Chapter 20
Igroan, not ready to open my tired eyes. Pain throbs through my head like a jackhammer on a sidewalk. How much did I drink last night? In my mind I play back the night, trying to remember exactly what I got up to. I can picture Mason, Paisley, and Jake, us all laughing and drinking. From my memory, I had at least four of those cocktails. I can recall dancing with Mason, then it’s all hazy.
I grab my pillow and cover my head. Why did I do this to myself? I see a flash of a memory of Brody standing with his arms crossed, and I bolt straight up in bed, the pillow going flying. I glance around my surroundings, and the room spins. Where the hell am I? This isn’t my room. The sheets next to me are all messed up like someone slept there beside me, and I’m in an oversized T-shirt that definitely belongs to someone a lot larger than me.
I break into a cold sweat. Oh, dear God, please tell me I didn’t go home with Mason. I wasn’t even into him. A wave of nausea washes over me. What the hell came over me last night? I run a hand through my bird’s nest of hair, searching the room for my discarded clothes and spotting them on the hardwood floor. This room is nice; it has that whole country charm thing going on, with a view out the window of rolling hills. I remember Mason saying something about living on a ranch out of town, and my panic kicks up a beat.
“Sleeping Beauty finally decided to grace me with her presence,” comes a deep voice that’s not Mason. My heart settles a little as Brody enters the room carrying a glass of orange juice and a box of Advil. I’m still not sure what happened, but at least I know I didn’t make a colossal mistake in going home with the wrong man.
I place a hand over my chest. “Thank God,” I whisper to myself.
“Thank God?” he questions.
“For a second…” I stop mid-sentence, not wanting to go on.
His jaw tightens. “For a second you thought you went home with Mason?” I feel the heat of his intense eyes boring through me, and my head throbs harder.
I close my eyes, trying to block out the pain. “Yes. I mean, no. I…” My head hammers, and I can’t think straight. Why am I in Brody’s bed? And why does he look so well put together at this hour on a Sunday morning? It’s just not fair.
He sits on the bed beside me and passes the juice over. “Thought you might need these,” he grumbles, and I know he’s not impressed.
“Thank you.” He pops two of the tablets in my hand, and I suck them back with a swig of juice. Please Lord let them work. I wince, my head spinning after throwing my head back. Oh, this is the hangover from hell. I’m going to kill Paisley for talking me into the date. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.
“That bad, hey. Well, it’s what you get for tossing back drinks all night,” he says, his words thick with irritation.
“There it is. I knew this kindness was too good to be true.” I swing my legs off the bed, knowing I need to get out of here before I cop a proper lecture from him. “Bathroom?” I ask.
He motions toward a dark wood door, and I make quick work of crossing the room, knowing I’m in nothing but his oversized shirt and my panties. I use the facility, then wash my hands, staring at my reflection. I look like the dog’s breakfast. My hair is a bird’s nest, my mascara is smudged around my eyes. I pop my head out the door. “Is it okay if I take a shower before I take off?” I ask, not wanting to push him but knowing I can’t go home like this.
“Be my guest. There’s a spare towel in the ensuite already.”
I shut the door with a click, trying to steady myself, then turn the water to steaming hot. Removing the shirt and my underwear, I step under the water, letting it bring me back to life. On the tile shelf I find a bottle of shampoo and smell it—green apples. It smells like him, and something about that is so comforting to me in my fragile state.
I squirt some of it into my hand, and as I massage it though my scalp, a memory flashes through my head. Us sitting on his bed with me running my fingers through his soft hair. A sick feeling washes over me. Oh no. I kissed him. I see his handsome face right before I planted one on him. He didn’t push me away. He wanted it just as much as I did, but I know I shouldn’t have done it just the same.
I quickly wash my hair and body then shut off the water and grab a plush towel off the shelf. Wrapping it around my body, I run my fingers through the tangled wet mess, trying to comb it out, but it’s no use without my brush, so I throw it up in a messy bun with the hair elastic off my wrist. I look down at the pile of discarded clothing. I have no choice but to reuse my bra and underwear, but I wonder where my dress is.
