Page 23 of When the Storm Breaks
I shrugged, not meeting his eye. “The guy was just drunk. I could have handled it on my own.”
“Why did you have to handle it on your own when you had three guys in the band who should have had your back? Where the hell were they when you needed them?” His voice held so much accusation that I instinctively rushed to the defense of my boys. Even when they didn’t deserve my loyalty or return the favor, defending them was a habit I’d never outgrown.
“They were outside packing up the equipment. I had to run back inside to use the ladies’ room.” I shrugged, once again trying to make light of it. “It was no big deal.”
“You were sixteen years old and some drunk asshole had you up against the wall,” he said, his voice low and angry. “You don’t think that’s a big fucking deal?”
I never told anyone what happened that night. We couldn’t afford to lose that gig, so I hadn’t wanted to cause any trouble. When Brody pulled that guy off me, slammed him against the opposite wall and punched him, I didn’t stick around long enough to thank him. I ran out the back door and hopped in the truck, my body shaking and my knees knocking the whole way home. If I had told the guys, Landry, Dean and Gus would have gone back in there and taken care of the situation. We’d lost plenty of gigs back then, but I never wanted it to be because of me.
“It had shaken me up a bit,” I admitted, downplaying it. “But I was fine. Thanks for stepping in. Were you okay?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Not my first bar fight. Not my last. I was just fine. Can’t say the same about the other guy. Pretty sure he had trouble walking out of there on his own.”
“You sound mighty proud of yourself.”
“Some things justify getting the shit kicked out of you. Never been one to stand back and let bad shit happen if I can stop it. So yeah, I’m always gonna fight for the things I believe in. Sometimes that requires a gentle touch and patience. And sometimes it requires a punch in the face and a swift kick to the balls.”
I studied his profile. Square jaw, straight nose, his dirty blond hair disheveled from running his hand through it, and I thought he was beautiful. Strong and tough but not the kind of guy who was looking to break you into submission. “When is a gentle touch and patience required?”
He turned his head, his brown eyes locking onto mine and in that moment, I thought that maybe he could read my mind. “When you’re dealing with wild, broken things.”
We gravitated toward each other, our movements almost imperceptible. We were thigh to thigh, and I was leaning into him, the muscles in his arm tensing, and I was desperate to feel his touch on my skin. He lifted his hand to my face, cupped my cheekbone in one of his big hands, and brushed his thumb over my lips. His touch was gentle, but it sent shivers up and down my spine and reached straight into my core.
I lifted my eyes to his and stared into their brown depths. The man who could knock a guy out but gentle a wild horse. Maybe he had the power to fix all the broken pieces inside me. To heal the wounds left by the men I’d loved who had abandoned me. And the one who tried to break me. To cleanse my soul of the sins I’d committed.
Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.
As if he heard my silent plea, his hand slid around the back of my head and he pulled me closer until our mouths were so close, I felt his soft breath on my lips. Just when I thought he would kiss me, his phone alarm went off, interrupting our moment of intimacy. He released me abruptly and slid his phone out of his pocket, silencing it.
“I need to go.” And just like that I’d lost him.
We were quiet on the drive back and I stared out the windshield, wondering if Brody was the man Maw Maw had told me about on my thirteenth birthday. I used to think it was Dean. But it couldn’t have been him. He’d never once saved me from anything. If it was Brody, he’d already saved me once. But what could he possibly need saving from?
Minutes later, Brody pulled up outside the guesthouse and I hopped out of the truck, not ready to let him go yet. Before he had a chance to drive away, I poked my head in the open window, a plan formulating.
“Do you like Cajun food?”
“Why?”
This guy. One minute you could be sharing deep and emotional things, sharing a moment that almost turned into a kiss, and five minutes later he was all suspicious again. “You don’t make things easy on a girl, do you?”
“You’re not just any girl, Shy.”
I’d like to think he meant it as a compliment, but it didn’t sound like one. “With you, I feel like I am. With you, I feel like I have to work for every smile and word.”
“If you wanted five-star treatment you should have checked into the Ritz.”
“Funny. I don’t see a Ritz around here.”
“Exactly.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come over for dinner. Around seven. I’ll cook.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “You’re gonna cook me dinner?”
“Ye of little faith. I happen to be a girl of many talents.”
“Don’t doubt that for a minute.”
