And despite knowing she’d done the safe thing—the smart thing—in writing the story as it was, Ava still couldn’t shake the gut-deep notion that she’d barely scratched the dark and brooding surface of Nick Brennan’s story.
“I’m surprised you’re here.” Brennan’s voice reached her from a few paces away, where he’d stopped short behind the bar to stare at her with an expression that backed up his words.
“It takes more than a gruff attitude and a serious face to scare me away,” Ava said over a tart smile. Okay, so she hadn’t meant to tease him, but the startled laugh he gave in response made her glad that her sassy instincts had a mind of their own.
“I’m not trying to scare you away. And I’m not that serious.”
Ava couldn’t help it. She scoffed. “You do own a mirror, right?” She swung an index finger around her face in a circular motion before adding, “Not that being serious is a bad thing. You could probably win a mint in Vegas with a poker face like that.”
“So you think I need to loosen up.” Brennan moved closer, crossing his arms over the front of his dark blue T-shirt. God, it was an epically bad plan to flirt with him, especially given her recent tendency to kiss first and ask questions later. But the dark-edged smirk tilting the corners of his mouth short-circuited her common sense.
“You said it, not me. But for the record, a little relaxing never hurt anybody.”
“Says the woman who’s married to her job.”
Ava raised his smirk and went all in. “To the man who reinvented the workaholic.”
Brennan opened his mouth, then closed it as he folded, still smiling. “Nothing wrong with being dedicated to your job.”
“I couldn’t agree more. It’s actually why I’m here.” Ava swung her legs a quarter turn on her bar stool, sliding the mock-up of their interview from her bag. “Here’s your article. I turned in the final copy before I left work, but I thought you might like to read it before tomorrow’s paper hits the stands.”
Brennan eyed the two sheets of paper as if they’d detonate on contact with his fingers. “I didn’t know it was customary to share an article before it runs in the paper.”
Ava placed the pages on the bar, splitting the distance between herself and Brennan on the glossy wood. “It’s not.”
“Then why did you bring this out here?” he asked, his nearly black eyes flaring in surprise.
The truth danced on Ava’s tongue, and ah, to hell with it. The piece was done, and as hot as it burned, her curiosity about Brennan’s past wasn’t the only thing that had led her to the Double Shot tonight. “Personal courtesy. You seemed pretty reluctant during our interview, so I thought maybe reading the article before it runs would put your mind at ease.”
“Oh.” He paused, but then moved forward to pick up the pages from the bar. “Thanks.” A few minutes of quiet passed between them, marked only by the comfortable din of clinking cutlery and the muted twang of the overhead music while Brennan read. Finally, he lifted his gaze. “This is just the facts. All you did was tell the story.”
“That’s my job,” Ava said, gripping the rounded edge of the bar in front of her. “I mean, yes, I also interviewed an eyewitness and incorporated her account to fill in the events that occurred before you got there, and I pulled from the press release from the fire department for some of the technical aspects as well as talking to Joe, but . . .”
Brennan waved her off, stepping in until only two feet of mahogany and her fading-by-the-second willpower kept them from touching. “No, no. I didn’t mean that as a bad thing. In fact, the story is good. Great.”
Ava’s lips parted, her shocked breath heating the sliver of space between them. “You think the article is great?” Granted, she’d worked her butt off to squeeze every last drop of emotion out of the straight-up time line he’d given her, but still . . .
“You got all the facts just right, and you didn’t make the story overblown or dramatic. You told it exactly the way it happened. So yeah, I do.” He rocked back on his heels, but only far enough to give the pages he’d placed back on the bar a tap with his fingers. “How come you think you’re not a good reporter?”
“Aside from my boss’s daily reminders that I can’t handle the job, you mean?”
Crap! Now was so not the time for her brain-to-mouth filter to completely malfunction. Ava scrambled for something—anything—to smooth over her impetuous admission, but of course Brennan was quicker on the verbal draw.
