“You have a community Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Yeah, it’s open to anyone who doesn’t have plans with family and friends, or who can’t afford to put on a Thanksgiving meal of their own. Most of the ingredients are donated, so we don’t charge anything, but we do have a donations basket sitting by the door. It’s been going on for longer than I can remember.”
“Great idea. Who does the cooking?”
“Usually the board members and any volunteers we can round up. Your grandmother is usually in charge of the mashed potatoes. You think you could handle it for her this year?”
“Me?” Kate spun around and looked at him as if he’d just asked her to bungee jump off the Empire State Building. “Make mashed potatoes? I can’t cook.” He noticed the flush in her cheeks. Was she embarrassed about not cooking? “Don’t look so surprised. I hate to break it to you, buddy, but not every woman can cook.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I shouldn’t have presumed.”
He took a step back, allowing some space between them. He was glad she’d mistaken his smile for disbelief. That fiery spirit of hers just did something to him.
“It’s not a crime that I can’t cook.” She leaned against one of the stainless steel prep tables and looked down at the floor.
“I get it. Liza can’t cook to save her life, but she survives. Although she does end up at my house once a week for dinner like a stray dog hoping to be fed.”
“Very benevolent of you.”
“I could have you over one night for dinner.” Where did that come from? He lifted his ball cap and gave himself a mental shake. Now that it was out of his mouth, he sort of liked the idea.
“I’m not a stray dog.”
“Didn’t say you were.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and turned toward the double ovens behind him as if they needed inspection. He just couldn’t seem to say anything right. “But, um, seriously, why don’t you help out on Thanksgiving? You don’t have to make the potatoes, but how hard can it be? Just peel, boil, and mash.”
“Why don’t you do it?”
“I would, but I’m in charge of sweet potatoes.” He turned back around to find her sauntering toward the washroom area.
“I’ll tell you what,” She looked at the deep triple sink and empty shelves. “I’ll help in some way, but I’d suggest you keep me out of the kitchen. I can set the tables, serve drinks, clean up, whatever. Just don’t let me near a stove.” She spun around and gave him a heart-stopping look, eyebrows arched and lips pursed. “I could be dangerous.”
“I can only imagine.”
Brody ushered Katherine out of the cafeteria and down the main hallway, trying to think of something to delay the end of the tour. “So, what do you think? Good space, huh? And, the upgrades should be finished in another week or two.” The past hour walking with her through the center, listening to her ideas, made him want to hear more. All his warning bells were telling him not to bother, but he wanted to be with her.
“Yeah, it seems like the perfect set up for what you want to offer.”
As they approached what had been the school’s main office, he realized he hadn’t shown her through that area. That would give him at least another five minutes with her.
“I haven’t shown you this. Come in here.” Finding the door locked, Brody shuffled through the keys until he found the right one, then held open the door for her to enter. “This was the main office and I think we’re going to use it for administrative space.” They peered in each of three small offices and then came to a solid wood door at the end of the corridor.
“What’s in here?” she asked.
Once again he searched through the keys and unlocked the heavy door, then flipped the light switch. The fluorescent strip flickered a few times and then illuminated a large storage room lined on three sides with gray metal shelving. A small cloudy window sat high on the wall across from the entryway.
“This is a really big closet. Will you need all this storage?” She walked to the far side of the room with him following close behind.
“I was thinking we could use it as—” His response came to an abrupt halt as the closet door slammed shut with a deafening bang. They both startled and burst out laughing, Kate’s hand pressed against her heart.
“My god that was loud. Nearly gave me a heart attack,” she said.
“Maybe I can prop it open with something.” He attempted to turn the door knob, but got no movement. He jiggled it again and shoved his shoulder into the door. “I think we’re locked in.”
“What?” She rushed over, nudging him out of the way, and tried the handle herself. “That can’t be. Get the key.”
“We can’t use a key from the inside. See?” He pointed to the perfectly smooth chrome door knob. “It must lock automatically from the outside.”
“Well, we can’t stay in here.” She rummaged through her purse and pulled out her cell phone, rushing toward the window. “I’ve got things to do. A brief to finish.” She held up the cell phone, frantic to get service. “One bar. Who should I call?”
“I’ll call Travis. He’s a locksmith.”
“The mechanic and pineapple farmer is also a locksmith?”
“Yeah,” he chuckled and tapped a few buttons on his phone. “Among other things.” He kept his eye on Kate as she paced like a caged panther back and forth under the window, her long, dark ponytail whipping around each time she turned. She held on to her cell phone like a lifeline and continued to scroll her thumb across the screen even though he had this under control. After several rings, Brody hung up and sent a text instead.
Need help. Trapped in closet at new comm ctr. He tapped the send button and then had a brilliant thought. He composed another short message.
Take your time.
TEN
“How long has it been since you called Travis? Maybe you should call again.” Kate had kept up her pacing and scrolling, keeping her cell phone in a death grip. “Maybe we should call Riley or Liza.”
