The Sweet Talker

by Cathryn Fox

  Why again is it she can’t be mine?

  Right, right, I mess everything up.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, as Mabel comes barreling at me like a damn bowling ball. “Hey girl, sit,” I say, and put pressure on her hind end to get her to sit. She listens, and I drop down to give her praise as Josie stands there watching. I glance up at her.

  “In Boston, we call this breakfast,” I tease.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “I know but you’re cooking…”

  I stand. “I’m a man of many talents.” She steps up to the counter and pours a mug of coffee. Her stomach takes that moment to growl, and I laugh. “You can’t live on chocolate alone, you know.”

  “You’re a hockey player. I just assumed you had a cook or something.” She takes a sip of coffee. “This is really nice, Brody. Thank you.”

  My heart crashes against my chest as her gratitude warms my blood, making me want to do more, everything for her. I finally find my voice and say, “Have a seat, m’lady.”

  She laughs, and drops down into a chair. I place her food in front of her and she’s about to jump up, but I stop her.

  “I got it,” I say and pull utensils from the drawer.

  “Wow, a girl could get used to this.”

  “Every good boyfriend should make his girl breakfast, especially a girl who runs her own business, and has a pup who runs her off her feet, don’t you think?” Her brow arches, like she’s surprised by my observation. “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing.” She tosses a piece of bacon into her mouth. “This is just really nice. It’s been a long time since...” She lets her words fall off and I don’t push.

  “What are your plans for the day?” I ask. It’s Saturday, and I assume she’s busy with the shop, but that doesn’t mean she can’t take a break and do something fun, or maybe I could help her out downstairs. I don’t know anything about chocolate, but I’m a fast learner.

  “Work, it’s crazy this time of year.”

  I want to ask about a tree, but I’m not sure how to broach the subject. I know firsthand Christmas isn’t a wonderful time of year for everyone.

  “Something on your mind?” she asks as Mabel comes up and plunks herself down next to me.

  I laugh and before I ask her about not having a tree, I point to Mabel. “Know what this is called?” She glances at Mabel and back at me, her brow furrowed. “It’s called POF,” I say, and a deeper confusion moves over her face. I grab a slice of bacon and feed it to Mabel. “She sits where there is POF, probability of food.”

  Josie laughs, and the sound fills the kitchen and my soul with lightness. Man, I really like when she laughs, and something tells me she doesn’t do it often enough.

  “And to answer your question, I do have something on my mind.” She takes a sip of coffee and stares at me over the rim, waiting for me to continue. “You don’t have a tree.”

  Her face pales a little and she sets the cup down and my insides clench. Shit, I clearly hit a sore spot and didn’t mean to upset her. As she goes quiet, lost in thought, I turn this around, making it about me, talking about something private, something I don’t usually share.

  “When I was growing up, there were times we never had a tree.”

  Her brow bunches. “Really? I’m sorry, Brody.”

  “Dad was on the road a lot, and well I had many…” I stop and do air quotes around the word, “Moms.” Her face softens and catching me off guard, she reaches across the table and takes my hand into hers.

  “That must have been hard.”

  I shrug, brushing it off, but I’m pretty sure she can see right through that. “I don’t usually do Christmas in a big way. In fact, I usually do it alone, but I usually put a tree up.”

  She nods. “I guess if you’re going to be staying here, we need a tree then huh?”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  She glances down, and her face is tight, her thoughts a million miles away. What kind of demon is she fighting? The impulse to jump in and fight it for her overcomes me. I might not be her boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be her friend. I’m about to tell her to forget it, that we don’t need a tree if it’ll upset her, when her head lifts, a small smile on her face.

  “I’m okay with that.”

  Warmth and happiness move through me. “I did a little research earlier.”

  Her brow arches, and her curious smile makes me laugh. “Do I have to guess what this research was?”

  “I was going to tell you, but since you’re being a smart-ass, now I won’t. I’ll just surprise you instead.”

  “I don’t really like surprises, Brody,” she says and pulls a new phone from her pocket.