“Looks like you handle being a reporter just fine to me.” He reached out to return the copy of the article to her hands, and she slid the papers back into her bag on a shrug.
“Thanks. But my boss is more of a style over substance kind of guy.” She wouldn’t be shocked if Gary had emerged from the womb on the hunt for a way to increase his bottom line, the splashier the better.
“No disrespect,” Brennan said, kicking his jeans-clad legs into a casual lean against the counter facing both her and the bar. “But your boss sounds like an ass.”
Ava paused. She’d already whipped the lid off this conversation. No sense holding back now. “Well, he’s an ass who signs my paychecks, and reporting jobs don’t exactly grow on trees. It’s a small price to pay, and he doesn’t break any rules even though his ethics are a tad questionable.”
“I don’t mean to be thick, but you’re from a pretty big city. Doesn’t the news in Philly blow Riverside’s current events out of the water?”
“Yeah.” She propped an elbow on the bar top, twisting the corner of her cocktail napkin around her index finger. God, her memories of Philadelphia stung, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t already told Brennan the worst of them. Plus, even when she’d spilled the details of her nasty past, he hadn’t treated her like fragile goods. As crushing as it was, that past had made her stronger. She could handle this.
Ava lifted her chin, looking right into Brennan’s black-coffee eyes. “The jobs in Philadelphia are better, sure. But twenty-plus years of crappy memories kind of made relocating a no-brainer for me. I only stayed in the city for four days after I got back from Sapphire Island. Within a week, Nadine and I were living in a loft apartment up the road from my place now.”
“In Riverside?” Brennan’s gaze flashed with curiosity in the spill of the multicolored Christmas lights strung behind the bar. “I thought she was from Uniondale.”
“She is, sort of.” Ava waited for Brennan to pop the tops off a handful of beers and send them on their way down the bar before leaning in toward him. “Her parents run the restaurant on Sapphire Island in the summer, so they live most of the year in Uniondale, since it’s so close. But her mom’s side of the family is huge, and they’re all from Riverside. Nadine and her parents and sisters come up to ski and spend the holidays at Pine Mountain Resort every year.”
He straightened. “So you came to Riverside for a fresh start.”
“It seemed as good a place as any, and it was close enough to my brother to work out,” she said. “Of course he moved from Philadelphia to Pine Mountain after that anyway. Old habits, I guess.”
“It’s cool that you guys are close. I wish . . .” Brennan stopped short, but damn, his expression was as unreadable as ancient Sanskrit. “So, ah, is Nadine still in Riverside?”
Ava shook her head, the change in subject scooping up her full attention. “No. She got married last year. She and her husband moved to Phoenix for his job. We still e-mail a few times a year though.” Her mind shifted, curiosity taking over. “How about you and Mason? Do you still keep in touch?”
“No.” Brennan’s movements halted so completely that Ava didn’t press for more. She understood all too keenly how friends could drift apart, and her relationship with Nadine was living proof. Truth was, even though they weren’t nearly as close as they’d once been, Ava still owed Nadine’s family a massive debt of gratitude. They’d always included her at holiday gatherings and family get-togethers without question, and even though she’d never quite felt that she
seamlessly belonged there because Nadine’s family was just so massive, that surrogate support had served as a constant reminder of why sticking close to Pete was so vital.
He was the only family she’d ever have. Staying in the Blue Ridge wasn’t just a want for Ava.
It was an absolute necessity.
“Anyway.” She chased the word with a swallow of her drink, the lemonade tart on her tongue. “To answer your original question, I’ve got nearly five years of seniority at the Daily, and even though my boss can be difficult, writing stories like yours is what I’m made for. Even if it means putting up with tough hours and tougher criticism.”
A look Ava couldn’t pin with a name flickered across Brennan’s face, his expression going blank before he said, “Looks like I’m not the only one who could loosen up around here.”
