Shameless

by Lex Martin

  My stomach growls, and I smile awkwardly. “I guess that’s my answer.”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll take care of you.”

  After the last few days I’ve had, that sounds really good.

  6

  Katherine

  Brady’s heavy boots fall in step behind mine as I lead him down the hallway after dinner. I hold a finger up to my lips and nudge the baby’s door open. She’s curled up in her crib. It’s quiet except for the soft sound of rain coming from the noisemaker in the corner.

  I glance up at Brady, and he whispers, “She’s precious.”

  “She’s a really good baby. Trust me, I’ve taken care of a few little monsters, and Bella is a sweetheart.”

  “Bella?”

  We step into the hall, and I nod. “Well, it’s Isabella, but we call her Bella.”

  He frowns. “Maybe I shouldn’t call her Izzy. I wasn’t even thinking.”

  The look on his face guts me, and I rub his shoulder. “Mel and Cal would love your nickname for her.” Somehow, I’m able to speak despite the now familiar spark that reaches through me when I touch him. His eyes¸ which look black in the dim light of the hallway, soften. “I promise.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I nod and offer him a small smile, which he returns. “Okay, so follow me.” I point to the door across from the baby’s room. “This is the bathroom.”

  I flip on the light, hoping it’s clean.

  “Towels, shampoo, soap, whatever you need is probably in here,” I say, opening the large cabinet, “so please help yourself.”

  He points toward the claw-foot tub. “Old-school.”

  “I love that tub, but if you need a shower, I won’t take it personally.” Pulling back the curtain, I motion toward the wall-mounted shower head. On our way back out, I pause. “Word to the wise—you really need to jam the bathroom door closed. I think the house is shifting after all that rain we’ve been having, and the dang thing pops open.” I give him an apologetic shrug. “The lock broke, so if you use it, you might not be able to get out.”

  “I’ll fix it as soon as I can get my hands on Cal’s toolbox.”

  My eyebrows lift. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think Cal had a toolbox. He was better balancing the books than doing anything manual. I mean, he harvested one of the fields almost single-handedly, but fixing things wasn’t his strength. But Mel was pretty handy herself, so it’s not like we were helpless.”

  His lips flatten, and I feel like I’ve said something wrong. “Hey, but Mel has a bunch of tools in the shed. I’m sure you’ll find what you need in there. We can track them down later.”

  I motion down the hall, and he follows. My heart beats erratically as I grip the door handle. I haven’t stepped into this room since before. “This… this is Mel and Cal’s bedroom. I’m not sure what kind of state it’s in. But it has a big bed, and I can change the sheets for you.”

  As I twist the doorknob, his hand comes over mine. “That’s okay. I can sleep on the couch.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t know why the idea of going in there freaks me out, but given Brady's panicked expression, I’m not alone.

  “You can have my bed if you want.” I point to the next room and push the door open. “I know it’s only a twin, but this is probably your house now, and I’m more than happy to sleep on the couch in the office.” My bed is made, and fortunately, I didn’t leave anything embarrassing out. Not that I have many belongings here.

  “Katherine, don’t be silly. I’m not kicking you out of your bed. I’ll sleep in the office.” His eyes sweep around my room, and he lets out a heavy sigh, furrowing his brows at the sight of his own breath. Intense green eyes snap to mine. “It’s cold in here.”

  “The heat doesn’t make it to my room for some reason, so I have to bundle up. You might think Texas is always hot, but at night, here in the hill country, it gets pretty cold sometimes. I should’ve left the door open so it wouldn’t get so chilly, but I have a space heater, so that helps.”

  “Those things are dangerous. I’ll look into fixing the heat for you.”

  “It’s okay. I know you have a lot on your plate. I’m fine. Honestly. But if you see me lookin’ like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man in the morning, that’s why. Just don’t laugh.”

  I point an accusing finger at him, and he chuckles. “I would never.” His expression gets serious. “But the heat works in the rest of the house?”

