“You’re sayin’ I should skip the jumbotron next time?”
At first, Rebecca thought he was joking, but when she looked at him, she found nothing but sincerity. The guy really had no clue. Because while the highlight reel he’d shown her on the jumbotron might have been the most obvious problem, it was far from the only one. “Brody, you got it wrong from the very beginning.”
He stopped walking. “Hey, I brought you flowers, didn’t I?”
“Yep. A dozen long stem roses.”
Brody gave a proud, tight nod. “Exactly. Nothing but the best.”
She shook her head. “And a cookie-cutter cliché. Make some effort, be creative—hell, maybe even find out what she likes.”
“So, roses are bad?” He looked so confused, it was almost cute.
“I can’t speak for every woman, but I’d much rather get a bouquet from a local farmers’ market that showed a bit of personality over a one-size-fits-all bouquet.”
“Flowers show personality?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I feel like I should be writing this down or something.”
“It’s common sense, Brody, not calculus.”
“Hey, now who’s invoking a cliché?” he asked. The smile and the dimple were back. “I’ll have you know I aced calculus. Physics too.”
Rebecca matched his smile with one of her own. Seemed there was a lot she didn’t know about the man who was being hailed as the savior of Chicago football. “Do we have a deal?”
Brody stuck out his hand. “Deal.”
Chapter Ten
Brody shifted the gears on the black Lamborghini Roadster as though he’d been driving it his entire life. Then again, over the last few years, he’d had plenty of practice driving his own high-performance baby. Granted, his was red and two years older than the model he was currently banking around the curves of Lake Shore Drive, but the feel was the same, and fucking hell, he’d missed it.
The team’s owners had balked the first time he’d shown up at practice behind the wheel, but while he’d agreed not to take any extraordinary risks like jumping out of an airplane or riding a bull—he couldn’t imagine who’d actually done that, but someone must have for it to pop up in the contract—he drew the line at swearing off sports cars. Hell, what was the point of earning all that dough if you couldn’t indulge in boyhood fantasy number one? Scratch that, boyhood fantasy number one involved a half-naked chick covered in soap suds as she washed the car, but the automobile itself was a close second.
The light ahead of him turned red, and while he waited, he snuck a peek at the picture of Rebecca he’d snapped at the carnival. She was holding her pink cotton candy trophy and grinning from ear to ear. Brody wasn’t sure if the expression on her face had more to do with her victory or the cotton candy itself, but either way, her smile was fucking contagious. At least that’s what he told himself when the guy behind him laid on the horn and he looked up to see a green light ahead of him and a dopey grin in the rearview mirror.
Fuck. What was wrong with him? He never took his eyes off the road, and more than that, he was never a dope when it came to girls. Not since Mandy Lawson at least, and even that was way back in the sixth grade. But there was no denying the effect Rebecca had on him. Christ, he’d even thrown a carnival game, in front of another dude no less, just to see that smile come out in full force. And when she’d done that little celebration dance? Let’s just say it was a good thing he had a stuffed gorilla to hide his stiff dick.
What was it about this woman that got under his skin? The logical answer was that thanks to the fact that she was the sister of one of his best friends, she was untouchable, but Brody knew that wasn’t the case. He’d had it bad for this chick long before she’d been taken off the active roster, so to speak. The fact that she was off-limits wasn’t part of the attraction. It was part of the problem. Along with the fact that none of his tried and true moves seemed to have any effect on her whatsoever. He could probably overcome the latter, but the man code prevented him from even trying, and Brody never betrayed the code.
There was no way around it. Rebecca Halstead could be nothing more than his friend.
But then he saw her—standing on the sidewalk wearing a pale blue sundress that, while seemingly innocent, had turned practically transparent thanks to the sunlight streaming down behind her—and Brody knew without a doubt that he’d be adjusting his jeans the minute he put the car into park. It was the damnedest thing, really, because it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the shape of her legs and the curve of her ass before. Heck, this was the first time she’d had them hidden under a dress. But there was something undeniably sexy about the way the gauzy fabric moved in the breeze, revealing and then denying, depending on which the way the wind blew. Fortunately for him, the car provided enough of a distraction that he was able to get his dick under control before she slid into the seat.
