by EMILIE ROSE
“You were vulnerable and I took advantage. It’s been a while since you’ve been with someone. Feeling desire is a normal biological need.”
Could this get any more uncomfortable? “You’re having the sex talk with me? Like I’m one of your sisters?”
His face went ruddy but he didn’t look away. “All I’m saying is, I should have known better. Don’t beat yourself up. You’re young, smart and attractive. You have a lot to offer the right guy. One of these days you’ll be ready for another relationship.”
The muscles that had turned to mush over his compliments clenched in denial. “No, I won’t.”
“You will. Rick wouldn’t want you to be alone. And he’d want you to have someone to help you look out for Belle and Mason.” He covered her fist on the table. Then jerked his hand back. Had he experienced the same zap of electricity shooting up his arm that sizzled through her veins? “But I’m not the man you need. I’m not a forever kind of guy. And that’s what you should look for.”
Yes, apparently it could get more uncomfortable, she answered her own question. “Brandon, I’m not interested in a relationship with you or anyone else.”
He held up a hand. “Hear me out. I’m attracted to you. And I hate that. It’s disloyal to Rick and a betrayal of the trust he placed in me. But I’m not a kid. I can control myself. And I will from here on out.”
Sliding beneath the table looked pretty good right now.
Determined to end this awkward conversation as quickly as possible, she stiffened her spine. “This...incident has reinforced my decision. Belle and Mason overheard me telling you not to come around, and they were very upset with me. But I stand by what I said. They already love you and their attachment will only grow stronger if you keep showing up. So please...let’s make this a clean break. They’ll be hurt less in the long run.”
He shook his head. “That’s why I wanted to meet you here away from their ears. I’ve thought about what you said, and the answer is no, I won’t go back to sneaking around behind your back to help. I respected your need for space and time to heal, but I promised Rick I’d look out for you and the kids, and I will.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“But you’re going to get it. I’m Mason’s godfather and thus far I’ve done a piss-poor job of fulfilling that duty. Mason’s into something. You can’t ‘maybe’ your way out of it.
“And your house is an ongoing project. The only reason Rick agreed to buy it was because I promised to help with the work it required. I can teach Mason basic home maintenance along with life skills—the way my dad did with Rick and me.
“Get used to the idea of having me around, Hannah. Because I’m going to be there whether you like it or not.”
Chapter Twelve
WHEN HANNAH FAILED to reply to Brandon’s text, he arrived at the usual time Wednesday night to hang out with Mason during Belle’s dance lesson. He wasn’t going to let her shut him out.
The guys were giving him hell about missing another week of darts and wings, but he needed to get his hands on Hannah’s computer and uninstall the tracking program before she discovered it. He believed it needed to be there, but he would respect Hannah’s wishes—in that matter at least.
An unfamiliar car sat in her driveway. A Lexus. He slowed. She had company. He’d believed she hadn’t answered his text because she wanted him to go away. But was another man the real reason? Had she found some guy with whom she could test out her newly rediscovered libido? A guy who made a hell of a lot more money than a cop, if the car was an indicator.
The question sent an ugly sensation spiraling through him. He punched it down and forced his clenched jaw to relax. If she had, he’d wish her well. But only after running a thorough background check on the man. He owed Rick that much.
Brandon parked and headed for the front door. It flew open before he reached the steps and Belle, decked out in a white leotard, tights and a sparkly tutu, bounced out onto the porch. “Uncle Brandon! Are you coming to my ’cital, too?”
Cital? Before he could translate Hannah appeared behind her, also wearing white and with the same flowery headband in her hair. In Hannah’s case, the white outfit included slim-fitting pants and a silky tank top with a scarf of the same silky fabric fluttering around her narrow waist. She looked good. Good enough for a date except for the tightness of her lips and the vertical line between her eyebrows. Acid burned the back of his throat.
“Hello, princess. Hannah.” He nodded and battled an urge to tuck an escaped lock into her headband.
Hannah’s tension in no way resembled Belle’s excitement or foretold of an evening of bliss. Her troubled gaze met his. “Belle has her first recital tonight, and we have company.”
A not so subtle hint to get lost.
He clamped his molars together. He hadn’t been invited to Belle’s big night. But some other clown had. Why did that irritate him like a canker sore?
“I made arrangements with Mrs. Cohen for Rocky to have his first obedience lesson tonight. Can Mason help or does he need to go with you?”
“Please let me stay to help with Rocky, Mom,” Mason begged from behind Hannah. “I don’t want to watch a bunch of girls trip all over each other.”
“They don’t trip. They dance very well for their age. And you need to spend time with your grandparents. They’ve driven a long way.”
Grandparents? “The Leiths are here?”
Mason rolled his eyes. “Yes. Grandmother Leith put spit in my hair.”
Brandon grinned. “She used to flatten your dad’s cowlick the same way. He hated it, too.”
“Tell Mom you need me. Please, Brandon.”
“I didn’t know they were coming until this morning,” Hannah admitted. “It was a surprise.”
“Some surprise,” Mason groused. “I’d rather have Ebola.”
Hannah shot him a chiding look. “That’s not nice.”