“Wishful thinking, I’m afraid. I don’t really have time for loosening up.” She gestured to her bag, which was currently crammed with enough work to send her on an all-night word bender. Just because she’d turned in the story on the fire didn’t mean she was off the hook for everything else Gary usually dump-trucked onto her desk.
“So tell me something.” Brennan stopped to fill another drink order before satisfying Ava’s ramped-up curiosity. “Does your ass of a boss give you a lunch break?”
“Yeah,” Ava said, but it came out way more question than definitive fact. “Although I’m pretty sure the cold PB and J I scarf down over the sink in the break room doesn’t count as relaxing.”
He shuddered slightly before following up with a half smile. “I’m going to have to agree with you there. I’ve got something different in mind if you want to blow off some steam, but it’s a little unorthodox. You game?”
Realization hit her with all the subtlety of a Mack truck on a downhill grade. “Are you asking me to lunch?”
“I’m asking if you want to do something relaxing on your lunch break,” Brennan corrected. “Since according to you, I could use a little loosening up anyway. Plus”—he paused, sinking a thumb through one of the belt loops on his flawlessly worn jeans—“I was kind of gruff yesterday during our interview. It wasn’t on purpose.” Another pause, and his words arrowed right to Ava’s belly. “But I’d like to make it up to you.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, sure.” The answer vaulted right past her lips, but she belatedly added, “You’re not going to ask me to do anything totally weird, are you?” One of these days, she was going to have to do something about her complete reversal of the look-before-you-leap strategy.
But today was not that day, because the unvarnished truth was—potential weird factor notwithstanding—now that she’d turned in her story, Ava really wanted to see Brennan again.
And much to her surprise, it looked as if the feeling was mutual.
“I guess that depends on your definition of weird,” he said, following up the words with nothing more than that infernally sexy, stubble-laced smile.
She should’ve guessed. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
“Give me a hint,” came her bold counter, but Brennan just leaned in close enough to fill her senses with the fresh ocean-air scent of his skin.
“No.” His smile morphed into a grin, teasing every cell in Ava’s body as it traveled all the way to her core.
“Be at my place at noon tomorrow. Wear comfortable clothes, and be prepared to sweat.”
Chapter Eleven
Brennan stood in the dead center of his living room, surveying his apartment for obvious dust bunnies and trying to keep his back from going into full spasm. But between the stress of the fire last week and the grueling PT session he’d gutted through this morning, he doubted if he’d have much luck. When Brennan had arrived in the Blue Ridge just under two years ago, his orthopedist at Riverside Hospital had given him a standing prescription for muscle relaxers, which he’d never filled, and another one for painkillers, which he’d torn up before he’d even left the clinic. He’d told his physical therapist in their very first session that the strongest pharmaceutical assistance that would pass his lips would be the over-the-counter variety, and the rest was up to her.
And bless her torturous Zenmaster heart, Kat had manhandled him with alternative therapy ever since. Not that Brennan could knock it, because damn, her approach actually worked.
To varying degrees, anyway.
Satisfied that his apartment was free of any flagrant dirt or disarray, Brennan scanned his T-shirt and gym shorts to make sure they also passed muster. Okay, so what he had planned for his lunch break with Ava hardly qualified as date material, but he was still pretty sure he wouldn’t impress her with workout gear that could stunt-double as a dust rag.
Not that he was trying to impress her or ask her on a date. She’d done a decent thing by bringing him the article she’d written before it was printed, and he was just returning the being-nice favor. Plus, despite her teasing delivery last night, Ava wasn’t wrong. Brennan had endured a hell of a week, and both his back and his brain had let him know it in no uncertain terms. He really could stand to come down a notch.
And from the look on Ava’s face as she’d talked about her workload, he wasn’t the only one. Their interview was over and done, and his past was staying exactly where it belonged. He’d even dodged the land mine of her question about Mason last night, although the calm required for the job had taken every last scrap of his effort.
