He wrapped her tight. Her senses filled with his nearness. The smell of the leather, his warm breath on her face … Unf.
Clearing his throat, he looked at her gravely and said, “Ms. Clarke. Would you go out with me? And by out, I mean a date. I’d like to do the dating thing with you. For real.”
He was asking her to be his date. No. Hold on. He was asking her out? She was confused. “What?”
“I like you. A lot, a lot. And I really want to be your boyfriend. If you’ll let me.”
Boyfriend? Her eyes bugged out, and she was pretty sure her eyebrows shot right off her forehead.
“Is boyfriend the wrong word?” He chuckled playfully.
“Oh god, no,” she started with a jolt. “I think you’d be an awesome boyfriend.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Well, look, Brody,” she stammered. “Um, I mean … gawd! You’re like every foolish girl’s dream boyfriend. And, um … but … I don’t know much about being a girlfriend. Or how good I’d be at it.” Her history was too messed up to offer much encouragement.
Boom. A truth bomb.
“I know your heart, Heather. Just relax and trust yourself. Shut down that steel trap in your head. What’s your gut tell you?”
Well, damn. That was an easy question. “I’ve already said … I trust you. But that doesn’t mean I’m not terrified and unsure. Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” She shuddered.
“Good. I want you to feel all that shit. Let it happen, honey. We’ll figure this out together, okay?”
She nodded and sank into him. None of this was easy. She’d been running and afraid for a very long time. It was time to stop all that and face things head-on.
“I suppose this means we’re dating,” she murmured into the leather.
His laughter and squeezing hug were all the confirmation she needed.
“WHOA, MAN. THAT’S insane. Holy crap, Gus. You’ve done an incredible job with the kennel plans.”
Brody was clicking on all cylinders. He’d been in constant touch with his skeleton crew at the Justice compound, working up sketches and making an endless list of things to ready the agency for the changes to the dog program.
Gus’s grinning face gazed from the screen of the iPad propped on the table in front of him. Surrounded by piles of paper filled with drawings and a stack of resource books, they were Face Timing and shooting files back and forth on the laptop.
“Mr. Brody.” Gus chuckled lazily. “Not only is the kennel completely re-imagined, Ben and I have a surprise for you that we think you’re gonna love.”
“Well, shit.” He chortled. “If you guys have time for surprises, I must not be giving you enough to do.” Settling back in his chair, he picked up a pencil and started doodling as he listened, occasionally glancing at the camera.
“The aquatics guys were here working on the new pool area and we sorta got this idea. What if we made a small water play spot for the dogs? Ever see a kid’s playground with a water feature? Something like that.”
He was impressed. What Gus described was a fantastic idea. “Does Alex know what you’re doing?”
“Pfft. Nah. He has way too much on his plate right now. We could install a giant fifty-foot waterslide with flames shooting from the top and he’d just nod and walk by.”
That didn’t sound like the Major, but he laughed at the description because he could totally see it happening in his mind. “What the fuck’s up with him? The wedding making him crazy? I have a hard time seeing Meghan as a bridezilla. Not her style.”
“Oh, shit!” Gus laughed. “I forget that you ran out of here before Ms. Angie showed up. Hell on wheels, that one. A Marquez through and through.”
The man’s jovial laugh was infectious. Brody knew who he was talking about. Lacey was good about keeping him in the loop. Angelina Valleja-Marquez was currently in da house. Baby sister to Alex, she was at the Villa to help as Meghan’s wedding planner.
“She’s got Sully jumping hoops, walking through fire, and jumping off a cliff all at the same time. And lemme tell you, watching the man lose his shit over that snip of a girl is better than one of Carmen’s telenovelas.”
Parker Sullivan was an honorary Marquez so learning there was history between Parker and Angie was a startling development in Family Justice. Brody enjoyed that Alex’s oldest friend was getting his emotional balls squeezed by the man’s little sister. He was bummed that the drama was unfolding without him there to be a part of it.
“And don’t forget, with Mr. Calder taking off after Ms. Stephanie when she went back to Georgia, well, you know the Major. He wasn’t a happy camper about any of that. Doesn’t help that Ms. Tori misses having her mom around.”