  Guilt niggles at me. “You replaced your phone?”

  “Yes, this morning, after Mabel and I had a walk.”

  She checks the time. “I’m running late. I don’t usually sit down to a nice breakfast before rushing off to work.” She stands and takes her dish to the sink.

  “Go down.” I give her a wink. “Although you might want to stall for a bit to drive the point home to Patrick that we celebrated last night in a big way.”

  She blushes. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” She starts to do the dishes and I step up to her, put my hands on her hips and move her aside.

  “I got this and afterward, Miss Mabel and I are going to do some training, aren’t we Mabel?” Her tail wags so hard, it thumps on the leg of the table.

  “She really likes you.”

  “What’s not to like?” I tease.

  Without a pause, she says, “I could make a list, but I don’t want to be late for work.” She goes quiet, thoughtful, then adds, “I heard you had that effect on girls, and little Miss Mabel here is not immune to the sweet talker.”

  “I’m the sweet talker and you’re the sweet maker. What a team, huh? Also, how do you know that about me? Creeping my Instagram?” Yeah, okay, I creeped hers, but didn’t find anything personal, which is a bit weird. She mostly puts pictures up of her business.

  She gives a quick shake of her head. “No, Kayley filled me in, and honestly, Brody, I don’t care if you sleep around. I’m not judging you. I’m just not into that.”

  “I know. I’m not looking for that from you, remember?”

  She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, I remember.”

  Okay, if she’s so happy about that, why the heck is her brow furrowed, a deep disappointment swimming in her big brown eyes, like I just kicked her pup or something? Does she want me to want sex from her, even though she keeps driving home the point that she’s not sleeping with me?

  “Maybe that’s a tiny lie,” I say, gauging her reaction. “You’re a beautiful woman, Josie and I’d sleep with you if you twisted my arm…or even my finger, maybe even a hair on my finger.”

  A smile lights up her face, but she quickly hides it. “You have hair on your fingers?”

  I laugh and look at my hands. “I think I do. Don’t you?”

  She laughs hard and I love this lightness about her. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to twist anything.”

  Goddammit, now there are things I really want to twist.

  “I never said I was worried. Wait, what was that you said about a list?” She laughs, and I love her quick wit. “You’re kind of a smart ass too, aren’t you?”

  “I think you’re rubbing off on me.” Her eyes open wide, and I can’t help but think the word rubbing is messing with her, in much the same way it’s messing with me. “I mean…”

  “I know what you mean, now go. I have plans for us later, so don’t work too late.”

  She hesitates for a moment, and I sense she wants to tell me something but instead she bends to pet Mabel.

  “You be a good girl.”

  Two minutes later, I’m alone with sweet Mabel, and I refill her water bowl and wash up the dishes. “Okay girl, you ready to go play?”

  She jumps up and I tug on my coat and ballcap and leash her. A few minutes l
ater, we’re walking through town, and I check out all the stores as tourists who are here for a skiing holiday fill the streets. Miss Mabel is a big old chick magnet and we’re stopped a hundred times before we can make it to the park. Everyone wants to pet the pup, and even with my ballcap pulled low, most people recognize me, which means a ton of selfies. Not that I mind. What I do mind, however, is all the numbers that are slipped into my pocket. I’m not sure why that’s suddenly bothering me when it never has in the past.

  I finally get Mabel to the park, and we spend the next hour or so working on commands, especially call back, sit, stay and heel. She’s going to need to learn to walk properly before she’s full grown, otherwise she’s going to drag Josie down the street on her rear end. I smile, not at the image of Josie getting dragged by her dog, but because I like thinking of her. I liked seeing her smile this morning, and while her past is her past, I can’t help but want to know more about her. What really brought her here, why does she hate surprises and what’s the real reason behind not putting up a tree in a town that takes Christmas to the extreme? If she hated the holiday so much, surely she wouldn’t have move to a town with the name holiday in it, right?

