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“I think you’re more of a Peter Pan.”
“The boy who never grew up.”
Yes, but also. “Always ready to jump and looking for magic in everything.”
A light chuckle vibrates his chest, making me glance up at him. “I’m not sure I believe in magic, Rosie.”
The sound of my name from his lips echoes through me, and while I love it, I miss the way he calls me Angel or sweetheart. The endearments feel more personal, if not a little special. And I can’t remember the last time I felt special to anyone.
“I think success is your brand of magic.” The same way that helping others is my way of feeling like I mean something. It’s why I love this town—everyone has a purpose here.
“So what does that make you?” He grins softly, giving my hand one last squeeze before he pulls Brooks onto his lap and stands.
“What do you mean?” I ask, following suit and gently waking the girls up to the rolling credits.
“I’m Peter Pan, who are you? Wendy or Tinkerbell?”
Wendy or Tinkerbell? I’m not sure what he means by that. However, either way, their affections toward Peter are tragic. One is one-sided while the other is doomed to remain torn even though it’s requited.
Maybe some people are destined to be alone? I ask myself, looking up at Brody.
He’s halfway across the room already while I usher the girls his way. They’re mostly sleepwalking, and to ensure we don’t end up in the ER, I follow them up the stairs.
It doesn’t take long to settle them in their room, but before I’m done with Blaire, Brody is waiting in the doorway. As I’m walking toward him, Blakely yawns, “No funny business.”
“I heard you, B,” Brody chuckles, lacing our hands together as we head back downstairs.
Once he’s switched the movie off, he throws me a gaming controller. A devious grin tugs at one side of his mouth. “Wanna race?”
“I’m not sure I’m a video games kind of person.” It’s one of my flaws—I’m competitive and when I get into something, I get into it. Not really a side of me I want him to see.
“C’mon, sweetheart, I’ll let you win a couple times until you get the hang of it.”
“Only until I get the hang of it?”
“After that it’s game on. All bets are off.” He laughs quietly, settling back beside me. Throwing a mushy chocolate M&M from the popcorn bowl in the air, Brody catches it on his tongue. “What do you say? Think you can beat a champion at his own game?”
I swear to God, he knows just how to hook and reel me in every damn time. It’s a gift that I’m not sure I like.
“Show me the controls?”
“Of course.”
“The real controls. No cheating.”
“I play clean all the time.”
Too bad he never plays fair, though. It doesn’t matter what game he’s playing, Brody always seems one step ahead with more lives than a pampered house cat. Once he’s shown me the controls, he takes me through a few races, and it doesn’t take long for me to get into it.
My competitive side shines through just like I didn’t want it to. Especially given that it spurs Brody’s teasing even more. He takes it up a notch when I’m right on his heel. The tail of his car is within bumping distance, but he keeps weaving in front of mine, stopping me from finding a way past him.
“God, you’re infuriating!”
“You told me not to go easy on you.” His laugh frays my last nerve and before I can think better of it, I move to the end of the couch and throw my feet on his lap.
Tucking my heels right between his thighs so that every time I flex my feet, they brush over his crotch.
“What happened to no cheating?” He chuckles hoarsely, adjusting himself so that my feet aren’t as close to the bulge in his pants.
