by Cathryn Fox
“I doubt that ever happens. Look at you.” I gaze at his rough and tough physique, admire the small scar on his face. It gives him character, adds to his charm.
Stop thinking about him like that, Josie.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
In an exaggerated manner, I blow out a breath. “You’re not just a smart ass, you’re a smart guy. You know what I mean.”
“I’m sure there was a compliment buried in there somewhere.” We both laugh, tension easing from my body as he lifts himself up to his full height, clearly liking the way I admire his strength and stature.
“Look, I really am sorry.” I think about losing my phone, the last message left to me by my late husband. It’s strange really. I used to think everything happened for a reason, too, but I can’t see the reason behind my phone being carried away by a plow. “Have you ever had a bad day, and wondered what you did in a past life to deserve it?”
“All the time,” he says in a soft, supportive voice that commiserates with me, and it’s weird, but I like that he understands, that he’s on my side. His head lifts and he looks past my shoulders when we hear a noise out back. I turn, and through the glass partition that allows customers to watch us make chocolate, I spot Kayley putting things away for the night.
“That’s Kayley. She’s my assistant and I must warn you, she’s a big fan. Despite your reputation.”
He grins as I not so subtly let him know I’m aware of his game—his off-ice game that is. “Which means you obviously brought me up to her.”
“I had no choice but to mention the slush incident. I came in here soaking wet and nearly frozen to death.”
“So you did bring me up?”
I shake my head at him. “That’s your takeaway?”
“That, and you clearly couldn’t stop thinking about me, then?”
His grin turns playful, maybe even a bit cocky, and it teases all my girly parts. Kayley was right. This guy is a player, on and off the ice, and I’d be wise to remember that. “I told her you splashed me, and that Miss Mabel knocked you to the ground and ate your bear claw.” What I didn’t tell her was that Brody Tucker was the hottest guy on the face of the earth, and he damn well knows it, and I damn well like it.
“Hi Kayley,” he says, acknowledging my assistant as she comes from the back, which is kind of nice. But I guess he’s a guy who knows how to keep his fans happy. They do, after all, pay his salary, so to speak. I turn to see Kayley go still, her jaw practically on the counter.
“Hi,” she squeaks out. “You know my name.”
Miss Mabel barks from upstairs, like she knows Brody is in the house and she wants her time with him too.
“Josie told me.”
“Get over here,” I say, and Kayley takes off her apron, smooths her hand over her hair, and steps up to us. She extends her hand and Brody shakes it. My God, my assistant is practically vibrating, not to mention drooling, but I get it. Brody has that effect on people, and I’m no exception. Kayley pulls her phone out.
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He takes her phone, and looks at me. “Do you want to make it a threesome?” He shakes his head and laughs. “I mean…”
“I know what you mean and no, I’m good. Thanks.” I stand back as Brody takes a selfie of the two of them. Kayley is a giggling mess as she walks back to the counter and puts her coat on.
“We’re just closing up,” I tell him. “Were you here to get something?” He grins at me, and that’s when I realize the mistake in my words. “I mean, do you want some chocolate?”
“I know what you mean,” he says, and I hate that my cheeks are warming, a dead giveaway that I’m thinking about sex. From his threesome comment and the way he quickly corrected himself, I’m not the only one entertaining inappropriate thoughts here.
“See you later,” Kayley says, the bell jingling as she leaves the store, and now, with the two of us standing there, a little nervous quiver moves through me. I search my brain for something to say. My God, I’m usually a great conversationalist, but now I’m tongue-tied. Upstairs, Miss Mabel continues to bark, and it seems to break some of the tension arcing between us. My brain finally kicks into gear.
“Oh, are you here for Mabel?” I ask.
“Actually no, I came to see you.”
He rocks toward me and I’m suddenly aware of the little nervous quiver in my stomach. I search my brain for something to say.
“What did you need, Brody?” My body warms all over, thinking about what I want…what I need. I haven’t had this kind of attention from a hot guy in…well since I lost my husband. At that reminder, I straighten my shoulders and quickly pull myself together. Brody angles his head, like he can sense the change in me.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m okay,” I say. It’s a lie. I’ve not been okay in a long time. “Thanks again for helping me out with Patrick.”
“You know there’s a big problem, right?” I shake my head, having no idea what he’s talking about. He points a finger back and forth between the two of us. “If we’re supposed to be a couple, isn’t Patrick going to be wondering why I’m staying with Declan and not you?”
Blood drains to my toes. Ohmigod, he’s right. I panicked earlier, never thought through the logistics of a fake relationship. Or maybe I did. Maybe on some level, this is what I wanted. God, what has this man done to me?
“I can stay with Declan, although I’m sure he’s going to be spending the bulk of his time between his family and Nikki. His place is really nice, and his folks are great, but we’re adults, Josie. Adults do adult things. Don’t you think Patrick is going to think our sleeping situations are a little off?”
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I blurt out, and the second I do, my traitorous brain takes me down a titillating path where I play out that idea. Brody in my bed. On top of me. His big bear-like hands on my body, awakening things in me that have been dormant for a long time.
“I’m not asking you to.”
