by Kait Nolan
We did good work, she thought. Miracle work.
Brody had set out to make something that was merely functional, to get them through to the performance and beyond. But with the unexpected outpouring of help, they’d pulled off quite a bit above functional. It wasn’t a full restoration—several rows of seats had been irreparably damaged—but they’d erased the destruction as wholly as they could. Brody had added additional columns into the design beneath the balcony, taking advantage of the missing seating to provide extra support to the structure. He was taking no chances on a repeat collapse.
Finished with the balcony, Zeke moved unhurriedly down the stairs to the lobby. Norah and her mother-in-law to be, Mayor Sandra Crawford, followed. Brody paused to take Tyler’s hand and give it a reassuring squeeze before they, too, headed downstairs.
The sun had still been up when they’d started. Tyler could see it was full dark beyond the lobby doors. The engineer was scribbling on a clipboard, flipping pages, checking things off. Norah and Sandra stood, arms linked. Tyler tightened her hold on Brody as Zeke signed something on one last page and looked up.
“Well?” blurted Norah.
In answer, Zeke handed over the clipboard.
She scanned the front page then let out a whoop, thrusting the clipboard into the air. “Pass!”
Relief gushed through Tyler, weakening her knees, even as she gave a bounce and a double fist pump, which had the effect of dragging Brody’s arm up like a winning prize fighter. His hundred megawatt smile warmed her down to her toes.
“I’ll have a more detailed report on your desk in a couple of days,” Zeke continued, “but I figured given the time crunch you’d want approval as soon as possible.”
“You figured right,” said Brody.
Zeke crossed to him. “You do good work, Jensen. You ever decide to relocate back to Wishful, I’d like to work with you again.”
“Appreciate it,” said Brody, shaking the offered hand.
With a brief word of farewell to the mayor and Norah, Zeke slipped out the doors, letting in a gust of cold evening air. As soon as he was out of sight, Brody let out a hoot and scooped Tyler up. “We did it!”
Tyler was laughing when his mouth took hers in a fervent, celebratory kiss. She felt the spark of it in her blood and kissed him enthusiastically in return, sliding her arms around his shoulders, her hands into his hair. By the time he set her on her feet again, she was breathless and dazzled.
“I pulled it off,” he grinned. “Seemed only fitting to claim my reward.”
“So you did,” said Tyler. He’d pulled it off, preserved their history, and begun building something else while he was at it.
“If you’re done locking lips for a bit,” said Norah, eyes twinkling, “we need to get our butts to Speakeasy. Everyone is waiting to hear the news.”
Brody saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Ride with me,” said Tyler. “We’ll get your truck later.”
Once inside her truck, Brody collapsed into the passenger seat, head falling back against the rest. “God, what a crazy week. I can’t remember when I slept less.”
“Tired?”
“I should be, but no. I feel really buzzed. Hyped up on adrenaline.”
“The crash will be brutal.” She snaked out a hand, tangled her fingers with his across the console. It was a pleasure to give in to the desire to touch, to maintain physical contact.
“Yeah, but the party will be worth it.” He lifted her hand to his lips, brushed them over her knuckles. “I really enjoyed working with you the last week. I’ve enjoyed pretty much everything about having you back in my life.”
Tyler cut a glance at him in the flashing light of passing street lamps. He was relaxed as he watched her, his expression one of utter contentment. “We make a good team. Always did.”
“Bookends,” he murmured.
“Huh?”
“My mom used to call us bookends.”
Tyler waited for the pang, but felt only a warm glow at the memory. “She’d be really proud of you, you know. You did a really good thing for the community this week, Brody.”
“I did it for you.” He said it simply, with no air of expectancy. Just stating fact.
It was so…Brody. He’d always gravitated to grand gestures. Like mailing a plane ticket to Paris, for instance. He simply staggered her. He always had. As anxiety shifted to certainty inside her, Tyler decided it was time to make her own grand gesture.
She pulled out her phone, dialed Piper.
“Where are you?” she demanded. “Norah’s here and we’re all waiting!”
“We’re going to be late,” said Tyler. “Tell her not to wait.”
“It something wrong?”
Tyler glanced over at Brody, who watched her intently. “No, everything is very definitely right.” She ended the call, tossed the phone into the cup holder.
“Where are we going, Tyler?”
She reached for his hand again. “Home.”
~*~
Tyler was already reaching for him as she kicked open the door to her house. Brody had time only to say her name before she’d fused her mouth to his, and the well-intentioned speech he’d rehearsed on the rest of the drive over about making certain she was sure about this bled out of his mind. She was a fever in his arms, all desperate demand as she nipped and goaded, tugging at his clothes. His blood fired as he jerked her to him, molding that lean, muscled body to his as he plundered her mouth. Where she led, Brody followed, circling through what was probably a living room as they shed clothes, hands greedy for skin. With every inch of newly exposed flesh, he wanted more.
They bumped into the sofa. Brody bowed her over the back of it, lips burning a trail from her jaw, down her throat to the valley between lace-cupped breasts. Tyler’s hand fisted in his hair as her hips ground against his. “More,” she demanded.
