Our Chance (Los Rancheros #4) Read online

  My eyes pull me to the man I’ve loved for more than half of my life. He’s laughing with my sister and holding my little niece in his arms as he tickles her. As if he knows I’m watching, his head turns and our eyes meet. His chuckles slowly fade and a crease forms between his brows in concern. I give a weak smile and start walking toward him, leaving Sarah behind. He studies me before giving a half smile and offering me the Pepsi in his hand.

  When I reach Brody, I take the toddler instead and kiss her apple cheek. I turn to my sister and say, “So, Darcy, I hear you’re working for a famous rock star these days. Give me the deets, sunshine.”

  ~

  We eat like kings. I get peer pressured by my own mother to slurp more shots and we laugh. Will puts his baby to sleep as the sun sets, letting his wife enjoy the company. We chase fireflies with my kids and a few sit in mason jars around the picnic table, to be released later. As the night goes on, Brody’s chair not so mysteriously moves closer to mine. By the time I’m ready to leave, they’re touching and his arm is on the back of my chair. I feel him randomly pulling strands of hair out of the bun on top of my head.

  My eyelids feel tingly, my nose numb. I’ve got a good buzz. But everyone else is trashed besides Brody and Will’s wife Dez. We laugh hysterically at our family’s increasingly outrageous stories. Mothers and fathers are razzing on each other as much as the brothers and sisters. Sarah pretends I’m not there and is having a good time as well. But my kids are drooping and probably shouldn’t be around this much craziness, so I nudge Brody, who is my designated driver, and put my drink down.

  “Let’s let the bugs go, guys. It’s time we get to bed,” I say as I start grabbing trash to throw away.

  “Oh please, let them stay with us! You said they could stay the weekend,” my mom reminds me. I look at her pupils and shake my head. “Not tonight, Mom. Maybe next weekend we can set something up though, okay?”

  “Oh please, Mom?”

  “Please let us stay at Gram and Grandpa’s.”

  “Can I sleep in your old bed? I love that room.”

  I sigh as my mom jumps up and comes over to me, grabbing my hands. “I’ll go make a pot of coffee right now. Stay for a little while longer and we’ll sober up. I haven’t had babies under my roof in so long.”

  “You keep Will’s kids all the time!”

  She looks at me balefully. “It’s not the same, Juliet. I see them all the time. Let me have my babies! Your daddy hasn’t had a single drink.”

  I look around the table and realize that she’s right. I haven’t seen any of the men drink anything but soda all night. My eyes lower in a glare as I point to each of them. “What is this?”

  “What?” I get from around the table, oh so mockingly innocent.

  “Why are all the women drunk and you all haven’t touched anything?”

  George sits forward and holds up a finger. “I’ll give you a list, chickadee. Number one, those shots are like baby poop, they’re so gross. Number two, we aren’t no dummies. That’s all you need to know.” The rest of the men snicker as he sits back, a satisfied look on his face.

  I shake my head. “Yuck! That’s gross. TMI people. T. M. I.”

  “What’s TMI, Mom?” Jet asks with his innocent eyes. I roll mine and redirect, like any good parent does.

  “Looks like you’re out, Dad. The kids want to go with you.”

  My dad’s face falls disgustingly —because he’s my dad— comically, before he pulls back a hand and throws an imaginary baseball to Brody. “Looks like you’re up, bud.”

  I stand in shock. “Something is seriously wrong with this family.”

  That’s when I realize I just vacated my house of mini chaperones.

  Oh shit.

  I collapse in my chair. Brody leans toward me with sparkling eyes.

  “How many dates have we been on, anyway?”

  His smile is slow, but doesn’t stop before his entire face is lit up. Silently, he holds up eight long, thick fingers inches from my face.

  Oh shit.

  Chapter 8

  With each stair I climb, my pulse feels like it doubles. Between the short drive over and this staircase, a heart attack is not looking impossible. We just gravitated to his garage apartment instead of my house. He’s behind me. I can feel his hands as they skim mine on the railing, flaring my body’s sensitivity. I breathe out a shaky breath as goose bumps erupt on the back of my neck.

