How to Handle a Heartbreaker (15 page)

“Ten and a half,” Vanessa said loudly. “I wear
ten
and
a
half
size shoes.”

Abby smiled kindly. “If you say so, dear.”

The others laughed again, and Maddie snickered at the finger Vanessa gave them. “Oh, good one, cuz. So original.”

“Shut up, she who constantly gets laid. That’s why you three are always in a good mood.” Vanessa slowly turned to Abby. “Or should I say…four?”

Everyone focused on her, and Abby could feel herself blushing. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Maddie pointed and screeched, “Liar! That’s your lying face. I knew it!” She turned to Robin. “You totally owe me ten bucks.”

Robin grumbled while pulling out her wallet. Money changed hands, and Abby didn’t know whether to laugh or hide her head in shame.

“Hey.”

“Please. You and Brody have been going at it since before the dog-sitting,” Vanessa huffed. “Why else would you bother to watch Mutt?”

“Aw. I love that cutesy-wootsie dog,” Kim cooed.

“You would,” Robin muttered.

“I know you don’t want me making any comparisons to those I love, now, do you?” Kim asked archly. “Because you’re much cuter than Mutt. But he’s nicer.”

Maddie laughed and explained to Abby, “They met Mutt when Brody and Flynn stopped by their shop. Brody had Mutt with him. He’s a great big galoot, but he’s well-mannered.”

“Brody?” Robin asked.

“No. And neither is Mutt,” Vanessa chimed in.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Abby didn’t like them dissing the dog
or
the man. “For the record, Mutt is a wonderful dog with a crappy name. I blame Brody for that.”

“We all do.” Maddie shuddered. “But I wouldn’t call Mutt well-mannered. That dog is always trying to attack me.”

“He likes you. Don’t be so dense.” Abby started to grow impatient with them. “And Brody’s a really nice guy.” She told them about yesterday in the bookstore and how he’d helped sell her books.

The gang stared at her in awe. Or at least, she thought it was awe until Vanessa whistled.

“Yep. She’s totally banging him. And probably giving head too, if he’s admitting he reads her books.”

Abby lost it. “What
the
hell
is wrong with my books?”

Robin, Kim, and Maddie sat watching in silence.

“Just that no man would admit to reading romance, and not smutty romance.”

“You big-footed bitch! At least I’m having sex. The last time you lost your breath in orgasmic ecstasy was on a treadmill. The words
faster
and
harder
are good for more than running, Flo-Jo.”

Robin cringed. “Ouch.”

Vanessa actually grinned. “And doing sit-ups. Don’t forget my crunches.”

“Oh you…” Abby didn’t know what to say.

“Relax, cupcake.” Vanessa chuckled. “We’re all happy you’re finally getting laid. Brody’s hot.”

“Yeah.” Kim nodded. “We might be gay. Doesn’t mean we’re blind. He’s exceptionally good-looking.”

“And he fixed our bathroom for free. Well, I paid for the parts, but he didn’t charge us for the labor,” Robin said. “I like him.”

Abby had expected more resistance to hers and Brody’s new sexual relationship. “So, what then?”

Maddie answered by shoving a chocolate covered strawberry at her. “So enjoy yourself. You and I both know he’s not the committing type. But you and I
know
that. Just don’t get your hopes up for anything more. Since you’ve mentioned—repeatedly—that you don’t want a relationship anytime soon, enjoy him while you can. From what I’m hearing, he’s totally into you.”

Vanessa had to go and ruin it by adding, “Right now. Not for a relationship. Remember, you’re just shagging.”

“That’s British for fucking, right?” Robin asked.

“Yeah. Watch
Austin
Powers
sometime. You learn things you can’t find on the home shopping channel.” Vanessa smirked.

“The scary lady is being mean to me,” Robin said to Kim. “Make her stop.”

They laughed and teased and eventually returned to the movie. Abby went to the kitchen to grab more sodas, and Maddie followed her.