Feeling slow on the draw, Brody stopped sketching and tossed the pencil aside. Dammit. He’d been so wrapped up in his own shit that he wasn’t thinking about what Alex, or anyone for that matter, was going through.
“Carmen is keeping an eye on things in the Villa. She knows better than anyone how to handle Mr. Alex. Well, maybe not like Ms. Meghan can, but that’s a bit of what’s making him a mess. He wants this time to be about her. And the wedding. Not his sister’s messy love life or his uncle’s equally sloppy relationship.”
No better human being existed on the whole damn planet than Alexander Valleja-Marquez. Brody hoped one day to be half the man he was. Though the Major would insist otherwise, Brody owed him a debt of gratitude that could never be repaid. Justice saved his life. Fact.
Gus’s mention of Carmen reminded him that the distinguished older gentleman had a lot on his plate too. “Hey. How’s your son-in-law? Any change?”
Besides the actual Justice Brothers, Gus was one of the first people he’d met at the compound. Over time, they’d developed a close friendship. Gus reminded him of Pops. Old school, hard-working regular guy with no frills.
Brody hated when bad shit happened to good people. A desperate fight against a terrible illness was tearing apart the lives of the older man’s grandchildren and daughter. He’d been almost afraid to ask.
“Not good. Not good,” Gus muttered before moving briefly out of camera range. When he slid back, Brody saw him swipe a tissue to his nose. His heart sank for the guy.
“What are you going to do?” he asked quietly.
Gus shrugged and gave a wan, unconvincing smile. “If things don’t start getting better soon, I’m going to have to go to Kentucky and help Shelby with the business. And the boys. She can’t run an auto body shop and raise two rambunctious kids without a dad.”
“Oh, fuck. Is it at that point? Gus. Man. I’m so sorry.”
Ugh. The poor guy. It was much worse than he’d imagined. Justice was in Gus’s blood. He took care of a veritable fleet of agency vehicles and managed the stable as if he was born to it. It was impossible to picture anyone else in those positions.
“And Carmen? Does she play into this?” There was a long stretch of nothing after he asked the question. Gus and Carmen had been romantically dancing around each other for some time. The silence felt ominous.
“Sometimes, the timing isn’t right.” Gus looked like sadness was all he knew.
Brody nodded grimly. Oh hell yeah, he knew all about fucked-up timing. It was something that cost him a daughter. “Whatever happens, you’ll be at the wedding, right?” he asked hopefully. “I want you to meet someone.”
Brody refused to think about the fact that he’d RSVP’d to the wedding and added a guest. Wishful thinking on his part? Hell, yeah. Now, all he had to do was tell Heather he’d committed her to accompany him to Boston.
Gus’s happy smile was warm and genuine. “That’s right, Mr. Brody! I heard you were bringing a date. Holy shit. You dog. Keeping a lady friend secret from all of us? Mr. Alex was … uh, quite surprised when he heard.”
He just bet he was. Nothing like a possessive and jealously territorial groom. Not wanting to get into it, he changed subjects.
“How’s Daniel doing? Lacey says he’s big and strong and keepi
ng Drae on his toes.”
“Big and strong?” Gus chortled happily. “Lord, man, despite having such a tiny mama, that boy is one helluva weed. He’s growing like one of Ben’s bean plants on steroids. Mr. Drae straps him into one of those sling doo-hickeys and he and Mr. Cameron march around like they invented babies.”
“Is Raven being good? I can have Mike run interference with the St. John’s. Not much for him to do during the construction anyway.”
Mike was Brody’s kinda sorta maybe assistant. Another of Alex’s countless rescues; the young man came with an unfortunate juvenile record and was on the road to nowhere when Justice offered him a chance. Remarkably, he’d proven to be pretty fucking responsible. When Brody got back to Arizona, he was gonna sit the kid down and have a serious talk. If he was right, Mike was ready to take on whatever was thrown at him. Sometimes, all it took was one challenge met and mastered to turn a life around.
