Bruised (Brody Brothers, #3) Page 5

  Dallas lifted a shoulder, more intent on giving a critical ear to the purity of notes coming from the old upright. “It’s the biggest house I’ve ever been in, so I’d say so. I mean, it has seven bathrooms, three different living rooms and two kitchens, at least that I know of. I’ve lost count of the bedrooms, and I still haven’t explored what’s up on the third floor yet. For all I know, there’s a frigging basketball court and a helipad up there.”

  “Two kitchens? My goodness, who would ever need two kitchens?”

  “The Brodys, apparently. There’s this huge kitchen next to a formal dining room that’s more like a banquet hall. Then there’s this other, smaller kitchen in the back in what must have been a nanny’s suite. Besides the little kitchen, it’s got a bedroom, a small living room and a bathroom. That area is where I’ve chosen to set up house,” she added, wrapping up the song. Then she slid into one of her favorite pieces, Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years.” “I’m not comfortable in any of those big, posh bedrooms upstairs. As perfect as they are, all that empty space just reminds me that I’m rattling around in that big old house by myself.”

  “Still, it’s nice of the Brodys to put you up while you’re staying in town,” Imogene pointed out, causing Manny to snort in derision. “I’m sure it’s not an easy situation for anyone, but I think it’s kind of them to make sure you’re living in the lap of luxury while you’re here. I’ve heard they’re excellent hosts when they throw their parties.”

  Dallas hit a wrong key and winced. “Yeah, they’re a four-pack of princes.”

  “Speak of the devils,” Manny muttered, and the tension in his voice made Dallas glance over her shoulder, only to find Manny scowling out the window next to the door in a way that could mean only one thing. “Looks like the oldest brother brought himself a wingman tonight.”

  Dallas’s attention swung to the door as Killian and his brother, Ryland, entered The Dive. For a few seconds she continued to play, holding onto the familiar security blanket that was her music, before reluctantly coming to her feet. Music was great for staving off her crap reality, but she had a job to do. With that in mind, she grabbed up her tray and headed toward the table the Brody brothers had snagged near the snooker table.

  “Good evening,” she began, but before she could get another word out, Killian nodded at the old upright.

  “You really can play,” he said, sounding astounded. There was also something in his eyes, a curiosity that bordered on fascination, that she’d never seen before as his attention slid from her, to the piano and back again. “When you said you used to play back at that music store in Sugar Land, I figured you were just talking shit, but you weren’t, were you? You’re pretty good.”

  “Thanks.” She tried to keep her cool, but that was tough to do when the memory of him accusing her of trying to play him kept popping up in her mind. Suspicious-minded kidnappers were on her list of Least Favorite Things, so it took most of her strength to summon a tight-lipped smile. “What are you two doing here? Is Des all right?” she gasped suddenly, all enmity forgotten as that one terrible thought hit her like a brick between the eyes.

  “He’s as fine as Des gets these days.” Ryland, or Ry, had the look of all Brody men—curling black hair, though his was cropped short, grass green eyes and the build of a professional football player. He’d been polite but distant since Killian had dragged her back to Bitterthorn, but that could be because he was still a newlywed, and seemed content to spend every free moment he had with his new bride, Celia. “He’s hanging in there, so take a breath and calm down, yeah?”

  That stiffened her spine like nothing else. “Please. Do I look like I’m wigging out?”

  “Yeah, actually. You do.” Killian leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head while he took his time studying her. “It’s not a bad thing, you being worried about Des, you know. Seeing you react that way is actually—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—kind of sweet.”

  She clutched her tray to her chest at that bold regard, and tried to ignore the heady flush that started at her face and went down, inch by tantalizing inch, all the way to the juncture of her thighs. Good grief, she thought, trying not to panic. What in the world was that all about?

  “I can be sweet.” She cleared her throat when she heard the breathiness of her voice. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

  “Yeah, I do. Sweet isn’t usually your thing.”

