Rebecca had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as the two lovebirds were pulled into the production boat.
“I owe you an apology,” Brody said once he made his way to the outdoor café table she’d commandeered for the afternoon. He’d toweled off, but pond water still dripped from his hair.
Rebecca giggled. “I’m not the one who went for a swim.”
An assistant ran up with a fresh towel.
“Thanks,” Brody said. He waited until they were alone before finishing his explanation. “I haven’t really held up my end of the bargain, even after we agreed we could both do better.”
He had a point, although that might have had something to do with the fact that shooting had started right after they’d agreed not to take each other on errands. “You’ve been a little busy.”
He scrubbed the towel over his hair. “No excuse.”
Another good point. “Well, there’s still time to redeem yourself.”
Brody pulled the towel down and when he did, a mischievous gleam lit his eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Oh, it was something all right. “Spill, Dixon.”
He shook his head. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Wait until when?”
“Saturday.”
Her mouth popped open. “Saturday? But it’s only Tuesday!”
Brody chuckled. “Come on.” He nodded to a cart just inside the gates of the park’s zoo. “I’ll buy you a cotton candy.”
“And then you’ll tell me?”
“Not a chance.” The look on his face told her he was enjoying her torture just a little too much. Not that it mattered. Whatever Brody had planned for the next day would no doubt be perfect, if for no other reason than she was spending it with him.
Chapter Fourteen
Brody dug his phone out of the front pocket of his favorite jeans—the faded ones Marguerite told him should be permanently retired and not to the Hall of Fame—and launched the messenger app. His text conversations with Rebecca were right at the top, same as they’d been nearly every day since they’d met. Well, every day since they’d officially met anyway.
If someone had told him a month ago that there’d be only one woman in his life, who busted his balls on a regular basis and didn’t have sex with him, he’d have said they were crazy. Yet there he was, not only about to spend the entire day with her, but damn happy about it.
Of course, that was partly due to what he had planned.
On my way, he texted her before sliding into the cab of a rusty 1986 Chevy pickup. The vinyl seats were cracked, the rearview mirror was secured with duct tape, and the dashboard only had an AM radio. It was fucking perfect.
Rebecca seemed to be of a different mind. “Let me guess, they let you have this one for free as well?” she asked as she eyed the truck from one chrome fender to the other.
“Nope.” The hinge on the passenger door squealed as he opened it. “This one I actually rented.”
She laughed. “Love to see the dealership that had this on its lot.”
Brody hadn’t found the truck at a dealership. In fact, he hadn’t rented it from a company at all. The men working on the renovations at his hotel had parked in the alley. Brody noticed it right away because the year and model were the same as the first ride he’d ever owned. Even the color—a now faded red—was the same as his. He’d negotiated a lease right then and there, securing the use of the truck for twenty-four hours in exchange for a healthy wad of cash and tickets to the home opener. At the rate he was going, he was going to need his own section of the stadium, but it didn’t matter. Being behind the wheel of the beat-up truck was as close to home as he’d felt in years.
“I drove one just like this back in high school.” He offered her a hand to assist her with climbing into the cab, but she shot him a look that damn near withered his balls. “Okay then,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head as he rounded the back of the truck bed.
“So, where are we headed?” she asked once he’d joined her. “Besides a trip down memory lane?”
“It’s a surprise.” One he had no intention of disclosing. Although she had no idea how on the nose she’d been with the memory lane comment.
“Seriously, where are we headed?”
“Seriously,” he said, mimicking her. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
She rolled her eyes. “What are you, twelve?”
Hardly, Brody thought, although the way he kept walking around with raging boners sure made him feel like he was back in middle school. No doubt that had something to do with his current “sex fast.” But at the moment, his lack of action felt secondary to the excitement he felt over the day that lay ahead.
Deal or not, Rebecca had been one hell of a trooper when it came to holding up her end of the bargain. She’d not only schlepped along with him to all of the Sweetheart shoots—some of which were not only painful to endure, but swelteringly hot—but she took notes, which they discussed over dinner each night and were later stored neatly in a color-coded, tabbed binder. If their deal had been a game, the score would be a blowout and not in his favor. Which was why he’d spent every free moment he’d had that week planning a day he hoped she’d never forget.
He hadn’t told her where they were going, only to be ready by noon on Saturday and to wear jeans, something that had clearly piqued her interest.
“What kind of day requires blue jeans?”
“Give it up, Nancy Drew. I’m not telling.” Brody put the key in the ignition and grinned as the engine roared to life. “The air doesn’t work, so you better crank that window down.” He nodded toward the handle on the door. “It’s going to be a long drive.”
Rebecca settled back against the blistered vinyl seat of a truck that was clearly older than either of them. Traffic was heavy in the city, thanks to both the Sox and Cubs having home games, but once they reached the highway, they started to pick up speed. Well, as much speed as the old truck could handle. The dash vibrated, the floor mats were threadbare, and the whole thing smelled like stale beer and motor oil. Not exactly the vehicle most men would have chosen for a road trip, but Brody couldn’t have looked happier.
