Page 136 of When the Storm Breaks
She spun the silver ring around her thumb, a nervous habit. I knew the significance of the ring now. The feather of an angel’s wing, according to her Maw Maw. And the angel was her mother. Ophelia. Ophelia Leroux Holloway. Wife of Rhett Holloway. Mother of Shiloh and Landry. Killed in a random shooting.
“Will you have dinner with me, Brody?”
My eyes narrowed on her. “You want me to have dinner with you?”
She nodded. “I want more than dinner, but it seemed like a good place to start.” She opened the door wider and I hesitated before stepping inside. Her eyes lowered. “What happened to your leg?”
I shrugged one shoulder and cursed myself for not changing into jeans before I came over. But then, I hadn’t expected her to be here. “It’s nothing.”
She inspected the side of my leg. It looked like road burn. Then my knee. It was red and swollen, and had blown up like a damn balloon. Somehow, I’d twisted it in the fall. “Jesus, Brody. Get in here. You need ice on that knee.”
She came to stand next to me and grabbed my arm, pulling it over her shoulders. I looked down at her and scowled. “The hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Lean on me.”
“You can’t carry my weight. You’d snap like a twig.”
She glared at me. “I’m stronger than I look.”
“I know you are,” I said, my voice softer. “But I can walk on my own two feet and I’m not going to lean on you.”
Shiloh rolled her eyes. “Still so stubborn.”
I tried my damnedest to walk without limping but once again I failed miserably. I lowered myself onto a stool. She pulled up a stool across from me. “Prop up your leg, Cowboy. I’ll get you an ice pack.”
I did as she said, mostly because I had no choice. It hurt too much to bend my knee so I propped it up on the stool and she came back with a bag of frozen peas. “Frozen peas?”
“I don’t have an ice pack.” She planted her hands on her hips, her voice filled with accusation. “How did you do this?”
“Was trying to do the Texas two-step. Guess I’ve lost my touch.”
She laughed, her gaze moving from my knee to my face. “You’re crazy,” she said softly.
“I know.” She was standing so close I could smell her scent.
“Brody.” Her voice was a mere whisper. I lifted my hand to her face and brushed my thumb over her soft, full lips. Her eyes drifted shut. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Missed you more.” I dropped my hand to my side and cleared my throat. “How’s that Jambalaya coming along?”
“Oh shit.” She flew to the stove and I chuckled as she stirred the pot, mumbling under her breath. “Every single time. You’re too distracting.”
I stared at her perfect ass. The curve of her hips. Her slender, toned legs that had been wrapped around my back more times than I could count. Talk about distracting. My knee might be fucked but my dick was working just fine. It stirred in my shorts, obviously appreciating the view.
“All is not lost,” she said, sounding relieved as she lowered the heat under the pot and turned from the stove. I didn’t know if she was talking about the dinner or us.
She grabbed two beers from the fridge and flipped the caps then handed one to me across the breakfast bar. I took it from her and thanked her.
“Let’s make a toast.”
Those words reminded me of that little club in Miami, and the last time we made a toast. Of the promises I’d made and broken. “Let’s not.” Without waiting to hear what she wanted to toast to, I took a swig of the cold beer.
Undeterred, she held up her beer. “How about we drink to new beginnings?”
“Is that what this is? A new beginning?”
She nodded. “I hope so. Now that I’ve found you, I don’t know how to live without you. I don’t want to live without you.” She stopped and sucked in a breath. “And I was kind of hoping you felt the same way. ”
“We were never meant to be, Shy.” I averted my head, unable to see the disappointment on her face, and took another swig of beer. Music was piping from her portable speakers--Cigarettes After Sex’s “Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby.” She’d played this for me once. We were in New York, staying at Bastian’s loft in Tribeca and she’d been dancing, almost trancelike, her eyes painted smoky and her lips red, dressed in a loose black tank top and lacy black underwear. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. She’d straddled me on the living room sofa and when she fucked me, she threw back her head, exposing the column of her neck that begged to be marked by my mouth and teeth.
