Our Chance (Los Rancheros #4) Page 6

  We look out to the dark backyard, lost in our own thoughts. Brody asks me quietly, "What am I supposed to do? Maggie was enough for me a couple of days ago." He looks over to me. "Now I remember what I was trying so hard to forget."

  I look away from him, uncomfortable again. "Why did you go into the Navy, Brody?"

  He shrugs. "Why stay? You were gone."

  "Then why did you come back?"

  He sighs and looks at me a long time before saying, "I got out as soon as I could after I heard about him. I came back here. I've been waiting, and being pissed as hell I was waiting. Waiting and trying to move on at the same time. My mind is fucked, babe."

  My breath hitches. Babe. I close my eyes and breathe in a deep breath. "You don't think you should cut your losses and move into a condo?"

  "And always wonder if we could have what we were meant to? What we planned to? What we always wanted? I don't know if I can do that. I'm sure as fuck not sleeping with anybody else until we figure this out. You better not, either, or I'll kick your ass."

  I push my shoulder into his. "You wouldn't hurt me, Brody."

  He turns his upper body to me and says seriously, "This is probably the one and only chance we're ever gonna get, Jules."

  I study his face then turn and tell the yard, "I haven't slept with anybody since Bastien died. I don't see that changing."

  Brody puts his hands over his face and groans. I cringe. "Sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear that."

  Brody takes his hands away and turns his head to me, his eyes hot. "You'd probably go off like a rocket the second I got inside you." He groans louder. "You're probably so tight."

  I move away from him and state the obvious "I've had three kids, bub, the old fashioned way."

  He shakes his head. "No. It's been more than five years, Jules. God. I need to talk to Maggie."

  That’s my cue. I stand up and move to go into the house.

  He grabs my calves and looks up my body. "To break up, babe. Blonde isn't my color anymore." He strokes my legs up my thighs to my hips and moves the sweater off of my stomach. He goes up to his knees, not letting me go, and I stop breathing as I feel his warm breath on my stomach. "I need something dark. Someone who tastes like tart apples and smells like night jasmine. How do you still smell the same?"

  As he starts tugging my shorts down to expose my lower belly, I mumble, "Brody. Stop. We are not doing this. Mmmm. No. Girlfriend. Stop."

  He grips tight on my hips and pushes his face into my stomach grumbling, "I can just get you off. No more. I just want to see your face when you come.”

  I’m panting and my knees are going weak, but I shake my head. "No. We're doing this right. No girlfriends. We date."

  "How many dates?" Brody asks, his lips brushing my skin.

  I pull away and walk shakily to the door where Angus is waiting patiently. "I can't answer that right now. I'm weak. Goodnight, Brody."

  I shut the door, and the last thing I see as I lock the door and turn the light off is Brody on his knees on my back porch.

  Chapter 5

  I stand outside of our gate taking pictures of the kids and giving them kisses. "My babies. I will miss you so much, my darlings." I make a fool of myself so that they aren't nervous when they get on the bus. They rush from me, running to escape the crazy lady that is their mother. I debate banging on the bus, but don't want to freak any of the other kids out. I wave dramatically until they're out of sight then press my key fob to open the gates.

  I jog back to the house, which is probably two hundred yards, but by the time I'm done I think I might pass out. I stumble into the house mumbling, "Fuck exercise—"

  My words are cut off as a blur pushes me against the counter and grips my hair tight. I gasp and get a tongue in my mouth. I know it's Brody from his smell and taste. He's still the same, too. Wool, oil and man. He always tasted wild to me. I put my hands on his shoulders and turn my head. "What the hell are you doing?"

  He leans back, eyes turned green with lust, panting with his hips pushed into mine and his back arched away from me. "I broke up with Maggie. She said she already knew it was coming. I couldn't sleep last night, thinking about you. The kids are at school. I'm not talking about sex. I just need to do this for you. Please."

  A gorgeous man is begging to get me off? Umm, yes. It has been too freaking long for me to do anything else but give a feeble protest. "I just ran all the way here, let me take a shower. And then you can, ya know, get me off."

