“None. I like the slower pace, the way folks care about one another. I have good friends here, and family. Nothing more important than that.”
Kate dropped into the blue plaid armchair, a lifelong fixture in Gram’s living room, and thought about what Travis said. She’d always loved living in Washington with Annie, but her circumstances had changed. Annie would surely move to Maryland with Kip, and there was no guarantee Derek would remain in DC; his job with the FBI could take him anywhere. That only left her fellow employees, but she couldn’t exactly call them friends—they spent too much time working to develop a deeper relationship. In the short time she’d been here, Liza, Riley, Travis, and most especially Brody had become important to her. Already close with her grandmother, they’d grown even closer over the last few weeks.
“Have you ever considered sticking around?” Travis interrupted her thoughts. “You know, Marvin Perkins is retiring next year.”
“Who’s Marvin Perkins?” She sauntered over to the door and watched as he tested the new key.
“He’s an attorney here in town. Has a successful practice. Most of his work is for the local college, but he does just about everything else a lawyer does.”
“What’s going to happen to his practice?”
“Well, when I was working on his Mercedes the other day, he told me he wants to sell it to a young, ambitious attorney, but not someone only looking to make a buck.”
“Oh?”
“Someone who cares about the people around here.” He stood up, tugging his waistband up over his thin frame, and tested the lock with a flip of the handle. “That’ll do ‘er.” He picked up his tool bag and smiled at Kate. “You should talk to Marvin. Might be a good thing for you.”
“Me? Oh, no. I’m going back to DC as soon as Gram is settled back home. I’m not cut out for small town life.”
“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Well, I better get going.” He handed the keys to her and reached for the door knob.
“Wait. What about my bill?”
“It’ll be seventy-five dollars. Pay me when you can.” Before she could reach for her purse, he was out the door and walking briskly toward his truck. She watched him drive away and wondered how many people owed him money, and if he even cared.
The following Monday, the Buick’s engine sputtered to a stop outside Liza’s small, white clapboard house. The white gingerbread trim along the roof’s eaves and cozy front porch brought to mind a child’s doll house. Kate had been on her way to Brody’s to drop off a packet of information she’d gathered for the community center, but decided to pop in, uninvited, to see Liza. If this had been DC, she would have called ahead.
She rapped on the wooden screen door and took in the surroundings while she waited. Across the gravel lane that led to Brody’s house was a fenced field, a perfect place for horses or cows to graze. Surrounding the back of Liza’s house was a thick, hardwood forest where woodland animals surely found a pleasant home.
After a few minutes of silence, she gave up, accepting that Liza wasn’t home. She glanced off in the direction of Brody’s, finding an inviting farmhouse at the end of the lane. It was such a beautiful evening, with the sun starting to dip below the horizon, she decided to walk.
She found her way up the stony drive and noticed a full moon rising low in the sky. She gathered the manila envelope against her chest and wondered what Brody’s reaction would be when he read through it. She’d spent Friday dealing with the battered woman and her children, and the rest of the weekend on the contents of this packet. File after file of courtroom testimony was waiting for her when she got back to Gram’s. She’d rushed through a bit of it this afternoon, but planned to make time tomorrow to properly review the material.
Coming up over a knoll, she stopped to take in the beauty of Brody’s home. It was a two-story farmhouse with a wrap-around porch, set atop a hill with a sweeping field in front and rolling hills in the distance. The same thick forest dotted a steep rise behind his house. As Kate drew nearer, she came to a stop. Through a window, she caught a glimpse of Brody walking into the room, shirtless, hair damp as if he’d just stepped from the shower. She looked around and dove behind a large evergreen sitting a few feet to her left. From there, she was able to ease her head around the tree to get a second look.
To her delight, Brody was wearing only lounge pants and she felt her heart hammer as she took in his lean, defined chest. He dropped into a desk chair at his computer and sipped from a mug. When she stood on tiptoe, she could just catch a mouthwatering view of his broad shoulders.
