by Barbara Lohr
The breeze lifted his hair when he wheeled around. God, he was gorgeous. “Still hungry?”
“Starving.” Tantalizing aromas hung in the air. But she was hungry for more than food. Carolyn wanted to know more about the real Brody Wolf. And she wanted more than his kisses, which totally blew her mind.
A cafe was only a few steps from the museum. They stepped into the clatter of plates and the hum of voices. “Neat place.” Like the museum, the restaurant had a new, modern vibe. Wood-topped tables filled the space. People were talking over full plates. The place felt alive.
When a waitress beckoned, Brody pointed to an empty table in the corner. Perfect. Carolyn had so many questions, and they were all personal. Why hadn’t Brody told her this earlier, when he first mentioned coming back to Santa Fe?
The corner table was cozy. After they sat down, the waitress handed them menus. Strangely enough, the print blurred and she looked over at Brody. She was having trouble concentrating. He’d laid his menu down. “What do you usually order?” she asked as the waitress filled their water glasses.
“The chicken bowl on a cold day or the burrito. The cup of soup and half sandwich are good too.”
“The soup and sandwich combo sounds great.” She smiled up at the waitress. “And hot coffee, please.”
Brody held up two fingers. “Make that two.”
The waitress left and there they were, alone. Her gaze sought his. The eyes that could feel like an ice tunnel were now warmer than the teacup baths she’d enjoyed with Mama V. “I feel so stupid.”
“Why?” A lock of dark hair fell over his eye, and he brushed it back.
“Because I didn’t know. Because I never suspected.”
He grinned. “Because you’d never seen a picture of a Native American with blue black hair and blue eyes?”
“Maybe. But it’s more than that.” She nodded outside. “Your obvious devotion to Santa Fe. I should have guessed.”
“Yeah. That’s what brought me back.”
“To discover your history?”
“To find out who I really am.”
“What about your brother?”
Brody tipped his head to one side. “Braydon’s really into the winery. He had no desire to scare up lost ghosts. I think that’s how he put it.”
“Did he know your father?”
“Yes but I don’t think he felt they had much in common.”
Two steaming cups of coffee were slid onto the table. A little cream and sugar and she sipped, wondering how many questions she was allowed.
Meanwhile Brody leaned closer. She could see the green circle around each iris. “Don’t look at me like I’m a homework assignment, okay?”
She set the coffee down. “Is that what you think?”
He nodded. “A little. Glad to answer any questions.”
“Why? How? Like, how did your parents meet?”
“My mother’s parents sent her to California to intern in a winery. My grandfather saw it as a rite of passage.” Brody gave a dry chuckle. “If he had seen the outcome, he never would have suggested the arrangement. She met my father there.”
“And he didn’t approve?”
“Are you kidding? My dad wasn’t at all what my grandfather had planned for his daughter.”
“Probably really good-looking?” Like you.
“From the few pictures I’ve seen? Yes.” His face twisted. “Not so much at the end. He was the strong, silent type. I’m afraid Mom filled in the blanks with what she wanted him to be, not what he was. They were mismatched from the start.”
Carolyn almost laughed but it wasn’t funny. Hadn’t she done that in the past with more than one guy?
The food arrived and she was hungry. After she’d finished her sandwich and soup, she circled back. “But they ended up together?”
“Right. Back then my dad was wild. That appealed to my mother. He was a laborer at the winery, everything my mother shouldn’t want. His name was Maiitsoh, which means wolf. No one could pronounce it so he went by Mac and added Wolf for a last name. Sometimes he tried to fit in.”
“For your mother?”
“Exactly. They fell in love and he made some concessions. For a while, anyway.”
“And your grandparents?” Her folks would go ballistic.
“They went berserk. Then she went on a hunger strike. Game over. They gave in.”
“Whoa. That’s serious. So your parents married out of love?”
“Kind of. I was on the way.”
“And then?”