I pop open the bathroom door. There is no sign of Brody, and I spot my dress in a pile of sequins on the floor. Hugging the towel tighter to my body, I make a run for it, grabbing up my dress and closing the bathroom door. I dress and throw the T-shirt back on over top, tying it in a knot at the front so I don’t have to return home in full sequins. Nothing screams walk of shame like a sparkly dress in the middle of the day. Not a good look.
When I’m ready, I wander out into the kitchen smelling something delicious, to find Brody with a spatula in his hand, standing behind the saucepan that has the scrumptious aroma wafting off it. My stomach rumbles. “You cook?” I ask, surprised. Something about him always made me believe he would be the order-in type.
“Don’t sound so shocked, my mother taught me. There are a lot of things I can do you don’t know about.”
“Clearly.” I take a seat at the rustic kitchen table. Glancing around the homely looking place, a nice wood fire takes pride of place amongst tan leather sofas. The kitchen is older-looking but is neat and tidy and well kept. My eyes land back on him, wondering where we go from here. I know I crossed a line last night, and part of me wonders if I’m about to lose my job. I intended to take off, but something has me wanting to stay a little bit. I tell myself it’s the offer of a cooked breakfast, but really, I know it’s so much more than that. This is the first time I have had him alone and away from work. No chance of anyone disrupting us mid conversation, no need to look over our shoulders.
He flips a pancake and places it on a plate with a stack of others, then scoops up some maple syrup. Carrying them over to the table, he places them in front of me. “Hope you like pancakes with syrup.”
“I would be a freak if I didn’t.” I offer a half laugh, trying to ease the tension between us. With my fork, I collect two perfectly round pancakes and deposit them on my plate then slather them in syrup and a sprinkling of fresh-cut strawberries. I don’t wait to dig in. I’m starving, and this looks amazing.
We eat in silence, but the air between us is heaving with so many unsaid words. I want to apologize for my behavior. I can feel how annoyed he is with me, and I don’t like it. But really, this is all his fault. If he hadn’t ghosted me all week then I wouldn’t have gone on that date to get back at him and I wouldn’t have felt the need to drink so much.
“Not working today?” I ask, deciding to start with something neutral.
“I’ve been up since five, sweet pea. The hotel’s not going to run itself, but I decided to work from home today. Victor’s in, and he can call me if I’m needed.”
I nod. He never gives himself time off, I’m not surprised he’s still working today. But I am surprised he’s decided not to go in to the hotel.
His pancakes are some of the best I have ever tasted, so light and fluffy. I polish them off quickly, wanting to lick my plate clean, but I refrain. He eats more slowly, enjoying every mouthful. I can see he’s deep in thought. I take my plate to the sink, then wander over to the glass bifold doors, looking out over the view of the ranch. “What is this place? It’s so beautiful.”
“My refuge from it all.” He smiles a genuine happy smile. He loves this place, that much is clear.
“It’s yours?”
He nods, collecting up his plate and taking it over to his sink. “I bought it as an investment a couple years back. My uncle is a very smart man, and he likes investing in properties. This one came up, and he showed it to me. I knew I had to have it. At the time I didn’t really know why, but now it’s clearer. There’s a part of me that’s always wanted to be back here, where I grew up. It’s funny how life can sometimes throw you a curve ball when you least expect it, but it turns out to be just what I needed.”
“I can’t see it.” I smirk playfully. “You in jeans and a plaid shirt driving your tractor.” I laugh. He said something similar to me the first night I met him.
“I wasn’t born in a suit, Gisele,” he snips, and I can see I have offended him.
“Are you sure? You wear it like you were.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He joins me, looking out over the fields. “You know, I had dreams of my own before I inherited the hotel.”
I hadn’t considered the hotel wasn’t what he saw for his life, but the truth is, I don’t really know that much about him. “What were your dreams?”
“You really want to know?” he asks, surprised.
I nod. I really do. Anything this man can tell me about himself, I want to know it all.
“Come for a walk with me. I’m sure I have a pair of Em’s boots around here somewhere.” He goes looking for them, returning with a pair of red boots. I slip them on, and he opens the door, showing me outside. The morning air is fresh and crisp and smells of magnolia trees. I inhale deeply. I can see how living out here would become addictive, it’s so peaceful.