  Great. First she was playing him, then he thought she lied about playing the piano, and now she wasn’t sweet. “What the hell, Brody. I’m so sweet I’m like frigging sugar.”

  “Trust me, when you went through the sugar-and-spice step in your development, sugar got a skip. You wound up with a double dose of spice instead, but I’m not complaining,” he added when she considered breaking her tray over his head. “Nothing like a little spice to liven things up.”

  “You know what would really spice things up?” she muttered, gripping her tray so hard her fingers hurt. “You, leaving. That would be enough spice to make my day.”

  “We’re not going anywhere until you’ve heard what we have to say.” As if amused by the back-and-forth banter between her and his brother, Ry smiled for the first time in her presence. All she could think was that it was a damn good thing he was already spoken for, because the last thing she wanted to do was swoon over a damn Brody. “My brother tells me you’ve been helping out at the ranch?”

  She stared at him. “If I step a foot into any of the working areas at the ranch, your brother flies into a fit of pearl-clutching hysterics worthy of a daytime soap opera.”

  “The phone, smartass,” Killian muttered while Ry laughed. “You’ve been handling calls coming into the house. For months now we’ve been paying a remote temp agency to deal with the bulk of our business, but no one’s been happy with that situation. You’ve been handling the phone calls like a pro for free, so we thought we might as well take advantage of the situation and put you on the payroll.”

  “Sure, why not put your kidnap victim to work? What a great idea.”

  “You said you were coming back to Bitterthorn anyway,” he muttered while his brother laughed again before giving a half-hearted attempt to stifle it when Killian sent him an I-will-kill-you-later glare. “That negates the kidnapping. And you’re hardly a victim when you’ve had access to a phone the whole damn time and didn’t do shit about it except help out.”

  “True. Or maybe I just suck at being a kidnap victim.”

  “Yeah, you probably shouldn’t do it professionally,” Ry agreed, still chuckling. “You just don’t seem to have the knack.”

  “But you do have a knack for sounding professional on the phone and directing potential clients in the right direction,” Killian added. “When I realized that, I got to thinking—working at the ranch and earning a paycheck from Green Rock has got to look way better than working in this shithole.”

  “Manny busts his hump keeping The Dive military-grade clean,” she felt obligated to defend. “And it just so happens I like this shithole.”

  “So you’re turning me down?”

  “I didn’t say that.” The thought of having something to do during the day while waiting to go to work was definitely tempting. But even more than that, there was this weird little glow deep in her chest at the realization that at long last, Killian had begun to look past her unfortunate resemblance to her mother to see that he could trust her enough to let her into this small corner of his world. “I don’t have to be at The Dive until six, and only on Thursdays through Saturdays. If we can work out my hours, we might be able to do business. What other duties would I have besides answering phones?”

  “Answer and prioritize all business emails, set up a clientele schedule so that one of us is around to give that personal touch to whoever’s going to be on-property, and familiarize yourself with the basic operation of Green Rock Ranch,” Ry said. “Have you ever done any secretary or receptionist work?”

&nbs
p; “I did office work at my foster parents’ dojo all through high school. When I was twenty-one, I was both secretary and manager for an alternative-country mash-up band by the name of Urban Wildlife. Then their lead singer signed a solo contract and the drummer tried to kill her with his drumsticks, so that was pretty much the end of that gig. Then I—”

  “So the answer’s yes,” Killian said, looking at her curiously. “You know secretary work.”

  She nodded. “I know secretary work.”

  “And you know how to play a piano.”

  “Yep.”

  “And do an oil change.”

  “Yep again.”

  “And dislocate thumbs.”

  “You know that better than anyone, sunshine.”

  His slow smile was a sight to behold. “Is there anything else you can do?”

  “I’m amazing at taking drink orders.” Her heart nearly beat her to death, because for one insane moment she thought Killian’s question was far more loaded than she was prepared to handle. Then reality crashed in and she nearly died of mortification when she realized this was one man who would never flirt with her.

