Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3) (10 page)

First, she tensed, but then she relaxed at his suggestion. Good. He was trying to establish a middle ground between nothing and fucking like maniacs. They were making headway whether she realized it or not. And he wasn’t talking about her letting down her guard when he comforted her. Nope. He was talking about the fact that she answered the door at all. Or that she let him in when she could have just as easily slammed it in his face.

“When I get back, I’ll heat up the Thai food, pour us some peasant champagne, and we’ll see where things go, hmmm?”

She ignored the ‘where things go’ comment, barely. With her thumb pointing back over her shoulder, she almost smiled. “Thai food? For real? Why the hell didn’t you say so?”

Hooking the collar and leash onto the excited pup was a challenge, but he got it done. Giving her a fast once-over to be sure she was okay with him stepping out, he thought to ask, “How long do you need?”

The pink in her cheeks turned to flaming red. In a flash, he got it. She wasn’t used to someone treating her like a woman. Knowing what he did about her traumatic marriage and its aftermath, he suspected she’d never experienced anyone caring even a little how she felt. About anything.

A burst of happiness fired off inside him when she attempted a brief smile. “Well, now that you told me there’s Thai in the kitchen, I’ll hurry. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe twenty minutes?”

“You’re on,” he quipped. “Now, lock the door behind me, and I’ll go tire this big lug out.” He patted the dog’s head and gave a quick tug on the leash to move him along.

At the door, he turned around and fixed her with a serious look. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Before she could react, he turned away.

“Come on, George. Let’s go get a run on. Give our lady a chance to get her head straight.”

In the bathroom, Heather switched on the water, pushed her messy bun into a shower cap, and stripped. Thank god, her hair was clean, or she’d be reaching for the shampoo instead of quickly dashing beneath the stream of warm water to rinse off.

Gnashing her teeth, she let the water caress her skin and willed her emotions to settle down. Eventually, he was going to ask her what just happened, and she wasn’t sure what to say.

Hell. She wasn’t entirely sure
what
all that was about. One second, it was business as usual. Maybe a touch off due to the strangeness of the situation but nothing she couldn’t handle. And then that weird stretching sensation followed by … nothing. Just total relief. She hadn’t felt that way in years.

And now … well, shit. All the stuff she’d clung to for so long no longer seemed to fit, and it was freaking her out. The fierce tension and need for absolute control she relied took a hike, leaving her vulnerable. And uncertain.

Laying in Brody’s arms, listening to his deep breathing, she’d felt safe. His embrace created a sanctuary against years of anguish and helped spark a flicker of hope deep inside.

She loved her parents and brother. But despite the march of time, they were so caught up in her agony that she could barely deal with them at this time of year. Brody knew the whole dirty truth. Because he was also a conflicted soul with too much bullshit in his head, she didn’t feel the need to slap on a happy face so everyone else was fine while she slowly died inside. He knew she’d be a mess today but came anyway, surprising her with his understanding.

Out of the shower, she was toweling off when her mind simply went blank. It was a very odd feeling. There always seemed to be this endless loop of sadness and horror queued up and ready to go inside her head. It was why she kept busy.

Clutching the damp towel to her chest, Heather straightened and looked at her reflection in the steamy mirror. Wiping away the condensation, she examined the face peering back at her. First glance told her everything looked as it usually did. And then she made eye contact and it hit her. Travis divulged during a family therapy session that he couldn’t handle seeing her dead eyes and said he hated Jason for that the most. For taking the light from her expression.

But right here and right now, something different was happening around her eyes. They didn’t have that sad emptiness she was used to seeing. Unusually colored, her mom called the hue dark bronze because brown didn’t do justice to the soft golden accents, Heather’s eyes were more like mud these last years. Hollow. Dull. Lifeless.

Only that wasn’t what she was seeing as she leaned closer for a better look. Instead of vacant, her expression was lighter. It seemed … spirited.

She jerked upright. Spirited? Dismissing the thought, she went back to dressing. Ten minutes later, she was puttering around the kitchen when she heard Brody’s phone ring. Oh, no. He must have left it on the table after taking that damn selfie. Scurrying quickly into the living room, she peered at the screen and startled when a woman’s face, a beautiful redhead wearing a cowboy hat and the name ‘Meghan,’ flashed.

Without the buffer of her emotional armor, she was unprepared for the mess of reactions slamming into her. Meghan? Who the fuck was Meghan? Oh, my god. Did he have a girlfriend somewhere else? It was New Year’s Eve, after all. Maybe this woman was calling him because they were in a relationship. I mean, shit. Her contact picture wasn’t some realtor’s headshot. Nope. What she was seeing was a photograph way more intimate than that.

Intimate? Intimate? No, no, no, no, no. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t have these questions and feelings where Brody was concerned. Her knee-jerk reaction of gloom, doom, and betrayal was uncalled for. He wasn’t Jason. And she might be more than a little confused at the moment about the way their unusual relationship was progressing, but that didn’t mean he was out to fuck with her. Fuck her … yes. Fuck with her? No. He wasn’t like that. And besides, her gut instinct told her that loners like Brody didn’t play games. He was the type who couldn’t be bothered.

