Don't Let Go (21 page)

BRADY WOKE UP
to an empty bed. And it was still dark outside.

What the hell time was it, anyway? He reached over on the nightstand, but his phone wasn't there.

Oh, right. It was in his suit coat pocket, which was somewhere in Megan's living room.

He went into the bathroom and, when he came out, grabbed a pair of jeans from the bag he'd brought over last night. He put on the jeans and made his way into the kitchen.

Now that wasn't something he expected to see at—he glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall—six in the morning on a Sunday.

There was Megan, dressed in his white shirt from last night. It hung low on her thighs, and she had the sleeves rolled up past her elbows. And damn if she didn't look sexy as hell with her hair pulled high up on top of her head. Flour covered a wood cutting board, and she was humming to herself and rocking back and forth as she rolled some dough with a rolling pin.

Oh, she had earbuds in, and her miniplayer was clipped to the front of his shirt while she worked away.

He leaned against the doorway for a while to watch her. She rolled, sprinkled out more flour and rolled some more, then stirred something in a bowl.

Damn, the woman was hot, especially when she bent over to pull a pan out from one of the cabinets in the island.

He grinned. She had great legs and a really fine ass.

His dick got hard.

She stopped to take a sip of coffee, then went back to rocking out and rolling flour.

When she twirled, she stopped suddenly and pulled her earbuds out.

“I didn't see you standing there.”

He pushed off the doorway and moved into the kitchen. “I was enjoying the show. Nice shirt.”

She grinned. “I thought you might enjoy that.”

“You know I do. And do you bake every damn day?”

“Pretty much.”

He swiped flour from one of her cheeks with the pad of his thumb, then brushed his lips over hers. “It's early.”

“I know. That's why I tried not to wake you.”

“You didn't. But I'll take a cup of coffee now that I'm awake.”

“Cups are in the cupboard to the left of the sink.”

He pulled a cup down, then brewed himself a cup of coffee and came over to stand beside her.

“What are you fixing?”

“Apple turnovers. I thought those sounded good for breakfast. I'm going to do eggs and sausages, too. And I'll cut up some fruit.”

His stomach grumbled. “You don't have to cook for me. Or bake for me.”

She lifted up on her toes to kiss him. “But I want to. Plus, I'd bake even if you weren't here.”

“Good to know. What can I do to help?”

“I'll cut the dough into triangles. You can spoon this stuff in the middle.”

“Okay.” He washed and dried his hands, then waited for Megan to cut the dough into triangles. Once she did, she walked him through how much to put into the center.

“Good,” she said. “Not too much or I won't be able to close them, but not too little. We want them bursting with apple goodness.”

He leaned into her. “You're making me hungry.”

She lifted her gaze to his, then smiled. “That's the idea.”

Once he finished, she put another triangle on the top of each one, then crimped the edges. She brushed the pastries with egg and put them in the oven. After she washed her hands she said, “Now, while those are cooking I can slice fruit and start cooking the sausages.”

“I'll cook the sausages.”

“All right.”

They worked together, and he had to admit, this wasn't too bad. In the not so recent past he either didn't eat breakfast at all or had a piece of toast.

But lately, he waited until about ten or so and went to the bakery to get something Megan had baked.

She was spoiling him for really good bakery items.

As he monitored the sausages, the smell from the oven assaulted his senses—in a spectacular way.

“Those apple turnovers smell really damn fine, Megan.”

She was slicing bananas to go into the fruit salad she was making. “They do, don't they?”

By the time he'd made eggs for them, she had poured juice and set the table, and the turnovers had come out of the oven looking crisp and golden. It was all he could do not to pounce on the plate when Megan took them into the dining room. Fortunately, Roxie had finally managed to drag herself off of her blanket, so he forced his attention away from the turnovers and took Roxie outside, then fixed a bowl of food for her and set it down in the kitchen.

“We're ready to eat,” Megan said. “I assume you're hungry?”