  Ever.

  When a wave of disappointment crashed through her, she had no idea what to do with it.

  “So.” Buying some time, she glanced over at Manny, and struggled valiantly to not think of all the things she could do that Killian just might be interested in. “There’s a strict No Loitering rule around here, Brody, so either you order something or Manny gives you a lesson on how doors work.”

  Killian didn’t bother looking Manny’s way. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  “Okay, first of all,” she began flatly, because his arrogance instantly made her see red, “this isn’t your house, Brody. It’s Manny’s, so mind your damn manners. Secondly, he bought this place using the money he saved up during his twenty-plus years of service to this country, where he went through three combat tours of hell in places I can’t pronounce that are actual shitholes. And thirdly... Respect. Get some. Now, are you drinking, or are you leaving?”

  “We’re drinking, firecracker,” Ry announced while Killian just looked at her through narrowed eyes, and she could practically hear the gears turning in that head of his. She didn’t want to know what he was thinking. Whenever she got mouthy—and she always seemed to get mouthy around him—his patience had a way of doing a quick fade. “Couple of beers, whatever you’ve got.”

  “Coming right up.” Without giving them another look, she stalked to the bar, mouth set. “Two beers, Manny, house choice. Give ‘em the shitty kind and maybe they won’t show up again.”

  “Like that’s going to happen.” Manny snorted and dipped into the fridge under the bar. “Usually it’s just King Killian who comes in to harass you. Why’d he bring his brother? You too much for him to handle?”

  “Nope.” Unfortunately. “They’re offering me a secretarial job over at the ranch. Sounds easy enough.”

  “A job?” Manny straightened as if stuck with a hot poker. “What the fuck, they can’t headhunt when you’re fucking working. You already have a job.”

  “Which I’m keeping, even if I do take them up on it,” she hastened to reassure him when he looked like he was on the verge of bursting a blood vessel. “From the sound of it, it’s just temp work. Easy stuff I could do in my sleep.”

  “Temp work for the greatest Black Angus stud operation in the country, if not the world,” Imogene offered, shifting on her stool to shyly reach out a hand to touch Dallas’s forearm. “I knew the lady who had that job before she retired. She was a scary perfectionist if there ever was one, but that was exactly what the Brody brothers wanted—perfection.”

  “Then they must be out of their damn minds, offering that job to me.” With that warning dampening her enthusiasm, Dallas arranged the beers with chilled mugs on her tray and headed back to their table, determined not to speak to anyone named Brody for the rest of the night.

  “You sure I can’t drop you off?” Manny asked, setting the alarm and locking The Dive’s front door. “It’s not too far out of my way.”

  “Green Rock Ranch is only a mile down the road.” Though her feet were aching from working a surprisingly brisk Thursday night, Dallas waved at her boss. “Thanks anyway, Manny. See you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll have a list of song requests ready for you, so be prepared,” he called after her. “My favorite is ‘Beer Drinkers and Hell Raisers.’”

  What a surprise, she thought dryly, and watched him climb into his car. Before his taillights were out of sight, she heard another vehicle approach. She turned, half-expecting trouble, before she frowned at the sight of Killian behind the wheel of his familiar, top-of-the-line white pickup with the Green Rock Ranch logo emblazoned on the side.

  Oh, yeah.

  Definitely trouble.

  “I gave your babysitter the night off,” he announced by way of greeting, and he cocked his dark head toward the passenger side. “Unlike Gus, I’m not afraid of you. Hop in.”

  “I still find it impossible to believe that little old guy is scared of me,” she said once she was seated in the cushy leather passenger seat. She pulled the seatbelt into place as Killian guided the truck out of The Dive’s parking lot. “From the looks of him, he’s been around since the Civil War. I’m surprised anything scares him.”

  “He remembers your mother. That’s enough to freak him the hell out.”