“So. Brody.”

“Yeah?”

Maddie looked over her shoulder, then turned back to Abby. “Is he any good?”

Abby chuckled. “A lady shouldn’t tell.”

“Please. You’re no lady. Well? Spill.”

Seeing no one around, she confessed, “He’s amazing. I mean, as in
holy
crap
I had multiple orgasms amazing.”

“I knew it. He looks the type.”

“Yeah, right. How can you tell if a guy’s good in bed by looking at him?”

Maddie shrugged. “I can just tell.” She paused. “Be careful, Abby. He’s a terrific guy, but he has a history of short-term dating.”

“Hey, we’re not even dating. Just
shagging
.” She laughed, but deep down she took the caution to heart. She thought about him constantly, and she admitted to herself that she wouldn’t say no if he asked to deepen the relationship. “Like you said, I don’t want a boyfriend right now. But a sex buddy? No problem. He doesn’t want serious either. In fact, he and I have a bet going on. He seems to think I’ll fall for him. As if. He’ll be falling for me before that ever happens. He’s a breast man.” They both looked at her boobs. “He’s going down. Right around my little finger.”

“Oh honey, you’ve hit rock bottom if the man is going down and you’re showing him your
finger
.” Maddie shook her head.

Abby laughed. “You’re such a goof. I can’t believe you’re the same woman who was freaking out a few months ago because Flynn wanted to call you his girlfriend.”

“And you’re not the same woman who hid in the shadows because her dickhead of an ex told her she was abnormal for wanting passion in her relationship.” Maddie poked Abby in the chest. “There is nothing wrong with you. Play with Brody. Have fun with life. Just don’t fall for him.” Maddie glared at her. “I’m not kidding. He’s not allowed to break your heart.”

“What if I break his?”

Maddie shrugged. “That’s okay. His heartache becomes Flynn’s problem. But I can work around Flynn.” In a lower voice, she confessed, “He’s easy. Sex in a public place and he’s like putty in my hands.”

“You two.” Abby shook her head but couldn’t help laughing. Since no one had joined them yet, she confided, “Guess what else happened yesterday?”

“Oh, gossip. Tell me, tell me.”

“Beth asked if I was interested in Mike. She wanted to set me up with him.”

Maddie’s eyes widened. “She did not.”

“Did too.” Abby nodded. “But it’s more than Mike. I think there’s something seriously wrong with her and James.”

From the living room, Vanessa yelled, “Where’s my pomegranate juice?”

Abby rolled her eyes. “She can’t even binge properly.” In a louder voice she answered, “You’re having root beer, Big Foot. Live a little. And hold on.”

“We’ll talk about Beth later,” Maddie promised.

Abby nodded. She trudged back into the living room with drinks and tuned into the girls’ commentary on
Evil
Dead
. She made a mental note to ask Brody if he liked Bruce Campbell. Because if not, well, that might be a deal breaker.

Not really, but she’d make him work to prove it wasn’t. At the thought, she smiled and ate another strawberry.

Another long, shitty day at work. Why was it lately that the poor weather turned their clients into raving loonies? First on Monday, the guy who’d scheduled them to upgrade his bathroom fixtures had kept them waiting while he took a last, long shower. Then he conveniently met them, still wet in only a towel, and managed to drop it right in front of Flynn. Okay, that had been pretty funny, and the guy’s check more than made up for the hassle.

This morning a witchy mother with too many kids for her frayed patience blamed
Brody
when her kid cried—because Brody had taken away rubber ducky number three heading for a flush down the toilet. And this afternoon he’d had to go through another goddamn crawl space—the bane of every plumber’s existence—to figure out how to rough in the lines.

But he put all that behind him as he readied for his bowling date with Abby. And it was a date. They were meeting for bowling and to talk. For fun.

His heart raced, as always, at the thought of her. Damn, the three long days without her had felt like an eternity.
I
am
so
screwed.

