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“It’s a favor to my sister.” He says it as if it’s no big deal. “Plus, you’re in trouble. I need to take care of you.”
That warms my heart. He’s manly, protective, insanely hot and he’s right here in my living room. It gives me some unlawful ideas.
“Sandra mentioned you have a son?” I finish the lasagna and move closer to him, soda can in hand.
“Yes.” He smiles and looks through the binoculars. “My big guy.”
He reaches for the radio over the counter. “Everything okay down there? Over.”
“How old is he?” I want to know.
“Turning eight within a month. And how about you? Any extended family?”
“I have my parents and two sisters in upstate Vermont. All teachers; my parents are retired.”
“So, you’re the black sheep?” He asks.
“Kinda!” I laugh as if caught in the act.
“My major is in music, but my minor is in education. I’ve been teaching music ever since I got out of college.”
“So, the up-and-coming singer, Lily Rockwell, still has a day job?” Brody asks in disbelief.
I nod, “That’s the economy for you. But it’s just twice a week now. And I’ll have to leave by Spring Break when the Sweets tour starts.”
We remain in silence for a moment, him looking down at the street and sometimes talking on the radio, and me leaning against the counter and looking at him, completely infatuated by his looks and by his scent.
“You smell so good…” I say, all dreamlike.
I love it when Brody blushes slightly. “It’s my cologne. Sandra gave it to me. I don’t remember the name.”
“Hum,” I mutter, coming one step closer. “Can I tell you something?”
“Go ahead.” He says, sounding disinterested.
Mustering all the courage I have, I place a hand on his waist and slowly slide it all the way up towards his free shoulder.
He doesn’t look at me, pretending I’m not there, but I go ahead and move my lips close to his ear to say, “Thank you for protecting me.”
Sending shivers down my spine, he straightens up and looks at me, green eyes gleaming in the light like wildfire.
“You’re welcome,” he says with a sideways smirk.
I take his hands within both of mine, large and powerful. I caress them, unsure of what I’m doing, but enjoying this closeness to him while I have it.
As I lay his hand against my face, he is docile and flexible and I’m not afraid to keep going.
“What are you doing?” He continues, amused and entertained.
But when he says those words, I feel hurt and dumb.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I feign confidence. “Trying to seduce you.”
Brody snickers at me and, offended, I let go of his hand, but do not avert my gaze from him.
“Princess…” I dread that word. Now it sounds like he’s been trying to be a father figure to me, and I got the signals wrong.
“If the circumstances were different, I would take you up on your offer at the drop of a hat. But I’m here working. This is important.”