  By the time we reach his door, I feel lightheaded. I’m so turned on I’m shaking. Brody corrals me into the door, one hand inserting the key as the other goes to the doorframe, caging me against the door. I close my eyes and feel his warmth against my back seconds before he lightly presses me into the wood with his body.

  The teeth of the key catching in the lock feels like a touch up my spine. How much did I drink? I feel Brody’s arm band across my waist as the door opens with a flick of his wrist. Smart boy, the chances of my legs not being Jell-O right now were iffy at best.

  Looking around the room, it’s smaller than I remember it being. It’s a rectangle exactly the size of the double garage below. There’s a small kitchenette and the tiniest bathroom in the world, that’s it besides the regular bedroom furniture and a desk that holds more computer monitors and technical crap than I’ve ever seen.

  My feet bring me to the king size bed that dwarfs the room. I feel a hand between my shoulder blades before Brody adds pressure, bending me over the bed. When my cheek rests on the mattress, I grip the comforter in my hand. My eyes refuse to stay open. Callused hands are making trails lightly over every inch they can reach. From my hands, down what is exposed of my back, and up the sides of my breasts. When his fingers travel back down to mine, his body connects us from the waist down.

  “Oh my God, Brody,” I mumble. He hums a heartbeat before his open mouth is on my shoulder. I shudder and push back into his erection when he trails his hot tongue down my spine. His fingers thread through mine as he grinds into me again, groaning softly in my ear before biting the delicate flesh.

  Brody goes completely still, not even breathing, making me do the same. My eyes flutter open in awareness. Brody’s upper body leaves mine, leaving me anchored by his hips and strong legs behind mine. He catches the fragile straps of my dress and slides them down my arms, causing goose bumps that he leans down to feel on his tongue.

  Once the dress is to my hips, I push off of the bed to press my back against Brody’s strong chest, letting the material pool at my feet. Releasing the band securing my hair, Brody puts pressure on my back again. I catch myself this time, twisting so that I land on my back in just panties.

  Brody strips his shirt as I watch, leaving a white wife beater to define his muscles and accentuate his bronze skin in the lamp light. His hazel eyes are mostly green, the color of emeralds with striations of blue to make them look like the deepest seas, as seen from below. I feel like that. Like I’m drowning in the most beautiful, basic emotion that has always been for just the two of us. We feel. And we don’t have to say it, we never have. We feel with fingertips and mouths, but we also feel with eyes and hearts. I have never felt this close to anyone in my life except for this man. We know each other, almost like we can feel each other’s desire, pleasure. We know. Our souls recognize each other as he climbs between my legs, as he lowers his head to brush his nose against mine. My eyes fill with tears, spilling over before I have a chance to blink them back.

  Brody’s weight on me is as familiar as my own hand. And yet it’s different. He isn’t a boy, he has more bulk to press me to the mattress. I’m not a girl, my breasts are fuller, hips wider.

  He feels wrong in that he isn’t the man I’m used to. Not the husband I remember. My brain recognizes that, too, before my body knows the difference. But no matter how many times Sebastian and I lay together like this —far more times than Brody and I ever did— I feel like I’ve already crossed the finish line and we’ve only just begun.

  My body tingles, feeling like i
t should be showered in sparks from where our bodies are touching. My beaded nipples press into his shirt, the ribbing of the material abrading them as he moves to trail small kisses from my ear to my mouth and down my chin, making me groan and arch my back.

  I feel, more than hear, Brody’s breath hitch as I press his head into my chest. His forehead touches the skin between my breasts, his breath hot as he pants through his mouth. His hands travel up my sides and around to curl on my shoulders as he squeezes me to him. I bring my knees up to his ribs and squeeze him that way, too.

  Brody slides his nose up as he lifts his head to look me in the eyes. Then he lowers his hips and presses his hardness into me. “Brody,” I whisper. Brody lifts his upper body off of me enough that I can see where we would be connected but for some pieces of clothes in the way. He lowers his head and sets his mouth to the tips of my breasts, at the same time rolling his hips into me. I groan again as I see it. Just the sight alone would have me ready for him, but he puts just the right amount of friction on just the right place that I can't be still anymore.