Brody shifted in the chair. She hated to make him uncomfortable but wanted to know his story. And she had the feeling that he wanted to tell it.
“They never accepted him, not as a son-in-law. He worked in the vineyard. That’s what he knew. Everyone thought he was a day laborer, and they treated him like it.”
She recoiled. “How terrible.”
“Then he made things worse. I think he broke under the strain of it all. Started wearing a headdress. People began calling him Lone Wolf instead of Mac.”
Carolyn tried to imagine what effect that would have on a child.
“By the time my father took off, my mother didn’t shed many tears.”
The empty look on his face tore her heart. “Oh, Brody. I’m so sorry.”
“Maybe it was for the best.” His jaw shifted. “My grandparents took care of us, and the rest is history. My mother lived in town during the week to put some space between us and her parents. They never let her forget her mistake.”
“What a tragedy.” No wonder he’d acted out at school.
His lips compressed. “We did okay. My grandparents meant well. They gave us the best education and made the situation livable for us. We were two mixed up little dudes. My grandfather passed away before my graduation from college and my grandmother, shortly after that. They never knew I’d headed back to New Mexico for my graduate work in architecture.”
“To your father? Did you have a lot of contact with him after he left?”
“Not really. He was messed up pretty bad. Lived out in the mountains more than the pueblo. I made most of the contact. Braydon wasn’t as into the ancestry search as I was.” He gave her a bitter smile.
“And now?”
“My father died about a year after they produced that tape. Braydon and I gave them permission to use it. The story is true and it has to be told.”
“But how crushing for you.” If only she could soothe his pain.
His lapis eyes narrowed. “Let’s not make this a pity party, okay?”
When she shopped with Mama V, they saw a lot of lapis lazuli stones, a beautiful dark blue that let in no light. She was looking at them now. “I’m sorry.”
“Everything okay here?” The waitress had circled back.
“Yeah, we’re good.” He seemed so relieved. What had Brody expected from her? He struck her as very private and this was so personal. Right now Carolyn felt so close to him. He may not have room for pity, but she couldn’t help wanting to heal his hurt.
“So why did you bring me here?” she said quietly. Carolyn wasn’t going to assume she knew the answer.
“Because this is me.” He opened both hands, palms up. “Not the boy you knew in Gull Harbor. Not some slick Santa Fe developer. This is who I am and it’s complicated.”
“Trying to scare me off?” The tentative look on his face turned her inside out. “I’m not going to cut and run, Brody, if that’s what you’re thinking. I do complicated well.”
“Glad to hear it.” Shoulders dropping, he smiled.
They finished their lunch and lingered. It was too early to head back. So they dawdled, sharing a piece of chocolate silk pie.
After the last mouthful, he put down his fork. “Want to visit the other museums while we’re here, or I could show you my house?”
She’d had enough museums for one day. “I’d love to see your home. Did you build it?”
“Of course.” The sparkle was back in the blue e
yes.
The SUV was hot from sitting in the sun, and Brody pumped up the air. They didn’t say much as they drove. “Is it far?”’
“Not at all, although everything seems distant out here.” He took a deep breath. “ All this space. A man can breathe. That’s one of the things I love about it.”
The streets were becoming familiar but not the hills. Once they left the city behind, the homes they passed felt isolated. “Are the adobe walls for privacy?”
“Yes, mainly. They’re also part of the design. Why, don’t you like them?”
“I just wondered. I’ve never been one for fences.”
He tapped the brakes so fast, she was glad she was wearing a seat belt. “Wait a minute. You’re thinking about that poem...”
Really? Maybe students had paid attention to her. “Yeah, the Robert Frost poem about mending fences.”
Easing his foot off the brake, he seemed to be reaching back. “Wasn’t that all about walling things in or walling them out. Am I close?”
“Close enough.” They laughed together. By now, they were outside the city. “What do they call these bushes? I see them all over.”
“Pinyon pines. They smell great. I have a fire pit.”