He had no idea how to handle his obsession with the woman. And far be it for her to feel the same for him. She hadn’t once called or texted him. Instead, he’d had to text
her
to confirm the time of their date. He planned on calling it a date at least five times tonight to annoy the ever-living crap out of her. Or at least get her annoyed enough to transfer her raging energy into a few climaxes in bed. God the woman was hot.

He hummed to himself as he showered, dried off, and dressed in jeans and a casual sweater. “What do you think, Mutt?”

Even better, he and the dog had come to a new understanding. Mutt had accidentally jumped on his jewels one too many times, and Brody had had it. A newspaper against the dog’s ass and some tough talk had convinced him Brody meant business. Now Mutt sat calmly, his tail wagging and his tongue hanging out, as he watched Brody get ready for his
date
.

The doorbell rang, and Mutt raced to answer it, barking.

Brody frowned. He could have sworn Abby had texted back saying she’d meet him at the bowling alley.

“Hold on,” he yelled when the doorbell continued to ring. Not Abby. Seth, maybe?

He walked downstairs and ordered Mutt to sit. After waiting until the dog settled under
his
control, he opened the door.

And found his personal nightmare waiting for him.

Jeremy and Alan Singer, his brother and father, stood on his front porch.

They had decent-enough clothing, actually wearing jackets in the cold, which meant they weren’t rolling on the floor high or drunk. They looked a lot alike, both blond but rundown, gaunt, and typically bleary-eyed. Except on Alan it was from the drink. On Jeremy it had normally been from whatever he’d been snorting that day.

Brody just stood there staring at them.

“Uh, hi. Can we come in?” Jeremy asked. To Brody’s surprise, his brother’s eyes looked clear. Alan’s didn’t. No surprise there.

Brody stepped outside to join them and shut the door behind him. “No.”

“You’re such a rude little shit,” Alan sniped. “Ain’t got time for your father or brother, huh? You too good for us?” he sneered.

“Yeah, I am.” Brody kept his arms loosely at his sides, his adrenaline pumping. He wasn’t a kid anymore, could match Jeremy in a fight if he had to. His older brother looked thinner than he had been in a while, and while Jeremy was a few inches taller, Brody now had more muscle.

Alan didn’t count as a threat. The old man used words, not fists, to insult him and knock his self-esteem.
Been
there, done that.
Jeremy, however, had real skill when it came to leaving bruises in places that wouldn’t show.

Jeremy shook his head. “You know, Dad, maybe we should go. I’ll come back another time, Brody.”

Not sure what they were after, Brody didn’t want to play any more games. He just wanted them gone. “Just say what you came to say and leave.”

Alan scowled. “Boy, you forget your place. Tough guy with a fancy truck and a big job now. Can’t spare two minutes for your old man?”

“Fine. You have two minutes.”

Alan blinked, clearly not having expected that.

“Dad, maybe you should—” Jeremy started.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” Alan slapped Jeremy in the back of the head. “Quit sniveling. Be a man. Jesus, Jeremy, you’re acting like a little bitch. If I’d-a known you’d be like this sober, I’d have bought you a hit months ago.”

What was this about Jeremy being sober?

Jeremy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dad, just stop. Or better yet, go wait in the car.”

“Fuck that. Brody, we need a place to stay.”

“No, we don’t.”

Brody looked back and forth at them, confused and curious. “What’s going on? I haven’t seen either one of you in two years, since the last time you tried to shake me down.”

To his shock, Jeremy looked shamefaced.

Not so Alan. “If you were a real man instead of a pussy hiding behind a cell phone you never fucking answer, you might take pride in helping out your father. But you never could fight your own battles. Always had to suck up to them McCauleys for everything. Boy, they took you in ’cause they pitied you. Not ’cause you’re one of them. You poor, dumb shit.” Alan shook his head.

Brody refused to let old insecurities rise. “
And
…you’re done.” He turned to Jeremy, ignoring his swearing father. “And you? You here for a place to stay and money too?”