  I nod half-heartedly. “It gets cold in the living room because it’s a drafty, old house, but the baby’s room, Mel’s bedroom and the office are all okay. It’s mostly this room that doesn’t get heat for some reason.”

  Frowning, he nods and follows me to the office. Even though the door is open, it still kinda smells like Cal, like coffee and the faintest hint of the clove cigarettes he’d sneak at night. Swallowing down an unexpected rush of emotion, I turn on the floor lamp, which casts a warm light.

  On one end of the room a rustic-looking desk overflows with mail and manila folders. Cal was good with numbers. Not so good with organization.

  “Somewhere underneath that mess, you’ll find Cal’s laptop.” Brady glances around, and I point to the flat screen TV that’s mounted above the book shelf. “The PlayStation is hooked up if you want to chill.” He raises an eyebrow, and I smile. “I know how guys are. Wanting to sit around in your underwear and scratch yourselves while you play Call of Duty.”

  He laughs, looking a little sheepish.

  I head into the hall to grab a few blankets and pillows out of the closet and return to find Brady studying a framed photo on the wall. After a minute I allow myself to look too, but the second I do, I wish I hadn’t.

  My arms tighten around the bedding as I take in Mel and Cal, who are grinning at the camera like two fools while they hold Bella. Something deep in my heart aches at the sight.

  He clears his throat. “So they were happy?”

  The words rush out of me. “Yes. Very. They were so in love. Sometimes, when they looked at each other, it was like no one else existed. Which was great for them.” I wrinkle my nose. “Awkward for everyone else.”

  When I look up, he’s smiling, but then he rubs the back of his neck and his lips press tight. “I hate to bring this up again, but do you have any idea why my mom thought Izzy was with her parents that night? I distinctly remember her saying ‘we lost the baby too,’ and I just don’t know how she got so confused.”

  I think about that night, really think about it, and all at once, I realize my mistake. Heat stings my eyes, and I blink it back. “I… It’s my fault. I’m so sorry. I can see how she misunderstood what I was saying.” I pause, trying to find the words. “Mel was… Mel was pregnant.”

  His eyes clench shut, and I fight to keep my emotions under control.

  His silence unravels me more, and I rush to explain. “I was so upset that night. I just… I wasn’t thinking. Sheriff Tate called your mom for consent for Bella to stay here. Then he told me to call too. Honestly, it probably wasn’t the best time for me to talk to anyone.” I take a deep breath, remembering flashes from that night.

  “You did the best you could.” His voice is soft and surprisingly gentle. “She must have been in shock.” He lets out a weary sigh. “You know, after those calls, my dad had a heart attack, and she rushed him to the hospital.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “I mean, she told me she spoke to the sheriff, but clearly she couldn’t grasp everything.”

  “I’m sorry, though. I shouldn’t have unloaded so much on her. I swear I didn’t mean to traumatize her.”

  His eyes pass over me. “Don’t blame yourself. It was a fucked-up night. I know none of this is your fault.”

  Hearing those words is like a punch to my chest, and suddenly I can’t breathe. God, am I hyperventilating? Dropping the bedding, I cover my eyes with my hands, too horrified to tell him the truth. He’s going to hate you.
<
br />   A strangled sound breaks from my lips. It sounds foreign, like it’s coming from someone else, but my shoulders are shaking, and I can’t catch my breath.

  Before I know what’s happening, he’s wrapped me in a hug, and for the second time tonight, I melt into his arms. They’re strong and warm and so comforting.

  All at once my lungs fill. I take long pulls of air against his t-shirt. His smells faintly of cologne and detergent and warm male, and when I shudder, his hold tightens.

  He whispers into my hair, “It’ll be okay, Katherine. I got you.”

  Closing my eyes, I ignore that inner voice that’s screaming at me to stop being such a wuss, to man up and tell him the rest, but I can’t get anything past the boulder in my throat.

  A few moments go by, and I can’t let this poor guy deal with my pathetic ass any longer. I put my hands on his waist to push away, but…

  Holy six-pack.

