Opposites Distract (14 page)

When they reached the lodge, Ian came outside to greet them. “Leave the groceries in Brody's SUV. He said he'd drive them over tonight, and we'll unload them then. Nothing will spoil. It's too cold.” He saw the baby cradle and grinned. “That'll look perfect in our room.”

Tessa was losing energy. Ian looked at the dark circles under her eyes, and said, “What the hell? I'm leaving early and taking you home, so you can take a nap. I'll drive Brody's SUV, and he can drive my truck. We'll trade back tonight.” He handed Harmony his keys and loaded Tessa back in the SUV. “See you tonight.”

Harmony went to tell Brody the news. She found him, working in the third suite. He wore old, ripped jeans. He'd taken off his sweater and a short-sleeved T-shirt was plastered to his hard abs. His biceps bulged as he mudded the dry wall. She licked her lips. Construction sites should provide drool bibs. A girl could dehydrate.

He finished smoothing a wall and glanced her way. He stopped, surprised. “I expected Ian.”

She told him about the new plans. With a nod, he said, “Tessa probably overdid it today. She needed some fun.”

“Will quiche be okay tonight? Tessa didn't want anything heavy. She brought home some pork barbeque, too.”

His lip curled on one side. “Men have been enlightened. Real men
do
eat quiche these days. I'll be fine.”

“I'm going to start it now, so it's done before the kids come up,” she told him. “I have plenty of time, so if you want to finish in here, we can divide and conquer.”

“You won't mind? I'm the one who signed you up for supper duty.”

She smiled. “I know, but I'm not going to even try to write today. It's no big deal.” She'd made it past a hundred and seventy pages. She'd written in fits and starts, but the words were piling up.

His gaze turned thoughtful. “Thanks. Really. I'd like to finish mudding both suites, then we can sand it tomorrow.”

She gave him a wave. “See you for story time.”

It felt odd to work, alone, in the kitchen. She did it all the time at home, but this kitchen was so big, so impersonal—a restaurant kitchen. It was too quiet. She turned on some music and that helped.

Once she started crisping the bacon and working on two crusts, she settled into the joy of cooking. Her pie crusts were nothing fancy. Chefs on the Food Network would cringe, but her grandmother had taught her to cut one cup of cold shortening into three cups of flour with a pinch of salt, then add ice water until it formed a ball. She rolled the dough into circles for two pie plates. All she needed were bottom crusts. She pricked them and put them in the oven for ten minutes before she added the filling.

She mixed eggs and milk, cheeses and bacon, and sang along to the radio. Once the quiches were in the oven, she filled the sink with soapy water and started cleanup. She danced to the music while she dried bowls and beaters. She was wiggling her hips and moving her feet when Brody came to help her. A big grin split his face, and he took her in his arms and danced her around the kitchen. For a big man, he was light on his feet.

He took a deep breath. “It smells wonderful in here.”

“Bacon does that.” When the music broke for advertisements, Harmony laughed. “You dance really well.”

He bent her into a dramatic dip. “I've been told I have great moves and lots of rhythm.”

When he righted her, she shook her head. “You're a man of many talents. Reading aloud might not be one of them.”

He laughed. “See? We complement each other. Your strengths are my weaknesses.”

“Either that, or you'd rather not read to kids. I've noticed men don't learn to do things they don't want to.” The timer on the oven buzzed, and she went to check her quiches. The filling was set, and the crusts were golden brown. Perfect.

He glanced at the steamed windows over the sink. “You've heated up the place, but then, you always do.”

She shook her head and put the quiches on the counter to cool. “It's easy to get you excited. All a girl has to do is dress up a little, but I'm going up to change before the kids come for story time. I'm ready for my baggy jeans.” She stopped to check him over. “Speaking of which, I must say, you look awfully good in what you have on.”