“Nice ride,” she said as the scissor door opened toward the clouds to reveal a little bit of heaven. Christ, that was cheesy, even for him. At least he hadn’t said it out loud.
“The dealership let me take it for a couple of days.”
Her jaw dropped. “For freeeeeee?”
Brody laughed. “You said that like Adam Sandler.”
Rebecca drew a blank.
“Bedtime Stories?” he asked.
Still nothing.
He thought about trying to explain the movie’s plot, but decided it was probably a scene you had to see to appreciate. “Well, you sounded shocked, that’s all,” he said as she lowered herself into the car. He couldn’t really blame her. It was one of his life’s greatest ironies. The more money he had, the more people tended to give him stuff for free.
“Sorry, but most people don’t get to check out high-performance sports cars like they’re a library book.” She watched as the door closed on its own. “Especially not ones that look like they’re normally driven by Batman.”
Brody chuckled. Even he had to admit that in black the car did look like something out of The Dark Knight. “I’ve missed driving.” There were definitely perks to city living, but Brody had missed wrapping his hands around the wheel of a car and opening her up.
“Well, you won’t get too much of that today I’m afraid. All of our stops are pretty close by,” she said.
So much for seeing what this baby could do.
“Go north on State, then hang a left at the light.”
“I have GPS,” he offered, but something told him this one liked giving directions.
“We’ll be there before you could even load the app.”
Forget opening her up, he wasn’t even going to make it out of second gear.
“So, what’s on the agenda for our first day?”
“I have a few meetings with clients and thought you could come with me.”
Brody rolled to a stop at the light, then stole a glance at Rebecca out of the corner of his eye. Just as he feared, nothing about her expression led him to believe she was joking. “You want me to come to work with you?” When he’d agreed to this, he hadn’t expected his lessons would involve tagging along with a wedding planner.
“What better way to learn about romance than planning people’s weddings?”
The light turned green, and he shifted the gears on a groan.
Rebecca laughed. “Relax. It’s not like we’re going dress shopping.”
“Would cake tasting be too much to hope for?”
“It’s up here on the right. There’s an alley where we can park.” She pointed to the small piece of pavement that ran between two brick buildings. “Just pull in behind the delivery van.”
The logo on the back of the van looked just like the one the New Orleans Saints used on their helmets. But judging by the bouquet of lilies pictured alongside it, the place had nothing to do with football. As if on cue, a guy came through the back door carrying a large flower arrangement.
“You’re taking me to a florist?”
She grinned as she unbuckled h
er seat belt. “Yep.”
“I’m not sure how watching people choose flowers is going to teach me how to be…what did you call it? Oh yeah, less of a Neanderthal.”
Rebecca glanced over her shoulder at him with wide blue eyes. The innocent, while at the same time decidedly come-hither, look on her face was a devastating combination. One that woke his cock right back up. It was going to be damn hard to keep to the man code if she kept that shit up. Then again, maybe she didn’t even realize she was doing it. “Look at it this way,” she said. “Next time you bring a girl flowers, you’ll know about a few more options than roses.” And then her lips curved into an impish grin that told him she not only knew what she was doing, but she was enjoying the hell out of it.
Brody shook his head as he followed her through the back door of the shop. This one was trouble with a capital T, and yet there he was, coming back for more.
The white-haired woman behind the counter looked up from her computer to greet Rebecca with a warm smile. She was a little on the heavy side with a round, pink-cheeked face. If she’d been wearing red—and if Brody was still eight years old—he would have sworn she was Mrs. Claus. “Hellooooo,” she said in a high-pitched voice that dragged the word out far longer than necessary. When her gaze drifted to Brody, he saw no hint of recognition in her eyes. Thank God. After seeing the way she greeted Rebecca, he was quite sure the sound of her voice would have shattered some glass if she’d been a football fan.
