Page 8 of Brick's Redemption

Brick’s chest shook with laughter. “This is why I keep you around.”

“Personally, I think Rosy Palm and her five sisters have you covered.”

It was silent for one, maybe two, heartbeats before both men erupted into loud laughter.

“Shit. You got me there, Darlin’.”

Brick’s amused gaze swept over me. “Hesh’s sense of humor.”

“We’re all fucked,” Dagger agreed.

I took a big bite of pancake, chewing as the melted butter and syrup coated my tastebuds. “This is heaven.”

“I’m fucking amazing. What did you expect?”

I winked at Dagger. “You’re so screwed. I’m going to insist on this breakfast every chance I get.”

He puffed his chest. “I’m a keeper. You should ditch Brick and be mine. I need my ego inflated like this every fucking day.”

Brick punched him in the shoulder. “Asshole.”

I bit my lip to hide my smile.

After breakfast, I picked up a book, towel, and sunscreen and headed out the back sliding glass doors. From the porch, it was a short walk to the pier, where my dad always kept a couple of small boats docked as well as the canoes. A small one-room cabin housed all the equipment needed for water sports. He’d built a little gazebo out there and hung fairy lights around the perimeter since my mom had declared it was her favorite spot on the property.

With the passage of time, the paint had faded and chipped a little, but it was no less beautiful. Potted plants bloomed with color, and the ivy growing around the outside added to the charm. Sunshine trickled through the gaps as I entered, noting that someone had recently replaced all the cushions. They used to be pale green but now were lemony yellow, which made the interior feel warm and inviting. Extra pillows in various shades of green and yellow completed the welcoming décor.

My mom used to hang plants inside the gazebo and on the wraparound porch. It was the one thing missing, and I intended to speak to Brick about it. It felt lacking somehow not to have them adding color and their fresh scents.

I cracked my book open, running my fingers over the spine. It was one of my favorites, Jane Austen. My mom gave me her copies as a teen, and I devoured them. This particular binding was made of leather and a special edition ofPride and Prejudicethat I cherished. Mom must have left it here one summer before my father died. Maybe she never had the heart to return here, but I’d change that. We should spend time at this house and the river again. It would do us both good and help us heal from the past.

Sometimes, I wondered if my mother ever got over his death.

“Ginny.”

So engrossed in Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett it took Brick calling my name more than once for me to drag my eyes away from the pages. “Yes?”

“It’s been hours, Babygirl. You hungry? Thirsty?”

Reluctantly, I closed the book. “Yes, actually.” I shrugged with a laugh. “Darcy never fails to draw me in.”

“I’d be jealous if he wasn’t a fictional character,” Brick joked.

“You should be nervous. He sets the bar quite high, you know.”

Brick didn’t mind I was teasing him. “Is that so? Higher than finding your childhood vacation home, fixing it up, and bringing you there just when you needed a little extra pick-me-up?”

“Oh, you’re good,” I admitted, setting the book on the cushion. “Darcy was rather arrogant as well.”

He snorted. “Does he ride a motorcycle and have all the ink I do? I’ve heard that’s a turn-on.”

Naughty man. I told him that exact thing once. “If he could have, I believe he probably would have done it to secure Elizabeth’s affection.”

“She must have had a wild nature.”

“You’ve no idea.”

Brick held out his hand. “Walk with me.”

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