  He rolls his eyes. "Are you for fucking real right now? I'm not waiting." He pulls me by the back of my head towards him and slants his head.

  His other hand goes up my t-shirt and under my sports bra, palming my breast and then tweaking my nipple. I make a noise in the back of my throat as he groans. Brody moves both of his hands to push my bra up. His mouth leaves mine as he ducks his head to my chest. I hold onto his head and stare at the ceiling, seeing nothing and feeling like I'm about to come just from his mouth on my breasts. Arching my back, I lean back on the counter as his hands go to my upper back, pulling me to his mouth, flicking with his tongue.

  Brody switches sides, giving each nipple equal attention. He moves down my body, pushing my sweats down fast with my panties. I hear a growly "Jesus, fuck" and open my eyes, straightening up to see Brody on his knees, a flush in his cheeks, lips red, eyes glittering as he stares at my most private place. He moves a hand over it. "I think this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." I laugh and he looks up, still serious. "What?"

  I smile at him tenderly and rub my hand over his dark hair. "That's what you said the first time you ever saw me, when I was fifteen."

  He tilts his head into my hand as I stroke his cheek. "Huh. Must be true then." He rubs a hand over me again. "This isn't shaved, though. Waxed?"

  I shake my head. "Laser hair removal. Hurt like a bitch, but now I never have to worry about it."

  Brody runs his hands down my legs and back up. "Fucking brilliant." All of a sudden he lunges for my body and sucks. The breath whooshes from my body as his tongue tunnels in. Sensations slam into my body, my nerves firing off as he plays me perfectly. He licks, sucks again, nibbles, flicks his tongue fast then presses it flat against my clit. I'm pulling his head closer, screaming, as I have the most intense orgasm I've ever had.

  Brody doesn't stop. He parts me with the fingers of one hand and then pushes a finger of the other hand into me as I gasp and tremble. He starts moving that finger, which causes my hips to move against him.

  He stops moving his hand and lets me grind myself against his mouth and fingers as he watches me with hooded eyes. When I get off again, my knees buckle and I slide down the cabinets. I sit on the floor then lean against the dishwasher to catch my breath

  Brody slouches on the other side of me, against the island. He pushes his basketball shorts down and starts jacking off. His dick is bigger than I remember. Then again, it's been forever. Based on what he could do before, and how much he's improved, I know he could blow my mind with that thing.

  He moves his hand up and down a few times before he's coming all over his chest, which is freaking amazing. He's all tanned, rippling muscles, and a mouthwatering V of muscle on his hips.

  I pull the kitchen towel down from where it's hanging on the handle of the dishwasher and toss it to him as I catch my breath. He wipes off, then tosses it towards the doorway, and puts his head back on the cabinet, looking at me with hooded eyes.

  "It's a good thing sex wasn't on the table this time. I have a feeling I'll always have to work up a resistance to you."

  I roll my eyes and put my sweats back on. "You've always gotten off quick, Brody."

  He laughs dryly. "I got off quick when I was sixteen, Jules. That's normal. It hasn’t happened that fast since, until just now. I am not a five-minute man, I can guarantee you. But with you, I have a feeling I'm gonna have to get off and work you up again, then go for another. You do something to me."

  I hold up my hands as he r
eaches next to him to the little drink fridge and pulls out two bottles of water, tossing me one.

  "Hey, I'm not knocking it. When we were kids, we had to hurry so we didn't get caught. Now we're gonna have to hurry so my kids don't catch us. At least now you know what to do with your tongue."

  We laugh together as he holds out his hand. "High five for experience." I slap his hand, but he closes his around mine and pulls me to him. I slide on the hardwood floor as he reels me in.

  He gives me a wet kiss. "I have a ton to do in the orchard. I need to go."

  I stand up. "Me too."

  As Brody leaves out the backdoor, he turns. "When do the kids get out of school?"

  I turn from walking out of the kitchen archway. "Three thirty, why?"

  He shrugs. "I just wanted to see how their first day went. I want them to like it here."

