Like the Back of My Halo

by Hutchinson, Heidi

  “I don't understand you.” Brady gave in first. “You seemed to have had your life all ready to go a couple weeks ago. Why change everything now?”

  Ah, yes. Well that was before his kiss had made her realize how infinitely inadequate her life was. Though she couldn't tell him.

  Or maybe she could.

  “If I tell you, will you tell me your reason?” she challenged.

  His jaw ticked and his eyes shifted to the travelers around them. For a moment, she believed he wasn't going to agree. But he surprised her.

  “I was trying to avoid you.”

  She suspected his answer might be shocking, but she hadn't anticipated how much they would hurt. Ouch. A zinger right in the gut.

  “Well, that's interesting because I was trying to avoid you,” she replied dryly. Which was truth in part. His eyes snapped back to hers.

  “So...” He pressed his lips together and nodded once. “We were both trying to avoid the other.”

  “Yep.”

  “And here we are... failing epically.”

  “Appears that way.”

  Brady chuckled as his chin dropped to his chest. He looked up at her sheepishly. “We're good at this.”

  A laugh bubbled out of her because she agreed with him. Weren't they the oddest pair?

  The line moved again and the two men standing behind them didn't stop when they should've stopped. They bumped into her and she lost her balance slightly. Brady moved his body in between her and them, casting a side-eye at them with clear meaning no matter what language they spoke. His imposing form garnered a hasty one step retreat.

  Lo rolled her eyes upwards with the intent of teasing him about his brutish behavior only to find his mouth at her eye level. It gave her pause, how close he was to her. She was sweaty and gross and he was none of those things. Especially the gross part. She wondered if he'd notice if she sniffed his shirt. She'd developed a curious addiction to whatever cologne or aftershave he used after sleeping on his shoulder for two hours and breathing it in the entire time.

  “Why are you smiling now?” Brady asked.

  Lo shrugged. Brady made her shrug a lot. “I don't know. I guess I find you interesting.”

  Brady's frown deepened and he stepped closer to her again. “What's so interesting about me?”

  Everything.

  The line moved ahead again and it was finally their turn. Which was good because Lo was getting really tired of losing herself in Brady Samson's eyes (said no woman ever).

  Brady began speaking to the attendant in Spanish and Lo realized she had been right, she was not fluent. At all.

  “I am sweaty. I am short. I smell bad.”

  The attendant turned around to get their keys and Brady glanced down at her. “What are you saying?”

  “Oh,” Lo sighed. “I remind myself of my humanity when I start getting a big head.”

  His eyes scanned her face while his lips played with the hint of a smile. The attendant returned before he could reply and handed Brady the keys while giving him rapid fire instructions on where to go.

  “I'm glad you said you're not afraid of things that cause bodily harm at high velocity,” Brady said with a grin, slipping the keys into his pocket, and taking Lo's hand again.

  She stumbled along behind him, trying desperately to keep up with his long strides. This whole holding-her-hand-while-moving-through-crowds-thing was beginning to get old. Not the hand holding part, that was actually really nice. It was the feeling like a rag-doll that made it degrading.

  “I can keep up,” she declared, yanking her hand out of his, determined to prove it irrevocably. Brady turned around to look at her just in time for her to run smack into a cement pylon.

  Pain shot through her face and into her skull. One hand automatically went to the focal point of the pain but got lost along the way and decided to pushed her hair back. Her legs argued about which one should be moving and in what direction.

  “I'm okay,” she stated, waving a hand. Brady's blurry form hovered in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, trying to guide her steps again.

  “Holy shit,” he hissed. “Lo, you're bleeding.”

  Her hands went to her face, where the pain radiated. “What? No way.” Oh. Yep. Blood. She touched her nose tenderly and flinched. “My nose hurts,” she said, peering up at Brady's concerned face.

