Chapter Sixteen
Elise
I invited him upstairs.
It was late. The date had been a success. Logistically, there was no reason to extend the interaction.
“Do you want to come up for a minute?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral. Casual.
Brady didn’t hesitate. He gave me that easy, lopsided grin that usually made my brain stutter. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Simple. Clean. Predictable.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside, flipping on the light.
Everything was exactly as I’d left it: orderly, controlled, sparse.
I watched him take it in, his gaze lingering on the single shelf of paperbacks and the bare walls.
He looked at my minimalist life with the same gentle curiosity he had shown at the senior center, as if my lack of personal clutter was a mystery worth solving.
“Coffee?” I asked, heading for the kitchen.
“Sure,” he said, following at a respectful distance.
I hit the button on my machine and gathered mugs from the cabinet. My hands were steady, but my emotions were all over the place. When I turned back, he was leaning against the counter, watching me with an expression so open and unguarded it felt like an invitation I didn’t know how to accept.
“Black?”
“If that’s how you have it. I’m easy. I’ve never met a coffee I didn’t like.”
I handed him a steaming mug. Our fingers brushed. I let the contact linger. “Thanks for today, Brady. It was different.”
“Good different?” he asked.
“Yes.”
I took a small step closer. The heat of his body brushed mine. I dropped my gaze to his mouth for a deliberate beat before meeting his eyes again.
He smiled wider. “I’m glad.”
He took a sip of coffee. Looked at the ceiling. Noted the brand of my toaster.
Still nothing.
That was unusual.
Normally, at this stage, a man would have made a move.
I shifted closer until my breasts lightly grazed his chest. His breath stalled for half a second against my temple. His hands flexed once at his sides like he was resisting the instinct to grab me.
Encouraging.
I put my mug aside, reached up and traced a finger along the collar of his shirt, letting my nail catch the warm skin at the base of his throat. His pulse jumped beneath my touch. “It was quite a day.”
Brady’s brow furrowed, genuine concern crossing his face. He put his mug down as well. “Are you okay? You look a little tired, Elise. Today was a lot of sun and noise. I can head out if you need to rest.”
Rest?
I was offering myself and he was offering sleep.
“I’m not that tired,” I said, stepping fully into his space so our bodies pressed together from chest to thigh.
I could feel the heat rolling off him, the faint scent of lake water and sun still clinging to his skin. He was hard already. He wanted this.
But his hands stayed respectful at his sides.
He nodded seriously. “Good. I’m glad you had fun. Sarah really liked you, you know.”
Was he being deliberately obtuse?
I rose onto my toes and brushed my lips against the corner of his mouth. Slow. Unmistakable. I stayed there long enough to feel his breath catch against my cheek.
When I pulled back, my voice dropped to a murmur. “Stay.”
His eyes widened a fraction, then softened with something that looked dangerously like tenderness. “Of course I’ll stay. We can talk, or watch something if you want. Whatever you need.”
Whatever I need?
I didn’t know what to do with that kind of answer.
So I defaulted to action.
I took his hand and led him to a chair, guiding him down before climbing into his lap, straddling his thighs. My silk shirt rode up as I settled against him. I could feel the solid warmth of him between my legs, the unmistakable proof of his interest pressing against me.
His hands came to rest at my hips, solid and controlled, and somehow that gentleness unsettled me more than hunger would have.
I leaned in and kissed him properly this time, letting my fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mouth was warm, generous. He kissed me back with a sweetness that made my stomach tighten.
When I shifted my hips, seeking more, he made a soft, surprised sound.
And gently eased me back an inch.
“Elise,” he murmured against my lips, voice husky but steady. “We don’t have to—”
“I know we don’t have to,” I cut in, frustration spiking. “I want to.”
He searched my face.
His eyes were dark. He was breathing harder now.
“Did I misread something?” I asked, sharper than intended. “Are you not interested?”
Brady blinked like I’d spoken another language.
Then realization dawned.
“Oh,” he breathed.
Color rose up his neck. His voice dropped, quiet and certain. “I’m interested, Elise.”
That wasn’t reassuring in the way I’d expected.
Suddenly I felt exposed.
I started to shift off him, needing distance, but he didn’t let me go.
“Hold on,” he said.
Before I could process it, he wrapped his arms around me and stood.
The movement stole my breath. My hands caught instinctively at his shoulders as my body lifted against his. He carried me across the small living room and sat back down.
This time, he didn’t let me straddle him. He turned me sideways in his lap, cradling me against his chest like I was something fragile. Something precious.
One arm wrapped firmly around my back. His other hand came up to frame my face, his thumb tracing my jaw with unhurried care. His heartbeat thudded slowly and steadily beneath my cheek, completely at odds with the frantic rhythm inside my own chest.