Now they had nowhere to go but forward. What could it hurt to spend an hour with her, blowing off steam they could both stand to lose?
Brennan’s cell phone clamored for attention from down the hall, and he moved to the kitchen to scoop it from the counter. The caller ID had him both smiling and tightening up, but he tapped the icon bearing his sister’s pixie face and answered all the same.
“Don’t tell me. You and the Murphy guy eloped to Vegas.”
Ellie’s drawn-out sigh was tinged with just enough laughter to mark her happiness. “Are you kidding? We’re supposed to get married in front of God and most of the universe in two and a half weeks. I’m pretty sure an elopement would make the whole you-may-now-kiss-the-bride thing a little awkward. Anyway, Dad would have a cow and three chickens if Josh and I blew off this wedding so we could tie the knot at the Elvis Chapel o’ Love.”
Hell of a point. “So I take it the planning rages on.”
“Mmm-hmm. You know. Busy, busy.” There was just enough vague hesitation in Ellie’s answer to make it a non-answer, and Brennan’s senses launched into full alert.
“What’s the matter, Ellie?” He leaned against the sturdy length of counter space at his hip, splaying his free hand over the cool surface as he braced for impact.
His sister’s hesitation became a full-blown hitch. “I didn’t want to say anything about this until I was sure,” she said, bookending the words with an audible wince. “But you need to know. Alex Donovan and Cole Everett are going to be at the wedding. And so is Captain Westin.”
Brennan’s blood went subzero in his veins. “What?”
“This wasn’t my idea, Nick. Believe me, I know what it means—”
“You don’t,” Brennan bit out, but Christ, he couldn’t finish. Because finishing meant telling Ellie exactly what it was like to hear those three names again, unearthed from the place he’d stuffed them on the day Mason had died.
“Look, Josh’s firm has played Station Eight in the Fairview softball tournament finals for the last two years. You know that league is the Who’s Who of the entire city. Josh cocaptained last year’s team. He knows everyone in the house, right down to the paramedics.” The apology clung to Ellie’s voice, ripping further into Brennan’s belly, but he didn’t stop her from talking. “I wanted to tell him no, but then he’d ask me why. And we’re inviting everyone else in freaking Fairview, so I have no excuse.”
Her words trickled in, hitting him one drop at a time. “You never told Josh what happened?”
“No, Nick.” E
llie’s hesitation disappeared. “Josh is my fiancé, and he works downtown, so he’s not oblivious to the facts. But you firefighters are like Fort Knox when it comes to details about your own, and regardless of how you left it with them, Alex and Cole are no exception. Josh only knows what everyone else knows. There was a fire, and you got hurt badly enough to warrant a career change. That’s all.”
Pressure climbed the plumb line of Brennan’s spine, intensifying with each upward grab. Hell, he needed to get off the phone. He needed to pack all this shit back into its ugly, broken, fucked-up box so he could get rid of it.
Right now.
“Okay. Thanks for calling me, Ells. I know this isn’t your fault.”
“Don’t do this,” Ellie warned, but Brennan was already shaking his head, modulating his voice to betray no emotion.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You can’t keep hiding!” Barely a beat of chagrined silence passed before his sister added, “What happened in that fire was an accident. Harboring all this blame is going to ruin you.”
Inhale. Exhale. Find control. “I’m fine. Really. Love you.”
Two things happened simultaneously as Brennan lowered the phone back to the kitchen counter. A soul-sucking pain claimed all the space from his tailbone to both hips.
And Ava Mancuso knocked on his front door.
Brennan stood at his kitchen counter, paralyzed by both the irony of his situation and the raging pain playing epic-battle Twister with every last one of his nerve endings. But he knew all too well that the way through a full-blown back spasm was to combine gentle pressure with gentler movement. Sitting still would only give the pain a chance to dig its teeth in deeper.
Even if moving hurt badly enough to bitch-slap the breath from his lungs.
All Wrapped Up (A Pine Mountain Novel) Page 12
