I had fun, and I knew I wasn’t the only one. She smiled and joked and didn’t even complain when I wrapped my hand around hers again. We warmed up around the fire pit back near the entrance.
As our time at the farm wound down, I wondered what would happen when we got back to my place. Nerves settled in the pit of my stomach as I thought about the end result of this date—the only purpose, really. Mac wanted to have sex to dispel whatever inconvenient attraction she’d been feeling. The one that made her kiss me in my truck weeks ago and climb onto my lap Tuesday night.
She thought this was all physical and problematic.
I watched her as we drove back to Kirby Falls, unsure if I could actually go through with this when our aims were so different.
She wanted tonight, and I wanted a chance.
I wasn’t sure where that left us, but I had a feeling I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Mac was stubborn and determined.
You couldn’t make someone love you if they weren’t ready. There was every chance I was setting myself up for disappointment. We could wake up tomorrow, and Mac might really be over it.
The thing about taking what you could get was that you didn’t get to pitch a fit when it blew up in your face.
ten
MAC
The drive back to Brady’s apartment was ... a little tense.
We didn’t talk much. There was no playlist critique or Brady sing-alongs to make me laugh or “Name That Tune” with songs he picked.
I drove exactly six miles over the speed limit, and Brady, well, he watched me pensively from the passenger seat. He stared at me like I was a riddle again. A puzzle he hadn’t quite figured out.
The date* had been fun. It was hard to explain. Brady was a fun-loving guy. A walking good time. But in all of our years of pranks and practical jokes and endless bickering, none of that good-timing had been directed at me. Or if it was, it was in a way that I perceived to be at my expense. A mocking joke or a well-timed zinger.
Finally being on the receiving end of Brady’s charms had made our little outing at the Haunted Forest a fun experience. I liked his sweetness as much as his teasing. And I didn’t know how I’d never realized it before, but Brady was affectionate. He liked being close—holding hands and touching. It turned out that I liked it, too.
Maybe the date had less of an asterisk beside it than I wanted to admit.
But the date wasn’t what tonight was all about. It was a means to an end. A way to gather up all this wayward attraction and the unexpected pull I felt toward Brady and channel it into a solution.
If my dating history proved anything, long-term wasn’t something I specialized in. One night of hot—or mediocre—sex with Brady Judd should get whatever was happening out of my system.
Hopefully.
Because how was I supposed to live my townie life with Brady around every turn? He was there every Monday for trivia and every Friday at the bonfire. And again at the farmers’ markets downtown on Saturdays. Our families knew each other. We ended up at the same events, festivals, and church picnics. Kirby Falls was not a big place, and Brady and I were in the same line of work. Our paths crossed often.
I didn’t want to feel like this every time he walked into a room. The constant buzz beneath my skin—the awareness. I couldn’t look at him or hear his voice without remembering how it felt to be snuggled up against him in a freezing storage shed or grinding on top of him on a hay bale. I was off-balance and questioning myself, which wasn’t like me at all. Plus, I couldn’t even encounter an orange Tic Tac without blushing like a schoolgirl, for Christ’s sake.
Tonight would fix all that. Ineededit to.
Brady spoke for the first time in half an hour, directing me to a visitor’s spot behind his building. It had the added benefit of keeping my Jeep off the street where anyone could spot it.
My heart was pounding as I followed him inside and up the stairs to his apartment. Nerves tangled in my belly, but I forced them down. This wasn’t a big deal. Just like I’d told Brady, it was only sex.
He unlocked his front door and stepped inside, flipping on the light.
Brady took off his shoes and placed them in a closet off the entryway. I watched in a strange, disconnected way as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it in the same closet. He held out a hand, and it took me a moment to realize he wanted me to pass him my coat, too.
I hurriedly peeled away the black fabric and handed it over while he looked on in amusement.
It was such a casual, domestic activity that my brain sort of locked up and misfired. Brady Judd had a closet for his jackets and took off his shoes when he came home. Had I ever seen his socked feet before?
I stood awkwardly just inside the threshold while Brady walked into the kitchen.
The whole apartment—that I could see—was spotless. Very little clutter on the coffee table and end tables in the living room, and a simple vase of flowers sat in the center of the kitchen island.