“I assume you don't want any of those turnovers because they're all mine?”

She laughed. “Come on.”

The first thing into his mouth was a warm, heaping bite of apple turnover, covered in butter.

“Oh, God,” he said after he swallowed. “I don't know how men aren't beating down your door to marry you.”

She lifted her fork to her lips, her eyes twinkling. “I admit, I've had a few proposals.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Mr. Springwater asked me out for coffee. I told him his wife wouldn't appreciate him seeing other women.”

When Brady frowned, she gave him a tilt of her lips. “He's eighty. He said she wouldn't mind as long as he brought home one of my lemon cakes every time he and I had coffee together.”

He laughed. “I see.”

“Yes, and Timmy Caruthers asked me to marry him as well, but since he's only nine I told him he should wait until he's at least eighteen, then maybe ask me again.”

Brady pointed his fork at her. “See? I told you. You're crazy popular.”

“With the prepubescent and geriatric sets.”

“I don't know about that. I think you're pretty popular with the thirty-year-old set, too. You've noticed me following you around, haven't you?”

“This is true. But I think you're just after my baked goods.”

Brady leveled a hot stare at her. “I'm after your goods—that's for sure. The baked ones are just a bonus.”

He saw the flush on her cheeks. Good. She needed to know he wanted her.

They finished breakfast and sat at the table for a while chatting and sipping coffee. Finally, they got up and piled the dishes in the sink.

“Those can wait,” he said. “I have an idea that's been in my head since last night.”

He took her hand and led her to the sofa.

“I'm pretty sure I dreamed about this last night. Woke up sweating. And hard.”

He teased his fingers along the buttons of the shirt, tucking a finger between the buttons to feel her soft, silken skin and the fast beat of her heart against her breast.

Then he slipped the top button open and slid his hand inside to cup her breast. Her breath quickened, and his dick responded.

He brushed the crest of her nipple with his thumb.

“You're like butter here,” he said, teasing her nipple. “Soft and supple, melting when you get hot.”

She shuddered, her gaze riveted to his. “I melt a lot of places when you touch me.”

His lips curved. “Yeah, I know. I've had my tongue on some of your melty spots.”

He drifted lower, getting down on his knees. He raised the shirt, so damn happy to find she hadn't worn underwear this morning. He put his mouth on her, sweet and tart here. She spread her legs for him, giving him access to her.

He loved the way she moved against him, letting him know what gave her pleasure. And, man, he loved how she responded, the way she moaned and reached for his head and how she got lost when he put his tongue on her. There was nothing he liked more than a responsive woman, and Megan was that.

And when she came, she shuddered hard against him, so lost in her own pleasure she had a death grip on the back of the sofa when he rose up to take her mouth in a hot kiss. She slid her hand in his hair to hold tight to him, to twine her tongue with his, to let him know that she liked what he'd done and that she wanted more.

So did he.

He turned her around to face the sofa, pulling the shirt away so he could kiss the back of her neck. “You know what you are, Megan?”

“Mmm. What am I?”

“You're like the sweetest dessert.” He gently nibbled on the back of her neck. “And no matter where I taste, it's like I can't wait for the next bite, the next lick of you. And when I have it, all I want is more.”

She leaned her head back against his chest. “Take more.”

He pulled out the condom he'd tucked into the pocket of his jeans, unzipped them and shoved them down, then pushed her over the back of the sofa and lifted her shirt. He spread her legs with his knee and eased inside of her, letting himself feel every inch as he slowly entered her.

Now it was his turn to shudder as her heat surrounded him, her body quivering around him as he began to move.

He reached around and undid another button, spreading the material aside so he could cup her breasts while he drove into her. And then he was lost in her, in the sensations and the sounds she made while the two of them were joined. It was all he could do to hold on, to keep from coming as she backed against him, pulling him deeper inside of her.

He gripped her hip and, using his other hand, bent her forward so he could drive deeper, giving them both what they needed. Then he slid his hand down to find her clit and take her over the edge again.

