Page 34 of The Irresistible Distraction

But Brody seems to understand. “Officially, I’m on sabbatical, but truthfully, I’ll probably be working at least part-time. The guys at the diner are from my parents’ firm.”

Vera crosses her arms. “I’ve just now put it together. You’ve been here all weekend.”

Brody’s flush is more pronounced this time, and his nonanswer seems to communicate just as much.

“Your father used The House?”

There’s clearly subtext I’m missing here; neither aunt nor nephew clues me in. If Vera has a vested interest in another property near or in Lake Arrowhead, this is the first I’m hearing of it.

“Never mind, it’s neither your fault nor your responsibility to inform me about your father’s actions. I’m grateful for the art tour, thrilled you’ll be here this summer, and can’t wait to catch up while you drive me to LAX.”

As always, the man I’d thought of as the dramatic Sexy Tourist is loud with his expressions. He grimaces and holds a hand to his chest as if in pain. “You were serious about that?”

Vera opens her eyes wide. “You know how I feel about long Uber rides. Besides, it’ll be a perfect way to apologize for not visiting.”

Brody closes his eyes. “If I’m chauffeuring you to LAX despite how much I loathe driving there, I must be extraordinarily sorry.”

“You are.”

Behind us, Sebastian sniggers, a reminder that this really isn’t the situation I’d envisioned when thinking about introducing Brody to Sebastian.

Not that I’d really thought about what it would be like, to introduce the two.

I wait until Sebastian is looking in my direction before pointedly handing him the house key. For once, my son correctly interprets my underlying meaning.

He steals one last glance at Brody. “I guess we’ll play next time?”

“Looking forward to it.” Brody’s gaze is on my son, even though it feels as though the repeated words are directed at me.

Seba tilts his head, seeing my blush but blessedly allowing it to go unspoken about before he jogs across the street.

Vera clears her throat and mutters something about using the restroom, giving me and Brody a moment together, alone. He gestures before he starts to walk me to my door, the two of us crossing the empty street slowly. My hand is on the railing as I turn toward him. Because I’m two steps up and he’s still on the ground, we are eye level for once.

“Counting the stairs, you’re now a mere eleven steps away from me, your one-stop distraction destination.” He sees my look and my drawn face and immediately backs up, in tone and also, literally, taking a half step away, giving me space. “Too soon?”

“I’m having difficulty reconciling the sweet man from the last couple of days—the one who spent hours washing dishes and cleaning out the grease trap—with the one who stood his aunt up. It might sound like nothing . . . but I was here, meaning I actually experienced Vera’s disappointment as a tangible event.”

Brody’s throat works as he swallows, his strong jaw clenching. “I’ve apologized to her and I will again. But in my defense, Ten Years Ago Brody was not particularly mature. That was the dude who tried to melt a penny with a blowtorch on top of a glass bottle.” He uses his fist to mime an explosion. “Short version: glass expands when heated, it becomes structurally unsound, and the whole thing shattered, shards raining down on my face.”

As usual, his charisma is . . . compelling. I forget, for the moment at least, what we were talking about to ask, “Why?”

He gives a boyish shrug. “Seemed like a semi-cool thing to try at two in the morning? The time when all good ideas come to fruition.”

“Didn’t you say you were a physics major?”

“I was. Theoretical shit. Astrophysics. Very few blowtorches allowed.”

I cross my arms, feeling the smile that’s pulling at me, but not yet ready to allow myself to fall so easily. “And Last Year Brody? Why couldn’t he visit?”

“Recovering from a broken engagement.”

“Do you have a glib answer for everything?”

“I don’t know—but if you keep asking, we can find out together.” His blue-green eyes meet mine, and even though I get that he’s annoyed, he doesn’t run away from the disagreement, doesn’t make excuses.

Just jokes.

I don’t know why I’m pushing. In the past, I’ve always been the compliant one.