  I walk Mabel home and hurry downstairs. I’m anxious to see Josie, not just because I want to tell her about Mabel’s progress, but…dammit, I just want to see her. I find her in the back, dressed in her jeans and a dark T-shirt, covered by a black apron that dips below her knees. Her hair is pulled back and tucked inside a net, and it’s ridiculous how cute she looks. I grin as I walk toward her, not wanting to disturb her deep concentration, but I am curious about that strange tug on my chest as I close the distance. She smiles when I approach, and the way it lights up her face pulls at me. It’s all I can do to remember we’re only friends. If we weren’t, I’d drag her into my arms, and this time, kiss her on the mouth.

  I touch her cheek, brush the chocolate away, and bring it to my mouth for a taste, although I really wish I hadn’t. That sweet taste teases of something more, something I can’t have.

  “Are you always this messy?” I ask.

  “Hazard of the job. But it could be worse.” There’s a roughness to her voice as she lightly touches the scar on my cheek. Her hands are warm against my cold skin, and my gaze roams her gorgeous face as she inspects the welt, compliments of a high stick my rookie year.

  I touch her chin, lift her head a little, until her lips part.

  “Josie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think Patrick is watching.”

  “Oh.” She’s about to turn her head toward the glass partitioner, but I stop her. “He’s not usually here this—”

  Before she can finish her sentence, I dip my head, and press my lips to hers. The second I taste her sweetness, the room closes in on me and my brain shuts down. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I slide my hand around her neck and take a fistful of her silky hair through the net. At first her lips are hesitant, then she slowly opens for me, and I swear up until this moment, I’ve never really kissed a woman before. Nope, what I was doing wasn’t kissing. It wasn’t even tasting, but now, now I’m devouring, and dammit, there is no way I’m going to get my fill.

  The bell over the door jingles, and it snaps some sense back into me. I inch back and we stand there immobilized, breathless, and I can’t speak for Josie, but I’m a quivering mess of need. Her fingers go to her lips, and her head turns slowly, taking in the showroom out front. She scans the crowd. “I…I don’t see him.” Her voice is as shaky as my body.

  “Oh, sorry.” I stand there and try to pull off casual, try to pretend that kiss didn’t mess with every cell in my body, but I’m not sure I’m able to pull that off. “I thought I saw him.”

  “That’s why you kissed me?”

  “Yeah, sure, just to really drive the point home that we’re a couple,” I fib. I can’t tell her the truth, that I’ve wanted to kiss her since I first set eyes on her. “We might have to do it again.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes light up.

  “For the charade.” I gesture toward the glass. “I’m guessing a lot of people in the showroom saw us, and this is a small town. Small towns have rumor mills. We want this to get around.”

  “Yeah, yeah they do, and yes, yes we do.” Her voice is rattled, flustered, full of need.

  “You agree, then? We’ll have to kiss a lot?”

  Her chest rises and falls erratically. “I don’t really see as we have a choice in the matter.”

  As I take in the sweet, gorgeous, innocent woman before me, one question jumps to the forefront of my brain.

  What the hell are you doing, Brody?

  6

  Josie

  He kissed me. NHL superstar Brody Tucker kissed me. And I liked it. Here it is hours later, and I can still feel the burning imprint on my lips. He said Patrick was watching, and he wanted to drive the point home that we were a couple, but was the kiss too much, going too far for this charade? Probably. Which means I should be more upset than I am. Truthfully, I could have stopped him. He didn’t just pounce on me; the question of yes or no lingered in his eyes, and what did I do? I parted my lips in encouragement. I should regret it. Heck, I want to regret it. Kissing another man is wrong, right? It’s a dishonor to my late husband.

  I turn as Brody comes from my spare bedroom, Mabel right on his heels. “Look how good she’s doing,” he says as I take in his jeans, the nice way they hug his thighs, and the blue sweater that matches his eyes. “Such a fast learner, aren’t you, girl?” He bends to pet her, rubbing those big hands of his all over her body as he gives her a kiss on her snout, and I have to say, I’ve had Mabel for six months now and never once was I jealous of her.