  I should pull my hands back, but I can’t. Maybe the oxygen deprivation warped my brain because my head is screaming to let go, but my fingers have a mind of their own… and they start to squeeze the taut muscle. He stills and then inches away. Oh, God. What am I doing? I’m about to run and hide under the front porch when he laughs.

  I tilt my head up, way up because he towers over me. He looks embarrassed. And then I laugh.

  “Are you… are you ticklish?”

  He schools his features. “Nah.” Shrugging, he glances away.

  “Haha. Sons of Anarchy is ticklish.”

  His head rears back. “What’d you call me?”

  I let out a weak laugh, hoping he’s not offended, and I mumble it again.

  “Katherine,” he deadpans.

  “What? You rode in here today looking like you wanted to shank someone. I think the nickname is fitting.”

  He shakes his head, but he can’t hide the smile on his lips. I realize I’m still all up in his business, and I start to move away. “Okay, well, I’m gonna get out of your hair before I freak out again. Thanks, you know, for letting me cry on your shoulder or—” I wave wildly at him “—or whatever that was. I swear I’m not usually a basket case. I just haven’t slept in days, and I get a little loopy when I can’t sleep. I mean, really loopy. Like in college, during finals, I really—”

  “Katherine.”

  My mouth snaps shut, and those butterflies riot in my stomach again. Why do I love the way he says my name?

  He squeezes my arm gently. “You’ve been amazing. Thank you for that incredible dinner and for being so welcoming. You can cry on my shoulder anytime.” He smiles, and a dimple pops out on his left cheek. “But maybe I’ll grab us some life preservers just in case.”

  Forcing a frown, I grumble, “Hardee har har.” Stepping back, I pick up his bedding that I dropped a few minutes ago and drape them on the couch. “Make yourself at home. Holler if you need anything.”

  “I’ll set my alarm early. I have to check in with my dad and call the funeral home and Cal’s attorney, but I’ll shovel hay or milk your goats or whatever you need. Just point me in the right direction.”

  I snort. “I don’t think you can milk our goats. I mean, they have nipples, but...” What on God’s green earth am I saying right now?

  His eyebrows lift to his hairline, and then we’re both laughing. He shrugs. “Then I’ll keep my hands off their nipples. Making a mental note of that now. Do not touch the goats’ nipples. Done.”

  Pretty sure I’m blushing all the way down to my toes. I start toward the door before I can say anything else idiotic. “Look, get settled tomorrow. Make your calls. I have everything under control. Honestly, I feel a hundred times better now that you’re here. And I’ll get you if I need something.”

  I wish him goodnight, yank the door closed behind me, and sag against it with a deep sigh. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? He must think I’m a lunatic.

  Where is the girl who always had her act together? I wish I knew. That was the whole point of coming to Mel’s farm. But right now, I’m nowhere closer to figuring it out.

  7

  Brady

  Holy motherfu—

  No, I am not imagining it. Something is definitely gnawing on my ankle right now. I pry one eye open as I roll over and come face to face with a furry nose.

  “Meow.”

  Shit. A kitten.

  I scrub my face, forcing myself to wake up.

  Kittens. That’s right. Katherine said something about kittens… and two pygmy goats. Christ.

  My head drops back to the pillow, and I take a deep breath. Every muscle in my back aches from sleeping at the airport for two nights and then traveling all day yesterday. Pair that with trying to sleep on this awful couch, and it’ll be a week before I feel like myself again.

  The sun is blasting through the window, so it must be late. Five more minutes.

  When I reach for the covers around my waist, I realize that the kitten who’s now purring and kneading my neck is not the same little vampire who’s chewing on my ankle.

  I sit up quickly and yank back the blanket.

  Two black, beady eyes stare back between my feet.

  “What the fuck?”

  The masked little face sneers back at me.

  As I leap off the couch, my legs get tangled in the bedding, and I end up on the hardwood floor.

  “Meow! Meow! Meow!”

  Furry bodies come charging over me like I’ve set off an alarm.

  “Brady? Hey, sorry to bother you, but I need to get in there.”