“No. I’m here to—”

“What the sensitive bastard is here to say is he’s sorry. Ain’t that right, you big pussy?” Alan teetered on his feet, and Brody saw he’d made a mistake. Alan was indeed drunk, just not wearing it. The man used to smell like a brewery, his stench enough to cause inebriation in anyone unfortunate enough to inhale him.

“Shit. I told you not to come with me. Go home.” Jeremy tried to nudge his father toward the porch stairs, but Alan took a swing at him instead. Jeremy ducked, and their father fell on his face on the porch. He burst out laughing and swearing, and Seth’s door opened.
Terrific.

“Brody, you okay, son?” Seth asked.

“
Son?
What?” his father slurred. “You sucker another poor family to take you in, boy? And you call
us
losers.”

“I’m fine, Seth,” Brody said over Alan. “Just some trash on my porch. Don’t worry. I’ll clean it up and get rid of it.”

“Okay.” Instead of going inside, Seth sat on his bench and smoked his pipe.

“Look, Brody,” Jeremy was saying. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think Dad would follow me. He’s high off his ass.”

“That’s new. The booze not cutting it anymore?”

Jeremy shook his head. “Guess not.”

Odd, because Jeremy and their father used to be drinking, thieving, and bullying buddies.

“I came here tonight to apologize. What he said is true,” Jeremy admitted. “I’m clean. Been that way for ten months. I’m just now getting my shit together. Taking responsibility to those I harmed and—”

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it.” His arm throbbed as if the bone had broken yesterday.

“Brody, it was the drugs, the booze. Well, and Dad. Not the best influence, you know?”

Older by ten years, Jeremy had always seemed larger than life to Brody. A huge bully who had beaten the shit out of him for as far back as he could remember. He’d never thought about Jeremy without that niggle of fear. When his father got tired of the McCauleys paying for Brody’s upkeep, he’d demand his son come home for a spell. And then he’d go off and get drunk and leave Brody to Jeremy’s creative care. Jeremy had been smart. Except for that one time, he’d rarely left marks that scarred or could be seen. After the arm, Pop and Bitsy had put a stop to Brody’s visits home for good.

But they never knew about the times his brother or father found him after school, when they’d shake him down for whatever he had on him for liquor or drugs. It hadn’t paid to keep a job during high school, not with his family making weekly withdrawals.

“I have nothing to say to you.” Brody clenched his fists by his sides. From inside the house he could hear Mutt whining. And the fact that Seth—a man he thought of as a cranky extension of his family—sat right next door and could hear everything, kept him from saying half of what he wanted to. God, he didn’t want anyone to know about this side of him. Not even Flynn knew the truth about Jeremy and Alan. Just that his family had often missed him and wanted him to visit. A load of shit, but it was worlds better than telling the guys he’d been born a mistake, that his sole purpose in life was to take abuse when dished out and lie, cheat, and steal for his “real family.”

“I was wrong.” Jeremy wouldn’t shut the fuck up. “I gave you a concussion. Black eyes, bruises. I broke your arm in two places, nearly killed you. And the tricks I used to play on you.” He swallowed. “I think about that every day. How I hurt you.”

“A few times,” Alan added as he rose unsteadily to his feet. “Not a big deal. It was all in fun, nothing serious. Remember that old handgun?” He guffawed and pointed at Brody. “Now that shit was funny. Boy, you pissed yourself you was so scared. And it wasn’t even loaded.”

Brody turned and reached for the door. “You aren’t out of here in the next five seconds, I’m calling the cops.”

A hand rested on his shoulder. “Wait. Don’t—”

He turned and decked Jeremy, hit his jaw so hard his brother went down and didn’t get up right away. Then he did the same to Alan when the bastard tried to smack him. His father didn’t get up at all.

