by Devney Perry
Brody dragged a hand through his hair, tucked the phone into his pocket and turned. He took one step before his chin lifted and he spotted me. Then he froze.
“Hi.” I waved and crossed the lobby.
“Hi. How are you?” Brody towered over me, seeming taller than ever today, even disheveled.
Was it strange that I wanted him to hold me?
“Nauseated. Tired. Soon to be unemployed.”
He blinked. “Unemployed.”
I nodded toward the hallway. “Walk with me.”
Without a protest, he fell into step at my side as I led him through the hotel, stopping by the locker room for my coat, then out an employee exit. Then we hoofed it in the chilly weather to the greenhouse.
Like yesterday, it was empty, most of the staff on vacation for the upcoming holiday. The ones working were at the hotel. We strolled past the long tables and into the area with the seedlings I’d planted yesterday. Someone had watered them this morning.
I pulled out a wooden stool and shrugged off my coat. Then I gestured for Brody to sit in the other stool. “I thought about what you had to say.”
“And you quit your job.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I confessed. “I’m winging it and picking the option that feels right. This, moving to Arizona, seems less scary than raising a baby here alone. And I’m tired of feeling lonely.”
That was the second time I’d admitted it today. Now that the word lonely was out there, I was having a hard time hiding from it.
“I don’t want this baby to be lonely,” I said. “Family is important and living close to Clara and August has been something on my mind for a while now. I’d hoped to convince her to move here but . . . we’ll try Arizona.”
Brody’s entire face changed. Gone was the fear and worry. Gone was the stoic, stony gaze. Everything melted. His eyes. The hold of those soft lips. His shoulders dropped from his ears. He almost looked . . . happy. He looked like the man who’d charmed me at a wedding.
“Thank you.”
“I can’t promise it’s forever. But I can give you the year.”
He took one of my hands in both of his, his palms warming my skin. He pressed it, my hand sandwiched between his, and he dropped his chin. “Thank you.”
“What did you expect me to say?”
“No. I thought you’d say no.”
“I almost did,” I admitted. “Last night, I thought about what you said. And I thought about what I wanted. Arizona is not what I want.”
I wanted to live here in my cozy condo. I wanted to keep my job at The Gallaway because it was dependable. I wanted to avoid turning my life upside down. But if I’d wanted all that, then I shouldn’t have had sex with Brody.
If only he’d been resistible.
“But it’s not about me. And it’s not about you,” I said, splaying my free hand over my belly. “It’s about this baby. I don’t want our child to feel torn between two worlds.”
Brody had the right to be included in this baby’s life. He was as much a part of this as I was.
“I promised my boss two months. I’d like to give them a chance for a smooth transition, and I need to pack up my life here.”
Brody stared at me, my hand still tight between his. The shock on his face was much like Mark’s. Apparently, I was surprising the men in my life today.
“Is that okay?”
He dropped my hand and, in a flash, those warm palms were on my face, pulling me off my stool. Brody’s lips crushed mine, sending a zing down my spine. God, his lips were soft. The texture from his beard tickled my chin, and when his tongue darted out to lick the seam of my mouth, a whole new flutter rocked my stomach. This one the good kind.
A gasp escaped when he licked my lips again. His eyes opened.
And we stared at one another, our lips still locked. His hands still firm on my face.
As quickly as it happened, Brody must have realized what he’d done. He let me go and backed away, clearing his throat. “I, uh . . . Thank you.”
Disappointment rolled over me in a wave, sending me back to my seat.
There was no reason to be upset, right? It was just a grateful kiss. Nothing romantic. The two of us would be lucky to survive parenthood together. A romantic relationship? Never. We really shouldn’t be kissing.
“You’re welcome. Maybe we shouldn’t make a habit of kissing one another.”
He chuckled. “Sorry. I was excited. But you’re right. Let’s think of this as business.”
“Business.” I truly hated that word. People tossed it out there as an excuse to be cold and impersonal. “This is not a business arrangement.”
“Of course it is.”
My mouth dropped. “Seriously?”
“You’ll be running my new flower shop. That’s business. I mean, it’s not like we’re friends.”
My jaw dropped. “So you think of me like an employee?” Oh, hell. Maybe I’d quit The Gallaway too soon. Mark and Andy would hire me back, right?
Brody frowned. “You say that like being an employee of mine is a nightmare. I doubt your sister would agree.”
“I am not your employee.”
“I know that but—”
“No buts. We are equals, Brody. You’re the father. I’m the mother. I don’t need your goddamn flower shop. I can find another job. Any other job.” My temperature began to rise and I slid off my stool, pacing beside the table.
“Aria, I’m just being pragmatic. Please don’t take offense. I have a flower shop that needs a manager. You’re qualified.”
“Qualified. I’m qualified.” My molars ground together. When had this become a job interview? “I won’t work for you.”
“Why not?”
“Because that makes this entire thing weird.” I threw up my hands. Couldn’t he imagine payday? Here’s your check, Aria. Thanks for your hard work. And thanks for growing my baby in your uterus.
“If you don’t like the term ‘employee,’ then fine. I’ll deed the place over to you.”
