Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Except we were old enemies. And no way were we going to become lovers. Despite the way my core tightened at that thought.
As if to chase away the thought, I got up from the sofa, snatching the mug from the coffee table in order to go wash it and demand to leave.
The dog, Velma—the name had been a surprise. Surely it couldn’t be after the nerdy girl from Scooby Doo—followed me as I got up from the sofa, almost pressing into my leg as I walked.
Brody was putting steaming plates on a round dining table when I walked into the kitchen. It sat in front of yet another window, gray, plush drapes pulled back to reveal the diminishing view of the mountain and the twinkling lights of the town below us.
I struggled to figure out exactly where we were. There was no way I could recall how long we were driving to get here and which direction we went. I was unconscious most of that time. It could’ve been five minutes, or it could’ve been fifty.
But we were on the mountain somewhere, as the town below us communicated, and this version of Brody Adams seemed more mountain man than football player, so I took a wild guess that he had some acreage.
“I’m going to wash this, then we can go,” I declared.
I noticed Brody had set the two plates on the table—the table with napkins, placemats and candles—as he took the mug from my hands.
“I got it,” His hand went to the small of my back, then he guided me to the table.
Why I let myself be guided was anyone’s guess. Delayed shock. That had to be it.
I found myself sitting at the table with something that looked like soup and dumplings in front of me.
“I know it’s nowhere near as good as the food your mother had prepared for you, but it’ll warm you up, fill your belly.”
I just looked into the bowl. The food smelled amazing. He’d been at my mother’s place, was aware of our Thanksgiving feast.
She’d called him.
Not surprising. I’d driven off in a blizzard without warm clothing or an appropriate vehicle.
Embarrassing, though.
“Eat,” Brody ordered.
“I’m not a dog.” I scowled at him, rubbing the head of the animal at my side. “You can’t command me like you do her.”
“I don’t command her either. She has a will of her own. I like that in women.”
I rolled my eyes.
Bull. Shit.
“Oh, you think you’re so funny and charming, masquerading as a feminist with quips like that, but remember, Brody Adams, I went to high school with you. I know exactly who you are.”
His gaze turned stormy. Almost tortured.
“I’m not the same person I was in high school, Will,” he muttered quietly.
I threw up my hands, not bothering to chastise him for addressing me by my nickname. “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. My prevailing philosophy is that people don’t change a whole lot. But even if you had, I don’t care. You’re not convincing me you’re some good guy because you wear a badge, you saved me from certain death, you have a cute dog, you cook food and you smell nice.”
Crap, I hadn’t meant to say that last part.
Brody’s eyes twinkled, obviously amused by me. That pissed me off. It also pissed me off that he looked exceptionally handsome with those twinkling eyes.
“I’m not asking you to believe I’m a good guy. Just askin’ you to eat. Whether you do or not is completely up to you, but I was at your place, and there was an untouched Thanksgiving dinner on the table, you’ve been gone for a few hours and your body burned a lot of energy trying to keep itself warm. You need the calories.”
As if on cue, my stomach growled. Loudly.
Brody pursed his lips as if he were trying not to laugh.
Good thing he didn’t laugh. I might’ve exploded.
I wanted to refuse the plate of hot food out of principle.
But again, I was hungry, I was tired, and I was overwhelmed.
“This is because I want to do it, not because you told me to do it.” I picked up the fork.
Brody’s face was carefully blank. “Of course.”
And of course, it was the best thing I’d ever tasted.
And that was how I ended up eating Thanksgiving dinner with Brody Adams.
Chapter Ten
WILLOW
“Okay, I’m ready to go.” I put down my fork and stared at my clean plate, wishing for more. Not only was there chicken and dumplings but there was also pie.
And I was ravenous.
It didn’t escape me that there was no one else at this table. Brody hadn’t mentioned missing any kind of Thanksgiving dinner. I wanted to ask who he had planned to spend the holiday with. He’d been on duty, so maybe he hadn’t made any. He was still the sheriff on holidays. But he wasn’t working now, and there didn’t seem to be any plans for him beyond the pre-purchased pie.