Don't Let Go (4 page)

“Plenty of room for her to do whatever needs done out in the backyard.”

He nodded and attached the leash to Roxie's harness. The dog promptly parked her butt.

Megan laughed. “Not fond of the leash, is she?”

“It's a work in progress. Whoever had her before obviously didn't leash train her.”

He gave her a tug and she reared back. He pulled, but it was like dragging a tiny furry mop across the floor.

With a roll of his eyes, he scooped her up and carried her out back, Megan's laughter ringing in his ears as he opened the door.

“You're making me look bad, Roxie,” he said as he deposited the dog on the grass. She promptly walked out three feet and did her business, then stepped out of the grass and sat at his feet.

“Got that part down, don't you?” he asked with a sigh, then gave a quick tug on the leash so they could head back to the house.

She sat.

“Heel,” he said, giving the command for her to walk.

She looked up at him, giving him the I-don't-think-so look.

He shook his head. “We're going to have to work on this, and by ‘we,' I mean ‘you.' But right now there's cheesecake
in that house, and I'm not in the mood for leash-walking lessons.”

He picked her up and carried her into the kitchen, depositing her inside the back door and disconnecting the leash from her harness. She trotted over to the bowl of water Megan had set down for her and took several messy drinks.

Megan bent down to run her hands over Roxie's fur, giving Brady a fine view of Megan's backside. He decided to just stand there and watch while she picked up the dog and cuddled her close to her chest. She turned around and smiled at Brady.

“Everything go okay out there?”

“Everything except her walking with the leash attached.”

Megan kissed Roxie on the head. “I'm sure she'll learn. She's very cute and smart—aren't you, Roxie?”

The smart part was debatable, but she had the cute part down.

After Megan put the dog down on the floor, she washed her hands, then went back to the island. “I made chocolate mousse cake and cheesecake. I'd actually like for you to try both of them if you don't mind.”

“I'm never going to mind eating dessert.”

“You say all the right things, Brady.” She served up one of each onto his plate. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

“I made a fresh pot while you were outside with Roxie.”

She really did think of everything. “I'll get the plates. You bring the coffee.”

He carried the plates into the dining room, and she came in with a tray bearing two cups of coffee and a carafe.

“In case we want refills on our coffee.”

“You must entertain a lot.”

She picked up her fork and sliced off a bite of cheesecake. “Why do you say that?”

“I don't know. Everything you do just seems . . . perfect and organized and so well thought-out. If you had dinner at my place—”

“Spy headquarters?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Spy headquarters. You'd have gotten microwaved meals eaten on tray tables in front of the TV. Or, if I'm feeling like going all out, maybe takeout from Bert's.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I like the food from Bert's. I do draw the line at microwaved meals, though. And I'm sure with a little effort you could probably cook.”

“I can toss stuff on the grill. Throw a salad together. And make eggs and bacon. That's the extent of my cooking prowess.”

“You can survive on that.”

He dug in to the cheesecake first, and he had to bite back a groan. It was so damn good he wanted to dive face-first into the entire thing, gobble it up, and then grab the whole cheesecake and run out the door with it.

“Damn, Megan.”

She'd been watching him. “So it's good?”

“Uh, yeah.” After he finished the cheesecake, he sampled the chocolate mousse cake.

Sonofabitch, it melted on his tongue like a chocolate orgasm.

He lifted his gaze to hers. “Why don't you have a boyfriend? Or a husband?”

She frowned, then wiped her lips with her napkin. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, you're hot as hell and you make great food. Not to mention these desserts. Why hasn't some guy carried you off and married you?”

He saw her cheeks blush crimson. “Oh. You think I'm hot?”

“Sure.” He waved his fork at her. “Soft hair, pretty eyes, sexy mouth, great ass. What's not to like?”

She laughed. “As far as compliments go, that was pretty good. So, thank you.”

“You're welcome.” He busied himself with polishing off the rest of the dessert, and even contemplated asking
for seconds, then decided he'd regret that later when he was trying to sleep tonight.

He went into the kitchen and helped Megan with the dishes, despite her trying to push him away. It was the least he could do to thank her for a home-cooked meal that came with the best damn desserts he could remember having.

After her earlier nap, Roxie busied herself running back and forth from the kitchen to the living room to the dining room, her feet occasionally tumbling out from under her, so she'd go
splat
on all fours. Then she'd get up and scramble and do it all over again.

Megan laughed at her as they stood at the sink. “She's got some energy—that's for sure. But she needs some chew toys to help her burn off that energy.”

“I guess so. I'll look into that.”

After they finished the dishes, they took their glasses of iced tea and moved into the living room. Megan took a seat on the sofa. Brady picked the comfortable-looking chair next to the sofa. Roxie tried to claw her way onto the sofa, so Megan scooped her up and set her on her lap.

“Would you like a beer or some wine?” she asked.

“No, thanks. I'm good with the tea.”

He grabbed a flavored toothpick out of his pocket and slid that in his mouth.

“I have some floss in the bathroom if you have something in your teeth.”

“Some—oh, no. Nothing in my teeth. This is to keep me from wanting a cigarette.”

She frowned. “Oh. You quit?”

“Yeah.”

“How long ago?”

“About a year or so.”

“Well. Good for you.”

“Thanks. After dinner is always when I get the toughest cravings.”

“I never smoked, so I wouldn't know. Your brother did, though.”

He stilled, pulled the toothpick out of his mouth. “You knew Kurt?”

“Sure I did. I dated him for a while.”

His head felt fuzzy and full. “When?”

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Let's see. It was about two years before he died. We dated about six months or so.”

“I didn't know that.”

She shrugged. “No reason for you to. You weren't around then. He told me you were working in . . . Memphis, I think?”

