Page 43 of Sticking Around

He’s playing, joking, acting his ‘usual’ self—supposedly—as everything inside me twists, because I can see below the surface, see another side of him. Why does he feel like he needs to act this way? I guess maybe fans expect that of him and he’s just giving them what they want. And they do want it, because they’re eating up his every damn word.

“Did I see you come in with Brady Fisher?”

I turn at the voice and find an elderly lady at the table beside me, leaning toward me. “Oh, yes. Are you a fan?”

“My grandson is. Do you think he’d give me an autograph?”

“I’m sure he would. I can ask him when he gets back to the table.”

“I can’t compete with those young girls.” She chuckles, and once again unease hits because I can’t compete either. Why again is Brady with me? “They’d probably trample me if I tried to get close.”

“You stay seated. He’ll give you an autograph when he comes back.”

“You’re sweet dear. Are you related to Brady? An older sister perhaps?”

Really? My stomach squeezes tight. I know I’m not fourteen like those girls, but do I really look like I could be his older sister? Is it out of the realm that I could be his girlfriend? I mean I’m not, but is it really so far-fetched? Heck, maybe it is.

I plaster on my best smile. “We’re friends.”

I steal a glance at Brady as he lets out a big laugh, and I work to fight down the pang of jealousy—not to mention the fact that this woman thought I was his older sister—as I boot up my laptop. I do my very best to check out the listings, and I send off a couple of emails for afternoon viewings. Though I’m sure we’ll make them, not if Brady is going to continue entertaining fans all afternoon.

God, Melanie, get it together.

Ten minutes pass, and he finally shows up at the table, two mugs of coffee in hand. “Sorry about that.” He sets the coffee down and slides one my way.

I try for casual and wave a dismissive hand. “No worries. You have fans, I get it.” I gesture with a nod toward the elderly lady blinking eagerly as she waits for his attention. “This lovely lady would like an autograph for her grandson.”

“Oh sure.” He turns his attention to the lady, talks to her for a minute and signs a sheet of paper she pulled from her purse. Two big steps and he’s back at our table. “Any good leads?” he asks.

“I guess I could you the same thing.” I wince as soon as the words leave my mouth. “Sorry. I think I’m just still upset from the way Jess and her boyfriend were acting.” It’s as good an excuse for my behavior as any, but I’m not sure he’s buying it. Dammit, I don’t want him to think I’m jealous. If he knew I ‘might be’ catching feelings, he wouldn’t be so quick to offer me a place to stay. I mean at first, I was wondering why he would, until he talked about ravishing me. Tit for tat. Jeez, it almost sounds like I’m pimping myself out for a place to stay. I’m not, because I actually want to be with him again.

His dark eyes hold sympathy as they move over my face. “I guess it’s not easy realizing you’re where you’re not wanted, eh?”

“She could have asked me to move out.”

His hand snakes across the table and closes over mine, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

Wanting to lighten things I say. “No worries, eh.”

He laughs. “Nice Canadian slang. Almost mistook you for a Newfoundlander.” He takes a sip of coffee as I reach for mine. “Hey, wait, you still haven’t kissed the cod.”

I choke as I swallow. “Um, yeah.” He laughs and if I’m not mistaken, his cheeks have turned a shade of pink.

“Right. Okay.” He shifts, pulling his hand from mine to adjust his pants. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we?” The server comes over, and sets two cinnamon rolls in front of us, and she gives Brady a big smile.

“See you soon.”

My heart stalls, and I do my best not to show any kind of reaction as she ignores me like the bitch she is, and goes back behind the counter. I focus hard on my screen and Brady explains. “She has season tickets.” I nod, and he takes my hand again. “I told you. You and me, until the pre-season.”

Heat goes through me, and my heart stumbles a bit, and dammit that is not supposed to happen. I pull my hand away and pick up the cinnamon roll. I’m not even hungry after breakfast, but this looks delicious. I bite into it and moan as sugar and spice and cinnamon burst on my tongue.

“Ohmigod, Brady, this is delicious.”

“Yeah, well.” He shifts uncomfortably, adjusting his pants. “If you keep moaning like that, I’m going to take you back to your place, because it’s closer than mine, and give your roommate a run for her money.”

I laugh and it almost hurts to swallow. I take a sip of coffee to help me push the roll down, and Brady takes his chair and moves it to sit beside me.

“Focus, Lanie. Focus,” he jokes as he turns the laptop so he can see the screen. “Okay, this is the one I thought you’d really like.”

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