“You didn’t misread anything,” he said quietly. “I want you. Imagining us all tangled up together has been making it difficult for me to think since we first met, but—”
“But?”
“I don’t want to rush this, Elise. I like you. A lot.”
I shuddered. “I like you too.”
“So we can take this slowly,” he continued, gaze locked on mine. “It wouldn’t change anything for me. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“No.” He frowned. “You?”
“No one.”
His shoulders eased.
“I have a condom,” I said bluntly.
“Me too,” he answered with a grin.
I stared at him. “So . . .”
He hesitated. “I’ve only been with one woman and we were friends.”
“Oh. I’ve been with two. Men, though. Are we comparing score cards?”
“No.” He shook his head. “What I’m trying to say is that this matters to me.”
“It doesn’t not matter to me.”
His mouth curved. “I’d rather wait until you aren’t using double negatives while referring to being with me.”
Embarrassment flooded in. “This was a bad idea.”
When I pushed to move off him, he held me there again, and it both infuriated me and turned me on.
“Because you changed your mind?” he asked.
“No, because you’re killing the mood.”
“By making sure you know I care about you? And wanting this to mean something?”
I glared at him. “Stop it. I don’t want to talk about sex. I just want to have it.”
“Why?”
I opened my mouth and closed it again.
“Why can’t we talk about it?” he pressed gently.
“Because . . .” I growled low in my throat. “It’s not an easy topic to talk about with someone—”
Someone I might not trust.
Someone who might not stay.
“Oh,” he said softly. “So you’re not comfortable enough to talk about sex with me yet.”
“You could say that.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t fuck me yet either.”
I stared at him. He was so . . . right?
Part of me found that unbearably attractive.
So I slugged him in the chest.
He made an oof sound but kept smiling. “Is that how you resolve disagreements?”
“Just with you,” I muttered.
He chuckled, the vibration rolling through me. “I like that. Not being hit. That you feel like you can be real with me.”
But I wasn’t being real with him.
Not about the big things.
Not about why he was here.
Not about the risk.
He smelled so good. Felt so steady. His body was still hard against my thigh, evidence of what we could have been doing.
But no.
He wanted this to matter.
Who says that?
I exhaled and relaxed into him instead. He tucked me under his chin, holding me closer.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said automatically. Then I let myself be a little honest. “Brady, what are you really doing in Basin Ridge?”
He sighed softly. “I told you why I’m here.”
“I know. I just don’t understand it.”
He kissed the side of my head, then gently moved me beside him on the couch. “Do you mind if I grab something from your kitchen?”
“Go ahead.”
He returned with condiments and arranged them across my coffee table then began describing a story while using the bottles to represent different families. His arm rested along the back of the couch behind me. Every time he leaned forward to move a bottle, his shoulder grazed my arm.
The story unfolded between us.
Thirty-year feud. Summer homes. Horse farms. Pride. Marriage. Death. Old wounds. The facts were things I already knew about him, but he was adding a layer of emotion to it. I watched his mouth move while he explained it. Watched the way his hands animated the characters.
When he mentioned Celia dying alone on the mountain, something tightened in his voice. Cody Burke’s wife shouldn’t have mattered to him, but somehow she had. When he said he was here so his brother could have a wedding without old hatred hanging over it, his jaw set with quiet determination.
Hope and try.
That was his method.
I shifted closer without thinking. He lifted his arm behind me, and I leaned in, resting my cheek against his shoulder.
He hugged me gently.
“Are you in love with your brother’s fiancée?” I asked.
He laughed. Then he told me about the frat party. About Nora saving him. “How could I not admire someone like that?” he said.
“And now?”
“I’m happy for her. We didn’t have a zing.”
“A zing?”
He leaned down until his mouth hovered right above mine. His breath tickled warmly against my lips. “Do you feel that?”
Time slowed.
My skin tightened everywhere at once. “Yes.”
His pupils dilated.
“Me too.” His voice deepened. “Had I felt this with her, I’d be back in Firebrook Valley. Not here.”
He kissed me gently. Thoroughly. Heat building slowly between us until my lungs burned.
“But I’m glad I’m not,” he whispered. “I trust my gut. It’s telling me I’m exactly where I should be.”
“In Basin Ridge?”
“With you.”
My face burned. I turned and hid it against his shoulder.
“It’s late,” I said quietly. “Do you want to stay over? You could sleep on the couch.”
“Elise,” he murmured, tightening his arms around me. “I’ll sleep wherever you want me to.”
I swallowed.
What did I actually want?
“I’d like you to stay,” I said. “And just hold me. Because I also want what happens between us to mean something.”
He kissed my temple and closed his eyes.
I relaxed into him, matching my breathing to his.
I should ask him to leave.
The probability of learning more tonight was nearly zero.
Instead, I snuggled closer.
And let myself be held.
Simply held.