  And there it was, the one stumbling block between them that would never go away. She stifled a sigh and looked out into the darkness, all the while wondering what life would have been like if she hadn’t been born as the spitting image of a stupid, selfish woman who ruined so many lives.

  Including hers.

  “I don’t care how you look, though.” The sudden announcement after a full minute of silence made her jump, before she turned to look at him. “What matters is that I know you’re a pain in the ass. Looks don’t matter compared to that.”

  “Yeah?” That made her smile, her tautly held muscles relaxing when she realized he wasn’t going to hassle her. “So says the guy who kidnapped me right off the sidewalk.”

  He sighed. “Am I ever going to live that down?”

  “Not even when we’re old and gray.”

  “Great. Nice to know I can count on something in this world.”

  “Des can count on you,” she said, surprising herself. She’d thought this many times in the past several weeks, but this was the first time she felt comfortable enough in his presence to share it. Maybe it was because he was at last showing signs of not treating her like public enemy number one, or maybe he was just growing on her. “I love knowing Des can count on you. Even if he’s being a dork and holding a grudge, I feel I can rest easy knowing he has you in his life.”

  “Damn, a full-blown compliment,” he murmured, glancing her way. “I might faint.”

  “Please don’t. We’d crash.”

  “Are you sure you’re Dallas? Spicy Dallas who gives me shit?”

  “Did I mention the kidnapping?”

  “Only every other minute.”

  “You get the spice because you deserve the spice, Brody. You wouldn’t know what to do with the sugar.”

  “You think I don’t know what to do with sugar?” As she watched, a slow smile began to curl into that close-cropped beard, and all at once the warmth in the truck went nuclear. “Best be careful what you say, Spice. I might take that as a challenge.”

  Lordy, lordy. “I’m just calling it like I see it, and who said you can call me Spice, Brody?”

  “Who said you can call me Brody, Spice?”

  “Well, there we are,” she said, and though she told herself her sudden breathlessness and the effervescent tingling along her nerves was fear, she wasn’t fooled. It wasn’t fear. Not unless it was the kind of fear that happened at the start of the world’s best rollercoaster ride. “We finally found something in common. We’re not the kind of people who ask for permission.”

 
; “I’ll bet we’ve got a lot more in common than just that.” He turned off the road, guiding the truck through the impressive arch announcing to all that this was Green Rock Ranch, the arch’s twin stanchions made up of malachite, the semi-precious stone found all over the property and the mineral that gave the ranch its name. Though it was in the middle of the night and the world appeared to be asleep, there were still lights on at the stud barn, also known as the Bachelor Pad, where the ranch’s three prize Black Angus bulls were guarded around the clock. There were other structures in that same area, but she had no idea what they were since she was forbidden to go anywhere other than the main house. “I wouldn’t mind seeing what other common ground we stand on.”

  “We both breathe air. We’re both human beings. Off the top of my head, that’s about all I can come up with.”

  “We can both do oil changes.” There was a smile in his voice as he came to a stop in front of the main house, put the truck in Park and leaned comfortably back in his seat while the engine idled. Its purr was nothing compared to the roar of tension in the air, and it was all she could do to just try to breathe normally. “I know how to work with my hands.”

  “Ooh, that’s music to any woman’s ears.” It was out before her inner censor could red-flag it, and she sucked in a breath as if to drag the words back into her mouth. But it was too late; she knew it the moment his eyes lit with fire and his muscular arm bridged the gap between their seats.

  Oh, God.

  She should say something. Tell him she didn’t mean it. Or that she wasn’t interested in whatever it was he could do with his hands.

  But...

  She’d never been big on lying.

  “You know what I think, Spice?” His fingers threaded through her hair, and suddenly he seemed a lot closer than before. “I think we need to see what else we’ve got in common.”

  “I’m willing if you are.” The last word was lost as his mouth fused to hers, and that was all it took to make her world explode.