She surveyed the room as best she could, noticing several guitars hanging on the wall in front of him and a large whiteboard alongside. The board was covered with Post-It Notes like the ones she’d seen him writing on at the meeting. If only she had a ladder to get a better view. She stepped from behind the tree and walked to the adjacent sidewalk, which led to the porch. Hoping her five-foot-eight height would serve her well, she stood just outside the window on tiptoe to get a closer look.
No sooner had she risen on her toes than a brown face with dark brown eyes appeared in the window, letting out a glass-shattering bark. Her arms flailed like a windmill as she stumbled backward, catching her heel on a heavy object in the yard. She fell to the ground with a breath-halting thud.
Girl you’ve got a weapon, I know you’re packing heat…
Brody tapped out the lyrics on his computer and tipped back his chair, picking up the steaming mug of coffee beside him. He stared at the words that had been circling his brain all day. In fact, for the past few days, words, lines, thoughts kept popping into his mind, creating stanzas for potential songs if only he had the music to go along. He’d get to that soon enough. Setting the mug aside, he leaned over the keyboard once more. A tingling rush of adrenaline surged to his fingertips as he typed.
Your sexy walk, your sharp-tongued talk, just hiding what’s down deep.
Weird. This wasn’t how it usually worked. He’d been the primary music composer in his partnership, hearing notes and chords, even full accompaniments. Kyle usually handled the lyrics, which had always been a struggle for Brody. Suddenly it was the other way around. He was hearing the lyrics first, but knew the notes would come.
He got out of the chair and sauntered to the whiteboard hanging on the wall. Until recently it had been empty, but it was now covered in little yellow squares with words and sentences he jotted down as they came to him.
Spinning out of control.
Two steps forward, one step back.
Green eyes, sad rhymes.
He pulled a few scraps off the board, wadded them up, and tossed them in the trash can. Others he lined up one below the other, hoping to form complete stanzas. He took another sip of his coffee and startled when Loretta split the silence with an ear-piercing bark.
Kate was still laying on the ground, trying to catch her breath when she heard “Go check it out, girl.” Brody’s voice boomed from inside the house.
“Oh, my—” Kate tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain shot through her back. She laid her head against the cold grass and sucked in a sharp breath when she heard a low, rumbling growl. Loretta charged toward her and hovered above her with her upper lip drawn back, snarling, showing a row of bright white teeth. Kate froze in place.
“Anything out there, girl?” His shout came from the porch, echoing off the trees and out buildings as Loretta took another step closer, teeth still bared.
“Good girl,” she whispered, “Nice doggy, nice Loretta.”
Loretta inched closer, her long, slender snout stretched toward Kate. The dog sniffed her fingers thoroughly, traveling up toward her shoulder. When she reached Kate’s face she licked her cheek with her wet, slimy tongue. Her tail wagged fiercely, causing her whole body to shake.
“Good girl, good girl,” she whispered, reaching up to scratch Loretta behind the ears and pat her spotted back, praying Brody wouldn’t find her like this.
As soon as Brody let Loretta
outside, he pulled on a jacket, and then spun the combination on the gun safe. He reached inside the heavy door for a twelve-gauge shotgun and pulled a couple of shells out of the box, quickly snapping them into the chamber. If the local bandit who’d been breaking into houses for the past couple months had decided it was time to victimize Brody Fisk, then Brody Fisk was about to make him awfully sorry.
When he rounded the corner of his porch, he could just make out the silhouette of Loretta poised in typical pointer style—snout extended and tail poker-straight. He walked down the porch steps, pumped the action, released the safety, and pointed the gun at the lifeless form on the grass.
“Don’t move,” he growled as he stepped slowly toward Loretta’s catch.
“Don’t shoot.” A female voice squeaked out the request and he lowered his gun. He inched closer and realized it was Kate lying prone in his yard, her legs draped over a concrete wall.
