Be Careful, It's My Heart

by Kait Nolan

  “Oh, there’s a pool on what it really is. I’m thought to have an inside track since the bulk of the materials have been purchased through us.”

  Brody pressed a hand to the small of her back and nudged her into the darkened building. “And what do you think it is?”

  “Well, he’s dropped a small fortune on high end bathroom fixtures, so my money is on hotel. There are also rumors about a spa. And a conference center. And Sally Forester said she gave him a tour of some other downtown property last week.”

  Brody switched on the flashlight app on his phone, holding it high.

  “No electricity yet?” she asked.

  “There is, but I’m not really supposed to be bringing you in here, so I don’t wanna draw attention. C’mon.” He grabbed her hand, tugged her along. “Watch your step.”

  Tyler dug her phone out, added its light to the cause as they walked. “So which is it? Or are you going to keep me in the dark despite this tantalizing preview?”

  Brody paused and held out his pinky. “Do you solemnly swear not to reveal that which I tell to you tonight?”

  “You’re invoking the pinky swear?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Grinning, she linked her finger with his. “I do so swear. Now spill it.”

  “Well, there are elements of truth to all of it. Hotel, spa, and conference facilities. Small ones anyway. He’s wanting to provide some competition for the Alluvian.” Located in Greenwood, right at the edge of the Mississippi Delta, the Alluvian was a high-end boutique hotel attached to a spa and the Viking Cooking School.

  Tyler’s eyes lit with interest. “Really? That is interesting. That kind of place will be a great draw for Wishful.”

  “Exactly. High end exec retreats. Bachelor and bachelorette parties. Romantic getaways,” he said. “He’s calling it the Babylon.”

  “Babylon, huh? Is that going to include hanging gardens?”

  “Now you’re getting the idea. On the roof. It’ll be our own Wonder of the South when we’re through. C’mon.” He grabbed her hand again and pulled her through the ground floor of the space. “Dining room through there with a view opening up to the green and the fountain. Bar here. You can see they’ve already hung the pendant lights. Just waiting for the globes.”

  Tyler peeked under the protective contractor paper at the expanse of dark, glossy mahogany that made up the top of the bar. “Yeah, they’ve ordered some really fabulous swanky globes that, all together, amount to two months of mortgage payments. Should be in next week sometime.”

  “Front desk will be off to this side here. It’s not been built yet, but you can see where it’s roughed in.” He tugged her up the wide expanse of the stairs. “Under all the paper, these are Cocobolo rosewood. Polished and gorgeous. And he’s got a metalwork artist on tap designing the banisters out of wrought iron. Then up here we’ve got two floors of rooms, all named after Mississippi blues musicians.”

  “That’s a nice touch. Let me guess, the swankiest of the swank is the B.B. King Suite?”

  “You know it.” Brody pulled her through the door, started gesturing. “A bed the size of an ocean liner will go there. A little sitting room there. Desk by the window. And through here is a tub you could swim laps in.”

  The tub itself had already been installed, as had the multi-head, glassed-in shower. It was this that Tyler made a beeline for, slipping through the glass door to turn a circle on the travertine tile. “God, I’ve had fantasies about this shower set up.”

  Brody was having one now, his brain more than happy to peel off all her clothes and turn on the water, until all that golden hair was plastered to her head and her curves were tantalizingly softened by billowing steam, such that he had to explore with his hands, his mouth…

  She was looking at him, her eyes full of awareness in the dim light.

  I could kiss her, he thought. Just step in and back her up against the tiles.

  And then what? She wasn’t just an itch to be scratched, no matter what kind of chemistry still flared between them. He was leaving in a matter of weeks.

  He cleared his throat and shifted, squashing the fantasy that years hadn’t passed and they weren’t two different people now. “It’s getting late. I should get you to your car.”

