AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Of course, there was that check in her jewelry box. If she cashed it, there would be nothing stopping her from sailing whenever and wherever she wanted. So why didn’t she? She’d worked really hard through school and on her job—didn’t that entitle her to a little self-indulgence?
Thoughts of the check and how that huge sum of money would change her life felt uncomfortable—worse than the Spanx—so she shied away from them.
A young guy headed their way, his intent obvious—to work a tourist out of a few bucks. But Brennan’s stern frown had the youth swerving around them, searching behind them for some other sucker to hoodwink.
“Well, you didn’t kick a homeless person, but you did shoot that kid with your eyes.”
Brennan looked at her. “What?”
“He didn’t try to guess our shoe size because you scared him.”
“So, you would have taken the bait? Parted with some money?”
She shrugged. “What would it hurt?”
“You really are the strangest woman I’ve ever met.”
His words made her stiffen because she’d been called strange too many times to name, and that moniker had never sat well with her. “I’m not strange. Just different.”
“Definitely different. But in a good way.”
“My mother’s words,” she muttered.
“Tell me about your family, about the place you grew up,” he said suddenly.
They paused to look out over the river, spanned by the Crescent City Connection Bridge. A boat’s horn sounded, and people passed them carrying shopping bags.
“Nothing spectacular. My mother never married because she never wanted to. Her parents spent their entire lives chained to one another, hating one another until, in a drunken rage, my grandfather drove off a bridge and killed both himself and my grandmother. My mother, luckily, was home with a babysitter. Gave her a bad impression of love and marriage. And that didn’t get better being raised by a maiden aunt—we called her Granny Wyatt, and she was lovely, but definitely not a fan of marriage.
“When Mom turned seventeen, she abandoned the family farm to run off to California with a guy who played bass in a crappy band. Later she came back pregnant with me, and single-handedly started an organic farm ten years before people cared anything about eating naturally or before it was financially feasible. Mom got pregnant with my brother, Caleb, when I was seven, and I really don’t know how.”
Brennan smirked.
“Well, I knowhow.What I meant is I don’t know how she found the time and with whom. To this day she’s never admitted to who his father is. She’s extremely stubborn, proud, and could care a flying fig whether anyone likes her. She’s who she is, and very proud that she didn’t need a man for all she accomplished. Except for the actual procreation, I guess.”
“And you call that uninteresting?”
“I didn’t say uninteresting. I said nothing spectacular.”
“Right.” The bright sun had him pulling a pair of Ray-Ban Aviators from his pocket. When he put them on, she was immediately reminded of Tom Cruise in all those ’80s movies. In fact, there was something Tom Cruise-ish about Brennan—dark hair, sexy grin, and together look…not to mention he was a control freak. He’d probably look good skidding across the floor in his underwear, too.
The sounds of traditional Christmas hymns grew louder as they approached a pavilion nestled in between the benches and sculptures of the park. As they rounded the corner, they saw a choir wearing robes and holding hymnals gathered beneath the shelter.
“Oh, wow,” she said, moving in time to “The Little Drummer Boy.”
“Oh, no,” Brennan breathed, but allowed her to tug him behind her. “Christmas music.”
“Don’t even say it.”
His mouth had started to form theBsound and he snapped it closed and smiled. “Okay. Best behavior today.”
Mary Paige moved closer to the mixed crowd. Likely they were from a nearby church, bringing fellowship and fun to the December afternoon…an early Christmas present.
Brennan tugged her hand and jerked his head toward an empty bench to their left, beneath a small nearly bare tree.
She followed him to the bench, sitting, then leaning back as he curled an arm around her shoulders. Something about the simplicity of the carol, the wind off the river blowing her bangs into her eyes, and the warmth of a man holding her created such peace within her. It didn’t seem to matter right now how different she and Brennan were in their philosophies or that their future was unknown. It merely felt good to spend the afternoon with no agenda, no constraints, and no expectations.
Of course, there was one niggle of an expectation inside her she didn’t want to give credence to—the expectation of a kiss, of passion, of maybe seeing what color sheets Brennan had on his bed. Mitzi was right in that she didn’t have to over analyze their relationship. Couldn’t she just enjoy it and let go when the time felt good for her? Like her own mother did?
