"Young Johnny or Old Johnny?" He chuckles, giving a shake of his head, and I indulge in a small laugh. "Never mind. Both of them know the mix I like all too well."
"They told me they've had to fancy things up to keep the tourists coming in."
I sneak a glance at his face, not missing the way he frowns at the idea. "Be fair, Brand. They bring in a lot of money for this place. You can't blame people for wanting to build their business when they can."
"I don't blame anyone." He shakes his head, then pins me with his intense eyes. "It's just that I came here to get away from the crush of people. And it still found its way here."
"Temporarily." I remind him of that fact, rewarded when he gives me an acknowledging tip of his chin. He then looks pointedly at my plate, and I take a bite. It's delicious. Johnny'smay not be all shiny and new, but their food is good, and the cinnamon rolls are sinful. In the very best way, of course.
We eat quietly, but the atmosphere isn't tense like I would've expected. Instead, it's... nice. Almost friendly. And earlier, even when he was frowning, he'd still been kind to me. Gentle.
The memory of the way his touch had made my stomach flip comes to life and goose bumps erupt over my skin. Because I wouldn't mind feeling his fingers on me again.
"Promise me you’ll stop going through that old equipment," he starts, wiping his mouth with one of the napkins Johnny's had included with the food. When I don't respond, he raises an eyebrow. "Unless you're wearing protective gloves. So you don't cut yourself."
I make him wait, taking another sip of my delicious coffee, and feel a little thrill of victory when he scowls at me. Setting the cup down, I wave his irritation away. "Fine. I agree. But it still has to get catalogued for the museum. He worked so hard to get it established, to honor the legacy of the volunteer fire departments in this area. There's a lot to go through and I can't just dump it all at their door. Most of the people who agreed to work there are volunteers, too."
"Some of the retired volunteers can help with it. Give them a call. They'll rally."
I give him an astonished look, and he smirks. "I have good ideas from time to time. You don't have to act so surprised."
"I didn't think you cared about what I was trying to do here."
He coughs, as if I've made him choke on his breakfast. "It's not that I don't care. And as to what you're trying to accomplish, that's what we need to discuss."
"You have something against museums?" I know I'm deflecting and by the way he tips his head to the side when he focuses on me, he knows it as well.
"I have something against you doing things that will really get you hurt."
Hurt and anger surge forward, and I'm no longer hungry. I drop my fork to the table, standing up, and pushing the chair back. "Well, it's been great talking to you, as always, but I've got things to do, and I'm sure you have children you want to growl at. Have a lovely day."
Brand doesn't get up, doesn't even pause as he takes a drink of his own coffee. "This isn't about you, Lydia."
I lift my hands up, the itch of frustration pushing me to move. I can't just stand here and do nothing.
"Then what is it about? You've made it clear you won't help me, so why are you here?"
He swallows, and I hate the way my eyes lock on the motion of his throat. My imagination comes to life, filling my mind with how exactly it would feel to kiss his throat. To feel the rough stubble against my lips. To feel his hands on me once more.
"I'm here because I made a promise to your father. And he didn't want you doing this."
7
BRAND
She's looking at me like I've just broken her heart. Devastation and disbelief dances across her face as she stares at me.
"What did you say?" She can barely get the words out, and there's no missing the pain in her voice.
"He made me promise that I wouldn't let you do what you're planning. And we both know it's got nothing to do with the museum." I stand and look down at her. I'm a big man, and I know I'm built to intimidate, but in this moment, that's not what I want to be. I just want to be ready to catch her if she falls, because she looks like she might collapse. "He didn't want you taking over the fire department."
Her eyes drop closed, and there's an ache in my chest I don't like. One I hate, in fact. Hurting this woman isn't something I want to do.
"He didn't believe I could do this?" She sounds so deflated, it hits me like a punch.
I open my arms and pull her in close. I'm not good at comfort, but she doesn't fight me on it, and when she rests herhead on my chest, I wrap my arms around her. That's all this is. A simple hug.
But it feels damn good.