  Tyler said nothing on their way downstairs. The silence between them felt heavy with unsaid things. It stretched and grew as they made their way from the job site to the parking lot behind Edison Hardware and her truck. He waited quietly while she dug out the keys, opened the door and tossed in her purse.

  “G’night then,” he said.

  “Good night,” she said.

  He started to turn away.

  “Brody.”

  He shifted back to look at her, his heart beginning to thump.

  But she said only, “Thanks for the tour,” then slid into the truck and slammed the door between them.

  6 Weeks 'Til Show

  Tyler was nervous.

  She was never nervous.

  But tonight… Tonight was the rehearsal of the cast party engagement scene. Tonight she’d kiss Brody. Kissing Tucker wouldn’t have been a big deal. Like kissing her brother. Just exactly the kind of 1950s TV peck the role called for. She wouldn’t feel anything kissing Tucker.

  But Brody... There was too much history, too much chemistry between them. She’d seen it in his face that night at the hotel. Yet he hadn’t acted on it. And part of her had been grateful for the fact that he hadn’t pushed the issue and made her confront this.

  Now, however, she’d have to confront it head on. With an audience. Awesome.

  It would be fine. She would be fine. It was just a scene in a play. She was just a character. She popped a breath mint and stepped into the auditorium.

  As if she were equipped with some kind of Brody-centric GPS system, her gaze zeroed in on him standing to the side of the orchestra pit, chatting with the strings section. Her heart leapt at the sight of him and her palms began to sweat.

  I am so, so screwed.

  “Our Judy has arrived, so let’s get to this,” called Nate.

  “Showtime,” Tyler muttered.

  She dropped her bag into one of the front row seats and headed up the steps to her place on stage for the cast party scene. It began easily enough. There were lines to remember, dance moves, and lyrics. And then Piper-Betty went off in a snit and Myles-Bob stared after her in flustered confusion. It was time.

  Tyler delivered her line invoking the announcement of the phony engagement, thinking, Is this really absolutely necessary?

  Brody played his role, turning to their pianist and requesting his attention grabber. It was hard to remember that this was a part as he turned and called everyone’s attention to them. Nerves skittered along Tyler’s spine as all eyes turned to them. These were the same looks that had been following them for the last month since Brody walked back into Wishful and into her life. They all wanted to know how this was going to go down.

  I am a professional, she told herself for the millionth time.

  He announced the engagement. They hugged. Tyler was actually glad of Brody’s arm around her because she wasn’t quite sure she could stand steadily just now. Her smile felt brittle as congratulations and hugs were given. Piper-Betty squeezed her hard between delivering her lines. Tyler appreciated the support and wished she could make a swift exit stage-anywhere. As she turned to Brody, Piper seemed a little fiercer and more serious than necessary as she played the protective big sister, then made her exit to help Emma with champagne.

  Tyler didn’t hear the next lines. Not until their General Waverly piped up, “Well don’t just stand there. Aren’t you going to kiss the bride?”

  And then Brody looked at her. “Oh! Yes, sir.”

  He swept in, dropped a quick, chaste peck, exactly as he was supposed to. But he didn’t pull off the goofy, cheerful smile as he looked down at her, eyes going dark.

  “Yes, sir,” he said again—only this time, it was more of a gro
wl.

  All the air was promptly sucked out of the room. Brody framed her face, blocking her view of the others and ensuring her focus was only on him. As if she could possibly think of anyone else. One thumb brushed along the arch of her cheekbone in a caress that made her knees liquefy. His mouth settled over hers, warm and sure and desperately, deliciously familiar. Tyler didn’t give a damn about the part, the performance. It took everything she had to hold herself still and non-reactive, waiting for him to finish.

  But Brody didn’t finish. He used his mouth to strip away every layer of her defenses with a brutal gentleness that left her wrecked and aching. Everything and everyone faded away except for him. He devastated her. Sliding right back into the chasm he’d left in her heart like a key into a lock. On a helpless, needy sound, she surrendered, damning herself and him as she ran her hands up his chest, into his hair and held on, as if sheer force of will would change the truth and hold him here as it hadn’t before.