“Mike? He’s got it on the ball, that one. Goes up to the Villa every morning to take Zeus for a run. Makes sure she gets bathed and groomed. Same for Raven although, believe it or not, Mr. Draegyn takes care of the walking. She’s still a pup, but she listens really well. You matched them up with a great dog.”
Yeah. He was real talented fwhen it came to pairing man and dog. Or woman and beast. George was a great example. Pushing the adorable puppy on Heather turned out to be a spur of the moment inspiration.
Out of the blue, Gus said, “Hey. I was surprised you didn’t have the bike shipped. What’s up with that?”
Sensing their conversation was wrapping up, he gathered the mass of papers into a neat pile and tapped them on the table into an orderly stack. “Seemed stupid, you know? I don’t ride when I’m here … at all. Not in the winter anyway and I’d just end up shipping her back in the spring. Got a banging Suburban to haul my shit in and whatever doesn’t fit will have to be packed and put in a moving pod.”
“Where you setting up once you’re here permanently? That shitty little efficiency isn’t gonna pass muster for a Justice Managing Director.”
Good point but with everything going on, he wasn’t putting much thought into it. And now that he knew Alex was pressed to his limit with family distractions, he was glad the subject never came up. He in no way wanted to add to the man’s burdens.
“Plenty of time to hammer out the fine print. I didn’t know Calder was gone. That means the casita is vacant. I guess I’ll talk to Cam and Drae at the wedding. See what they think. Fuck. If I asked Gepetto to carve me a house out of a Joshua Tree, I’m sure he’d make something spectacular.”
“Gepetto.” Gus snickered with a grin. “Good one.”
Brody laughed and quipped, “Woodworking references. Not a lot of ‘em to go around, and I’ll be damned before I call that swaggering St. John douche nozzle Joseph or anyone else with a J name who was famous for being a carpenter.”
They both laughed heartily. Taking digs at each other, hurling insults, and questioning everyone’s manliness was standard Justice issue. And he missed it.
As Gus’s laugh came to a snickering end, he mentioned the top-secret project Brody was involved in. “Almost forgot. Mr. Cam said I should check and make sure you got the latest changes to the set list. Ms. Meghan’s brother weighed in, and I think there was a question about a song that got more thumbs downs than ups.”
Oh, hell yeah, he got the changes. Sometimes, Justice felt like a goddamn Hollywood musical. Just another thing about life in Arizona that required some getting used to. What weird alignment of planets occurred that brought together such a diverse group of people who all happened to sing, play an instrument, act, or, in Stephanie’s case, run fucking beauty pageants?
He was a shower crooner. Leftover habit from the long ago high school days when he’d honed his theater skills. The guys would shit themselves if they ever saw the home movie Pops stashed away of Brody not only singing but dancing too. He’d made West Side Story his bitch a long time ago.
The song Gus mentioned was one of about a dozen the men of Justice and the O’Brien clan were rehearsing. The Boston gathering was gearing up to be a fuckton more than just a wedding. While all of the attention was on the bride and her posse of lady friends, Alex was orchestrating an under the radar tour de force with the help of Meghan’s brother, Deval. He chuckled. Even the fathers were in on the act.
“You tell Cam to chill the fuck out. I’ve got this. Hell. I even added a song. If I have to do this shit, I should get a say, right?”
They laughed and Gus drily quipped, “It’s what they pay you the big bucks for.”
Not too long after that, the call ended and he got up, stretched out the kinks, and headed into the kitchen. It was the weirdest thing, something he noticed because he was naturally attuned to picking up on patterns, but anytime he talked to someone at the compound or even if he’d been wrapped up thinking about Arizona, he got hungry.
Yanking open the refrigerator, he stood there and surveyed the contents. Pulling out a plate of leftovers, he shoved the food into the microwave and leaned a hip against the counter. Jeez. A therapist would have a field day with him.
His thoughts, of course, led to Heather. Saying he’d been enjoying this time with her was too much of an understatement to defend. Insisting they reboot to a more traditional beginning, dating the quirky woman turned out to be a godsend idea that reaped benefits he’d never even considered.