  As I throw in a load of towels, including the dirty kitchen towel, I try and process what's happening. Did Brody really break up with his girlfriend of a year because of me? Did we really agree to date? Am I really going to start dating? Isn't this all happening really fast? How will the kids react? The rest of our family? My mind churns with questions I don't have any answers to.

  As I throw the damp dishtowel into the washer, I feel the tears come. My breath sobs out forcefully from my chest. I slam the lid down, the sound echoing in the long room. Backing up, my knees buckle as I connect with the wall. I drive my hands through my hair.

  What have I done? I’ve been celibate for longer than I was married. So why do I feel like I’ve cheated? There’s a weight in my chest, a sense of betrayal that burns my heart. Maybe because there’s always been a part of me that belonged to Brody. Sebastian made me feel like I was the exception to the rule when he picked me, loved me. Brody felt like I was the rule. Made me feel like no one could ever reach the bar I had set. As a teen, that feeling was a comfort, but easily taken for granted. Now, as a woman, I know those feelings were a gift.

  Sebastian loved me. I know he did. But the Army took him away for over half of our marriage; I became independent in a way I never knew possible.

  The swinging door beside me opens. My mother stands there with her hands on her hips. “This is the second time in as many days I’ve caught you in a meltdown, girl. That boy always did get you tied up in knots. Come tell me over coffee, darlin’.”

  I accept her hands and she pulls me up and into a brief hug. When we’ve doctored our cups, we sit at the island and I let out a long sigh. Mom reaches over and pats my hand a few times before picking her mug up to blow on her drink, letting me start when I’m ready.

  “Mom . . . Brody is so . . . and I’ve been alone . . . but he’s just . . . and then the kids and Sebastian . . .” I ramble as my thoughts race.

  “Okay, Jules. So you’re saying Brody is his usual intense self, but you aren’t the same person he knew and he’s not giving you any adjustment time to moving here. Not to mention, you don’t want to freak out the kids or disrespect Sebastian. Did I get everything?” she sums up effortlessly, understanding me in a way that only one’s mother can.

  "Yes", I sigh, wilting onto the table. I rest my head in my hands for a second before turning my head to look at her. "What do I do, Mom?"

  I watch her purse her lips as she studies the top of her drink, as if the answers are written on the surface. Her blue eyes flash up to mine and I sit up straighter under their intensity. "You know your priorities. The kids come first. Everything has to be with them in mind. This isn’t high school, and you both need to learn what kind of adult relationship you have while catering to the feelings of your children. They have a routine, don’t turn that inside out. Go slow. Do not let him shoulder his way in here."

  I think about how Brody had done nothing but shoulder his way in since I got here and I feel my eyes squint into a glare. This has to be on my terms, with my kids’ best interest in mind.

  "Thanks, Mom. I know what I have to do," I say as I get up and put my cup in the sink. Brody doesn’t know me, not after eleven years. I’m a mom, while he’s been off doing whatever it is he’s been doing. I have a family. We have a routine that has to stay the same; children thrive on it. That decided, I turn to my mom and see her with a smirk on her lips.

  "There’s my girl," she says as she starts heading for the door, giving my shoulder a squeeze before leaving the house.

  My mind goes back to that word again. Routine. New house, new school, same expectations. I take the stairs two at a time to get ready for the day.

  Chapter 6

  That night, as my house descends into chaos, the doorbell rings. I have one child fighting doing his homework, one starving and whining, and the third running around screaming with a colander on his head and towel cape over his shoulders. There’s music on from when things were calm, but now it just feeds the need to pull my hair out. Dinner is . . . not done. Trigg and Harper had too much homework that needed my assistance, so I’m attempting to put together a quick spaghetti when the damn door rings, delaying me yet again.

  Harper lets out a wail as I walk away from the stove, Trigg yells after me that he needs help again, and just as I get to the door, Jet jumps off of the forth step, landing right in front of me.

  “Jesus Christ, child. Aren’t you out of steam yet?” I ask as I open the door distractedly.

  “Nooooo . . .!” Jet screams as he runs back down the hall away from me.