I follow him around the side of the house. Surrounding the property are manicured gardens with clear landscaped paths. Rows of vibrant maple trees border the land, their leaves turning various shades of reds and oranges. The property is backed by rolling green hills that amplify the relaxed charm of the ranch-style home.
We walk in silence even though I know he’s got something on his mind. Part of me thought he would have ripped into me after last night. I know he’s disappointed in me, but mostly he just seems happy to have me here in his space with him. “How’s your head feeling now?”
“Much better. Thank you for making me breakfast. That was really kind of you.”
He takes a strand of my hair and examines it as he runs his fingers through it. Then his hand comes to my face. “Someone has to look after you.”
I stare up at him, his words making me feel all warm inside. I’m not sure how he has the ability to do that. It’s something in the way he wants to take care of me that just melts me into a puddle. He’s different today away from the hotel, more relaxed. It’s nice to see a glimpse of him. Brody Alexander the man, not the boss trying desperately to bring his family business out of struggling debt. “And that’s your job?”
“Yes.” He releases me, stopping under a particularly large maple tree, looking out over the property. “I remember as a kid coming out this way to see my grandparents on a ranch just like this. Kicking up the crumpled leaves in my boots and running through the yard with their golden retriever. Riding their horses. My mama was the best female rider in the region. Spending time out there with her are the happiest childhood memories I have. I always knew eventually I would get sick of the city and want to find a place on this planet that’s just mine. Somewhere peaceful where I could raise a family of my own.”
I glance toward him. “You want kids?” I ask, surprised. After our conversation in the coffee shop, I just assumed he wasn’t the kids or family type.
He shrugs. “Part of me thinks all that is a bad idea, after what happened with my parents. I swore I would never let myself get so close to someone that I could end up hurting them the way my father did my mother. But the older I get, the more I feel like I’m punishing myself for his mistakes. What if I’m missing out on the life I should have had because he couldn’t be the man he should have been.”
I study him, seeing the hurt in his eyes. He’s carrying around so much guilt for what his father did. It doesn’t make any sense. “I read the article. The one about your dad,” I admit, not sure how he will take it.
He glances at me, looking me over, but doesn’t say anything. He also doesn’t appear angry at me.
“What happened? How did your mother die in that accident?” I ask, knowing I’m probably overstepping the mark hugely, but I’m dying to understand him. Why he’s so wounded. Why he doesn’t let anyone close to him.
He takes a seat on a bench under the tree, and I join him.
“Sorry, you can tell me to mind my own beeswax.” I smile softly.
He drops his head, kicking the discarded leaves with his boot. “My father had been sleeping around on her for years. I have no idea how many women he was with. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself. I had no idea. After one of my football games, the boys and I were celebrating in the yard of the Alexander Estate. We had a bonfire and thought my folks were in the house with some of the other parents. So, we figured we’d sneak into the garage and swipe a few bottles of beer from the back fridge to drink by the fire. The five of us walked in on them. Mid fucking. There was no denying it, her skirt was up around her waist and his pants around his ankles. They weren’t even trying to be careful.”
I gulp, unable to help it. What a disturbing thing to walk in on.
“Worst part was the person he was fucking was Prescott’s mama. Hamilton lost his shit, blaming me. It caused a rift in our group. But none of the other adults knew. We all kept it to ourselves. Hamilton swore us all to secrecy, afraid of what his father would do to his mother if he found out. There was no way I was shattering my mother’s heart. So, I agreed, we all did. And they got away with it. You’d think that would have been warning enough for him to stop, but he couldn’t help himself. Less than twelve months later, he was caught again, this time by Mama.”
I gasp, my hand instinctively flying to cover my mouth as horror washes over me, empathizing with teenage Brody’s unimaginable ordeal. To see one of your parents doing that and then to carry the burden of protecting his mother with lies—it’s almost too much to bear.
“That would have been a bad enough situation, but Mama didn’t take the affair well,” Brody begins, his voice heavy with sorrow. “She had suspected it for years, but he kept lying to her, telling her she was imagining things. He made her feel crazy, paranoid even. She gave up her life to support him, to help him with the hotel and grow a family, and he thanked her by lying and sleeping around. I fucking hate him for it. How could you do that to your wife, the woman you love? He made her believe she was losing her mind.” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down. He closes his eyes, and I know he’s right back there reliving the moment. “She loaded up on red wine and got behind the wheel.”
