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Brady's smile looked forced. "It was a long time ago. Old news."
I bit my lip, regretting bringing it up. It may be old news, but that didn't mean that the pain had faded. Or the memories.
"One meat lovers," Izzy said brightly, sliding our dinner between us.
"Plus, a plate and utensils," she added with a smile for Brady.
Talk turned to lighter topics, until Brady and I were laughing and teasing, replaying about our sled runs.
After dinner, Brady walked me the short distance to Fierce Ink, pausing while I unlocked the door.
I bit my lip, debating. Did I invite him up? Something about taking that step scared me. There hadn't been anyone since Scott. And as much as I was coming to trust Brady, part of me remained uncertain. So far, we were just having fun together. I wasn't ready for that to change.
"Good night," I said instead. "Thanks again for taking me sledding today."
"You're very welcome," Brady said. "I'm just sad I didn't win our race. I thought I had you bidding on me at the auction in the bag," he admitted.
"Play your cards right, and you still might," I said.
He hooked a single finger through the waistband of my jeans, expression challenging. "Is that an invitation to kiss you?"
"That does appear to be our currency of choice," I murmured, winding my hands around his neck, enjoying the tickle of hair at his nape beneath my fingers. Something about that spot made me want to stroke him.
"Then I'd rather be a rich man than a poor one," he rumbled, capturing me in a deep kiss.
I sank against him, enjoying the heat of his big body. We started off slow, a delicate sweep, but that restraint didn't last long, turning into an open-mouthed exploration, exposing the hunger that gnawed at my insides. The desire for touch.
When Brady finally broke our kiss, my chest heaved, trying to replace the oxygen I'd lost. He seemed to struggle similarly to fill his lungs, and I laughed through my breathlessness. I was tempted again to invite him up, but he didn't seem like a man to rush. Too meticulous by half. Except when he wasn't.
"Good night, Eve." he whispered. "Sweet dreams."
I couldn't bring myself to wish him sweet dreams. Not when mine were likely to be hot and sweaty. Maybe it was petty, but if I was going to be tortured by images of us entwined on my bed, I didn't want to suffer alone.
"Good night, Brady."
Chapter 12
Eve
Ispenttherestof the weekend working, taking care of chores, and exchanging text messages with Brady. My cocoon of domesticity left me woefully unprepared for the Campfire grapevine when I emerged to meet Gwen for coffee at Sprigs on Monday.
"Good morning, Eve," Matty greeted me, coming around her counter to squeeze me in a tight hug.
I pulled back, bemused by her welcome. People usually kept their distance. Maybe it was the funereal black, or the perpetual scowl I'd sported for the first few months after Scott and I broke up, but I didn't usually invite effusive hugs.
"Good morning, Matty. Is Gwen around?"
The older woman nodded. "Of course. But before I forget, do you have plans for Thanksgiving?"
"I'm not sure," I prevaricated, not wanting to admit that I hadn't thought that far ahead yet. Last year, I'd gone to Everett to see my mom. This year, I was too busy with the play and auction to risk the mountain pass and an extended absence if the roads closed.
I figured between Gwen, Sophie, Jo, and Izzy, I'd find a spot at someone's table, or worst-case, spend a quiet day incinerating a turkey breast at home.
"I'd love to have you join us if you're free," Matty said, eyes twinkling.
Matty said it with such innocence, I wanted to take her at face value, but I wasn't totally clueless. Matty wasn't just a sweet tattoo client; she was Brady's mother. Any holiday invitation would no doubt include him as well.
Did she know he and I had been kissing in front of my shop last night?