She stole another glance at him. In his faded jeans, plaid shirt, and cowboy boots, he looked like he was driving the wide-open plains of Oklahoma, not the cornfields of Illinois. One hand rested casually on the steering wheel, while the other tapped along to the beat of a song straining from a radio that had likely announced the end of the Cold War. Rebecca didn’t recognize the artist, but Brody certainly did, joining in on the refrain as the guy sang about losing his whiskey and his woman all in the same night.
She stared out the window, but a lot of good it did her in terms of figuring out where they were headed. Rebecca had only lived in Illinois for a few years, but even she knew that once you crossed the I-88 corridor, it was wide-open fields for miles. The chances that the sneaky little bastard seated next to her was going to divulge any clues were about slim to none, which meant all she could do was sit back and enjoy the ride. Her frustration aside, there was something quite liberating about an open road that stretched as far as the eye could see. The day ahead held endless possibilities, all of which included Brody Dixon. Wherever they ended up, she already knew she was going to love it.
“You’ve missed this, haven’t you?” she asked over the wind whipping in from the windows.
He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes as a lazy grin curved his lips. “More than you know.”
Oh, she had a pretty good idea. Granted, Rebecca had never seen Brody on a football field, but it was hard to imagine a situation where he’d look more at home than behind the wheel of that beat-up truck.
As soon as he could, Brody switched to side roads. The single lanes slowed them down considerably, but they certainly would have made conversation a whole lot easier. Except for some reason, neither of them spoke. It was if there’d been some si
lent agreement between them to just feel the moment.
Rebecca closed her eyes. Warm sun washed over her face while the cool breeze from the window played with the edges of her hair. The music drifted from one song to another, until finally one was accompanied by the crush of gravel under their tires.
“This is us,” Brody said, breaking their comfortable silence. After a few more yards on the gravel, he turned down a dirt lane that looked more like a driveway than a road. Trees flanked both sides, allowing just enough room for one vehicle. Rebecca was beginning to think they were truly in the middle of nowhere, when the dense forestry gave way to a clearing. In the middle sat an enormous white farmhouse. That was certainly the style, given the pitched roof and the enormous wraparound porch, but this home was at least three times larger than any farmhouse Rebecca had ever seen on TV.
He parked the truck in front of a paver walkway, then reached behind the bench seat and pulled out a cowboy hat. It was the color of oatmeal, and when he put it on, Rebecca had to swallow a groan. Brody looked good no matter what, whether it be in running shorts or a designer suit. But at the moment, he looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of one of her favorite romance novels—the kind with the cowboy on the front holding a rope and wearing a smile that let you know you were in for one helluva ride, no horse required.
“Come on,” he said. “I want to show you around.” Without any further explanation, he was gone.
Rebecca scrambled out of the truck. Brody was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. “Do you know the owner?
“I am the owner.”
She stopped walking. “What?”
“I bought the place.” He held up a silver keychain in the shape of a galloping horse. Two keys hung from the ring. “Closed on it yesterday.”
“But what about the penthouse you liked so much?”
“I bought it too.”
Of course he did.
“Won’t take possession of that one until after training camp,” he said. “But this one is all mine.” His proud grin was contagious, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“You bought two places?”
“Figured I could split my time. I want to be close to the stadium during the week, but on Mondays and Tuesdays, I could come out here. And the off-season, of course.”
Rebecca turned in a circle as she tried to take in her surroundings along with this new information. A white fence ran along the edge of a green pasture that stretched in a lazy roll toward the horizon. It reminded her of the horse farms she’d seen in Lexington. She couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, and as was typical for girls that age, had vowed that one day she’d own enough land to have horses in her backyard. Something told her that was exactly Brody’s plan.
When she stopped turning, she let her eyes drift shut and took a deep breath through her nose. It was like they were in a different world. The stale scent of the city was gone, and in its place was the smell of pine trees and cut straw, freshly mowed grass and wild flowers. There was something else too, something that smelled like sunshine, if that was even possible.
When she opened her eyes, she found Brody watching her with an amused, if not curious expression.
“I love it,” she said.
His amusement melted into a warm smile. “You haven’t even seen inside yet.”
“Doesn’t matter. I already know it’s perfect.”
He held out his hand. “Come on, I’ll give you the full tour.”
Rebecca placed her hand in his. When she did, it felt as though his excitement passed through her like a current, leaving her wired from head to toe.
The outside of the house, as impressive as it was, almost paled in comparison to what was waiting for them inside. The foyer soared two stories high, with gleaming hand-scraped floors and a double-sided stone fireplace that offered a glimpse into the great room beyond. There was even a spiral staircase! Rebecca had never seen anything like it. Well, except during one of those reality show rose ceremonies, but she kept the comparison to herself. This was obviously meant to be Brody’s sanctuary. He didn’t need her planting that little seedling reminder.