“Can’t wait.”
They were climbing but the upgrade felt gradual. Pines clung to rock formations. Concentrating on the trees and bushes kept her from feeling the height. Cristo de Sangre remained in the distance. Still, Carolyn’s old fears felt so close to the surface.
Things were getting out of control. And she wasn’t talking about her old fear of heights. Oh, no. This churning in her stomach had nothing to do with altitude.
Chapter 12
Deep breathing? Carolyn was fighting a losing battle by the time Brody pulled into a driveway. How high up were they?
“You okay?” Glancing over, he pushed a button on his rear view mirror. The gates swung open.
“Sure, it’s just the height thing.” She went to put a hand on her stomach, but it wound up on her heart.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize it was that bad.” He eased the SUV through the gates.
Yes, it’s that bad, His Hotness. “Not that important. My fear of heights? Just my character flaw.”
“Trust me, you don’t have any flaws.”
“Sure, right.” Releasing her death grip on the door handle, she motioned to his amazing house. “Wow. Guess I should have expected this after seeing your project.”
“Don’t be too impressed. I’m glad you like it.”
This was a whole new side of Brody. Architect and home owner, while she rented a bungalow in Gull Harbor. The wise cracks and ambling teen-age gait? He’d definitely moved beyond those.
And now she knew more about his journey. Their conversation in the cafe replayed in her mind. A deepening respect added to the appeal of His Hotness. Brody parked and they got out. She followed him up shallow stone steps to massive double doors.
When he unlocked and pushed one open, cool air greeted them. This was a day of discovery. Any preconceived notions she’d had about Brody vanished once she stepped inside. Black leather and rough-hewn wood. A walls of windows with a kitchen island off to the left. “This is a man cave.”
“Of course it is.” Tossing his keys on a metal and glass side table with a neat industrial look, he saw her expression and laughed. “What did you expect? That it would look like my locker? Should I throw some dirty gym clothes on the floor?”
She had to laugh with him. “You got me there.” Athletic shirts and shoes had always spilled from his locker, along with empty pop cans, barely used notebooks and dog-eared Cliff Notes. No more. That was all in the past. The worn leather furniture looked expensive and comfortable. A thick sheet of glass topped a gnarled wooden base, serving as a coffee table. Pillows in patterns like those in the museum were tossed here and there. She even saw bookshelves off to one side.
Now that was amazing. “Very masculine. Breathtaking.”
“Which is it? Masculine, breathtaking or both?” he teased.
She met his dancing eyes. “You’re still a stinker, Brody Wolf.”
“And you’re still h...”
“What?” She leaned closer.
But he’d slipped back into sphinx mode. With a shake of his head, he shed his jacket and reached for hers. When his hands cupped her shoulders, her skin heated.
“Hey, you’re trembling.”
“Am I?” That would be a yes.
Folding her jacket onto the sofa, he never broke eye contact. When he put his arms around her waist, she leaned forward until her forehead grazed his chin. He released a breath with a hiss.
Turning, he glanced toward the windowed wall, one arm still snug around her waist. “You okay with this?”
The scenery was beautiful. She nodded, although butterflies were having a heyday in her stomach. “Let’s call this view desensitization.”
He pulled her in front of him. Arms snug around her, Brody rested his head on hers. “Just don’t confuse me with your mother.”
“That’s a deal.” As if I ever could. Arching back into his heat, she felt safe.
His hands traveled to the base of her neck. “You’re wound up tight. Am I making you tense?”
Very. “No.”
Turning her, Brody tipped her chin up. “Liar.” His eyes brushed her face.
“Okay, maybe a little,” she admitted.
“Look, if this is too complicated, tell me. I’ll understand. I unloaded a lot on you today.” Brody blew out a breath. “And it’s not pretty.”
“I’m glad you told me.” Did he think she was that shallow? “Your history is an important part of you.”
But he didn’t look convinced. “I don’t want your pity.”