His eyes are full of warm sincerity as his gaze moves over my face. Please God, do not give him the ability to read me. I do not want him privy to my secret thoughts, because there is no way I’m sleeping with him, and I don’t want him thinking he has a shot. Yeah, sure my body is saying something entirely different, but I can’t. I won’t.
I give a curt nod. “Good.”
“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” he says, and I blink up at him, waiting to hear more. “I’ll help you out, whatever you want.” I stare at him, hearing nothing but sincerity in his voice. Truthfully, I’m not sensing an ulterior motive here. The guy that sleeps around might not be looking to get into my bed, and I really have no idea why disappointment is careening through my blood, turning me into a sulking teenage girl.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Oh, maybe it’s because it’s been too long since you’ve felt desired, and this guy wants to sleep with everyone but you.
As that truth settles like a stone in my gut—as ridiculous as that is—I take a small step back, giving myself a reprieve from the clean soapy scent of his skin, not to mention the heat emanating from him and warming my coldest corners.
“…so what do you say, want to go free her?”
“What?” I ask, so lost in my thoughts I’m not exactly sure what he’s asking. All I know is he said something about freeing her. Does that mean he can read me, realize that my body is aching to break free with this man?
“Miss Mabel. She’s barking nonstop. Want to free her and take her for a walk?”
“Oh, yeah sure.” I step around him, lock the door, and turn the sign to closed. “I’ll be right back.”
“Or I could come up. I suppose I should know what your place is like. You know, since you’re my girl and all.”
My girl.
A fine quiver goes through me as that thought rattles around in my brain. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know where my brain is lately.”
>
Sure you do, Josie. It’s centered between your legs at the moment.
“Follow me,” I say. I walk to the back room, and it’s only when I’m on the second step that I realize Brody isn’t behind me. I turn back, and smile as his eyes go wide.
“Wait, you actually make chocolate here? Like make it make it? From beans?”
“That’s what a chocolatier does.”
“The chocolate lab.” He slaps his palm to his forehead and I wonder if he’s always this dramatic. I kind of like his zest, to be honest. “I get it now. I guess I just thought you bought chocolate and sold it.”
“Nope, I actually make chocolate from ethically sourced cacao beans.”
His eyes glisten, with respect. “You’re like a chemist.” My chest swells, appreciating his admiration of my craft.
“Sort of.”
“Where did you learn all this?”
“My parents. They came here from Switzerland when I was just a baby. They had their own shop, and I took it over after they…” I take a breath as my heart pinches. I miss my folks, my family back in Switzerland.
His knuckles brush mine, the simple, barely there touch sending sparks through my body. “I’m sorry, Josie. I didn’t mean to bring up hard memories.”
“No, no,” I say quickly. “They’re still alive. They moved back to Switzerland when my Dad’s mother got sick. My life was in Boston, so I stayed.”
“You haven’t been in Holiday Peak long?”
“No, not that long.”
His look is full of playful indignation when he says, “Yet you had the nerve to call me an out of towner.”
I laugh at his teasing, which he does a lot. “Like I said, I’ll make up for being grouchy somehow. But this town. It was my favorite place to visit when I lived in Boston. My favorite place to shop, especially at Christmas.” I go quiet for a second, remembering all the fun Jon and I had visiting during the holidays, all the craft markets and winter activities. The memories warm me and make me sad at the same time. “Holiday Peak kind of sucks you in, and in no time at all, you feel like you’ve always belonged.” It’s no wonder I moved here last year and relocated my chocolate shop shortly after.
He nods, and looks down, like his thoughts are a million miles away. “I walked into Declan’s house, and his folks took me right in, like I was one of their own.”
“You get it then.”
He nods, an almost sad, melancholy look briefly crosses his eyes. I’m about to ask him why he’s here with Declan and not with his own family, when Miss Mabel barks again.
He snaps out of whatever trance he’d been in and smiles. “We’d better get her out.”
“You’re right.” I hurry up the stairs and he follows behind. I open the door, and Mabel pushes past me and nearly knocks Brody down the stairs. “Why hello to you too,” I say, and after Brody gives her a good amount of love, she comes running back to me. “Everyone’s a traitor.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. Come on in. Let me feed her, and then we’ll take her out.” I get her food from the pantry, dumping it into her bowl. She’s a food-driven dog, but apparently, she likes Brody more than her kibble. I stand there with my hands on my hips as he drops down to the floor with my oversized pup, and I can’t help but smile as he plays with her. Mabel nips and yelps, her tail going a million miles an hour. I had no idea how much she’s been craving male attention until now.
Lord, I had no idea how much I’ve been craving male attention, not until Brody. Not that I’m going to do anything about that. Brody’s deep laughter curls around me as Mabel goes down on her front paws, totally in play mode. My heart misses a beat, loving the scene playing out before me.
I lean against the counter, taking it all in. I’m not sure why I like seeing Brody in my place so much, or like the way he seems to fit so easily. Maybe because no man has ever entered my home, and it’s been lacking a male presence. Not to mention Miss Mabel’s instant comradery with him. She likes all people, but she’s certainly attaching herself to Brody in a big way. Animals can sense when someone truly loves them and from the way she’s going berserk, I’m guessing Brody—despite his reputation—really is one of the good guys. Mabel is a good judge of character like that.
