Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Brody
“ I never thought I'd say this, but I think I'm starting to envy your fucking spreadsheets,” I said, sinking into the steaming hot tub.
My eyes were glued to Avery, and damn, did she look good.
That tiny black bikini was playing havoc with my self-control, threatening to snap it like a twig. Clinging to her curves like it was painted on, molding to every dip and arc of her luscious body. The high-cut legs made her limbs look a mile long, and all I could think about was having them wrapped around me.
But the top was what really killed me… showing every swell of her breasts but hiding just enough to make me want to rip the damn thing off with my teeth.
Water lapped at her skin, and I found myself jealous of it. I wanted to be the one touching her like that.
The mountain air was cool, but I barely noticed. I was too busy feeling like I'd chugged five energy drinks and chased them with a shot of lightning.
I knew a thing or two about adrenaline rushes. I'd done everything from naked bungee jumping (don't ask) to zero gravity speed dating (where “falling for someone” takes on a whole new meaning). But being this close to half-naked Avery?
This was a whole new level of rush, especially as I watched a water droplet slide down her neck, over her collarbone, and disappear between her breasts. Fuck, did I want to follow that drop with my tongue.
Avery quirked an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smirk that sent a jolt straight to my groin.
“Is the infamous Brody Hawkins admitting that there's more to life than crazy stunts and hero shots? Should I call the local news?”
I tossed her a wolfish grin, letting my gaze roam over her body shamelessly.
“Maybe I'm just expanding my horizons,” I drawled, raising my wine glass in a mock toast. “You know, for the sake of the project. Next thing you know, I'll be sorting my socks by color and alphabetizing my cereal boxes. Anything to get you to look at me the way you look at those numbers.”
She smiled, her face turning a delicious shade of pink.
The steam rose around us, creating an intimate cocoon that seemed to exist outside of time. I busied myself pouring wine, trying to ignore the way her wet skin glistened in the soft glow of the outdoor lights.
“So, Spark,” I said, handing her a glass and definitely not thinking about how I'd rather have those delicate fingers wrapped around a very different item, “tell me something about yourself that isn't work-related. And no, your filing system doesn't count as a hobby.”
Avery hesitated, and I could almost see the gears turning in that beautiful head of hers.
“Well,” she began, a hint of nostalgia creeping into her voice, “when I was little, my mom and aunt used to take my sisters, cousins, and me on these impromptu road trips. We'd pack our bags, jump in the car, and just go. No plan, no destination. Once, we ended up at this tiny diner in the middle of nowhere, eating pie for dinner and laughing so hard milk came out of my nose.”
“That sounds amazing,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “What happened to change that? Did you develop an allergy to spontaneity?”
A shadow passed over her face, and I immediately wished I could eat my words.
Foot, meet mouth.
“Life, I guess,” she said softly. “Mom got sick when I was twelve. It wasn't anything life-threatening, but we didn’t know that at the time. It took a while to diagnose. Suddenly, our world revolved around doctor's appointments and medication schedules.”
Something in her voice struck a chord in me.
“I started planning everything: schedules, meals, chores. It was the only way I felt I could help, you know? A way to feel like I had some control over our lives. With no dad in the picture, I felt like I had to step up and be more responsible.”
She paused, twirling her wine glass thoughtfully. “After that, structure became my safety net. Planning, organizing—it wasn't just a habit anymore. I guess it became how I coped, how I made sure we'd never be caught off guard again. Even when Mom got better, I couldn't shake the feeling that if I let go, even for a moment, everything might fall apart.”
I nodded, understanding the weight of her words.
“I get that,” I said, my eyes meeting hers. “We all have our ways of trying to control the chaos, don't we? For you, it's planning. For me…” I trailed off, realizing how similar we actually were, despite our obvious differences.
I sighed, gathering my thoughts. “I guess I’m trying to find control with likes and shares,” I admitted, staring into my glass like it held the secrets of the universe.
“Like if I'm not constantly pushing the envelope, taking bigger risks, I'll just… fade away. Poof. Forgotten faster than last week's meme.” I looked back up at her, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I guess we're both trying to outrun our fears, just in different ways.”
To my surprise, Avery's hand found mine under the water, giving it a little squeeze.
“You're a lot more than likes and shares,” she said softly, and the sincerity in her voice made my heart stutter. “Your followers might love the stunts and the adventure, but what really makes you special is your ability to connect with people, to tell a story.”
Her words hit me, making me see what I did in a new light. It was as if she'd just handed me a pair of glasses, and suddenly the world was in HD.
For the first time in years, I felt seen for who I really was, not just the curated image I presented to the world. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.
“What about you?” I asked, genuinely curious and definitely not looking for an excuse to keep her talking so I could keep watching those sexy lips, imagining what other tricks they had up their sleeve. “You're amazing at what you do, but is it everything you want? Or is there a secret dreams folder hidden in that color-coded digital planner of yours?”
She sighed, leaning her arms behind her against the edge of the tub. The movement caused her breasts to rise above the water, the thin, clinging fabric of her swimsuit doing little to conceal the outline of her nipples, hardened by the cool night air.
Fuck. Me.