“You’re not going to get it, okay? We can’t escape our pasts.” Flattening one hand on his chest, Carolyn felt his heartbeat tick up. His open lips touched hers. She took that as an invitation. Her tongue swept in to meet his. They stoked the fire until heat crackled through her body.
“God, you taste so good,” he whispered. Then he burrowed into her neck, the warm part, and kissed an erotic trail back to her lips, one kiss at a time. His Hotness was finding erogenous zones she never knew she had.
“Are you memorizing my freckles?”
“Yep,” he said with a chuckle. “Getting to know them.”
“I’m glad,” she whispered. The teasing ended, and they both opened to a kiss that was wild, wet and hungry.
With a guttural moan, Brody worked his hands lower and edged her toward the sofa. She sank onto the soft leather and tightened her arms around him. By that time she was crazy excited and Carolyn was starting to like craziness.
“Oh, Brody, Brody.” Her hands tunneled into his thick hair.
“Hmm. That feels so good.” When he let his head fall back, she kissed the pulse point in the hollow of his neck. Her fingers started working. She really liked that hair.
“Gonna give me a scalp massage?”
She nibbled her way to his lips. “Maybe.”
“Sure you’re ready for it?”
“Are you?”
“Oh, yeah.”
What were they talking about? He nudged her soft top up, one hand tracing her backbone while the other moved around to the front. With some innovative angling, the kisses continued. Wetter, rougher and oh, so hungry. She shivered.
“Are you cold? I know a room with warm quilts.” Brody was breathing hard. So was she.
Still, she stiffened. “Um, I don’t think so, okay?”
Caution froze his features. “So we’re taking things slow?”
“For now.”
“Setting boundaries. Like I’m not on your lesson plan.” He half-closed his eyes. “So I scared you off?”
Now, she sure didn’t want him to think that. “Brody, nothing you said turned me off. Everything has a time and a place.”
His laugh held naughty suggestion. “God, I love it when you talk teacher. Now what page were
we on?”
Was she confusing him?
“This page.” Carolyn slammed into him with a kiss so hard she felt the ridge of his teeth. Oh, she may not be ready for bed, but she was more than ready for Brody Wolf. His hands turned her body to soft pulp while his lips made mush of her mind.
Before she knew it, she was grinding her hips into his. She couldn’t help herself. When he moaned, she loved causing that response. Power pulsed through her.
“So…is this our dessert?” Those piercing blue eyes held a question.
“No. I mean, not yet.” What was she saying?
“So the bell hasn’t rung yet? Class hasn’t started?” He was laughing at her. “Good thing you weren’t this mixed up doling out homework. No one would have passed.” He thumbed her lower lip.
Cripes, she had to clear her mind. “Shouldn’t we talk more about everything you said today?”
“Like a heart-to-heart.” His face turned to stone. “What’s to say?”
“How do you feel about it? Your childhood, I mean.”
“Oh, Teach...no, no, and no.” He shook his head slowly. Her heart did a quick-step.
“But why? Family history is important.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t have to define us, does it?”
The words stunned her. He was right. “You might be a late bloomer,” she told him, laying her head on his chest. “But you turned into an amazing man.”
His chuckle rippled through her body. “What’s the deal with the braid today, Teach? All knotted up, are we?”
Pulling away, she patted the tangled mess. “Feels like I’m falling apart.”
“Right.” His smile tilted. “Like you would ever let that happen.”
“Not on purpose.” She hated to admit it.
“You mind me rearranging this?” His fingers were already plucking at her hair.
Who could say no to this man?
Man, not a boy. “Nope. Go ahead.”
He got busy. First, he slipped off her hair tie. Then he started on the french braid. She almost laughed at his expression, tongue caught between his teeth. As her hair came free, he let each strand trail through his fingers as if it were the eighth wonder of the world.
The intimacy tugged at her gut and lower. In the process, his muscled forearms grazed her body.