  Get yourself together, girl.

  “You’re a dog whisperer, I get it.” He laughs, and I say, “I’m sorry I’m a little late. I had this huge order come in. A great big shipment to numerous different addresses in Boston.”

  “Oh yeah?” He averts his gaze and for a second I think he’s hiding something from me, but what on earth could he be hiding? We don’t even really know one another and the fact that I invited a stranger to stay in my loft is absolutely crazy. And why did you do that, Josie? I guess it was something in his eyes, a strange mixture of honesty and vulnerability. I’m not one to trust so easily, but he’s a friend of Declan’s and Mabel is crazy about him.

  “Since you’re not going to tell me where we’re going, am I dressed appropriately?”

  His gaze leaves my face, trails over my sweater, and tight-fitting jeans. He scrubs his face and briefly closes his eyes like he’s in total agony, and I bite back a smile. He said he didn’t want to sleep with me, but he likes what he sees, and I shouldn’t take such pleasure in it.

  * * *

  Truthfully, I haven’t lived, haven’t felt attractive in a long time. He reminds me I’m a woman with needs, but I can’t give myself over to this man who is awakening things in me. He’s a player who’s leaving soon, and I’ve had enough heartache to last a lifetime.

  “You’re perfect,” he says, and takes my coat from the closet to hand it to me.

  I laugh, even though my insides are a little quivery from the comment. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  He looks me over again, his gaze slow and lingering. “Yeah, but this time I really mean it.”

  Another stupid little flutter goes through me. I poke him in the chest. “You really are a sweet talker, aren’t you?”

  He captures my finger and holds my hand to his chest. I revel in his strong heartbeat. “And you taste as sweet as you look.”

  My lips tingle at the reminder of our kiss, and he steps a bit closer, takes a strand of my hair and for the briefest of seconds, I think he’s going to kiss me again. But what’s surprising me most is how much I want him to. His head dips, and his throat makes a noise as he swallows. Our eyes meet, lock, and my lips automatically part. I wet them, and a growl crawls out of his throat at the exact same time Mabel barks. Brody backs
up quickly, like the sound snapped some sense back into him, and I should be grateful for the interruption. Should being the key word here. Mabel, jealous of the attention Brody is giving me and not her, worms her way in between us, and Brody laughs and pats her head.

  “You be a good girl, and I’ll bring you back a treat.” He straightens. “All set?”

  I nod, pull on my winter coat, hat, scarf and mitts. I head to the door and look back to see if Brody is following, but he’s standing there laughing and shaking his head. “Something funny?”

  “You’re not going to freeze to death, that’s for sure.”

  “As long as there are no maniac drivers and potholes, I should be okay.”

  He groans at the reminder, and I laugh and swat him with the end of my scarf when he comes close. “You told me to dress warm, so I dressed warm.”

  He pulls on his coat, and hat, which has a pompom on it, and now it’s my turn to laugh. “Your hat.”

  “You like it?” He shakes his head and the big gray pompom bounces. That, combined with the sexy smirk on his face, has to be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Anything for attention, huh?” I tease.

  He gives a slow shake of his head, his lashes falling slowly, only to open again. “God, you get me.”

  “You’re such a goof.” I reach for his hat to tug on his pompom and his eyes go wide as he jerks away.

  “You can’t touch this,” he says. “Not unless you’re a Seattle Shooter.”

  “Is that right?” I ask, and purse my lips.

  “Yup, Wes, the rookie on the team, is from Nova Scotia. It’s damn cold there. Anyway, his mother made one for everyone on the team. These are our lucky hats. You’re lucky you’re even allowed to look at it.”

  “Athletes and their superstitions,” I say with a laugh. “Well, it’s a lovely hat, and I guess I’ll have to stick with this one.” I point to the light purple one I’m wearing. “Let’s go.”

  We head downstairs and instead of going through the shop, we take the back door. The cool wind hits my face, the little part that is exposed, and I yelp.