“Can I please stay and play with—work with Rocky?”
“Hannah, you’re letting out the air-conditioning,” harped someone from inside the house. Brandon recognized Rick’s mother’s voice instantly even though he hadn’t spoken to Margaret Leith in four years. “I feel the hot draft all the way in here.”
“I should probably say hello.” Not that he wanted to.
“You’re volunteering to face the dragon?” Mason wailed. “Are you crazy?”
“Mason Leith!” Hannah scolded.
Brandon climbed the stairs and squeezed the kid’s shoulder. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Hannah stood her ground with her eyes shooting angry sparks. She blocked the door for a full ten seconds, then with a huff of irritation, turned and led the way inside, leaving a trace of her scent behind. His pulse thumped harder as he followed her into the den despite her clear-as-glass message that she didn’t want him here.
Walter and Margaret sat on opposite ends of the sofa with arms folded and familiar sour expressions on their faces. A walker stood on the floor beside Rick’s father—a walker the man hadn’t had last time Brandon had seen him. And judging by the unevenness of his scowl, he might have had a stroke. Rick’s dad looked every one of his eighty years, whereas Margaret was still fighting not to look her age. She’d been forty-five when Rick was born. That made her seventy-seven. She probably still kept regular visits with her plastic surgeon and personal trainer.
Margaret stiffened the second she saw him then addressed Hannah. “What is he doing here?”
Some things never changed.
“Hello, Mrs. Leith. I’m keeping an eye on Hannah and the kids the way Rick asked me to,” he replied before Hannah could. He nodded to Dr. Leith. “Sir.”
“I hope you won’t let him ruin your son the way he did mine,” Mrs. Leith sniped, still addressing Hannah. “Is he going to the recital? Because if he is, I’ll stay here.”
“No, ma’am. Brandon is staying here with Mason,” she squeezed out through clenched teeth. He’d backed her into a corner and she wasn’t happy about it.
“Yesss!” The boy cheered his mother’s words with a leap and a fist pump, earning him a squinty-eyed look from both grandparents.
“Then Walter will stay, too. Someone needs to supervise. And it’s difficult for him to get into and out of the car and up and down the stairs anyway.”
Mason’s excitement deflated. He directed an anguished look toward Brandon. Brandon shared the sentiment. He couldn’t get to the computer with Walter here.
“We’re giving the dog next door obedience lessons. Walter’s welcome to watch.”
Mason, bug-eyed, mouthed silently, “Are you crazy?”
Brandon winked.
“I’m allergic to dogs, as you well know,” Walter announced in a crotchety tone. Until he’d retired ten years ago, the man had been a gifted surgeon with the stereotypical God complex and lousy bedside manner.
“Then perhaps we can help you onto the porch where you can observe from a distance,” Brandon offered. The comment earned him another aghast look from Mason.
“Why in the hell would I want to sit outside in this heat? I’ll stay here in the air-conditioning and watch the news—if I can find a decent channel. Hannah doesn’t have cable.”
Brandon kissed his plans with the computer goodbye for the night.
“We need to go,” Hannah said.
Margaret rose and snatched up her purse. “Hannah, before we leave you need to put on some rouge. White makes you look insipid. And that headband is inappropriate for someone your age. Leave it here and comb your hair. Why you wear it in that flyaway style, I’ll never know. A nice bob would be much neater and more professional.”
Rick’s mother was still a mean-hearted bitch. How she’d succeeded in a people-oriented business like banking was hard to imagine. As if to confirm his thoughts, she continued, “We’ll take my car. It’s much more comfortable than that old thing you drive. Fix your face and hair and meet Belle and me outside.”
Then she stalked to the front door. Hannah’s spine looked tense enough to snap. Wearing an expression similar to the ones officers wore when entering a nasty murder scene, she followed her mother-in-law toward the door.
Brandon had to bite his tongue against the urge to tell Margaret that Hannah was pale because both Leiths were pains in the ass, and she’d dressed in white to match Belle because Belle liked it. Funny that he knew that but the child’s grandmother didn’t. Brandon snagged Hannah’s elbow as she passed—a mistake. He knew it the moment her soft skin scorched his palm. But he held fast.
“You look great. Ignore her.”
The color that had been lacking bloomed in Hannah’s cheeks. “Thank you. I...needed that.” Then she leaned closer, close enough for her scent to envelop him. “Please, whatever you do, don’t mention Friday’s excitement.”
She was still paranoid about the Leiths taking her kids. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you and run interference?”
Hannah shook her head. “We’ll survive it.” Then she straightened and turned her attention to Mason. “Be good.”
“Belle, knock ’em dead, princess,” Brandon called out and the little girl beamed. Then the door closed behind the females.
He turned to Walter. “Can we get you anything before we head outside, sir?”
“Find a decent news channel.”
“Yes, sir.” Brandon did then left the remote and a bottle of water on the table beside the doctor and headed outside.
“Why are you nice to him?” Mason asked as they crossed the lawn. “He’s mean. Both of them are. I don’t know how Dad could stand them.”