“A gift. You’d give me a flower shop.” My hands dove into my hair. “Who does that?”
We weren’t even friends. We’d slept together once and were having a kid. Normal people didn’t gift flower shops.
He lifted a shoulder. “You’re moving. Consider it a relocation present. And it’s not like I can’t afford it.”
“There.” I pointed to the arrogant jerk’s face. “That, right there.”
“What, right there?” He rubbed the tip of his nose, checking his fingers to see if there was something on them.
“That, right there, is the reason I hate you. You throw money around like it’s meaningless. Don’t try to buy me.”
“I’m not trying to buy you.” He frowned. “I’m trying to make this easy on you. On both of us. If you want the flower shop, it’s yours.”
“What if . . .” I snapped my fingers. “What if I bought it from you?”
“It’s unnecessary.”
“How much did you pay for it?”
His jaw ticked, the hold on his patience slipping. “Why does it matter?”
“How. Much?”
“One hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Well, shit. I didn’t have anywhere near that much in savings. But maybe I had enough for a down payment.
I held out my hand. “Deal.”
“What deal?”
“The flower shop. I’ll buy it from you. If you will accept monthly payments.”
Brody shook his head. “That’s not the point of this. I came here to ask you to move. I’m not going to put you in debt because of it.”
“Then we’ll make the monthly payments manageable.” I wiggled the fingers of my outstretched hand, waiting for him to accept.
“Aria—”
“I won’t budge on this. I won’t be a charity case.”
He sighed. “It’s not charity.”
“It feels like it to me.”
Brody’s mouth flatte
ned because I’d just won. “I won’t have the monthly payment become a burden. This cannot be something that causes you stress.”
“Life is stressful.”
“But it shouldn’t be for you.”
The gentleness in his voice tempered my anger. “Okay.”
He took my hand in his, sealing the deal.
I’d bought a flower shop. Oh my God. I’d just bought a flower shop.
The dream. It was my dream. And my head was spinning so fast I wasn’t sure if I should cry or laugh. It was too much, all of these changes were too much. I was in the middle of an ocean during a hurricane, and the seasickness was overwhelming.
If I looked too far into the future, the uncertainty would crumple me to my knees.
One day at a time. That’s all I had in me at the moment. One moment. One step. One day at a time.
I was moving to Arizona. I was buying a flower shop. I was becoming a mother.
I’d tackle them each, starting with the first, but not today.
“Now what?” Brody asked, seeming as lost as I was.
I shrugged. “How about that ride to Arizona? I have some Christmas presents to deliver.”
Chapter Nine
Brody
“Where is she?” I checked my phone for the tenth time.
“You’re worse than August,” Clara muttered.
Not quite. August was outside, bundled in a coat and hat for the cooler February weather, driving his child-size Jeep around the driveway. Circle after circle, his eyes were locked on the entry gate.
Mine were too.
We were both anxious for her to arrive.
I paced in front of the window. “This is fucking ridiculous.”
“So you’ve said.” Clara sat on the couch in my living room, her eyes locked on her phone. She’d been pinning recipes and baby outfits on Pinterest—I’d asked what had her so enraptured when she should be worrying about Aria.
Aria, the obstinate, exasperating woman who had refused to let me hire her a moving company. Aria, my pregnant—friend? associate? acquaintance?—someone, who had insisted on packing her own belongings and loading them into a U-Haul to drive from Oregon to Arizona.
Would she let me fly up to help her? No.
Would she let me hire someone to drive the truck so she could fly here on my jet? No.
Would she listen to reason that a pregnant woman should not be lifting boxes and hefting houseplants? No.
Aria hadn’t even let her sister come to Oregon and help when Clara had offered.
There wasn’t a more stubborn woman on planet Earth than Aria Saint-James. In the past two months, she’d pushed me to the brink of sanity.
“Never in my life have I met a person so inflexible as your sister.”
Clara scoffed. “Then you need to look in the mirror.”
“What?” I spun away from the glass. “I’m not inflexible.”
That earned me an eye roll. “If it’s not your way, then it’s the wrong way. Did you ever think that maybe Aria needed to do this herself? That she needed some time on the road to say goodbye to her old life? She loves surprises and spontaneity, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t let her roots grow deep.”
“If she needed time, I would have given her time. All I asked is that she not drive a rental truck from Heron Beach to Welcome by herself.”
“We lived in a junkyard, Brody. We were fifteen. Alone. Broke. Aria’s not scared of a two-day drive.”
I opened my mouth to argue but clamped it shut. Maybe I didn’t give Aria enough credit.
It was her beauty that made me forget about their childhood and all she’d endured. When she smiled and laughed, it was like she’d lived the happiest life in the world. Aria was strong, I knew that. So was Clara. Still . . . “I just want to help her. Make this easier.”
I had the means to make her life simpler. She’d called it charity. Why couldn’t she see it as generosity? What the fuck else was I supposed to spend my money on if not the woman who was carrying my child? How was offering to find her work and a home charity? I’d be an asshole if I let her fend for herself.
“You didn’t tell her about the flower shop, right?” I asked.