“What the hell?” The barrel was still pointing directly at her as he kneeled down to get a closer look. “Kate? What are you doing here?”
“Get the gun out of my face and I’ll tell you.”
He engaged the safety and laid the shotgun on the ground beside her. He shoved Loretta away and extended his hand to help Kate up. She swatted away his offer and rolled into a sitting position.
“What did I fall over?” She placed a hand on her back and twisted, wincing in pain. “My back." He slipped his arm around her waist, lifting her to a standing position while ignoring her attempts to resist his assistance. “Do you have your yard booby trapped or something?”
“Not intentionally, but apparently it helps ward off intruders.”
“I’m not intruding.” She bent back and forth, and then left and right, seeming to test out her injuries.
“Then what are you doing outside my house in the dark? Where’s your car?”
“It’s not dark. Well, it wasn’t when I got here.” She swiped her hands over her pants and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to put her ponytail back into some semblance of order.
Brody crossed his arms over his chest, enjoying her attempts to pull herself together. She righted her jacket, brushing the dried grass from the sleeves, and cleared her throat. He thought she was the cutest damn thing as she regained her professional, put-together self. Finding her sprawled across his lawn was a pleasant surprise and he couldn’t wait to hear her explanation.
“Were you peeking in my windows?” he asked, trying to keep a stern look on his face.
“No. Not exactly.”
“Then, what exactly?”
“If you’d give me a minute, I’ll explain.” He smiled to himself as she drew herself up tall, shoulders squared, determined. “I came to bring you this.” She thrust out a manila envelope, smacking it into his chest.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a list of fundraisers and other revenue generating ideas I came up with for the community center board. There are several grants they could apply for and I’ve gone ahead and written a few proposals. They just require a signature by Sam. There’s also my recommendation regarding liability with some supporting documents to show how I derived the figure.”
“You did all this?”
“Yes. Gram wanted me to help with the board and I have. So, do what you want with it.”
She started toward the lane, but he stopped her, grabbing her elbow before she could get too far. “Wait. Hey, you want to come in?”
“No, thanks. I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
“I’m sorry about the gun. We rarely get visitors out here and I just figured, with the way Loretta reacted—” Kate was looking at him with her big green eyes, putting him off balance with her intimidating stare. He never knew which way his emotions would go when he was around her. Sometimes she excited him, sometimes she scared him, sometimes she pissed him off, and sometimes she made his heart melt. Right now he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss her. Obviously he’d scared her with the shotgun and she hadn’t regained her equilibrium. He reached out and took her hand in his.
“I’m really sorry I scared you. Is your back hurt?”
“A little. What did I trip over?”
“That’s where the old cistern used to be. I guess I need to take care of that.” He tugged her closer and raised her hand to his mouth. She let him peck a few kisses across her creamy skin before pulling away.
“You do that. It’s a serious liability.” She did an about face and hiked down the lane with Loretta fast on her heels.
“Damnedest woman I ever met.” Brody huffed out a laugh as he enjoyed the sight of her retreating down the lane.
SIXTEEN
A heavy pounding racked through Kate’s head, confused as to the source of the noise. She sat up quickly, but sudden movement made the room spin. She dropped her head in her hands and remembered the cause of her dizziness. When she’d gotten home from Brody’s last night, she poured herself a glass of wine and attempted to read through endless lines of testimony, but couldn’t focus, couldn’t get her mind off Brody’s naked chest and tousled hair. With a second glass of wine, she buried her nose in the court case once again, but was interrupted by Derek’s text.
Coming your way next week. May I crash on Gram’s couch?
Rather than answer the text and get back to work, she poured yet another glass of wine and put in a call to Derek. During their lengthy conversation, they had agreed he would stay with her at Gram’s while he worked out of the regional FBI office. Knowing she’d have a friend from home visiting soon seemed to be a good reason to celebrate. At least, at the time that was the excuse she used to kill a nearly full bottle of Chardonnay. If she was honest with herself, she needed the wine to douse the flames ignited by Brody’s kisses on her hand. That tender, sexy move was unsettling. She couldn’t allow herself to fall for him. There was too much at stake with her career.