Brody pulled her up, spun her in an erotic dance toward the hall. The taste of her was a drug, exquisite, addictive. As his hands fumbled with the clasp of her bra, she dragged her mouth from his and set her teeth to the juncture between his neck and shoulder.
Brody’s control snapped. Pressing her back against the wall, he shoved down the lace and filled his hands with her breasts. Her low moan was a dark delight. Her hips moved in a restless, seeking rhythm against his as he took one budded nippled into his mouth and pleasured them both. He felt the tension coil through her, wanted to watch her ride that crest to the end. So he pressed a hand against her, firm and intimate, and watched her face as he slipped a finger into all that waiting heat. He kept watching as he matched her instinctive rhythm and drove her relentlessly up. His name was a plea on her lips as she shattered in his hands.
Brody hitched her up, wrapping those long legs around his waist. Her back to the wall, it would take only one thrust to sheath himself, to send them both spiraling into madness. But he wanted more from her than mindless pleasure. He wanted—needed more for them both. So he dropped his head to her shoulder and breathed in her scent until he thought he could find some of that missing control, some semblance of finesse.
Tyler’s hand moved across his shoulder, into his hair. “Brody?”
Her expression, when he lifted his head, was a strange mix of guarded vulnerability. Already preparing herself for rejection. God, he hated that was in her mind, hated that there was reason for it. Seeing her anxiety dulled the vicious edge of need, gave him the control he needed.
“Not here,” he rasped. “Which way is the bedroom?”
Her face relaxed. “Last door on the left.”
Brody could feel the gallop of her heart as he carried her the rest of the way down the hall. He’d had her desperate. Now he wanted her steeped in pleasure. In the bedroom, he let her slide down his body, then framed her face, as he had on stage weeks ago. It was confusion now, instead of the dread and anticipation, as he stroked her cheek. “I never thought I’d be here with you again.” He brushed his lips over hers. “I don’t want to rush th
rough it. I want to make love with you, Tyler.”
Her breath caught. “Brody.”
“Shh.” He dipped his head to her mouth, tasted her sigh as she melted against him. Her surrender was a gift he’d never expected, and he cherished it. Hands skimmed in long strokes meant to soothe, until her pulse turned slow and thick. He kept his pace easy, unhurried, sinking into the kiss layer by layer, easing her into a dance, though there was no music save what beat in his blood. No matter the time they’d lost, he wouldn’t rush this.
The flavor of her seeped into him. He savored it as he took her deeper, splaying a hand over the warm skin of her back. The subtle play of muscle beneath his palm was fluid as water as she swayed with him, her body, as always, responsive to every move of his. Tracing a hand up her spine, Brody pressed his lips to her fluttering pulse and eased her back on the bed.
He filled his hands with her, relearning the shapes and textures that had haunted his dreams. The subtle flare of hip. The strong arms. The column of that lovely throat. Tyler murmured his name, fingers threading in his hair, nails scraping lightly down his back. Her breath hitched and released as he savored, urging her slowly higher with lips and hands. Everything he asked, she gave without reservation, until at long last she whispered, “Please, Brody. Please.”
He slipped inside her. Tyler arched up to take him, her eyes glazed with pleasure. And here was the homecoming he hadn’t expected, hadn’t even known he’d been yearning for, hadn’t dared to even think about for years. Brody waited for her eyes to clear, to fasten on his before he began to move. The fingers he laced with hers were an anchor as they climbed. His pulse, his breath quickened as they circled higher, narrowing his focus, until all he could see, all he could feel was her. Tyler wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him deep as she climaxed around him. Breathing her name, he let go and followed.
They lay tangled, skin damp and flushed from exertion. As soon as he had the muscle control to manage it, Brody rolled to the side, to keep from crushing her. He reached over to grab an edge of the comforter and rolled back, pulling her close. She snuggled into him, pressing her cheek to his chest and tangling their legs again. And for the first time since he’d left eight years ago, Brody felt completely at peace.
“Do you actually want to go to the party?” Tyler asked. “I mean, you’re probably missing a rousing rendition of ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’ with multi-part harmony.”
“I think we have adequately proved that I do not require multi-part harmony to be roused.”
She muffled a snort of laugher against his chest.
“Besides, that would involve actually moving from this spot, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Then no.” He tightened his arm as she settled back against him and enjoyed the comfortable silence.
“Brody?” Tyler’s voice was muffled.
He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Mmm?”
“Will you stay?”
He opened his eyes and stared at the wash of moonlight on the wall. Was she asking about tonight or for good? Either way he knew he couldn’t make himself let her go.
Stroking a hand down her back, he pressed another kiss to her temple. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”
3 Weeks 'Til Show
The magic is back, thought Brody. It showed, in every movement, every perfectly delivered line as he and Tyler immersed themselves into their characters. The spark of it was contagious, spreading among the cast like wildfire, until even those less than stellar members of the chorus were upping their game, putting their absolute best foot forward. In the week since they’d gotten access to the stage again, the cast had been working extra hard to make up for the lost rehearsal time, and it was paying off.