Despite her thirtieth birthday on the horizon, she responded to the whole dating scenario like a giddy sixteen-year-old. Hating what lurked in her past didn’t prevent him from being damn glad he was the first to treat her like a treasure. And if things went as planned … he’d be the last. No doubt about it, spoiling her was just the fucking coolest thing ever.
“Ow, fuck,” he bit out as the plate he lifted from the microwave singed his fingers with heat. “Goddammit.” Not only did he burn the hell out of two fingers, the inside of the microwave looked like a crime scene. “Shit. Next time, cover the plate, moron.”
He’d have to clean that up before Heather was here. A smile broke out on his face. She couldn’t stand a mess. Not clutter, she’d told him quite directly. Mess. Two different things.
Topping off a tumbler from the water cooler she’d made him get, Brody’s mood brightened further. The glugging sound of the bubbles as water poured from the spigot reminded him of laughter. His laughter when she’d gone on a wellness rant after discovering that he was a prodigious water drinker. For whatever reason, she’d checked out the local water company. Apparently, Heather hadn’t been thrilled with what she discovered, and since he filled up from the tap, well … hello, water cooler.
The more he indulged and pampered her, the more she loosened up. The concern she exhibited about his health over some fucking water was a great example. She was showing how much she cared, and for a guy with his issues, nothing could be better.
They were going to the movies later. By a happy coincidence, their Friday schedules were similar. An early start—in his case, a crack-of-dawn class followed by scheduled office time with work obligations wrapping up in time for lunch. She’d cut and run for home at midday as well.
In the week and a half since the new ballgame got underway, he’d politely pursued her and gone out of his way to do whatever it took to please the lady. But when they were on campus, he kept a distance. Just seemed like the thing to do. She took her work and career seriously. What she did was important to her, so he supported the professional by showing some goddamn respect.
His eyes darting to the clock on the stove, he made a mental note of how long till it was time to pick up his date for the evening. She was having lunch with her mother who unexpectedly descended out of the blue and rattled Heather’s normal unflappable poise. Since he didn’t know what that was all about or how the changes in his lady’s world would play out with her mom, he was a little apprehensive. Things were going good, and with the clock ticking to a life-changing countdown, he was more determined than ever t
o do whatever it took to ensure that she went with him when the time came.
“DADDY WOULD HATE this place.”
Heather snickered at her mom’s smug grin. She wasn’t kidding! Dad hated eggs in any form. A container of egg salad made him gag, and the exaggerated shudder he’d perform at seeing someone whisk a bowl of eggs always got a laugh.
Her brother, Travis, also hated any and all things egg related. But her and her mom? They were egg connoisseurs. The tiny café tucked away in a quaint D.C. suburb served the best eggs benedict on the planet, so when the unscheduled lunch date came up, the café was an easy pick.
Pouring from a delightfully old-fashioned teapot, she refilled their cups with a Downton Abbey flourish that got a wide smile from her parent.
“Lady Grey,” Heather cooed on a deep inhale. “My absolute favorite. But very few places serve it.” Spooning a healthy pile of sugar into her cup, she stirred with a tiny teaspoon and thoroughly enjoyed the way the metal clinked on the saucer when she placed it on the edge. A lazy late lunch with tea was a special ritual she shared with her mom. She’d once hoped to share that with her own daughter too, a thought she quickly banished. There was too much to be happy about to let any dark shadows slip through.
They sipped quietly for a few moments, her mother’s watchful gaze never wandering from Heather’s face. She wasn’t born last week. This surprise visit had parental recon mission stamped all over it.
“You are a piece of work.”
Huh? She sent a questioning glance her mother’s way.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, sweetie. Don’t play coy with me. I invented that nonsense, and just so you know it only works on men.”
Heather blanched. It wasn’t every day that her mom called her out. Eesh. Hastily putting her teacup down before she ended up wearing the hot drink, she met her mother’s assessing expression head-on. Giving as good as she got, a trait she learned from the woman staring her down, she replied smartly, “In that case, kind of feeling a bit sorry for Dad.”
Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3) Page 16