“No,” Clara said. “My answer hasn’t changed since you asked me yesterday. And the day before that. And for all the days before that over the past two months.”
I frowned. “I know you don’t like to keep secrets from her.”
“When she finds out, she’ll be furious. At both of us.”
“If she finds out.”
Clara laughed. “You don’t know Aria very well. I promised you I wouldn’t tell her but that doesn’t mean she won’t find out. She has a way of sniffing out secrets.”
“She can’t find out.” The contract had a nondisclosure clause in place to ensure my secret was safe. And the previous owners were in Hawaii. Gone for good, so the chances of it slipping were slim to none.
Welcome Floral hadn’t cost me one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars like I’d told Aria. No, the flower shop had cost me four hundred and eighty thousand dollars. Nearly half a million.
I had to hand it to the previous owners, the ruthless bastards. Ned and Stephanie Backer had smelled my desperation and pounced like lions on a wounded gazelle. But my payment had meant they could retire in Hawaii, far from Aria’s prying ears.
It would take Aria a lifetime to pay for the floral shop at the Backers’ price tag. Hell, even with the discount price I’d quoted her it would be a lot. I’d seen the financial statements from the flower shop and Aria had some work to do if she wanted to turn a larger monthly profit.
But it was a solid business. She’d own the building downtown, and I hoped that after a year in Welcome, she’d realize my small town wasn’t without its charms.
I’d meant what I’d told her. After my birthday, I’d consider moving. But I also liked it here in Arizona. I loved this lifeless house. It was safe. Comfortable. Ron had his bungalow on the property. Clara had her house. One day, I wanted to see my child outside playing in the driveway.
If Aria insisted on moving, I’d move. But I had nearly a year to get those roots of hers to sink into the desert sand.
I checked my watch again, wondering for the thousandth time where she was. Aria had promised to be here no later than two, so where the hell was she? It was two thirty, and if she didn’t get here within the next fifteen minutes, I was going out to search.
The text message I’d sent her had gone unanswered.
Aria and I hadn’t spoken much over the past two months. Most of our communication either went through Clara or was via text. How we were going to live together was a mystery.
It was the one thing about this move—other than the destination—Aria had conceded without a fight. She was moving into my house.
Clara had offered her guest room but Aria had told me during a rare phone conversation that she didn’t want to invade her sister’s life. When I’d offered her my place, a stone’s throw from Clara and August plus more space than she’d find in a local rental, she’d shocked me by agreeing.
It would be the first time I’d lived with a woman. Not even Heather had occupied my space. I’d never invited her to move in. The weekends when she’d slept over had been bad enough. Makeup all over the bathroom counter. Clothes strewn on the floor for the housekeeper to pick up. Yes, I paid my staff to do that very thing, but for fuck’s sake, the laundry basket had been twenty feet away in the closet.
Thankfully this house was much larger than my Vegas penthouse, and I wouldn’t be sharing a bed. Aria would occupy one end of the house with me in the opposite. If she was sloppy or loud, I’d be too far away to notice.
“I’m going to wait outside,” Clara said. “Your pacing is making me nervous.”
Was I pacing? I stopped midstride. “Fifteen minutes and I’m going to go look for her.”
Clara shook her head. “I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice about Aria.”
“O
kay,” I drawled. For the most part, other than playing messenger for logistical details, Clara had stayed far away from the mess that was Aria and me. Though I wasn’t foolish enough to think that if push came to shove, she’d choose me over her sister.
But when we spoke of Aria, Clara maintained a neutral stance. She relayed facts. She let me rant without much commentary. And she didn’t offer more than a shred of insight into the mysterious woman who had consumed my waking thoughts. Until now.
“Aria needs control in her life. After Mom and Dad died, she became the sister in charge. I didn’t . . . She didn’t fall apart. I did.”
My heart twisted as I stood frozen, watching her struggle with whatever she was going to say. Clara didn’t speak much about that time. Or about her time in the junkyard. She’d told me the big picture, but any details had been glossed over. Clara had told me facts. Dates. Nothing more.
And the cold asshole that I was, I had never asked how she’d actually felt.
Now, with Aria coming here, I wanted to know. To truly know what their youth had been like. We were a family of sorts, tied together by this unexpected baby.
“It was Aria’s idea to run away from our uncle’s home.”
“Why?” What had happened with her uncle that had been so terrible that a desolate life in a junkyard had been the better option? “What happened?”
Something crossed Clara’s gaze, a sadness deeper than anything I’d ever seen before. “You’ll have to ask Aria.”
I frowned. “If you won’t tell me, she certainly won’t.”
“Give it time.” She gave me a watery smile. “Don’t take her freedom, Brody. Don’t take her control.”
“I’m trying to help.”
“No, you’re keeping your control. You need to find a way where you can both have it.”
“Share,” I grumbled. I’d hated the word share since kindergarten.
“Yes.” She laughed. “You have to share.”
I turned my back to her, facing the glass. When she walked outside to join her son, I resumed my pacing. It was the only way to keep my vibrating nerves from shaking my bones loose. This restless energy had plagued me since Aria had told me she was pregnant. I’d paced a lot since.