“Yeah.” He'd been off learning his trade, working for a great body painter, riding his bike all around Tennessee. And pissed at his brother because he couldn't get off the drugs.

If only he'd come home. If only he'd been here, maybe things would have been different.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“What happened? Oh, between Kurt and me? He was nice. We had fun together, but the chemistry between us just wasn't enough to sustain the relationship, so it was a mutual breakup. I didn't know about the drug thing back then. He hid it well.”

Brady looked down at his shoes. He never wanted to talk about his brother, never wanted to relive the pain and the guilt he felt. “Yeah, he did that well.”

“None of us knew. Not until a lot later.”

He finally lifted his gaze to hers. “I knew. I knew for a long time.”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “But you couldn't have fixed him, Brady. No one could have. Surely you understand that.”

This wasn't the first time someone had tried to hit him with understanding and sympathy. The problem was, no one understood the deep bond he'd shared with his brother. They'd been tight since they were kids, and no matter what had gone down, they had always been there for each other.

He should have tried harder to reach him, should have pushed harder for another shot at rehab for Kurt, instead of shrugging and staying out of town, hoping like hell his brother would see the light this time and climb out of his heroin addiction.

Instead, he'd let it go. And his brother had died as a result, because he hadn't cared enough to push one more time.

He stood, realizing he needed to get out of there before he drowned in the thick fog of painful memories. “I need to go.”

Megan frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. I just have an early day tomorrow.”

“Oh, of course, sure.”

He scooped up the pup, then turned to Megan. “Hey, thanks for dinner tonight. I really appreciate it.”

“You're welcome.” She walked him to the door and opened it, then grasped his arm. “Brady.”

He turned to face her. “Yeah.”

“If you ever need someone, I'm here for you.”

Same thing he'd told his brother during one of the many times he'd thrown out the lifeline. Only Kurt hadn't grabbed it. “Thanks.”

He looked into Megan's warm brown eyes, and on impulse, grabbed her around the waist, needing that contact of another human being, something he'd denied himself for far too long.

Just for one damn second. He tugged her against him and his lips met hers in a crashing thunder of hot passion. She moaned against his lips, grasping his shirt in her hands, and for just a few seconds, he felt wildly alive again.

And damn, it felt good.

Roxie squirmed between them and he backed away. Megan licked her lips and he felt a moment of regret for leaving.

But he had to get away.

“Night,” he said, then turned and walked to his truck, feeling more regret now than ever before.

*   *   *

MEGAN WAITED AT
the door until Brady pulled away. She was certain she didn't exhale until she saw his truck turn the corner.

Then she remembered to breathe.

“Wow,” she whispered to herself as she closed and locked the door.

That had been some kiss. Passion and need had been wrapped up in Brady's kiss, along with a desperate longing that had surprised and touched her, awakening a hunger within herself she hadn't even realized she had.

She knew Brady had taken the loss of his brother hard, but until now, she hadn't understood how hard. She'd thrown out the comment about dating his brother in an offhanded way, not realizing how difficult it was going to be for him to even hear his brother's name mentioned.

As she picked up the glasses and carried them to the sink, she thought about how reclusive Brady had been since he'd come back to Hope. He hadn't been super outgoing or friendly, and he certainly hadn't been dating anyone. Frankly, it had happily surprised her that he'd even agreed to come over for dinner tonight.

The man had some demons, and she was beginning to understand why. But she had a lot more to learn about Brady Conners. She wanted to know more, and she wanted to help him in any way she could.

And if there was a way, she wanted a lot more of that passionate kissing he'd laid on her.

Because . . . wow.

*   *   *

TOO PENT UP
to sleep, Brady headed down to the paint shop that night to work on a custom bike job.

It was a beauty of a Harley that a guy wanted painted. He'd given Brady a photo of what he had in mind, but Brady always did his work freehand. He'd applied the black layover paint earlier, and now he was adding the design.

He'd painted zombies before, and he liked making each bike unique. He visualized how he wanted the gas tank picture to look, then started to paint, adding the features and distorting them.

Once he started a design, it always seemed to flow out of him and onto the bike, a rhythm that kept him going for hours.

The small paint gun was an extension of his hand as he let the art transfer from his mind to the bike. This was where he could relax, where he could reach his zen. It was quiet here, only the sound of the paint spraying onto the bike. He didn't even have to think, only visualize what was in his head and get it onto the metal.

Just the way he wanted it, a mindless melding of his hand and the bike, and no other distractions. He went at it for a few hours, then finally took a step back to check the work.

Yeah, that was perfect. He was sure the client would be happy with the result. The guy would have some undead on his bike. He'd finish it off tomorrow night.

Kurt would have loved the scene he just painted. They'd played zombie killers all the time when they were kids, and had always talked about painting zombies on their own bikes someday. They'd spent hours and days coming up with zombie paint schemes, envisioning all the different ways they'd use their ideas at their custom bike shop when they went into business together.

That had never happened, because Kurt had totally fucked up his life.

And then he'd overdosed and died.

Brady wiped his hands and tossed the rag in the corner. He washed up, then reached for a toothpick, shoving it in his mouth when all he really wanted right now was a goddamn cigarette.

But he was stronger than his urges.

Too bad his brother hadn't been.

Brady wished he could go back in time, back to right after high school when he'd found Kurt snorting coke in
his room. He'd ignored it then, shrugging it off as something his brother was just messing around with.

A passing phase, he'd figured. He'd even asked Kurt about it, and Kurt had said it was just partying. No big deal.

But it had been more than partying. It had become more and more frequent, and coke had turned to meth, and meth had turned to heroin.

Brady had tried time and time again to get Kurt to stop. Kurt had told him at first that he had it handled, that he could get off of it at any time. And eventually, he'd just stopped telling him that and told him to go away, to leave him alone.