“Hi, Susan.” Rebecca gave a little wave as she made her way over to a large refrigerated case. “I thought I would grab some samples for the Bedford wedding. I’m seeing them later today,” she said. Brody had the sneaking suspicion that meant he would be seeing them as well.
Susan joined them by the glass case.
“This is Brody,” Rebecca said. “He’s tagging along today so he can learn a few alternatives to roses.”
“Goodness,” Susan said. “Where to begin?” On the surface, the woman might have appeared flummoxed, but in truth, she was more than ready to take on the role of Brody’s botany instructor. It was as though she had been waiting her whole life to have an ignorant yet willing man wander into her shop. She started with asters—a flower Brody mistook for a purple daisy, something dear Susan was quick to correct—and worked her way to zinnias. Most of the information was likely going in one ear and out the other, but in the end, he had learned of at least one or two flowers that made Rebecca smile a hell of a lot more than the bouquet of roses had. Those he made sure to commit to memory.
“What’s next?” Brody asked as Rebecca slid back into the car. He handed her the cardboard box that held the samples for her clients.
“We’re off to meet a bride and groom.”
“The Bedford wedding, I presume?”
“You were listening.” She sounded impressed.
“What, do you think jocks only listen when sports are being discussed?”
“Or tits,” she said, flashing him a knowing grin just before pushing the button to close the car door.
A few awkward beats of silence passed. “Don’t tell me I’ve offended you?” She laughed. “Or have I stunned you speechless?”
Brody wasn’t stunned. Horny maybe, but not stunned. And he sure as hell wasn’t speechless. With any other chick, he would have had a comeback that would have ultimately led to said tits being squeezed around his cock. But with Rebecca, he had to rein in his natural tendencies.
Lucky for him, she didn’t wait for his reply. Instead, she switched gears entirely and started giving him directions as efficiently as any GPS system until they arrived at their next destination. Unlucky for him, it was a dance studio.
Brody stared up at the building in disbelief. “Miss Vicky’s Ballroom Dance Studio” was written in intricate scroll across a bright-yellow awning. “Dancing? Oh no, not a chance.”
“Any self-respecting man needs to know how to dance,” she said.
“I do just fine, thank you.” A bird squawked as a giant crap plopped on the windshield. Brody tried not to take it personally, but it was a little too on the mark.
“I don’t mean grinding against a girl who is wearing a tube top as a dress. I mean dancing.” Rebecca popped out of the car, and Brody followed despite being pretty damn sure he was going to regret it. “Like that.” She nodded as they approached the rehearsal hall. Inside, a group of senior citizens were twirling and swirling around the room to big band music.
“That’s how you want me to dance?”
She laughed. “You can work up to that. Today, the bride and groom are learning to do a traditional waltz. I thought we could join them.” But when they walked through the door, it was a different bride-to-be who greeted them.
“Hey guys,” Cassie said.
Great, Brody thought, someone who could bear witness the next time they all gathered and Rebecca busted his chops for stepping on her toes. “She roped you into this too, huh?”
“Are you kidding? I signed up for my own package. I have no clue how to dance, and in a few months I’m going to be at a ball wearing a dress that costs more than my car, while hundreds of thousands of people tune in to watch me share a first dance with their future king. Last thing I want to do is end up tits over tiara.”
Cassie made a good point. He didn’t know if his schedule would allow him to attend the royal wedding, but if it did, he sure didn’t want to make a fool of himself in a room full of dukes and lords.
Rebecca waved at a woman standing by the mirrors that covered the entire back wall. “That’s Miss Vicky,” she said. He’d assumed as much seeing as how she was the only person in the room decked out in a black dance leotard with a matching full-length skirt.
Brody sized her up as she drifted their way. She was a willowy woman with features that were somehow both delicate and sharp all at the same time. Her lips were fire-engine red and her inky black hair was pulled back so tightly, it was a wonder her eyebrows weren’t on top of her head. He didn’t know what a “Vicky” was supposed to look like, but whatever it was, this woman wasn’t it. She looked about as far from a woman who would have a nickname ending in “y” as he could imagine. More like the type who had a dungeon in her basement.