  Cheers and wolf whistles broke out. She could feel Brody’s lips curve, tasted his half-laugh before he eased back, and wanted to weep. With every inch, reality intruded. All these years, all the effort to put him out of her mind, out of her heart—undone with one kiss. Defenseless, she stared at Brody, waiting for her system to level. But her heart continued to pound, her stomach twisting into slippery knots. Something hot and hard lodged behind her breastbone, and she couldn’t quite breathe past it.

  What have I done?

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he whispered.

  The tears spilled over, hot and fast. Mortified, Tyler shoved away from him, stumbling back. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

  “Tyler—”

  She had vague impressions of shock, concern.

  Out, out. I have to get out.

  Piper stepped toward her, but Tyler spun away, desperate to escape. “I can’t do this,” she repeated. And she ran.

  ~*~

  Shit!

  Brody’s head spun, his world-class balance shaken. He’d gone well beyond what was called for by the part. Not on purpose, but at his first taste, he’d fallen into the kiss, into her. So he’d gone with it, pouring out everything he felt, everything he couldn’t say, because he realized he would never get enough of this woman. Brody expected to see heat in her eyes—temper and lust in equal measure. And maybe, after how she’d kissed him back, something of the way she used to look at him. But she’d looked…utterly devastated. She’d cried. He was caught somewhere between shock and feeling like ten kinds of ass as she made a running exit stage left.

  What the hell just happened?

  The backstage door banged open as she hit the metal bar and kept going. The sound echoed through the cavernous space like a gunshot and jarred him into action. Brody made it to the door before it had relatched, slamming into the alley behind the theater. There was only one way she could go, so he took off at a sprint. He burst out on Front Street and veered to the right, knowing instinctively she’d head for the fountain on the green. She was already two blocks ahead.

  God, he’d forgotten how fast she was.

  “Tyler!”

  She poured on the speed that had won countless track meets in high school, as if she was running from hell hounds instead of him. And that just added a layer of pissed off to the confusion and concern. Brody lengthened his stride, long legs eating up the distance between them. Tyler darted across Main Street and into the park. He raced after her, narrowly avoiding being clipped by an SUV that laid on the horn and swerved with a squeal of tires.

  Tyler skidded to a halt and whirled at the sound. But the fear on her face vanished as he cornered her.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Not a chance. You’ve never walked out of a rehearsal in your life. What the hell happened back there?” he demanded.

  Somewhere during her escape, she’d stopped crying and found a thread of temper. Color rode high in her cheeks and her eyes sparked as she glared at him. Thank God for it. He could deal with anger and relished the idea of a fight to clear the air.

  “Why couldn’t you just stay away? Why did you have to come back here and ruin everything?”

  What kind of alternate reality had he landed in? “Why are you pissed at me, Tyler? It was your decision.”

  She gaped at him. “What was my decision? You left, Brody.”

  “Yes, I left. And you didn’t follow.”

  “How was I supposed to follow? You didn’t say a word. Not where you were going, not why, not goodbye. God, I worried myself sick for months before somebody caught wind that you hadn’t died in a ditch somewhere. And I got it. I got that it hurt to stay here after your folks died. I got that you needed space to figure things out. But did you have to be so cruel about it? You could not possibly have made it more abundantly clear that Wishful wasn’t enough for you. That I wasn’t enough for you.”

  It was his turn to gape. “I waited for you to come to me in Paris.”

  “Paris? What are you talking about?”

  “I sent you a plane ticket. And instructions for you to meet me at the top of the Eiffel Tower.” He’d waited there, in the whipping wind, ring burning a hole in his pocket all day and into the night, until they’d kicked him out because they were shutting down the elevator until the next day.

  “When?”

  “Right before I left town. I put it in the mail drop at the Grind and went to the airport. I thought you’d be right behind me.”