Brandon debated telling Mason the truth—that Rick had stayed as far away from his always-critical parents as he could. But he wouldn’t do that.
“The best way to handle difficult people is to kill ’em with kindness. No matter how ugly they get, smile and be polite. Rude people get their kicks by getting a rise out of you. Don’t give them the satisfaction or the power.”
Mason rolled his eyes. “Huh. Easy for you to say.”
“I never said it was easy. But look at it this way. When they push your buttons and you react by being as nasty as they are, they’ve won. It’s a mind game, kid. Don’t let someone else control your behavior.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed. “A mind game, huh? I like that.”
Brandon stepped onto Mrs. Cohen’s porch and rang the bell. Inside, Rocky sounded the alarm. Brandon took a good look at the boy beside him. If he ever had a kid he’d want him to be like Mason. But he would never have a family of his own. That was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
* * *
HANNAH WANTED OUT of the car. The sooner, the better. And not just because she was driving a strange vehicle and she didn’t know where the controls were in the dark.
Her mother-in-law had been in fine form tonight, beginning with the drop-dead look she’d delivered when she’d realized Hannah had ignored her instructions to put on makeup and remove the headband. Throughout the recital, she’d criticized the dancers, the teachers and the facility.
She had insisted that the programs and schools near her were far superior to the ones in which Belle and Mason were enrolled, and that if Hannah had any love for her children at all, she’d move closer to them, or in with them, and enroll them there. Hannah was, she maintained, denying her grandchildren the opportunity to reach their full potential, and if they lived near the Leiths they’d learn manners, implying that Hannah hadn’t taught them any.
Hannah had bitten her tongue so frequently tonight it was a wonder she hadn’t tasted blood. She always came away from their encounters feeling like a failure as a mother, and she had to keep reminding herself that the Leiths loved their grandchildren in their own unique way. They sent birthday cards and gifts and sometimes, like tonight, they showed up for special functions. Many of her children’s contemporaries didn’t have that. Hannah certainly never had. Her mother’s family had disowned their daughter when she’d run away to marry a soldier the day after graduating high school. Her father’s parents had been too distant from wherever her father was stationed to visit, and he’d rarely made the effort to go to them. Sadly, they were all gone now.
As unappealing as the prospect might be, Hannah took uneasy comfort in knowing the Leiths would take care of her children if something happened to her. Her father on the other hand...well, she didn’t know what he’d do or even in which country he’d be living. He’d probably send Mason and Belle to boarding school.
But the hours of unrelenting criticism made it difficult to be grateful that Rick’s parents cared enough to make the drive for their granddaughter’s first recital. The only positive was that Belle hadn’t heard the diatribe. The program had run long, and she’d fallen asleep within minutes of climbing into the leather back seat.
Hannah heaved a sigh of relief when she turned the sedan onto her street. Would Brandon still be at the house? Or had he had an earful of Dr. Leith and left Mason to fend for himself? She wouldn’t blame him if he’d bailed. She’d wanted to several times tonight. If the studio instructors hadn’t kept all the dancers backstage during the event, she would have gathered her daughter and left immediately after Belle’s performance.
She said a quick prayer that the Leiths would go to bed early, and then immediately felt guilty for being so selfish. But she desperately needed some downtime before turning in. Otherwise, as overwound as she was, she’d never sleep.
She spotted Brandon’s pickup in her driveway, and like one of Pavlov’s dogs, she reacted as if she’d knocked back a double espresso. Her pulse quickened. Her palms dampened. And her whole body caught a case of the
jitters.
The front door opened, and the light framed his broad shoulders for a moment before he descended the stairs and opened the driver-side door. His eyebrows hiked when he saw her behind the wheel.
“Driving Miss Daisy?” he murmured in a low rumble and with a half smile that made it difficult to recall where she was and what she was supposed to be doing.
She caught herself smiling at the movie reference then blinked back to the present and reminded herself he was forcing himself where he didn’t belong. “Mrs. Leith doesn’t like to drive after dark.”
He offered his hand, and she put hers in it without thought. As soon as their palms met, her stomach did a little loop de loop. It threw her so off balance that she stumbled when he pulled her from the car. He steadied her then released her quickly before circling to the passenger side to assist Mrs. Leith. Hannah scrubbed her hand against her hip, trying to erase the tingling. His old-fashioned manners were...kind of nice. She definitely wasn’t used to them. Not that Rick hadn’t been polite. He’d just accepted her independent streak.
“What are you still doing here?” the older woman sniped as he assisted her from the car.
“Helping Dr. Leith with Mason,” he replied evenly, as if he hadn’t noticed her nasty tone. Then he met Hannah’s gaze over the roof. “The princess is out cold. Want me to carry her upstairs?”
The gesture surprised her. “If you would, then I won’t have to wake her. Once she’s asleep, she usually stays that way till morning.”
He opened the back door, unbuckled Belle’s seat belt then lifted and maneuvered her from the vehicle. He did it with such ease she knew he’d done it before. He must be a very involved uncle.
Hannah trailed him inside. “I’ll follow you up and get her out of her costume.”
“We’re going to bed,” her mother-in-law announced loudly.