For a brief, ridiculous moment, I let my thoughts drift. What would it be like if Brody really was my boyfriend, home for the holidays to be with me? Naturally he’d be staying with me, sleeping in my bed. While we don’t have to go that far, maybe he could stay here. He’d have his privacy all day long while I was at work, and he’d be great company for Mabel, not to mention he wants to help with her training. Then again, would he even want to stay? He’s home with his buddy. Maybe they want quiet bonding time or something.
Ask him.
“I’m wondering if…maybe you should hang out here, you know…spend the night or two. You were right when you pointed out that if we were a real couple, you’d be staying here.” I laugh, but it sounds nervous and unsure. “Won’t that give the townsfolk something to gossip about?”
Careful, Josie. Are you doing this for the ruse, or because you like being around this guy?
He pushes to his feet giving Mabel a head rub. “Get your dinner, girl.” Mabel trots off to her bowl, her tail still wagging. Brody’s head lifts and when those gorgeous blue eyes meet mine, I realize I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have asked. I shouldn’t have brought it up. He’s temptation with a capital T, and I just can’t…
“Before we go any further, we need to talk about the rules of this relationship,” he says, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.
I fold my arms, not because I’m upset with his teasing, or that he might actually want more, but to hide the hardening of my nipples. “You mean the perks?”
His grin is wildly playful, and pure seduction. “Just so you know, if I do stay to help you with this ruse, that doesn’t mean I’m putting out.”
5
Brody
Five days until Christmas Eve:
* * *
Josie was right. I am a smart ass. I can only imagine what a therapist would say about that. But maybe it’s true. Maybe I do hide my deficiencies behind humor. The fact is, deep down I want—crave—what my buddies are finding. A wife, kids, the damn minivan and dog. I just don’t have what it takes to make a woman want to stay, and I don’t play with hearts, which is why I make it perfectly clear to all, right from the beginning, that I have a rotating bedroom door. Josie said she knew about my reputation, and that’s good. She should know who’s sleeping in her spare room.
As I lay in her bed—in her spare bedroom—I toss restlessly, the early morning sun rising on the horizon and casting shadows on the wall. A wave of peaceful contentment moves through me. Perhaps it has something to do with her comfortable bed. I don’t want to move. When was the last time I felt like this? I’m not sure, and I’m not sure what it is about her place that feels like home, despite the fact that it’s sparsely decorated, and she doesn’t even have a tree up. I plan to rectify that.
I actually can’t believe she asked me to stay. I wasn’t joking when I said it would look odd if I slept at Declan’s place and not my ‘girlfriend’s.’ She found herself in a sticky situation trying not to hurt someone’s feelings and while that’s commendable—she’s sweeter than the chocolate she makes—the two of us are now forced to spend time together. While I don’t have a problem with that, I can’t help but think honesty is the best policy.
Then why didn’t you tell her you have her phone?
I already know the answer to that, and I want to hang out with her. Maybe that has more to do with the fact that I like being around her than in needing a damn dinner date. I’ve never really felt such a fast connection with a woman, not that I think this is going anywhere. I leave after the holidays and she’s not the man-hater I thought she was. In fact, she’s far too sweet for me.
Maybe she’s not the kind of woman who would leave?
Who am I kidding? I eventually
screw everything up, which means the two of us can only be friends and I need to stop cracking sexual jokes. The sound of Mabel’s bone-shaped nametag jingling on her collar reaches my ears, and I kick my blankets off, ready to take her out for a morning run, when down the hall a door opens and closes.
I tug on my jeans and sweater to investigate, and check my phone for messages. I texted Declan last night to let him know I’d be staying at Josie’s, and of course, he took it the wrong way, thinking I’m sleeping with the woman who wanted to neuter me earlier in the day. But why wouldn’t he think that? It’s my M.O. and everyone knows it. I didn’t bother correcting him, but I do wonder how he made out with Nikki. He’s always so secretive about her.
The sound of children playing in the distance fills the silence of Josie’s loft, and I pad to the window to see a big snow hill covered with kids squealing and laughing as they slide down. I spot Josie walking Mabel, and the kids running up to her to pat the big puppy. Mabel jumps all over them, and while that’s cute now, when she’s a full-grown dog, it can pose a danger. No worries, I know how to work with her.
I make my way to the kitchen, glancing around her loft. Why doesn’t she have any personal pictures on her walls? There are art pieces, but no family photos, nothing to say she comes from a loving home. In the kitchen, I pour a cup of coffee, thankful that she’d made a carafe as I root through the fridge. I find all the ingredients to make breakfast, but first, a shower.
I take my time lathering up, since Josie isn’t back yet, and once I’m clean, I dress, and head back to the kitchen to get straight to work. After I put the bacon in the pan, I grab my phone and do a search, a plan forming in the back of my brain. When I find what I want, I tuck my phone away and I’m just putting the toast down, wondering what’s taking her so long, when the door opens and in walks Josie, her cheeks a pretty shade of pink from the cold. My heart squeezes. God, she’s adorable.