  My writhing sets Brody off and his movements become less languid. His fingers move first into my panties, then into my body. I’m arching my body into him and reaching for his zipper when his cell phone buzzes in his pocket. No matter. I get the button undone and go for the zipper before Brody leaves me. Mouth, fingers, hips. Tragically he is off of the bed and reaching in his pocket for the offensive piece of technology.

  I sit up on my elbows, blinking in disbelief as he starts cussing, shoving his feet into the boots I didn’t realize he had kicked off.

  “Yes, motherfucker. I’m leaving right now. Five minutes.” He grabs his keys from the desk and shoves them into his pocket. “I’m going to kick your ass for this.”

  Brody ends the call and turns to me, putting a knee into the bed between my legs and gives me a hard, wet kiss. “Stay here. Please stay here. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, an hour tops.”

  “What the fuck?”

  He leans down to kiss me again. “I swear I don’t want to go, but this can’t be helped. I’ll be back. Do not move.” He holds up a hand as if to hold me there before walking to the door and slamming it behind him. I don’t hear him go down the stairs, but I do hear his SUV peel out of the gravel driveway.

  I sit up slowly and look around. Wake up call: what in the ever loving hell are you doing, Juliet? I put my dress back on in jerky movements, pissed at myself for being home for a week and already in Brody’s bed. He’s just . . . I sigh. He’s just Brody. I take in the room once again.

  The bed is made. It seems strange that I can’t think of one instance in my whole life where I’ve seen his bed made unless his mom did it because they were having company. Weird. I absently straighten the comforter from where I gripped it with my hands and see the nightstand drawer pulled open slightly. I wonder if that’s his side of the bed. I wonder if he has condoms. How many girls has he taken back to his room above my grandmother’s garage? Oh my God. When was the last time Maggie was here? I leap off of the bed and pull the handle on the drawer.

  I pull too hard. The lamp wobbles, causing the light to go darker then lighter on the contents inside. There are no condoms. There is a picture of a beautiful woman with Japanese features in a white dress. A wedding dress. Beside her is a younger looking Brody in a Navy dress uniform, the guys around them in the same white duds. Brody looks so handsome my breath hitches for a second. It’s weird to see a mixture of the boy I knew with the man he is now. The lines on his forehead are just starting to form, the shadows in his eyes are just a smidgen to what he has now. But he looked happy. His eyes are sparkling in this picture he’s kept in his bedside table for how many years?

  My mind explodes with questions. Who is she? How did they meet? How long did they date? Why aren’t they together anymore? Why has no one spoken of her at all?

  I look around the room again, my eyes settling on his desk with all of its computers, multiple monitors and corkboard behind it. Still holding the picture, I jiggle the mouse. The screens light up, prompting a password. I slowly type in my name and press enter warily. Password denied. I lick my lips, pull out the leather chair and get comfortable. I type in the date we first kissed, his mom’s maiden name, my birthdate, his first pet’s name, but keep getting denied. I collapse against the back of the chair, my mind whirling with possibilities. I grab the picture again, wondering if it’s her birthday that he has to type anytime he wants access to the mysteries in these machines.

  I spin the chair, but a socked foot that’s attached to a muscular, jean-covered leg stops it abruptly. I blink and then jerk sharply forward in shock. Brody’s lounging on his bed, sans shoes, watching me with lazy eyes. How long has he been there? Long enough to take his shoes off. Without me hearing? Freaking SEAL. I lift the frame feebly and shrug.

  Brody sighs out a long breath. “The password is January fourteenth.”

  “No year?” I ask. Brody just shakes his head silently. “Why?”

  “Cause I’ll never forget it.”

  My eyes fall back to the picture. “Is it the day you married her?”

  “No.” He sighs again before sitting up and pointing to the picture, but his finger moves past the pretty bride. “It’s the day he died.”

  I take in the man next to Brody, his hand squeezing the other man’s shoulder. His smile taking up his whole face. I smile a little, too. His happiness is contagious. “How did he die?”