  A knock comes at the door, and I’m scrambling to get up, but the sheet is still wrapped around my legs, and I land on my ass again.

  Collapsing back, I resign myself to being eaten by a damn raccoon.

  Someone snickers behind me. “Are you okay?”

  I look over my shoulder and see Katherine, who’s bouncing Izzy on her hip.

  “Yeah, I think I just met your friends from Animal Planet.”

  Her laughter is airy and light, but it subsides when her eyes travel over me.

  I look down and realize I’m only wearing black boxers, and my morning wood is threatening to make an escape. Shit.

  Quickly, I roll over and grab the sheet on my way to cover my junk.

  “Sorry. I should have given you a minute before I barged in. I just need—” She races by, half covering her face until she reaches the desk. “Just need Mel’s address book.” Using the book to hide her eyes again and the other one to hang on to Izzy, she darts back across, and I marvel at the little cyclone. I can’t decide if she’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen or a complete disaster.

  I expect her to run out the door, but she pauses to make this little clicking sound with her tongue and say, “C’mon, babies. It’s time to eat. ¡Venga!”

  Before meeting Katherine, I never thought Southern accents were very appealing, but hers is charming. And the Spanish? Yeah, that’s sexy.

  She clicks again, and three kittens and that fucking raccoon go scrambling over me and follow Katherine like she’s the Pied Piper. My eyes lift a little higher, in time to catch her curvy ass waltz away in a pair of form-fitting jeans, which does nothing to help my boner.

  I lie back on the floor and rub my face again.

  No, you cannot lust after the babysitter, asshole.

  One ice-cold shower later—no, not because I need to get a handle on my dick, because I would’ve gladly jerked one out in the shower, but because the hot water was out—and I’m throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. How I’ve gotten this far today without coffee is an outright miracle, but I’m not particularly excited about talking to Katherine this morning after nearly flashing her my goods.

  I really don’t want to make this more awkward than it is. I don’t know why I kept hugging her last night. She just wouldn’t stop crying and the last thing I’m prepared to deal with right now is a distraught woman. And I definitely don’t want her to think I’m some giant creep.

  Fortunately, the kitchen is em
pty when I walk in. Except there’s a plate in the middle of the table with foil and a note with my name on it. Make yourself at home. Here’s breakfast. If you’re a vegan or a vegetarian, don’t tell me. It’ll ruin my impression that you barbecue roadkill. Just kidding! Kinda.

  I laugh. She’s a riot, that one.

  Something about her message relaxes me. She seems like a cool girl, the kind who wouldn’t get the wrong idea about a couple of hugs.

  Girl? Sure, Katherine looks young, but nothing about her body says she’s a girl. She’s about five-five and slender but with curves a guy would want to travel.

  Yeah, no more hugging Katherine.

  This whole thing—the trip, my brother, not sleeping in days—is messing with my head. I’ve never been one of those douchebags who can’t hug girls because he wants to hump their leg.

  Last year when Dani was bawling her eyes out on my shoulder because that asshole treated her like crap, I could hug her and not want to strip her naked. And I definitely had a thing for Dani.

  But here’s what really gets under my skin about Katherine. She smells good. Really good. When she nestled into my arms last night, her floral scent—light and sweet and innocent—overwhelmed me.

  And then afterward, I noticed how her scent was everywhere. The sheets. The pillowcase. The shower. Oh, God. The shower. She must use some fancy bath gel because when I walked in there, all I could think about was her. Wet and sudsy and silky soft.

  Fuck me.

  Maybe I’ll just stock the bathroom with Dial and Head & Shoulders and hope she lays off the Victoria’s Secret Hot Bod 3000 products.

  A guy can hope.

  8

  Katherine

  As I clean out Sampson’s stall, I keep one eye on Bella, who’s playing with a few toys in a playpen under the shade of an oak tree. Even though it’s almost the end of November, it’s warm today. That’s the thing about Texas winters. One day you’re shivering and the next you’re running around in shorts.