This time, when she cried out, he went with her, shuddering against her back as he rode out his orgasm.

Spent, he rested against her, feeling the warmth of her body and her deep breaths against his cheek.

He finally disengaged and dashed into the bathroom. Megan followed, then took his hand and led him back to bed.

“I work six days a week,” she said. “And unless you have something to do today, I can't think of anything better than spending a couple more hours with you in my bed.”

Even if he had a to-do list eight miles long, Megan inviting him into her bed would be at the top of that list.

“I've got nothin',” he said, climbing in next to her and watching as she undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt.

IT WAS A
hot and sunny Saturday afternoon. Brady and a bunch of guys were over at Reid and Sam's new house. At basketball earlier that week, Reid had mentioned he was falling behind on the construction, so everyone volunteered to help him pick up the pace. He told them he had it covered, but hell, no one had anything urgent to do on a Saturday, so why not?

The one thing Brady always enjoyed was being outside and doing things with his hands. And Reid had done so many things for so many people that when he stepped outside early Saturday morning, he found himself with a lot of company.

Reid's brothers Luke and Logan were there, along with Will, Carter, Bash, Zach, Deacon, and Brady, and about ten other guys from around town.

“Well, hell,” Reid said, staring at all of them. “If I was a tearing-up kind of guy, I might just cry.”

Sam was there, and she did get teary-eyed. She laid her hand on Reid's arm and looked out over the gathered crowd. “I'll do all the crying. And I made coffee and
stopped for baked goods this morning from Megan's bakery. So help yourselves.”

“Yeah, but don't help yourselves for too long,” Reid said with a smile. “Now that I've got all these bodies, I'm putting your asses to work.”

HVAC, plumbing, and electrical had all been set, along with framing, so at least that had been done. They spent the first half of the day putting up drywall and doing taping and mud in most of the rooms. Brady had worked on construction sites before, so he knew the drill. He'd brought his tool belt and his hammer and drill, so he went wherever Reid needed him.

Having such a large crew helped them check off a lot of items on the to-do list during the first half of the day.

They broke for lunch. Sam had gone for pizzas, so they all gathered in what was a dirt and gravel patch now but what would eventually be the backyard. They grabbed whatever folding chairs or coolers were available, and sat and ate.

“You have no idea how much this means to me that you're all here,” Reid said as Brady sat across from him wolfing down his second slice of pepperoni.

“So you've mentioned about twenty times,” Brady said. “You'd do the same for any of us, so you don't have to keep thanking us.”

“Really,” Carter said. “And someday Molly and I are going to work on that addition on our place, and we'll definitely be calling you.”

“You know I'll be there for that. Or for anything any of you need.”

“Keep making promises and you'll be in debt to these jokers for the next forty years,” Sam said, nudging him with her elbow.

Brady laughed.

“Oh, speaking of,” Reid said. “Brady, I don't know if you noticed it on the way over here, but there's a great spot of land for sale a few blocks to the south of us.”

“Can't say I did.”

“Would make a great place to build a house. And there's commercial property for sale only a mile or so east of that on the main road. I happened by it not too long back. It looks like it's a former auto shop. Space-wise, it seems perfect for what you need and it might be worth taking a look at for your future auto paint shop.”

“Trying to steal away my best auto body guy, Reid?” Carter asked.

Reid shrugged. “Nope. But you know Brady had mentioned that he wanted to start up his own business someday.”

“I did. But I don't know if I'm there yet.”

Reid shrugged. “Sure. Just thought I'd mention it.”

He actually had the money saved. He could lease property now and get started. Or he could do as Reid suggested and go take a look at the land. He had ideas for building his own place. Lots of ideas. He didn't know what was holding him back.

Because this was your and Kurt's dream, and Kurt's not here.

The thought was always in his head.

The problem was, Kurt was never going to go into business with him. Not now, not ever. And the sooner he got over it, the sooner he could open his own place, start working on and painting bikes, and follow his own dream.

