AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Over the past week,Bo and I have gone back to normal. It seems that his couple of days without texting me must have just been a blip because he’s been consistent with his silly questions and terrible jokes since then.
The similarities between him and Brody have also become harder to ignore. After the day Brody showed up to help with my car, I’ve been curious. Possibly too much so, given the slim amount of proof I have that they may be one and the same.
I haven’t told him about my weak conclusions, and I don’t plan to yet. I’m not even entirely sure if I want to risk it.
If he truly was Bo, wouldn’t he have told me the day he swept in to save me like some rough and tough cowboy remixed Prince Charming? If it wasn’t pure coincidence that Brody showed upright when I needed him and instead, he knew where I’d be and that I needed help because I had told him—told Bo—then clearly, he would have already pieced together that I’m Banana.
I’m interrupted from my thoughts by the loud crunching of snow beneath tires. My head snaps up, and I stare out the glass porch door when Brody pulls his truck up behind my car and waves at me from inside. While I may be used to him getting out of the warm truck to open all of my doors for me, I’ve started waiting at my front door so I can keep him from wasting his time coming up to get me.
We’ve fallen into an easy routine this past week. By the time he’s stepped onto the snow and rounded the bed of the truck, I’m halfway down the sidewalk. The dimpled grin he flashes me has become a comforting sight each morning, but the blush that beats at my cheeks afterward? Not so much.
Ducking my head, I step around his towering body that radiates far too much heat and hop into the truck. He closes the door behind me, and I take the moment alone to beg my face to cool. The messy farm truck has nearly become a second home for me in Cherry Peak. It’s even started to smell like my perfume to the point I tried not wearing it for a couple of days to see if it helped. It didn’t, and when I apologized, offering to buy some air fresheners, he waved me off, admitting that he liked the smell. I’ve returned to using my perfume like normal.
“You should really let me walk to your door. It’s a polite thing for a man to do,” he says once he’s seated beside me.
“You don’t need to be more polite, Brody. You’ve already been my personal driver for the past two weeks.”
“There’s no such thing as too polite.”
I snort loudly, unashamed of how ugly of a sound it is. “I beg to differ.”
“Are you tryin’ to hint at somethin’?”
I glance at him, batting my eyes. “What could I possibly be hinting at?”
“I didn’t take you for the bad-boy type, but maybe you actually are into the whole motorcycle-and-arrogance persona,” he teases. “Am I too nice for you, Buttercup?”
“I wouldn’t exactly turn down a ride on a motorcycle, but the arrogance thing? I’ve been there, done that too many times. It’s hotter in movies and romance novels than it is in real life.”
Something in my voice must give away just how many times I’ve been with arrogant men because his next words lack their teasing edge.
“You’ve never told me why you felt like you needed to start over somewhere.”
I stare out the windshield, watching the houses turn into the buildings that mark downtown. The once flaying pain that came with talking about Stewart has dulled exponentially. It still hurts to think about what he did, but it’s more like a sore spot now that I’ve begun to heal. The wound is closed, but the scar remains, so to speak.
“I was engaged to a man who was sleeping with another woman. I didn’t know until I caught them sleeping together on my birthday, and I never bothered to learn how long it had truly been going on. Our lives were completely entangled up until then, and the only way I felt I could get free of him was to leave. Maybe it was cowardly, but I’m glad I did. I love my new life here.”
I avoid looking at Brody, too scared of seeing disgust twisting his handsome features. The judgment from Stewart’s family the one and only time his mother reached out after I left her son standing naked on his yacht was more than enough. I don’t want the judgment from Brody. It would hurt me more than I want to admit to myself right now.
“Did you at least try and pawn off the ring?” he asks sternly.
The bluntness of the question surprises me even more than the question itself. My laugh comes right from my chest, and I let it flow, not daring to trap it.
My next words are more of a wheeze than anything. “You sound like my sister. But no, I left it on the bed after I destroyed a few of his favourite things.”
He nods approvingly. “He sounds like a fuckin’ tool. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. It all happened months ago now.”
The clarification comes naturally. Even just the idea of him thinking I might still have feelings for Stewart is bile inducing.
“Have you spoken to him since?”
Does he soundjealous? My heart jolts. I’m not the woman who’s going to pretend she doesn’t like a jealous man. As far as I’m concerned, as long as it’s jealousy and not a cover for being controlling, I’m all for it. And jealousy on a man like Brody is all too appealing.
“Not since I moved back. I don’t know if I’m hurt that he didn’t care enough to try and win me back or if I’m relieved he let me go without much of a fight,” I admit.
“Not only did he not deserve you because of what he did, but a real man fights for his woman regardless of whether she’s going to hit you in the crotch with a baseball bat while you try to or not,” he says, firm and final.