“I thought it was,” she said. “I've always believed that if I worked hard enough, achieved enough, I'd feel… fulfilled, I guess. Like if I checked off enough boxes on life's to-do list, I'd win at adulting. But lately, I'm wondering if I've been missing out on something.”
“Like what?” I prodded, feeling like I was on the verge of uncovering buried treasure. Or at least a really juicy secret.
Avery hesitated, then took a deep breath. I could almost see her mental pros and cons list being tossed out the window.
“Connections. Meaningful relationships. The kinds of things that don't fit neatly into a spreadsheet, I guess. I was with Mark for so long, but looking back, I'm not sure we ever really knew each other. We were both so focused on our careers that we forgot to actually build a life together. It was like we were co-CEOs of a relationship, but neither of us remembered to actually be in it.”
The mention of Mark sent an unexpected stab through my chest. It felt suspiciously like jealousy, which was fucking ridiculous. I mean, I barely knew this woman.
Even if she did look unfairly gorgeous with water droplets clinging to her like tiny diamonds.
“That’s probably why you're having a hard time diving into a romantic relationship again. Even a temporary one.”
Her eyes met mine with a vulnerability I hadn’t seen from her before. Like watching a fortress lower its drawbridge.
“I suppose I could be afraid of getting so caught up in someone else that I forget who I am and what I want. It's like… what if I become a supporting character in my own life story, you know?”
“Maybe it doesn't have to be one or the other,” I said, surprising myself with the wisdom I didn't know I possessed. “Maybe the right person can help you become more yourself, not less. Like a sexy, human version of Miracle-Gro for your personality.”
She laughed, the sound making me feel like I’d just won some kind of lottery.
I was acutely aware of how close we were, of the way the water lapped gently against our skin. To break the tension before I did something stupid like try to kiss her and scare her off again, I decided to share a particularly embarrassing story from one of my adventures—a disastrous attempt at sandboarding that ended with me face-planting.
“There I am, sliding down this massive dune with the grace of a baboon. I hit a bump, go flying, and end up with sand in places sand should never, ever be. And of course, that's the moment a tour bus decides to stop for photos. I'm pretty sure I'm still a massive joke in some corners of the internet.”
Avery's laugh rang out, clear and genuine.
The sound did something to me, warming me in a way that had nothing to do with the hot water surrounding us. It was like someone had replaced my blood with champagne—bubbly, intoxicating, and definitely dangerous in large doses.
“You know,” I said, swirling my wine like I was auditioning for the role of 'Sophisticated Hot Tub Philosopher.' “I think this might be the most honest conversation I've had in years. It's kind of terrifying, actually. I feel like I've been emotionally streaking through a crowded mall.”
Avery smiled—a soft expression that made my heart race faster than if I'd just chugged a gallon of espresso.
“Terrifying in a good way?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement and… something deeper that made my stomach do a backflip and… other areas pay close attention.
I nodded, returning her smile and trying not to look like a lovesick puppy. Or a horny teenager.
“Definitely in a good way,” I said, my voice rough with desire. “Like standing in the doorway of an airplane, about to jump. You're scared out of your fucking mind, but you know the view is going to be worth it.”
“Can’t say that I know what that’s like,” she said.
“Okay, fair,” I replied. “How about this then—it's like trying a new flavor of ice cream when you've been eating vanilla your whole life. What if it's awful? But what if it's the best damn thing you've ever tasted?”
“Are you comparing me to ice cream, Brody?” Avery teased, her eyes twinkling. “I'm not sure whether to be flattered or offended.”
I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Trust me, Spark, it's definitely a compliment. You're like… salted caramel with a swirl of something unexpected.”
“Ooh, fancy,” she laughed.
Without thinking—because clearly, my brain had decided to take the night off and let my dick do the driving—I reached for the wine bottle to refill our glasses. My hand slid along the edge of the hot tub, my fingertips grazing Avery's arm as I leaned in.
The touch sent a sizzle through me, stopping us both in our tracks.
Our eyes met, and it was like one of those movie moments where everything goes into slow motion and the background blurs.
The wine bottle hovered between us, a tangible symbol of the line we were both aching to cross. Or maybe it was mocking us. “Look at these idiots,” it seemed to say, “too chickenshit to make a move.”
My lungs burned as I watched her, every instinct screaming at me to move, to act, to do something. The water pulsed around us with each hammering beat of my heart, and I could feel every ripple, every subtle shift between us.
I'd done crazy stuff for my videos—the kind of stunts that made my mother lose sleep. But this? This feeling, like my chest might actually explode? This was uncharted territory.
Forget swimming with sharks. At least sharks were predictable. This was like being sixteen again, standing in front of my entire school in a dream, realizing I'd shown up to finals completely naked—except worse, because Avery was real, and she was right here, and I couldn't seem to remember how my muscles worked.
"Brody." My name on her lips was barely a whisper, nearly lost under the bubbling water and the chaos in my chest. "I think we might be in trouble here."
I tried to swallow, but my throat had forgotten how to work. "Good trouble or bad trouble?"
A slow smile spread across her face, lighting up her eyes in a way that made my knees weak. Thank God I was already sitting down.
“I'm thinking,” she said, leaning in ever so slightly, “that it might be the best kind of trouble.”
“Well, trouble's my middle name, Spark,” I said. “And I've got a feeling you're worth every bit of it.”