Page 40 of The Holiday Fakers
“Have you kissed yet?” Mia asks.
Brody takes a step back, his palms raised, and a little piece of my heart breaks off.
“Of course not!” I whisper to Mia, then gesture at Brody. “He’d rather kiss a piece of furniture. It’s fake, don’t you remember?”
“Iknow that.” She inclines her head toward the dining-room door. “Buttheydon’t. You need to practice so you can make it look real.”
Brody shakes his head. “There isn’t going to be any kissing.”
Dammit!
I take a calming breath. “See? Now make sure you?—”
“Aunt Mia!”
Martha runs toward us.
Mia scoops her up and whirls her around. “How’s my favorite Martha in the whole wide world?”
Martha giggles, then pulls Mia’s knitted hat off. “Hurry up! We’re having lobster rolls and pie!”
“I’m glad I’m not too late for that,” Mia says, then strolls to the dining room carrying her.
Brody and I follow. I want to take his hand again, but after Mia dropped the idea of a kiss on us like a bomb, I can’t. I don’t want him thinking that’s what I want, because I don’t. Well, not really. Although if?—
He doesn’t want to kiss you, so back the sexy truck up.
Back in the dining room, Dad is getting an extra chair, and Mom is setting another place next to Hudson.
“Mom, there’s no room next to me,” he grumbles. “Put Mia next to Harper.”
Dad sighs with good-natured exasperation and moves the chair to the other side of the table as the show starts.
“I forgot how much extra room was needed for your ego,” Mia says to my brother with a smirk.
Hudson rolls his eyes. “Muscles, Mia. Muscles.”
I bite my lip to stop a laugh escaping as Mia squints and peers at my brother’s arms.
“I don’t think that’s muscle. It looks to me like too many big meals down at the station.”
She glances at Brody as he takes his place next to Hudson. “NowBrody’sgot muscles. He’s seriously buff.”
Hudson instinctively flexes as he flicks a glance at Brody’s arms.
“See?” Mia says. “You should ask him what workout he does. He probably has some ex-Navy SEAL trainer.”
My traitorous eyes roam over Brody’s body. Unfortunately, most of it is clothed, but I’ve ogled his bare forearms long enough on the drive up—and felt his body against mine when we hugged, so I know Mia’s right. He’s solid inallthe right places.
“Do you, Brody?”
Spots of color appear on Brody’s cheekbones, and he nods.
Mia squeals. “Knew it! Is his name Bullet? Or Warrior?”
“Major Gains,” he deadpans. “Or Major Ab Gains if he’s being formal.”
I giggle.