  Tyler stared.

  “You never got it.” It wasn’t a question. Not with that shattered expression on her face. A pit opened in his stomach, full of dawning dread.

  “Dave Lautner took out the mail drop when he plowed into the front of the coffee shop. It happened the day you left.”

  Brody thought of the handsome patio seating and changed entrance. The plane ticket tied to his future had been destroyed in a freak accident, and he’d been too goddamned pig-headed to follow up when she hadn’t come. Jesus H. Christ, I’m an idiot. Brody closed his eyes.

  “I thought when you didn’t come,” he said quietly, “it was your way of saying you didn’t want to be with me. That I was too damaged for you after everything that had happened. I know how much you hate confrontations.”

  Tyler sputtered with incredulity. “Mail gets lost all the time. Why didn’t you call or write…something?”

  “I…was hurt and angry and so, so completely stupid.”

  Eight years. I wasted eight years and lost her over my damned fool pride.

  Brody waited for recriminations. Because, yeah, this was entirely his fault. He’d cut ties and never looked back, never asked for an explanation, never pulled his head out of his ass to confront her. But there was something else in her face as she looked up at him.

  A fragile hope.

  “You wanted me to come with you?” she whispered.

  He didn’t touch her. He was too afraid she might break. But the answer came easily. “Always.”

  “All these years,” she murmured, arms wrapping around her middle. “All these years, I wondered what I’d done to make you stop loving me.”

  The stark pain on her face made him bleed. He said her name, and he didn’t know if it was apology or plea because the tears were slipping down her cheeks again. “I never stopped loving you. Ever.”

  She laid a hand over her heart and rubbed. “I don’t know if that’s wonderful or heart-breaking. Eight years, Brody. I’ve spent twice as long as we were together believing the absolute worst of you, doing everything in my power not to love you. How can I feel this much, when it’s been eight years?” she demanded.

  Hope lit inside him like a rocket. Because he couldn’t stand it anymore, he reached for her, gratified when she hesitated only a moment before burrowing in and holding on.

  Don’t let go, he thought. Don’t ever let go again.

  They stood like that beside the fountain, until her tears stopped and the tension bled out of her shoulders. Lifting her wet face, Tyler studied
him, frowning. “I don’t know what to do with all the feelings you stir up in me.”

  Brody stroked the length of her back, soothing both of them. “You don’t have to do anything with them right this second.”

  “We have to talk about this.”

  “And we will. Later.” He brushed away her tears. “Right now, you need to pull yourself together, and we need to go back to rehearsal.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”

  “If you don’t go back and face everyone now, it’ll be that much worse at the next rehearsal. And there will be a next rehearsal because you can’t and won’t let the Madrigal down.”

  She winced and swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “You’re right. You’re right. I really hate that.”

  “No one’s going to hold it against you. No matter how much it looks like they welcomed me back, I’m still the outsider here. They’re all on your side. And I’m pretty sure from the look she shot me when I left, Piper may be planning to string me up by the balls.”

  “That would be merciful compared to some of what we planned at the time.”

  “Yeesh,” he said, making an exaggerated pained expression to try and tease a smile out of her as she stepped back. He only got one corner of her mouth to lift.

  “Tyler, I am sorry I hurt you. That I hurt us.”

  She glanced up at him with unreadable eyes. “So am I.”

  ~*~

  Ready or not, thought Tyler, tugging open the auditorium door. She’d stopped in the lobby restroom to wash her face, but that was just delaying the inevitable. Any hope she’d entertained that they’d shifted scenes to rehearse something else was dashed as all talking came to a screeching halt and all eyes turned to her. Tyler froze in the sticky silence, knowing she’d been the topic of their conversation. This wasn’t at all like being the center of attention on stage for a show. This was her life.

  Brody stepped up behind her, pressing a hand to the small of her back. Part comfort, part nudge. The touch made her pulse leap and her chest tighten.