  Brady kept hold of her and looked around frantically. A security guard came over to them and Brady spoke more Spanish. Lo tried to keep up, but she was incredibly distracted by the hurt emanating from the center of her face.

  Ten minutes later, she was seated on a bench outside with an ice pack pressed to her face, wrapped in a shirt from Brady's bag—the ice pack was in the shirt, not her. The real tragedy of this situation was she had one of his shirts pressed to her face, but her nose was so swollen, she couldn't smell his yummy goodness.

  She eyed the security guard who stood beside her like a sentry. He'd been appointed to watch over her while Brady retrieved their vehicle. Apparently he was over trying to navigate her through the airport. Not that she blamed him. She'd count herself lucky if he came back to pick her up.

  An overly used and abused Land Rover pulled up to the curb side and the security guard lifted her by an elbow, guiding her towards it. Brady hopped out and opened her door.

  “I didn't break my legs!” she yelped when he bent as if to pick her up. He stepped back and she hoisted herself into the passenger seat. As soon as she was settled and Brady was jogging around to the driver's side, she flipped down the visor to inspect her face in the mirror. Except there wasn't one.

  “Awesome,” she muttered.

  “What?” Brady put the Rover into gear and merged with the traffic.

  “I wanted to see the damage for myself.”

  He looked over at her and she knew he was going to lie.

  “It's not that bad.”

  See? Lies.

  “Whatever,” she said, too fed up with herself to argue the point.

  Really, how ridiculous was she? She couldn't even get from one side of the airport to the other without getting lost, tripped, or broken. This was the absolute worst way to start her new job. Brady would probably blog about it, get a bunch of hits, and beat her before she got started.

  They stopped off at a local grocery store and Brady gave her very clear instructions not to leave the car. She tried to roll her eyes but it hurt too much, so she nodded mutely.

  While he was inside, she tried to plan out her first post. They had five days in Nicaragua. On day four they would be told their next destination. By day five they had to have their blog posted, complete with pictures of the equipment Shane promised would be waiting for them at the house in Hacienda Iguana.

  Lo was nervous not having packed the equipment herself. Clarke had reassured her it would be fine and she didn't need to worry.

  Still.

  Worry was happening.

  What if her injuries prevented her from surfing? She disregarded the thought immediately. Nothing would stop her from surfing.

  Brady returned shortly and loaded a couple of boxes into the back. He swung into the driver's seat and gave her a once over.

  “All set?”

  She shrugged. What else was left?

  ***

  Brady

  The two and a half hour drive to the NSR beach house in Hacienda Iguana was not as exciting as he had hoped. He'd been told the roads were rough and a 4-wheel drive was recommended. Hence the Rover. But it must have been outdated information because these roads were nice. Which was good, he'd feel terrible going over rough terrain with Lo and her broken nose.

  It was definitely broken. She was going to argue with him, but Kip's nose had been broken enough times for Brady to know what one looked like.

  Poor girl, she had run right into the cement pylon.

  “You're smiling again,” she said darkly from the seat beside him.

  “Sorry.”

  “You're picturing it ag
ain, aren't you?”

  He tried to look sorry, but her scowl almost made him laugh out loud. She had ditched the ice pack a while back. The bleeding had stopped and the bruises were starting to show around her eyes. He felt bad for her, and he would have felt worse, except she was so dang tough he just couldn't muster any extra pity.

  “We're almost there,” he said instead.

  He found the beach house easily and parked the Land Rover outside. The house had four bedrooms and slept eight people, but since it was just the two of them, they had their pick. It was too nice a house in Brady's opinion. He would've been happy in a shack, but he hadn't made the reservations. Also, sharing a shack with Lo might make things a little too... cozy. Especially when he was trying to keep his distance.

  He set to work getting the groceries unpacked and starting dinner. Lo wandered off to work on her face. They'd had a long day and the sun was just getting ready to go down.

