Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
He’s so different now. When I saw him three years ago, he was still in the Army. He’s just as bulky as before. In fact, he’s even beefier. But his hair is a bit longer and he’s growing a beard, an actual beard that makes me wonder what his face would feel like between my thighs.
I shift in my seat, knowing I have to get off that line of thinking. I don’t want to end up with wet panties before we’ve even made it to his home. “Do you like it here?”
There are horses in the pasture we’re passing. I’ve never seen a horse in real life unless you count the birthday party I attended for a classmate in fourth grade.
He grunts, just as talkative as ever. Some things never change, and the thought makes me smile despite the hell I’ve been going through these past few weeks. I don’t know what I’m going to do if Brody can’t help me. Just the thought makes my chest tight.
We travel for a few more minutes in silence until Brody stops his truck in front of a white farmhouse. The front porch has white columns with hanging ferns interspersed between them while two mounted scones bracket the cheerful red door. There’s a single rocking chair on the porch and above the ferns, paddle fans circulate the air. It would be a beautiful place any time of day but with the sun pulling low in the sky and bathing the place in shades of pink, it’s breathtaking.
“This is your place?” I remember Elliot telling me that Brody was going to build his own home on the farm, but I never would have imagined something like this. I would have thought he’d want something that was more fitting to his personality, something rugged.
“Yep.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but I see something flicker across his face. Brody and his mom lived in a rundown trailer. I was only there once, and I can still remember how used needles littered the floor and the way cockroaches crawled over every surface. This place must be his dream, a way of finally giving an abused boy a beautiful place to live.
“It’s gorgeous. You should be proud,” I say quickly. It really is amazing what he’s done with his life. Most people would have given up after being born into that kind of poverty and abuse but not Brody. He did everything in his power to rise above his circumstances.
Maybe it’s my imagination but his chest seems to puff out at my words. “Come see the inside. It’s even better.”
When I get out of the truck, I have to do it carefully since the skirt I’m wearing is so short. Normally, it’s not my kind of thing but I borrowed these clothes from my curvy friend. Tessa is a party girl and flirt. I’m just thankful that my ass isn’t hanging out. At least, I hope not. That would be so embarrassing to have Brody catch a peek. My cheeks flame at the idea.
He waits for me on the porch and I join him with my travel bag thrown over my shoulder, pausing to admire the flowerbed he’s beginning to design in the yard. He’s clearly settling into his place and I can’t help wondering if he has a woman. Surely, Elliot would have mentioned that little detail to me, right?
On the other side of the red front door are beautiful gleaming hardwood floors and white shiplap that meets a dark blue wallpaper with a concrete texture. It’s masculine and in any other space, it would be too dark. But Brody’s home has natural light flooding in from several windows and a nearby skylight.
“I just kind of picked what I liked,” he says and shoves his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans that are already tight across his thick thighs. When the same look flickers across his face again, I finally understand what this is. He’s hoping for my approval. It’s so strange to me. I spent years trying to get his attention and approval and now he wants to impress me? I can’t be understanding this.
I step from the foyer into the living room, careful to avoid going near the windows. It never used to be something I thought about. I used to leave the shades to my third-floor apartment open all the time so I could enjoy the sunrise. But now an open window represents a potential threat, another way that I could be watched.
“It feels cozy,” I tell him, and I mean it. I can almost envision curling up with a good book on the tan couch in front of the fireplace. I’d have a blanket draped around my shoulders and a Border Collie resting beside me. I’d be leaning against Brody while he drank a Scotch and played with my hair. This is the problem I have with being around my brother’s best friend. The problem I’ve always had with him. It’s far too easy for me to imagine what our life together would look like.