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I can’t help but smile back. Her excitement over jelly is contagious enough that I think I’ll buy one too.
“Couldn’t stay away from me, could you, Lil Bit?”
Out of nowhere, Brody’s voice rumbles right in my ear, making me jump like one of those cats that just spotted a cucumber.
I know I’m blushing from the surprise of his being here, but I calm my features before I turn around, not letting him see how good he got me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cowboy. I’m just here doing a little shopping.” I hold up a jar of lemon curd as proof. “Seems like you’re the one stalking me. Should I be worried? I’ve got a Taser in my purse and my fists are registered weapons.”
He runs his hand down from his chest to his abs. “You could hit me if you want to. I’d do just about anything to have your hands on me.” The words are low, meant just for me, but Emily, Mom, and the vendor all hear too.
“Brody Michael Tannen! I will wash your mouth out with soap and not let you have any carrot cake tonight if you don’t apologize to my customer right the hell now!” I’ve never actually met someone full of piss and vinegar before, but I can’t say that now because the woman is riled up something fierce as she comes to my aid with an actual stomp of her booted foot.
It’s sweet. Unnecessary, but sweet.
If Brody wasn’t damn near trying to crawl inside my skin right here in front of God and the whole town, it might occur to me to be jealous of this unknown woman who knows his middle name when I didn’t even know his last one until just now. Still, I have to smirk. “Brody Michael Tannen?”
He chuckles, not at all embarrassed and also not apologizing in the least. “You only have to scream out Brody. If you can get my whole name out, I’m not doing my job.” Still talking like it’s just me and him, he lifts his chin toward the vendor. “So that’s my sister, Shayanne.”
“Hi, Shayanne. Nice to meet you.” I throw the words over my shoulder, still eye-fucking Brody. “Think I’m gonna need a jar of this lemon curd and a cherry one too.”
I notice he doesn’t introduce me to her, but that’s okay. We’re not walking down the aisle or anything, and meeting family is a big deal for most folks.
“Ahem.” Mom has no such rule about not needing to meet people, especially not ones who are obviously split seconds away from fucking me against the nearest surface. “Rix, would you like to introduce me to your friend?”
It sounds like I have a choice. I do not.
“Mom, this is Brody. Brody, this is Janice Cole, my mom.”
I see his jaw clench like it’s hard for him to look away from me, but he does it anyway to offer Mom his hand. He looks a little embarrassed too, like maybe he didn’t realize it wasn’t only Emily and his sister bearing witness to his heated come-ons. “Good to meet you, Mrs. Cole.”
She shakes his hand and smiles, but it’s that threatening flash of teeth that Mama Bears do when they try to look perfectly pleasant but are really ready to go to battle for their cubs. Never mind that I don’t need Mom’s protection.
“Hey, Brod, I sent the family group text a picture just now. Katelyn seems to think you met this one at the resort bar, says she saw you drinking with her. Sophie says she’s from the garage. And so help me if you’ve already been on two dates with this woman and I haven’t heard about it, I will gut you and serve you to the goats. Except for Baarbara. She’s got a sensitive tummy, you know?”
I try to take in everything she just said, including the clear picture of Brody and me on her phone’s screen as she waves it around. A text bubble pops up, then another.
“Oh, the resort was me!” Emily raises her hand like she’s telling the teacher she’s present for attendance check. “And the garage was Rix, of course. So they’re both right.”
Emily doesn’t realize how that sounds until it’s too late.
Shayanne’s eyes go skinny and hot as she looks from Emily to me and then focuses sharply on Brody. “Forget the goats. I’m gonna serve you up to Mama Louise on a damn platter like a fat, brown Thanksgiving turkey. What the actual fuck, Brody?”
He holds his hands up, in any man’s worst nightmare . . . surrounded by four women.
Mom and Shayanne look ready to tag-team a murder, one of those random ‘we don’t know each other, so we can’t be in on it together’ type deals I’ve seen on late-night crime shows, Strangers On A Train style. Emily looks confused at the fuss. And I’m on the verge of busting a gut from holding back laughter.