Brody knew he was grinning like an idiot as Tyler and Piper danced their way toward him and Myles from stage left in their WAC uniforms. His grinning had been fairly constant, not diminished in the least by the good-natured ribbing offered up by their friends and some of the other cast members. Their absence at the post-inspection celebration hadn’t gone unnoticed. But how could he care when Tyler was his again? He slipped his arms around her, absorbing her flirtatious smile and feeling fireworks booming in his blood. Pouring some of that energy into the performance, he danced and twirled his way through the rest of “I Wish I Was Back In The Army” with as much panache as he could muster until, arm-in-arm with Tyler and Piper, he tapped his way off stage right.
A single, enthusiastic clap sounded from the back of the auditorium. Not Nate. Stepping back out onstage, Brody shaded his eyes from the lights but couldn’t make out the newcomer as he approached.
“Well done,” the man called. “This is exactly the kind of performance that would’ve made my father proud.”
“Daniel,” said Nate, sliding into the aisle and striding to meet him. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Decided to finally come by and take a gander at our efforts?”
The two men shook hands in greeting. The murmur of their voices wasn’t loud enough to carry clearly to the stage.
“Who is this guy?” muttered Brody.
“Daniel Stanton,” whispered Tyler. “Old Mr. Stanton’s son. He left Wishful back when we were in high school, I think. Lives up in Oxford now.”
So this was the stiff Norah sweet talked into letting them repair the theater. Brody studied him, taking in the lanky build, the receding hairline, and weak chin. His expression was affable enough, but something about the other man set off Brody’s bullshit detector. The reaction was borne out when Nate burst out, “You’re kidding me!” in a tone that suggested outrage rather than elation.
Daniel gave a what-can-I-do shrug and an apologetic smile Brody didn’t buy for a minute.
Nate waved toward the stage with an expansive gesture that screamed sarcasm. “It’s your news. You make the announcement.”
Tyler slipped her hand into Brody’s as Stanton headed for the stage. Brody could feel the tension thrumming through her, knew it was mirrored in the rest of their castmates, all of whom had spilled out from the wings to see what was going on.
“Y’all have put in so much work into putting on this show,” Daniel began. “I know my father would be incredibly touched by your efforts, most especially with the miracle you pulled off to repair the theater after the balcony collapsed. The end result is truly amazing.”
“We’re all waiting for the ‘but’, Mr. Stanton,” said Tyler.
“But,” he said, offering another of those apologetic smiles, “I’m afraid that White Christmas will be a farewell show instead of a fundraiser. The bank has decided to foreclose.”
A cacophony of exclamations greeted this pronouncement.
“Can’t you ask for a continuance? An extension? Something?” demanded Tucker.
“Done and done. We’ve been operating on an extension for the last several months. The bank has been bought out by another bank and the new management is disinclined to allow that extension to continue. It was all I could do to get them to allow the show to finish. Come end of December, the Madrigal is closing its doors. I’m sorry.”
Conversation exploded as everyone tried to comment at once. Brody heard Tyler’s sound of disgust and distress and pulled her in for a hard hug. Stanton slipped out in the midst of the ensuing chaos.
Coward, thought Brody. I’m surprised he had the guts deliver the news himself.
“People. People! Settle down,” called Nate. He waited for silence. “This is certainly disappointing news. It appears we’ve run out of time and options.”
“So now what?” asked Myles.
Nate squared his shoulders. “Rehearsals will continue as planned. The show will open in three weeks. And it’s going to be the best damned performance any of us has ever given. If we’re going out, then by damn, we’re going out with a bang.”
There were remarks of half-hearted agreement with that, a few apathetic cheers, but it was hard for anyone to muster much enthusiasm.
Rehearsal wrapped afte
r that. Tyler said nothing as she gathered her gear and walked out to Brody’s truck. She remained silent on the drive back to her house, her arms curled around her bag like a teddy bear. As soon as he stopped, she slid out of the truck and trudged up the steps. There she stopped, swearing as she went purse diving for keys.
“Here, let me,” he said, stepping past her to use the key she’d given him over the weekend.
Inside she tucked her bag into one of the clever little cubbies beside the front door as he dumped his keys into a decorative bowl.
Arms no longer full of bag, Tyler crossed them over her middle. “It’s really over,” she said. Her words felt like heavy stones in the silence. “All that work, and for what? To see our history sold off and destroyed?” The bleak expression on her face tore at him.
Brody reached for her. “Tyler…”
She came into his arms, but her expression was mutinous. “Don’t you dare tell me you can fix it. This isn’t a broken pipe or some bad wiring. It isn’t a cave in or a restoration project anymore. This can’t be fixed by any means you or I possess.”
She wasn’t wrong, so he didn’t argue. And yet his mind spun, searching for a way—any way—because he couldn’t bear to see her brutal disappointment.
“It was all for nothing,” she pronounced, voice thick with tears she wouldn’t let fall.
“It wasn’t for nothing,” Brody insisted, giving her a little shake. “It gave us us back. And that’s worth more than anything else. The theater closing doesn’t change that. It can’t. We’re more than our history, Tyler.”
Her lips curved a little. “You’ve gotten smarter as you’ve gotten older.”
