Brody. The relaxed guy I’d adored so much. Who I still adored. No bravado. No hunger to win. To achieve. No sexy swagger. Just utterly gorgeous.
I swept my eyes over his face and ran my tongue over my bottom lip. My heart raced like it was in NASCAR. This was the Brody I wanted to remember when he left for Denver. Unfortunately, this version of him ran the highest risk of wrecking my heart again. “Let’s go home.”
He nodded with a grin before gathering his discarded sneakers.
“And do your fly up,” I said. “I don’t want anyone else getting the wrong idea.”