A loud pounding came from outside, worsening the pounding in her head. She hopped off the bed and saw Brody in the yard, nailing some planks to the ramp’s framework. He was squatting down with his back to her and she could just make out a thin line of exposed skin above his waistband. When he stood up, he stripped off his jacket and pulled the long-sleeved t-shirt over his pants. The thin cotton fabric stretched over his broad shoulders. She swallowed hard as a shiver tingled her core, and she rushed to the shower, hoping the steam would calm her headache and other symptoms. Then again, maybe a cold shower was what she really needed…
Feeling a million times better after two cups of coffee, a piece of toast, and a clear head, Kate placed her empty mug in the sink and looked out at the stark backyard. It had been six weeks ago she had arrived at Gram’s, the backyard covered in orange, yellow, and brown leaves. Now the leaves were off the trees and the ground was brown, matted grass, awaiting the warmth of spring to bring the green back to life. Gram was due to be released next week and soon after Kate would go back to her old life.
The steady rhythm of Brody’s pneumatic nailer stopped and the house became quiet again. On days he worked on the ramp, she found it hard to concentrate. She could get used to the machine gun sound of his power hammer, but not used to the man using it. Most days she went to the Sit and Sip to get away from the distraction.
She startled when she heard a frantic knocking.
She threw open the front door and her eyes followed the trail of blood from Brody’s left hand to the puddle on the porch floor.
“My god, what happened?” She reached for his elbow, pulled him in the house, and rushed to the kitchen.
“It was stupid,” he said, holding his right hand under the flow of blood. “Sorry about the mess on the porch.”
“Don’t worry about that.” She returned with a bundle of paper towels she quickly wrapped around his hand and led him into the kitchen. “Did you shoot yourself with that nail gun of yours?”
“Nothing as dramatic as that.” She pushed him into a kitchen chair and rushed to the bathroom
for a first aid kit. When she came back into the kitchen, he was folded at the waist with his head between his knees.
“Are you going to be sick?”
“Maybe,” he mumbled.
“How much blood have you lost?”
“It’s not how much, just the sight of it.”
She burst out laughing as she unwrapped his hand and surveyed the damage. She found a one-inch jagged tear on the side of his hand, not severe enough to require stitches, but still producing plenty of blood.
“It’s not funny,” he murmured, keeping is head below his heart.
“I’m sorry. Your reaction to a little blood doesn’t go along with the gun-wielding bad-ass I encountered last night.”
“It’s not a little blood.” He raised his head and looked at her. “And I wouldn’t exactly say I was bad-ass last night.”
“Yeah, but your dog was.” She squirted a dollop of antibiotic ointment on the wide bandage and strapped it to his hand. “She’s a great watchdog.”
“That’s what she was hired for.” He turned his hand to examine her first aid work. “Thanks. The damn plastic blister pack caught the side of my hand when I was trying to open more nails. I hate those things.”
“I always have trouble with them myself.”
“Are these your parents?” Brody had noticed the old photos strewn across the kitchen table. Last night, after she’d given up on working, while drinking her wine, Kate had systematically gone through the albums and planned to make copies of her favorites before leaving town. He tapped on a photo of her mom and dad outside a pharmacy on Main Street, drinking from striped paper cups.
“Yes. I’m not sure where that picture was taken.” She took two mugs from the cabinet and placed them beside the coffee pot. “Coffee?”
“Sure.” He examined the photo more closely. “That’s Beautiful Blooms, where Riley works. It used to be a pharmacy with an old-fashioned soda fountain.” He accepted the coffee mug and brought the steaming cup to his lips. “It closed my senior year of high school.”
Whatever You Say Page 13