“Nah, I’m sure they’re both working. Besides, they wouldn’t be able to get in.” Brody was sitting on the dusty floor with his back against the wall, one knee bent, enjoying the view of her long legs as they passed by him for the hundredth time. She’d tire out eventually. “Why don’t you have a seat?” He patted the space beside him but only got a sneer in return.
“We can’t stay in here all day. I have a pile of work waiting for me. There has to be someone who could get us out.”
“Nope, Travis is the only one.”
“What about one of the other board members?”
“I have the only keys.” He shook the bundle of keys at her and was once again rewarded with an angry scoff. The tinkling of piano keys alerted him to an incoming text and she stopped her pacing, her eyes fixated on his phone.
Got my head up the ass of a crappy compact. Be there when I can.
“What did he say?”
“He’ll be here soon. Why don’t you sit down and relax until he gets here? Tell me your life story.”
“I can’t relax, and there’s nothing to tell.” She only stopped her pacing long enough to check her phone and glance at her watch, then resumed her path. “Besides, hasn’t Gram filled you in? You said she talks about me all the time.”
“She does, but she hasn’t told me anything interesting.”
“I’m not interesting?” She planted her feet in front of him and looked down at him with furrowed brows. A hot quiver coursed down his spine—an involuntary reaction to her angry beauty.
“I didn’t say that.”
She at last plopped down near him, crossed her legs, tucked her feet under her thighs and actually put her cell phone away in her pocket. She gathered her hair in her hands and swept the bundle over her shoulder.
“Well, what do you want to know?”
“Okay, let me see.” Brody rubbed his forehead, choosing his words carefully. He decided to start with safe questions. “Wh
ere do you live in DC? Who do you live with?”
She told him about her life in Washington, her friends, her neighborhood, her weekly routine. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, mesmerized by the way her eyes sparkled when she told a funny story or how her lips pursed when she was thinking. The urge to lean over and kiss those lips was making him crazy.
“Are you listening?” He snapped to attention and replied with a nod. “Because it seems like you weren’t listening.”
“No, I was listening. I’d like to meet your friends sometime.”
“Maybe you will.”
“That’s cool.” Brody stretched out his legs and noticed she’d finally seemed to relax. It was the first normal conversation they’d had since they met. “I was wondering, what’s keeping you so busy? I know you’re working, but it seems like you’re under a lot of stress.”
“Yeah, I’m a little stressed.” With a forced laugh, she eased against the wall and stretched her legs in front of her. “I’m up for a big promotion—I think I told you that—and I can’t let up just because I’m here. It should have been mine from the start, but now I have to show them I deserve it by working even harder. My competition would like nothing better than to get the job over me.”
“Your grandmother is at the rehab place for another few weeks, right? Couldn’t you go back until she’s home? Most people would just leave her care to the professionals.”
“I’m not most people.” Kate rubbed her palms across her outstretched thighs, keeping her eyes cast down.
“I just mean that her friends could look in on her until she’s home.”
“She asked me to stay, to take care of her house. My grandmother stepped in when my dad died, helped take care of me when my mother went back to school. I spent many summers here with her. She and Grandpa even paid for my college tuition with the money they’d saved for my dad.” She leaned her head against the concrete wall and stared up at the tiled ceiling. “I feel like I owe her this. Besides—” Her head snapped around and her arresting eyes locked on his. “I can handle this. That promotion is mine. If I have to go without sleep, that’s what I’ll do. Nothing’s going to stop me.”
Brody scooted across the dusty floor, bringing himself closer to her, brushing his shoulder against hers. “I know what it’s like to feel the competition breathing down your neck, to have a goal so big you can’t think of anything else. You’d do anything to be number one.”
“Yeah?” she said, nudging his shoulder with her own. “How do you know that?”
“I don’t just cut wood and build ramps. I—”
“You’re a songwriter.”
“I was.”
“Not anymore?”
“Let’s just say I’m taking a sabbatical,” he said, flicking away an imaginary spot from his jeans.
“Do I know any of your songs?”
“I doubt it.”
“I’m sure I do. You’re a successful songwriter.”
“Was.”
“Fine, was. I know you wrote country music. I bet I know some of your songs.”
“Yeah, I bet.” He stood up and brushed the dust from the back of his pants. He leaned against the wall as Kate climbed to her feet. She walked over to the shelf where she had left her purse, pulled out a tube of lipstick, and swiped it across her lips. Something about her cool, city girl vibe made him doubt she’d ever heard a country song—Taylor Swift, maybe, but not a real country song.
“I do. They play country at the Olde Town Tavern where we play trivia.”
“Okay then, what’s your favorite country song?”
“Um, well.” She laughed and tossed the lipstick back in her purse as she did a slow rotation away from the shelves.
“Uh-huh. Thought so,” he said.
“Now wait, I just don’t know titles.” She turned her back to Brody and ran her hand across one of the dusty shelves. She hummed a few bars before singing softly. “And it’s all so trivial, yeah trivial.” She spun around and bopped her head back and forth as she sang a few more lines of the chorus.
“Trivial. That’s the title,” he said.
“Yeah, I love that song. The guy who runs game night plays it each week before we start—kind of like a theme song.”