She greeted Rebecca with an air kiss to both cheeks. “You have brought me someone new?” Brody had watched enough war movies to recognize her Russian accent.
“Just for today,” he clarified. No need to have Miss Vicky getting any ideas.
“Rebecca,” someone said from behind them. Brody turned to find a very excited young woman—the future Mrs. Bedford, he presumed—bounding toward her wedding planner. “Thank you so much for meeting us. I was half afraid Mitch was going to back out if you weren’t going to be here to bust him.” She looked up at her fiancé. The pink tint to his cheeks revealed just how right she was with her assumption.
“Happy to help. And I brought a friend. Jennifer, Mitch,” she began. “This is—”
“Brody Dixon,” Mitch said. The color had drained from his previously red face. “Gawddamn,” he said in a Southern drawl to rival any Brody’d heard back home in Oklahoma. “I’m taking dance lessons with Brody Fucking Dixon.”
“Mitchell,” Miss Vicky said. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it brought the room to a standstill. “No swearing in my studio.” She narrowed her eyes. “And no hats.”
Mitch yanked the Titans cap off his head. “Yes, ma’am.” Apparently Brody wasn’t the only one scared shitless by Miss Vicky.
She clapped her bony hands, and everyone formed a wide circle. “Face your partner,” she said. Brody turned toward Rebecca, but then a firm hand gripped his shoulder. “No,” Miss Vicky said. “You will dance with Julia. She knows the steps.”
Just as well, Brody thought. It was going to be damn hard to be that close to Rebecca and not think of her as more than a buddy. He was far better off with Julia, as long as she wasn’t Miss Vicky’s twin sister.
Miss Julia, as the other students called her, turned out to be the spi
tting image of Brody’s Grandma Dixon. She was barely five feet tall, which made putting her hand on Brody’s shoulder a bit of a challenge, but she had kind eyes that crinkled when she smiled, which she did a lot, and more than that, she knew her stuff. So much so that by the end of the hour, Brody felt like he could actually hold his own at the ball.
“Can I cut in?” Rebecca said from behind him.
Miss Julia smiled as though she’d just been let in on a secret. “He’s all yours.”
Brody chuckled as he took Rebecca in his arms. “Couldn’t resist my charms?”
“Hardly.” She rolled her eyes. “But my partner had to leave for bingo, and since Miss Julia didn’t lose a toe, I figured I’d be safe.
“There’s bingo?” Brody teased, pretending to pull away.
“Very funny.” Rebecca placed her hand in his. “Now, show me your moves.”
Brody nearly groaned out loud. What he wouldn’t give to show her his moves. And none of them had anything to do with a dance hall filled with a senior citizens, a soon-to-be-princess, an engaged couple, and a Cold War spy. But clearly that wasn’t an option. So, as much as he would have rather swept her off her feet and into his bed, he had to settle for sweeping her across the dance floor.
Grasping Rebecca around the waist, Brody pulled her close. Dancing with Miss Julia had felt like being in school, but with Rebecca it was something completely different. Their bodies moved as one, perfectly in tune with each other as though they’d been dancing together for years. Brody couldn’t help but think of the two of them in a much more intimate setting.
The music came to an end, and as it did, Brody bent Rebecca over his arm and dipped her low. Miss Julia began to cheer from somewhere behind him, but Brody could barely hear her over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. He’d had the sensation before, but only on the football field after running a ball into the end zone. He’d certainly never experienced it with a woman. It was as though the two of them were in a bubble and the rest of the room was miles away.
Rebecca looked up at him with inviting blue eyes. He knew what that look meant. It was the one a woman gave when she wanted to be kissed. He’d seen it at least a hundred times before, and yet for some reason, it felt as though it was the first time.
Save the Date (Wild Wedding Series Book 3) Page 12