“Don’t go there,” she muttered. “Just don’t go there.” Her ex-husband saw to it she’d forever have this fucked-up reminder of the worst day of her life. The completely overwrought behavior she’d exhibited earlier and the manic frenzy she’d been in all day illustrated her point. But be that as it may, Brody’s unexpected presence, and the way he dealt with what he knew was a tough time for her, cut through her emotional armor like a chainsaw through whipped cream. Little bits and pieces flew everywhere, making for some interesting mayhem, but somehow, this guy found a way around her defenses. She owed him the benefit of the doubt because, after all, she was the one insisting on the no-strings-attached relationship.

She was back in the kitchen, fussing with the flowers he’d brought and trying to arrange the ridiculous bouquet into some sort of acceptable presentation when she heard George pawing at the door. Determined to act normal, the smile that she’d forced became a real one when she found Brody and her dog wrestling like kids out in the hallway.

“What are you doing?” She chuckled. Both heads popped up and stared at her when she spoke. Both blinked at the same time. Brody with his bright bluish eyes and George with his clear brown, happy puppy eyes.

Jumping off Brody, who’d been pinned to the floor, the mutt dashed for her legs, winding around her with enthusiastic abandon.

Struggling to his feet, Brody drawled, “What the hell do you feed this beast? He never tires out!”

Her mouth curved. “Well, I pour the end of the coffee pot over his kibble every morning. Maybe too much caffeine?”

Watching Brody stumble to a halt with a look of absolute horror on his face was more than just a little bit funny. She was just kidding, but it was going to take a minute for him to realize that. And why? Because teasing, flirting, and generally messing around was undiscovered territory for them.

She saw the lightbulb go on over his head. “Nice try, lady. You don’t drink coffee.”

Huh. He remembered. But he was also wrong. “I do now.” She gave him a lopsided grin. “Some asshole got me hooked on Starbucks.”

He pushed her into the apartment and shut the door as his laughter filled the air. “Honey, that sugary flavored Mocha-latte-chino shit you drink is not coffee!”

“I beg your pardon,” she answered with feigned outrage.

Slinging an arm around her neck, he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. Walking them into the kitchen, he teased, “Plus, I see no evidence of a coffeemaker on your counter.”

Nudging him in the ribs with her elbow, she smirked. “That’s where you’re wrong Mr. Know-it-all.” Going to the big cabinet next to the fridge, she pulled it open and waved her hand with a flourish. “Observe, Mr. Jensen. One brand spanking new Mr. Coffee. Complete with a programmable option for those early mornings when getting to work on time is a challenge.”

His eyes lit up with amusement as he replied. “Uh-huh. And the fact that the cord is still factory wrapped indicates you’ve never plugged it in.” Then his teasing eased off and a proprietary edge was reflected in his voice. “You plan to entertain? Got someone in your life who drinks coffee?”

Heather literally gawked at him. The coffee pot was new, and never used. She’d been browsing Target, saw a sale display, and picked up the fancy brew machine on impulse. Giving him her very best deadpan smirk, she half shrugged and nodded her head toward a cupboard. “The coffee blend you like so much is in the cabinet.” That was the only admission he was getting.

He chortled at her evasive non-answer. “Dunkin’ Donuts?”

“Of course.”

“Well, aren’t you a good girl,” he quipped with a sexy drawl.

Rolling her eyes, she gave him a hard shove. “What is it with men these days and that whole good girl-baby girl thing?”

The smoldering look he gave her made Heather’s breath stick in her chest.

“We’ll work on baby girl and see where it goes.”

Ho-ly cow. He was looking at her as if he was about to swallow her whole.

He didn’t shrug so much as puff up. “But when it comes to being good …” He crowded close and ran a hand across the curve of her ass. “Girl … you got that one in spades.”

H
UGELY RELIEVED WHEN
he got back from walking the dog and finding her still in the groove, he’d be fucking lying if he didn’t admit to being worried she’d boot him to the curb once she regrouped.

But dinner went amazingly well. Nothing like a takeout feast to make things easy. No muss. No fuss. A trashcan full of Styrofoam containers, a little heating up, and a bit of presentation was all it took to create a decent meal.

They’d eaten together plenty of times. Mostly in silence. Food was a requirement for them. All that high-intensity screwing required fuel. But tonight was different. Careful to keep the arousal on the down low, he was determined to make this encounter different from the others. He didn’t want it to be about getting laid. They already had that shit covered. Now, it was time to see what else they shared besides body fluids.

The chitchat was light. Nothing heavy. Mostly current events. The only time they’d deviated from what felt like carefully approved subjects was when he asked why she didn’t put up a Christmas tree.

Her answer was short, sweet, and left very little wiggle room for a discussion. “I don’t feel a part of all that while it’s happening.”