“You come here again, I’ll fucking kill the both of you.
Get
out! Get your motherfucking asses out of my life
,” he roared, done with pretending he didn’t hate the sight of them. Of how they reduced him to that scared, needy little kid just by breathing. He was sweating and shaking. And so damn angry he wanted blood.

Jeremy wobbled as he stood and fingered his jaw. “I’m sorry. So sorry, Brody. I was so wrong, such a shit to you and you never deserved it.” The fucker had tears in his eyes. Well, too little, too late.

“Be sorry somewhere else. I hope you rot in hell,” he seethed before letting himself inside and slamming the door behind him.

Mutt whined as Brody leaned his back against the door and slid to the floor, doing his best to even his breathing and calm down. But nothing worked. Memories hit him hard, the way Jeremy’s large fists used to. He heard his father’s high-pitched cackle. Felt the fear overtake him, reducing him to that sobbing mess of a terrified kid. The first year with the McCauleys he’d slept on the floor under his bed, trying to keep out of sight. Until Flynn had started doing it too, so he wouldn’t have to be so alone. So scared.

Still shaking, Brody texted Abby and apologized for canceling. He promised they’d meet another time.

Mutt lay next to him and rested his head in Brody’s lap. And Brody did his best not to cry like the goddamn pussy they’d always accused him of being and clutched the dog tight.

***

A week later, Abby still hadn’t met up with Brody. And it was killing her. He hadn’t answered her calls but had at least texted her. Dealing with some personal issues, he’d said, and politely mentioned he’d call her soon. Not wanting to appear overeager or worried, she’d backed off. But seven days was seven too many. When she’d asked Maddie to question Flynn about Brody’s distance, he’d only said Brody was going through some stuff and needed space.

“Stuff? What is stuff?” she asked Maddie as they prepared dinner. “I mean, it’s one thing if he just doesn’t want to hang out anymore. I’m a big girl. I can take it. Can’t he just tell me in person?”

“I don’t know. Something’s off with him.” Maddie chewed her lip as she rinsed the lettuce for salad. “Flynn’s worried. Brody does his job. He smiles, makes jokes, but Flynn can tell there’s something wrong.” She paused. “I’m not supposed to say anything, so you didn’t hear this from me. Swear.”

“I swear.” Abby tried not to feel hurt that she’d been kicked to the curb. If Brody was dealing with something emotional, she wanted to be supportive. “Come on. Tell me.”

“Well, Flynn said Brody’s been like this a few times in his life. I mean, he and Flynn are super tight. They’ve done everything together since they were in kindergarten. Brody grew up with the McCauleys.”

“Why?”

“Flynn won’t say much, but apparently Brody’s biological family are lower than scum. Flynn and his brothers never knew much about the Singers growing up, only to avoid them if they spotted them. But Brody would visit his dad and brother—I think—every now and then over the years. And every time, he’d withdraw into himself after. So Flynn’s betting that his family contacted him. But Brody won’t say. Flynn said when Brody gets likes this, he normally gives him space, and in a few days Brody will snap out of it.”

Abby didn’t like the situation at all. She’d come to care for Brody—okay, she liked him more than was healthy, she admitted. She wanted to help. “I won’t say a word. Thanks. I’ll just give him space, like I’ve been doing. And hey, if he decides to blow off what we had going, no problem.” She shrugged, doing her level best to convince Maddie she meant it.

She must have done a good job because Maddie blew out a breath of relief. “Oh, good. I was worried you might be falling for him. He’s so charming, great in bed—your words, not mine—then add in he’s funny and he likes you. The real you. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

You
got
that
right.
They ate dinner, and Vanessa joined them after coming back from her run. She spent the time bitching about her last date with some dullard named John, a guy who had bored her nearly to death while talking about himself for their entire night out.

“The nerve. He wants to go out again. I swear to you. I think I got in the words
Hello
and
thanks
for
dinner
the entire night. But I can tell you his golf score, his income, that he has three houses, and loves sampling wines.” Vanessa scrunched her nose. “Ugh. Why me?”