My heart sinks as the weight of the tragedy settles over us. Tears blur my vision, and I reach out to grasp Brody’s hand, needing to offer some comfort, even if it’s just through the touch of our intertwined fingers. We sit in silence for a while, the heaviness of the moment hanging between us.
“That night, me and the boys were on our way back from—” Brody’s voice catches, his words choked with emotion. “From a game, Bay Raiders versus Bluewater Beach Eels. Biggest game of the year, and the night had already been filled with drama. I just got my license, so I was driving. Prescott was riding shotgun, even though our relationship was strained by then. Elliot, Parker, and Noah were in the back. We still played on the same team. It might not make sense to you, being from the city, but out here football is a big fucking deal. We were brothers through thick and thin. I probably wasn’t paying the best attention, distracted by the guys’ antics… but she came right at us. I swerved to miss her, but it was too late. There was nothing I could do.” He heaves out the last words, choking on them.
My stomach churns with nausea as the full extent of Brody’s anguish becomes clear. “You were driving the car she hit?” I manage to whisper through the lump in my throat.
He nods solemnly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. I squeeze his hand tighter, as if by holding on tighter, I can somehow alleviate his pain. But I know it’s not that simple. This tragedy has left scars that run too deep to heal easily. He’s been carrying this pain around since he was just a teenager.
A sob escapes me, and I can’t help but feel overwhelmed by the weight of Brody’s sorrow. My heart breaks for him. And for Emerson, she would have been so little when she lost her mom. Even though my relationship is strained with my own mother, I still can’t imagine not having her around while I grew up. “I’m so sorry, Brody,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion.
“I blamed myself,” Brody admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “For months, that’s what I thought. That I should have done more, that I should have been paying better attention. I couldn’t do my schoolwork, play ball, hang with the guys. I was so numb. I killed my mama.”
I reach out to brush away a tear that slips down his cheek. My own heart aches for him, wishing I could have been there to pick up the pieces for him, to heal him. “You’re so strong, Brody,” I tell him softly. But even as I speak the words, I know that strength has come at a cost. Brody has carried the weight of this burden for far too long, and it’s taken its toll on him in ways I can only begin to imagine.
“None of this was your fault,” I tell him firmly, needing him to understand that he’s not alone in this. “You couldn’t have stopped any of it. You were a kid.”
He looks at me, gratitude shining in his eyes, and for a moment, I see a glimmer of hope amidst the sorrow. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to let go of some of the guilt that’s been weighing him down for so long. “I know that now. Now you know why I hate him so much. After months of watching me fall apart, my father finally got the guts to set me straight. He admitted his part in that night, that she saw him. Walked in on him and his mistress. Not Prescott’s ma this time, it was another one, someone he worked with. He didn’t tell me who, and I didn’t ask. I was so disgusted with him I just took off for New York and didn’t look back. What kind of man does that to his family?” He shakes his head, and I see the anger he still holds for him.
He makes more sense to me now. That’s when he shut down and blocked everyone who cared about him out. It’s like I can see him properly for the first time. “I’m so sorry, Brody,” I offer softly. I don’t know what else to say. I want to take away his pain, but I don’t know how.
“That night changed my life forever. Not just mine, but the other boys’ as well. Especially Prescott. He ended up with injuries so terrible from the impact of the accident, it ended his promising football career. He’s never forgiven me for it, or Noah who landed the scholarship he’d always expected was his.”
“He’s the one who owns the paper who printed the story?” I ask, recalling the name from previous conversations.
Brody nods. “And now I’m expected to come back here and carry on like my father was some sort of hero. This town loves him. Even after Prescott released that story, Em and I thought our reputation was down the toilet, but most people didn’t believe it. That’s how he got away with it for so long, he was so charming that they just believed his lies. Especially my poor mama.”
“Does Em know all the details now?”
“When the paper released that story, I had to tell her some of it. She knows what happened that day. That dad was having an affair with someone who worked at The Alexander, and Mama got drunk and crashed into a car, dying. Only the boys know it was my car. She was little, she didn’t need to know something that would only hurt her more. How do you tell your little sister you’re the reason she had to grow up without her mama.”