“But the song’s not about trivia.”
“I know.” She took a few steps toward him, clapping the dirt from her hands. “It’s about not letting little things get in the way.”
“Yeah, but more about focusing on the things that truly matter.”
“You’ve really given it a lot of thought, huh?” She stopped a few feet in front of him and tilted her head, studying Brody as if seeing him for the first time.
“That’s because I wrote it.”
“No way!” She gripped his arms in both hands and tugged him forward, giving him a full body shake. Her touch sent a warm surge through his chest.
“Yep, sure did. With my partner.”
“What else did you write? I bet I know more of your stuff.” She dropped her grip, but stayed so close he could smell the allure of her perfume. Her eyes had softened and a small smile tugged at her lips.
“‘Wasting Words’?” He watched recognition cross her face. “‘Time Ain’t My Enemy’. How about ‘Fast Women in Fast Cars’?”
She threw back her head and let out a sharp laugh. “That song—please don’t tell me you wrote that. It is so objectifying.”
“Don’t you like it?”
“Well.” She laughed again and then looked on either side of her as if someone might be listening. “I hate to admit this, but when it comes on the radio, I crank up the volume and sing along really loud.”
“I’d like to hear that.” He inched a little closer.
“No, you really wouldn’t. I don’t have much of a singing voice.”
“You sounded okay a minute ago.”
“Yeah, sure. How about you sing? I’ve heard you have a great voice.”
The last time Brody had sung for anyone other than Loretta was in a nightclub in New York. He and Kyle had done an acoustic set of some of their hit songs. It was during a songwriters’ conference and the room was full of their peers, only adding to the nervous tension. When he had urged Kyle to leave Nashville, he thought they’d make it big in New York, but they never felt like they belonged—especially Kyle. Through a record executive, they’d been paired with Second First Chance, the top pop band at the time. What they’d written wasn’t their best work, but they made tons of money. It wouldn’t have mattered what the band sang—they’d go platinum overnight. Even with all the success, Brody couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror, remembering how it all came to an end.
“Come on, Brody, sing for me.”
How could he refuse those big green eyes? “Okay, what do you want to hear?”
“Anything. A love song. Something you’ve written.” Kate spun around and walked a few feet away as if she sensed he needed performance space.
His mind went blank. She was looking at him like she expected the world and he couldn’t come up with a single lyric. Maybe it was because, at that very moment, he realized he’d never written a love song. Sure, he’d written some sweet words, even a few intended to melt hearts, but none of them were written with someone specific in mind. He had the sudden urge to jot down new words that were ricocheting in his mind as he looked at her eager gaze.
“I caught you off guard, didn’t I?” she said.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Just a little.”
“I just want to see if you live up to the hype.” She smiled and challenged him with a toss of her head.
“Fine. I’ll sing something you might recognize.” He took a few steps to his right and then crossed back, his hands loosely folded. “I wish I had my guitar.” He kept his eyes cast down, as he began his own pacing. This was ridiculous; he’d never had trouble singing in front of anyone, but something about singing to Kate was making his vocal chords lock up. He cleared his throat again and began. A
nervous drum beat in his chest, tapping out a steady rhythm while her eyes locked on him as he sang.
“Oh, Brody, it’s beautiful. I love that song.” She grazed his arm with her nails, stopping his momentum. “But what have you been working on lately? Sing something I’ve never heard.”
“I don’t have anything new.”
“Why? I thought artists were constantly working on new projects. Don’t you hear music in your head that needs to be written down?”
“Not lately.”
“But why?”
She was getting too close, asking too many questions, ones he wasn’t ready to answer. It was time to deflect, get her talking about something else.
“So, this promotion. Why so ambitious?”
“You’re changing the subject.” She gave his chest a playful poke while her brows arched.
“Maybe.” He chuckled as he reached for her hand, catching only thin air.
“You want to hear about my career?” When he dipped his chin she continued. “Fine. I’ve worked really hard and deserve that promotion. And my dad always told me to be the best. You know? The least I can do is live up to his expectations.”
“Have you always been an over-achiever?”
Her cheeks turned red as she tore her gaze from his. “Ever since I was twelve,” she whispered.
“What happened when you were twelve?”
“My dad died.”
He drew in a sharp breath, kicking himself for pushing. It had totally slipped his mind she’d lost her father at a young age. He watched her turn from him, once again the panther resuming her cage behavior, loping back and forth across the room.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”
“Actually, I forgot. How did your dad die, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“No, it’s okay. It was a training accident. He was in the Navy, assigned to an aircraft carrier. They were practicing flying runs. Something went wrong that day and he was hit and killed. It happened not far off shore; he wasn’t deployed to another part of the world or anything. I was at school when the news came in.” Brody could see her hands shaking, her fingers in knots. “I can still remember the principal coming into the classroom and calling my name to come to the office with her. Most of the kids I went to school with had military parents. It had happened to other kids before so I knew it meant bad news. It was awful. And…strange, I guess, because I can see it all as clear as if it happened yesterday. Worst day of my life.”
Whatever You Say Page 8