  He focused on making tacos and did his best to ignore the romantic atmosphere he'd suddenly found himself in. Gorgeous beach house; ocean out the front door; sun setting over the water; tacos.

  The focus of this week was to surf, try out the equipment, blog about it, win all the things.

  It was not supposed to be about how green Lo's eyes were, or how funny she was, and how brave, and weird. It was about—

  “Tacos.”

  He turned around to catch Lo up on her toes, back to him, as she lifted up the lid of the pot where he was keeping the shredded chicken.

  She'd changed out of her travel clothes and into jean shorts and a long-sleeved tee that hung off one shoulder. Her hair was down again and hung in a mess of layers.

  “How's the face?” he asked.

  She turned around, revealing her two black eyes and swollen nose.

  “It's totally broken.”

  “It totally is,” he replied. “Does it hurt?”

  “So much.” She twisted her sleeves together as she sorta bounced in place hopefully. “But the tacos might make me feel better.”

  If she were his girl, he would be kissing her right now. His arms would be around her, his hands would be in her hair...

  He sucked in a deep breath. “Let's eat then. I made the same amount that I do at home for five guys, so I hope you're hungry.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “You are about to see something uncomfortably spectacular, Brady Samson.” Grabbing a plate he'd set out, she dove right in. “When this day started, I wouldn't have been so tempted to make a glutton out of myself in front of you. But I'm pretty sure I have reached a level of shame where nothing else is really going to hurt me.”

  “Lo?”

  She looked at him over her shoulder, two black eyes and swollen nose and it did nothing to diminish her beauty.

  “Yeah?”

  “I'm sorry about your nose,” he said.

  “Okay...”

  “And I'm sorry we stole tacos from you and then ran away.”

  A small smile touched her lips and she set her plate down. “What's this about, Brady?”

  He let out a frustrated sigh. “I promise that's it. I will do my best to keep you from being hurt any more. Whether it's food related or running into cement pylons.”

  “The pylon was my fault—”

  “I should have held on tighter.” He should never have let go of her hand. “Next time, I will.”

  7

  Lo

  “What in the actual hell?”

  Lo frowned at Tessa's angry words. Tessa leaned closer to the screen.

  “Did he hit you?! I swear to God, I will rip off every single body part he considers sacred and light them on fire—”

  “What's going on?” Spencer's face appeared. “Holy shit!”

  “No, you guys stop!” Lo objected, remembering her broken nose. In retrospect, she should have told them ahead of time before signing into Skype. “I ran into a cement pylon at the airport.”

  Tessa and Spencer sat back down, sharing a chair in front of their computer. They both blinked at her like they misheard what she'd just said.

  Lo sighed. “Not my proudest moment, but it wasn't Brady's fault.”

  “What wasn't my fault?” Brady asked entering the living room. He came to stand behind the couch so he could look over her shoulder at the computer sitting in front of her on the low table.

  “Oh, my face,” Lo explained.

  “It was kind of my fault,” Brady said, surprising her.

  Tessa sat forward, her eyes narrowing. “Explain.”

  “She kept getting lost in the foot traffic, so I was holding her hand—”

  Tessa's face immediately melted into wistful idealism. “You were holding her hand?”

  Lo pursed her lips at her friend's sudden change in demeanor.

  Brady bent in half and rested his forearms along the back of the couch. One of those glorious forearms brushed Lo's shoulder. She sat forward to get out of the Bubble of Brady. The Brady Bubble. The bubble of yummy Brady goodness where nothing ever hurt and everything smelled good.

  Yep, she had the stupid.

  “Well, I was trying to. But she let go of my hand. I turned around right away, afraid to lose her again, and saw her jog face-first into the pylon.”

  Tessa's head tilted to the side and her eyes were round with adoration. “You were afraid to lose her?”

  “Yes, because I'm so good at navigation you know.” Lo's sarcasm could not be mistaken. She huffed in exasperation. “I pulled my hand away, it was all my fault.”