He’s so protective of her. It’s sweet, but he has to see she’s a big girl now. She can handle the truth. If this were my parents, I wouldn’t want it kept from me. “So, you have just been carrying the burden of all this around with you for years?”
He nods, and I watch him, wondering how to help him through this. “I know it’s not my place, but I think you should talk to Emerson. She was really young when the accident happened, but she’s an adult now. She’s smart and so caring. You could work through all of this together. No one will understand like she can. And knowing the truth, what really happened, will help her understand you better. She wants so desperately to be close to you. You’re the only family she has left.”
He glances at me, hurt in his eyes, but I see recognition of truth there as well. “You think I should tell her, so she knows why I’m such a grumpy bastard? Don’t think I don’t hear you guys talking shit about me.”
I shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “It wouldn’t kill you to smile every once in a while. You’re gorgeous when you do.” My cheeks flush as the words leave my lips, memories of our kiss last night flooding back. And suddenly, I understand why he’s sharing his story with me. This is why we can’t be together. I meet his gaze more seriously. His dad was sleeping with staff at the hotel. “You’re not your dad. You know that, don’t you?”
“I want you more than I should when I’m your boss,” he admits. “From the whispers I’ve heard from older employees and from the newspaper article, I knew he was sleeping with multiple women who worked under him. I’m sure it’s why he put that clause in the contract about management dating staff. Even he thought I would be just like him.”
“But you’re not. Not at all. We have had this crazy chemistry since we first met, and you have stopped it from going any further every time.”
“When you kissed me last night it took everything I had in me to pull away from you,” he says.
My heart flutters. He wants me every bit as much as I want him. He’s just scared of turning into his father. “I wish you wouldn’t. There is something here, Brody, something I have never felt before. I knew it that first night in New York.”
He swallows, looking away from me and out over the fields. “I knew it too. It’s why I was so pissed when you showed up here as a part of my staff.” His gaze returns to me, his eyes more intense than before. He looks me over, taking all of me in, making me feel nervous suddenly. “How can something that feels so right be wrong?”
I stare back at him. It’s now or never. I have to be honest with him. “I’m sorry, but your father’s rule is hypocritical and just plain ridiculous. You should be able to see whoever you want without feeling guilty about it.”
He raises a brow at my boldness. “I can’t say I disagree. But what am I supposed to do? I signed the twelve-month contract, and I can’t risk losing the hotel to the wife he married on a whim. If it was just me it was going to affect, I would do it in a heartbeat, but it’s Em’s legacy I’m risking as well,” he says sadly.
My heart sinks, wishing things could be different. That we met another time or that I had taken a job working for someone else, but if I didn’t, we wouldn’t be here together now.
I let out a sigh, knowing I need to have patience. Who am I to demand anything from him anyway. I have no idea how long I’m sticking around. I mean, I want to stay, but knowing how controlling my father is, he will probably come down here and drag me home kicking and screaming. “I understand.” And I really do. This is so important to both of them. I wouldn’t want to be the one to get in the way of their future happiness.
He takes my face in his hands, staring right into my eyes. “How can you be so understanding?”
I return his gaze. Wishing he could be mine and I his. “It’s just bad timing. Maybe when the contract ends. You’re worth…” Before I can finish telling him he’s worth the wait, he covers my lips with his, kissing me. I don’t hesitate to kiss him back. I have been waiting for this very moment for weeks, and I don’t understand why he’s giving in now, but I’m not going to question it. I kiss him with all the pent-up desire I’ve been holding on to. My hands sweep into his hair, and he pulls me closer, his tongue invading my mouth, bringing me undone in a matter of seconds. When he pulls away, I’m left panting and desperate for more. “What about the hotel?” I whisper.
“I’m not waiting a second longer to be with you.” He intertwines his fingers in my hair, removing the hair tie so he can run his hands through it. My fingers run over his back, pulling him into me. I can’t get close enough. I want to be the one to take away all of his hurt and pain. Make him feel whole again and put a smile back on his face like it should be. He deserves to live his life for him, not in the shadow of his father’s indiscretions. In fear of what will happen. He deserves to find happiness.