  I put my hand to my forehead to keep it from exploding, finally glancing at the person waiting patiently at the door. I blink. Yep. Still Brody in a button down shirt and slacks. Shit.

  I take a step toward him and stumble over absolutely nothing, catching myself on the door jamb as Brody reaches to stall my fall at the same time. I straighten back up before he can touch me. “What are you doing here?” I ask quietly.

  Brody’s eyes move over me as he blinks slowly, taking inventory of my hot mess look. “Do you know you have a noodle in your hair?”

  He reaches for the pasta, but I slap his hand away lightly. “What do you want? You look like you’re going out.”

  “I—”

  “Why are you here?” I ask, exasperated.

  “Are you . . . Can I talk now?” Brody asks with a smirk.

  My eyes squint up at him, showing clearly that I’m not amused. I sweep my arm in front of me in a ‘be my guest’ manner.

  “I thought we could have our first date tonight,” he says, with obvious amusement.

  “Are you flippin’ high? I’m not going anywhere.” I step back to close the door and a muscled arm shoots out to stop me, pressing it back open. He steps into the house, instantly shrinking it, causing me to back up.

  I sputter and shake my head like I’m having a seizure as he passes me to go down the hall into the kitchen. I trail behind him saying, “You can’t just come into my home, Brody. We have rules, boundaries.”

  “Routines?” he says, glancing at me over his shoulder.

  I nod my head vigorously, the ball of hair on top of my head waving wildly. “Exactly.”

  “Yeah, that’s what your mom said.” He stops walking right before the doorway to the kitchen and leans on one foot. “When she called. Approximately thirty minutes after I—,” he leans down to whisper softly, “had my fucking head between your legs.” He straightens and looks over his shoulder before asking me, “You wouldn’t be oversharing with your mother, would you, Jules?”

  I scoff and look to the side, laughing under my breath, like he just asked me if I smoked weed in my basement. I don’t even have a basement. I should probably get my mind off of drugs, too. “No! She caught me in a moment and is clairvoyant. I can’t believe she called you.”

  My mom was always butting her head in where it wasn’t needed. Seriously. But I was happy she was there for me this morning. Routines. Right.

  “I need you to go. No date.”

  Brody ignores me, of course. Trigg is bellowing out from the kitchen table, a particularly overlong “Mom” that declar
es his need. Harper is collapsed at the island bar, tears streaming down her cheeks because she’s wasting away. Jet bounces around, swinging his towel as he spins in the air, knocking over sheets of paper and a precariously balanced book.

  “Holy shhhh . . . shitake mushrooms. Harper, your mom’s feeding you, I promise. Trigg, let’s see what I can help you with. Jet . . . I have no idea what to do with you,” Brody says, wading into the storm. He heads for the iPod dock and changes the song from top forty music to classical in a second.

  The kids pause to process his presence and then look to me. I shrug helplessly and head to the stove. Sauce done. Noodles done. I grab oven mitts and pull a slightly charred loaf of garlic bread from the oven.

  Turning with bowls in both hands, I see that Jet’s mess has been cleaned up, the colander beside him at the table. The other kids are there, Trigg and Brody bent over a textbook and talking quietly while Harper’s eyes track me to the table with sustenance.

  “Trigg, let’s put a pin in that for a second so that your sister doesn’t blow away in the wind.”

  As Brody helps Trigg with his books, I dish and cut plates of spaghetti for the kids. Everyone is silent as they stuff their faces and I close my eyes at the sudden quiet.

  “Do you pray now?” Brody asks quietly over the sound of the classical music softly playing.

  “Yes, for my sanity. Every. Day.”

  After that, it’s all passing plates, telling about our day, asking the kids what they did in school. I’m quiet, watching my babies interact with the man who has always had my heart. I study him, his face rapt as Jet describes the playground with big hand gestures and extra volume in his voice. Harper brushes her hair back from her shoulder and looks at Brody under her eyelashes. Brody never takes his eyes off of Jet, but lifts an arm to the back of her chair. She smiles down at her plate, her cheeks pink. My first crush is her first crush.

  Trigg interrupts my thoughts. “Mom? You okay? You aren’t eating.”