  “IED,” he says shortly.

  “Same as Sebastian.”

  “Same as a lot of people.”

  “Were you in the same Humvee?” I ask, wondering if he was injured, if he was there. Did he see his friend die?

  He looks down and messes with a worn, black metal cuff on his wrist. You can see the silver where the paint has rubbed off, scratches marring the letters. I know exactly what it is. I had noticed it before, but have never asked because I know that wearing a KIA bracelet is not an invitation to bring it up. I also know how many people ignore that and do it anyway.

  “We were doing patrols. It’s just one of those things that happen. Hazards of the job, right?” He’s giving me cookie cutter answers, like I haven’t heard those exact words from everyone, including myself. No one really believes it, though.

  “What about her?” I ask, blatantly changing the subject. I watch Brody’s shoulders unwind from their tensed position.

  “Her name is Lin.”

  My mouth opens twice before I can get another word out. Somehow putting a name to a face makes it so much more real. No, Brody was not pining away for me for eleven years. He had moved on. Was it selfish of me to want him to have been waiting for me here, his life on hold until I deigned to come home? Absolutely. Didn’t change the pain in my chest, though.

  “She’s very beautiful,” I finally croak out.

  “She is,” Brody says simply. So simply I want to bare my teeth at him for being so nonchalant. Doesn’t he see I’m freaking out inside? Of course he does.

  “Where is she now?” That seems to be the most pertinent question at the moment.

  “San Diego. She owns a chocolate shop there.”

  Brody and chocolate? Bitch.

  “Is that where you were stationed?” I ask instead of what I really want to know.

  “For a while. I wasn’t home very much.”

  “How did you meet her?” The question burns, I don’t really want to know, but just in the train wreck kind of way.

  “She was dating Sean.” He points to the picture, to the happy man that died. “We used to get together at this bar and he didn’t like to dance. Couldn’t really. But she loved it, so I offered. She accepted.” He shrugs. “We never even looked at each other that way until after Sean broke up with her. He was more into the ‘when I’m in town’ kind of relationships. He was so relieved when I asked him if he would mind me asking her out. She was that sweet.”

  Sweet as chocolate, I bet.

  “Hmm. So what happ
ened?” I look up and try to keep my face impassive. “Why aren’t you with her?”

  “She . . . We didn’t want the same things in the end.”

  I feel my brows crease in my confusion. “What didn’t you want?”

  He sighs and falls back on the bed, snagging my hand on his way down so that I’m pulled onto the bed with him. Brody contemplates the ceiling as he explains. “After Sean died, I wanted out. He wasn’t the first man I’d lost. But he was the closest to me. My best friend. I didn’t want to hold anyone else as the light went out. She understood, but she didn’t want to come back here. She wanted to stay in San Diego.”

  That made sense. “You said things. What else?”

  Brody sighs again, still not meeting my eyes. “She wanted kids. Bad. I just didn’t see that for us. She came home one day with papers, and we went our separate ways. No drama.”

  “Why won’t you look at me?” I ask quietly, settling on my side, my head resting on my hand.

  His eyes start low, where our arms graze each other, pausing at my mouth before finally clashing his multicolored eyes on mine. Brody holds my stare, meeting my dare, until finally he breaks.

  “It feels weird talking to you about her.”

  “I know that feeling, trust me.”

  He smirks. “I guess you do. She knew about you. Anybody I’m ever involved with does when they meet my mom. She sets it straight from the beginning.”

  I smile but have to ask, “Sets what straight?”

  “Juliet and Brody are meant to be. One day they will be. So don’t get too comfortable there, little lady,” he says in a pretty perfect rendition of his mother, making me laugh, but also making me feel bad for all of them.

  “That must have been really hard to move on with that in your face.”

  He shrugs and lifts a finger to slide over my shoulder. Goose bumps rise in its wake “In some ways. But even when I thought I had moved on, I was relieved when Lin ended it. I can’t explain it except that I needed to be here. I didn’t even realize I was still in love with you until you showed up and rolled your eyes at me.”