Carter came over and sat next to him. “Hey, you know I was only kidding, right?”

Brady lifted his gaze to his boss and his friend. “Yeah, I know that.”

“You know I'll never try to hold you back. I knew when I hired you that I'd only have you on a temporary basis. And while I think you're the best body guy I've ever had, the minute you want to get out there and start your own business, I'll happily recommend you to my customers.”

Because that's who Carter was. Which was why Brady liked him so much. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I just don't know if I'm ready yet. Or where I'm going to start my business.”

Carter frowned. “You'd stay in Hope though, right?”

Would he? “I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead.”

The thought of being here—where he and his brother had grown up, where they'd talked up all those dreams—caused an ache in his gut. The idea held promise, but it also hurt so damn bad every time he thought about it.

Reid mentioning the land where he could build a house wasn't something he had ever considered, though. He shifted, looking around at the exterior of the house where Reid and Sam were building their dream—their future.

He could have the same thing if he wanted to. A house. A family. A woman he could spend forever with. A business he'd dreamed of his whole life.

And he could have it all right here.

His brother would never have those things. But did that mean he couldn't?

Between going to Chelsea and Bash's wedding and then spending the day working on Reid and Samantha's house, he realized he'd made friends. He'd finally pulled himself out of his self-imposed isolation, and he'd developed some solid friendships.

There were couples in his life that he'd surrounded himself with who were happy and forging a future for themselves. But beyond that, he'd realized that lately he'd been happy, and that was something he hadn't allowed since Kurt had died.

He was digging in and making a life for himself here in Hope. Something Kurt could have had if he'd chosen the right path.

But Kurt hadn't chosen to walk that path.

Brady stood and dumped his paper plate in the trash, then took out a toothpick and slid it between his teeth.

These were some deep damn thoughts, and for the past couple of years since Kurt had died, he'd preferred not to think at all. It had been safer that way.

But now, as he stared at this great house with all these people around him who laughed and shared their lives and
happiness with each other—with him—he realized he could build a life here.

With Megan.

As soon as the thought entered his head, he wanted it out of there.

Not yet. He wasn't ready for all this yet. He couldn't be. He might never be.

But just as he was about to push it all out of his head, Megan came through the doorway to the backyard.

Her smile was like a thousand watts of warmth, obliterating all that darkness mulling around in his head. There was never anything forced or fake about her. She always seemed so genuinely happy to see her friends.

She'd had it rough with her family, too, so she'd found a new family in these friendships she'd made. Yet she never seemed bitter about it. He didn't know how she managed it, but she always seemed happy. Content. She'd built an amazing life here in Hope.

“Hey, you loafers,” she said. “I spent all morning at the bakery, thinking you were all out here in the heat sweating your butts off, only to find out you're kicking back and eating pizza?”

Sam laughed and went over to hug her. “There's plenty left.”

“Great, because I'm starving. And also, I brought dessert for after the barbecue tonight.”

Megan made eye contact with him and sent him that special smile that always seemed to hit him midway between his heart and his gut.

Yeah, there was more between them than just physical attraction. Sure, he always wanted her, but it was a lot more than just sex now. He wanted to talk to her, to be with her, to hold her hand and tell her about his day and hear about hers. He wanted to talk to her about what Reid had mentioned, to get her take on it and hear what she thought about it. There was no one else he wanted to talk to about it except Megan.

And that's when the realization hit him.

Shit. He was in love with her.

He wanted that house with the dog and the fence and the big backyard and the future and the happily-ever-after.

And he wanted it with Megan.

But he didn't
want
to want it with Megan.

He didn't want the commitment or the feelings or to fear the possibility of losing someone he cared about ever again. Because if you cared deeply about someone, they could hurt you. They could leave you.

He couldn't risk it.

And he didn't want to think about it anymore today.

So he grabbed his hammer and went back to work.