Then I inwardly rolled my eyes at myself because this was the only stakeout I’d ever been on or would ever be on, in all likelihood.
Brady started unloading items from his grocery sack. He pulled out a small container of Tic Tacs, and I fought valiantly against my blush. Then he tossed me a plastic-wrapped bag of candy.
I caught the Twizzlers in my lap.
“For old times’ sake,” he said with a wink.
I bit my lip to keep from grinning back, and his smile widened.
“I saw that,” he teased. “I also have some cards in here, but I figure we’ll be alright with our phones for a while. There’s a mobile charger, too. Gotta stay charged in case we need to call the sheriff’s office.”
“You really think we’re going to find someone out here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” he replied.
I opened the bag of Twizzlers and passed him one. “And you really think I had something to do with it?”
It was a fair question, one I’d let bother me beyond surface annoyance. Brady and I went too far sometimes. The Elmer’s Glue Incident of 2009 came to mind. But the fact that he’d seemed to truly believe I was capable of trespassing and causing damage to his family’s property had been a shock to the system. So my initial reaction to his accusation had been anger and disbelief.
Brady sighed and stared at the licorice rope in his hand. “At first, I thought you probably hated me enough to do something like that.”
“I don’t hate you,” spilled out before I’d given it permission.
He met my gaze and raised one dark brow like he didn’t believe me.
“I don’t,” I repeated. “You just—you’re so—I don’t know how to describe it. But hate is reserved for serial killers and billionaire CEOs. People who don’t deserve your time or attention because they don’t know how to care about anything besides themselves.”
Brady’s attention had drifted back down to his hands and the candy he held, so it was easier to admit the next part, especially in the dark with only the moon and stars overhead. “You’re a good person, Brady. You drive me fucking crazy half the time, but you’d never intentionally or knowingly hurt me.”Except for that one time when you were a dumb teenager. “And while I know we’ve given each other hell over the years, I hope you know I wouldn’t vandalize your farm or hurt your family or your livelihood like that.”
“I do know that,” he admitted quietly. “It was easier to blame you and make it all part of the game we play. Otherwise, it becomes a real threat, something unknown that affects my family—my parents and my sister, who live on the property.” Brady raised his head and finally met my gaze. “I know you think this is dumb and a waste of time, but I do want to know what’s going on. If it’s just a teenager being stupid and making poor life decisions, then I want to figure that out, too. But the sheriff’s office hasn’t made this a priority, and I do want to keep my family safe.”
I nodded. “That makes sense. And the security cameras and the lights were good ideas. It might be enough to deter someone out looking for trouble.”
“I hope so,” Brady agreed. “But I want to be sure.”
Suddenly, the thought of being out here all night in the cold didn’t feel so ridiculous. I’d do anything for my family, too. Guilt and resentment twisted my insides when I thought about my cousin Will and how he assumed I half-assed everything on the farm and just cruised through life. I didn’t know that I could live up to his expectations, but I could probably do more to show him I was a committed part of the Grandpappy’s team. I could take some initiative, be more of a leader, ask for more responsibility, and stop holding myself to the same low standards as the high schoolers who worked for us part-time.
I pushed away those inconvenient thoughts and feelings and said, “So we’ll have a stakeout, and who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and some punk will show up and we can kick their ass.”
Brady laughed. “Always so violent, Mac and Cheese. No, we’ll find out who they are and where they live and haunt them until they get so scared they turn themselves in.”
“Ah, yes.” I nodded sagely. “We’llScooby-Doothem onto the path of righteousness.”
“Exactly.”
We shared a grin, and for the first time, it felt like Brady and I were in on something together. Maybe what we’d needed all this time was a common enemy, a shared goal. My eyes drifted down to his lips, and some inner voice whispered that what we actually needed was a flat surface and a box of condoms.
I looked away and shoved a Twizzler in my mouth, chewing deliberately.
Awkward silence descended as we sat side by side. Well, it felt awkward to me, but that was probably because I was so in my own head, sorting through these revelations about Brady, this stakeout, and the awareness I now had for the man beside me.
Luckily, Brady seemed oblivious. He was playing some game on his phone while I powered through six more Twizzlers in an anxiety spiral.
Then, out of nowhere, Brady said, “Are we ever going to talk about the kiss, Mac?”
I choked, bits of licorice lodging themselves in my windpipe as my pulse skyrocketed. Brady patted my back helpfully, and I eventually managed to squawk out, “I thought we agreed it never happened.”
He locked his phone and placed it down on the blanket next to him. “Wedidn’t agree on anything. You declared it and then ran away like a scaredy cat.”