To the left was a library with floor-to-ceiling bookcases complete with a ladder on a rail and a wood coffered ceiling comprised of dark, distressed beams.
To the right was a kitchen to make any woman weep. The whole thing looked like something HGTV had gone at it with an unlimited budget. White cabinets, an oversized farm sink, and brushed-gold light fixtures were just the beginning of the mental notes she was taking for when Cassie inevitably asked her a bajillion questions about everything from the brand of the appliances—Viking and Miele—to the color of the countertops and door handles—white marble with more brushed gold.
Brody nodded toward the catwalk above them. “There are four guest rooms upstairs, each with what the Realtor called an ‘en suite.’” He leaned closer and spoke out of the side of his mouth as though sharing a secret. “Which I learned is fancy talk for they each have a shitter.”
They’d reached a set of double doors. “This was my favorite room,” he said as he swung both doors open in a single motion to reveal the master suite.
Like the foyer, the ceiling of the master bedroom stretched two stories high. But unlike the entry, this room had a rear comprised entirely of glass, offering a stunning view of not only the pastures but, in a few hours, the sunset as well. In the center of the windows sat a pair of glass doors that led to a private patio. Rebecca imagined sitting out there with her morning coffee, or even better, watching a sunset with Brody over a shared bottle of wine.
Her gaze shifted to a wall of reclaimed wood where she pictured an enormous mattress covered with a crisp white comforter and at least a half-dozen pillows to match. The bed in Brody’s room would no doubt be larger than life, just like the man who would sleep there.
Hmm, Brody in bed….
An image of him popped into her mind. He was sprawled naked across the sheets, with one arm thrown over his head, one leg bent to the side, and his manhood ready to start the day. The thought alone had her shifting in place.
“Check this out,” he said from the doorway of the master bathroom. “The whole team could shower in here.” He laughed. “Well, maybe not the whole team but at least the offense.”
Rebecca poked her head into the room. But instead of imagining a bunch of sweaty linemen crowding into a glass enclosure with two shower heads and countless body sprays, all she could picture was a party of two.
Holy hell. Maybe she did need to step into the shower, if only to blast herself with cold water.
“A builder had the home designed as a present for his wife,” Brody explained as they made their way into the great room. “But I guess the marriage didn’t last as long as the construction project so…” He threw his arms out wide. “Now, all this is mine.”
Like the previous rooms, the main room was also designed in what years of watching HGTV had taught her was known as modern rustic. Hammer beams and trusses spanned the vaulted ceiling, while the entire back wall was covered with stones, interrupted only by the oversized windows that stretched the full height of the two-story room. The effect was a cross between a cathedral and a farmhouse. Rebecca had never seen anything like it.
“Will this be the man cave?”
Brody laughed. “No, I was thinking of getting one of those super soft leather couches and saving the bean bag chairs for the basement.”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as his gaze tracked one of the beams to a circular iron chandelier.
“It’s an amazing home, Brody.”
He looked at her, and when he did, a childlike enthusiasm flickered in his eyes. “You haven’t even seen the best part.”
Rebecca couldn’t imagine anything better than what they’d just seen. Brody led her through a set of glass doors and onto a stone patio. A pergola spanned one side, protecting a seating area from the afternoon sun, and a hot tub sat on a platform
in the far corner.
“I was kinda bummed it didn’t have a pool, but then I remembered that most of the year, the weather up here isn’t great for swimming.”
It never ceased to amaze her how, deep down, Brody was the same guy he’d been growing up, because surely he realized he had enough money to put in whatever pool his heart desired. Or to just buy a house in the Caribbean for when he felt the urge to swim. Oh, who was she kidding? He could do both and not even notice a dip in his account. But unlike her brother, who always thought with his wallet, Brody seemed to live his life oblivious to the perks. Well, some of them anyway. She pushed the thoughts of her Google image search out of her mind. The moment was too perfect to spoil with a parade of supermodels.
“But this,” he said, making his way to the outdoor kitchen, “is going to see some serious use.” He lifted the lid on a Wolff grill that was big enough to cater a full wedding. “I told my dad he’s going to have to come fire up this bad boy before the home opener.” He chuckled. “Won’t ever have to worry about my blind spot once the guys get a taste of his BBQ.”
“It’s pretty awesome,” she conceded. “But not sure I’d call the patio the best part. That kitchen was kind of spectacular.”
The childlike grin was back. “Oh, this isn’t what I meant.” He motioned for her to follow him around the corner of the house where a gravel path led to a red and white barn. A small door on the second level stood open to reveal a fully stocked hayloft just below the Dutch colonial roof. It looked like something out a movie. There was even a weather vane in the shape of a rooster perched on the top of the cupola.
She followed Brody down the path, watching in fascination at the transformation that seemed to take place the closer they came to the barn. The confident swagger shifted to something more closely resembling…a mosey maybe? And she could have sworn his Southern accent grew more pronounced.
Save the Date (Wild Wedding Series Book 3) Page 15