  “I told you already,” Brady's deep voice was right there in her ear. She could see him in the small square screen to the upper left of her monitor. His mouth was so close to her, if she turned towards him, she'd hit his lips with her lips. Her heart began to pound a lovely staccato beat at the very thought. Super helpful.

  “I should have held on tighter. Next time... I will.”

  Lo stared at Spencer's eyes, willing her say something, anything. Something uncomfortable and awkward to break this moment. To make it not real. Spencer, for her part, lifted her eyebrows and rolled her lips inward, trying to hide her smile.

  “Okay, thank you,” Lo said softly, needing him to go away now. Right now.

  He stood up and she closed her eyes in relief. But they flew open the instant his hand curled around the back of her neck and gave it a gentle squeeze. Helingered for a moment, as did his silence, and he walked away.

  As soon as he had left the room, Lo lifted one finger at her friends, whose mouths were both hanging open. Lo reached into her laptop bag and pulled out her headphones. The second she plugged them in, both Tessa and Spencer exploded with words and exclamations.

  “Oh my!” Spencer waved a hand at her face.

  “I love him,” Tessa declared. “Not for me, for you. I love him for you.”

  “That's...” Lo cleared her throat, unable to say what she wanted to say for fear Brady would hear her. “Well, it's...unnecessary is what it is.” She finally gave into the nervous laugh that wanted to escape. “He made me tacos,” she said as quietly as she could.

  Tessa and Spencer squealed.

  “Guys,” Lo tried to calm them down. “You have got to stop.”

  “Why?” Tessa asked with a petulant frown. “Why do we have to stop?”

  “You know why,” Lo warned, arching an eyebrow as threateningly as she could.

  “Because Miller Boden is a narcissistic bee-otch, is not a reason,” Tessa said.

  “Just...” Lo tried to find the words to explain what she knew in her heart. “I'm not ready to find out if my heart can break again, okay?”

  Tessa and Spencer both sobered. They exchanged a look Lo knew was going to cost her.

  “LoLo,” Spencer said softly, leaning forward. “That excuse starts to wear thin when someone like Brady Samson is involved.”

  Lo grimaced. “Guys, he called me a mantrap.”

  “Have you seen you?” Spencer asked seriously.

  “What's that supposed to me
an?” Lo asked, affronted.

  “You're hot. You look like a secret agent sent to bring about the destruction of man by simply bringing them to their knees. Of course he called you a mantrap. It was obviously his only method of defense.”

  Lo scrunched up her face. “I don't like this subject. Time to switch.”

  Tessa took a deep breath and launched into her latest story about the cute doctor she had been talking to, only to find out he was actually bald and wore a very convincing hair piece.

  “Top of the line,” Spencer confirmed. “I saw it with my own eyes. Looked real to me, too.”

  “So what's the problem?” Lo asked. “I didn't know you disliked bald men.”

  “It's the principal of the thing!” Tessa exclaimed. “If he's willing to lie about his hair, what else will he lie about?”

  “That's actually a really good point,” Lo murmured, grateful they weren't talking about Brady anymore. She couldn't handle it right now.

  ***

  Brady

  Brady went through the beach house making sure all the lights were off and the doors were locked. It was a gated community and he knew they would be fine, but for some reason he was having trouble sleeping; walking the house seemed like the best option to settle the worries keeping him awake.

  The full moon reflected brightly off the pool out back. He paused, sliding his hands up the wooden frame of the glass door and flexing his back muscles. Travel usually made him anxious, but this was different.

  The ocean breaking in the distance interrupted the steady tick of the watch on his wrist, otherwise the world was silent. Maybe it was because he hadn't been in the water in a while. Maybe a few clean peaks would clear his head and help him relax again.

  ***

  Lo

  This was the most crowded private beach Lo had ever seen. Not that she could really blame them. The waves were pristine. Which was why she was out there at dawn. Technically, just before dawn.