He flexed his arm to make his bicep bulge. Oh, Mama! If he weren't so full of himself, she'd have reached out to touch it. Muscle, muscle everywhere. But he didn't have a self-esteem problem, so she just nodded. “Nice.”

“You love it, I can tell.”

She did love it, but she wouldn't tell him that. “You're too much! I'm leaving you. Try to control yourself during story time.”

His chuckle made her heart skip. She loved that sound—deep and masculine. She turned and retreated. Brody was too tempting.

Once in her room, she slid into her old jeans—no rips, but worn and forgiving. After the big lunch at Chase's bar, the waistband on her good jeans was too snug. She tugged off her blue sweater and pulled on a stretchy, thermal top. She kicked off her good boots and wiggled her stockinged toes.

When Brody led the kids up at five, he still wore his ripped jeans and T-shirt. “You didn't dress up to go to Tessa's?”

“Not for barbeque. I want to look manly when I eat quiche.”

She rolled her eyes, then frowned when Aiden sank onto the side of her bed and didn't stretch out on his stomach to kick his feet in the air. Brody's jaw stiffened. Oh, boy. There was a storm brewing, and Brody meant business.

H
armony reached for the book, but before she could open it, Brody said, “What's the deal? Did your teacher blow it, Aiden?”

Aiden sat up straight, going into defense mode. Smart move on Brody's part. He knew the boy would stick up for his teacher. “She talked to Dirk. He doesn't hit or kick me anymore.”

“Then what does he do?”

Bailey squirmed on Brody's lap, and Aiden gave his little sister a look that said
Shut up
! She stuck out her tongue at him. “He pinches him instead.”

Aiden glared.

Bailey reached for his hand. “He hurts you. I don't like him. If I see him in the cafeteria, I'm going to kick him.”

She would, too, Harmony was sure.

Aiden scowled at her. “Stay away from Dirk. He's mean.”

Like Harmony's brother. He always needed to hurt someone.

Brody had heard enough. “Show me.” The man's tone could freeze hell.

Aiden pulled up his T-shirt's sleeves to reveal multiple bruises.

Harmony felt her lips thin. She could think of a myriad of ways to deal with Dirk—making him walk across hot coals, tossing a fireball of magic at him that would leave a
big
bruise—none of them practical. Grabbing him by his shirt collar and shaking the living daylights out of him would probably get her in trouble. How much trouble? No, out of the question.

Brody's tone turned smooth and friendly. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know, Harmony and I have never seen your school. We're both curious what it looks like. We could watch you play if we got there around morning recess time.”

Aiden wasn't fooled. He crossed his arms. “You can't be mean to Miss Fredericks.”

Brody looked shocked. “We know how much you like her. We'd never do that.”

“You can't beat up a little kid either.”

Brody spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “We won't even talk to him.”

Aiden bit his bottom lip, trying to decide. “I'll tell you if you teach me how to hit.”

“Why do you want to learn that?”

“After Miss Fredericks told Dirk to leave me alone, he kicked Jake. Jake punched him back—hard. Then Dirk started pinching me.” He sighed. “I'm smaller than Jake, though.”

Brody looked thoughtful. “I can teach you how to punch, but Ian took karate. Size doesn't matter as much with martial arts. Maybe we'll both spend an hour with you, if your mom says it's all right.”

Bailey turned on Brody's lap. She looked at his muscles. “Do you punch people?”

“Not anymore, but when I was a boy, I got in a few fights.”

Bailey gave a wise, five-year-old nod. “Me and my friends will help Aiden. We'll jump on Dirk.”

Aiden closed his eyes, and Brody tousled the little girl's fine, black hair. “Sometimes, a guy has to fight his own battles, or other guys tease him that he can't do it alone.”

Bailey pursed her lips, torn. “That's just silly.”

“I didn't say it was smart, but that's the way it works.” Brody gestured to Harmony, and she started to read. Aiden flopped on his stomach and lifted his legs, swinging them when tension mounted in the story. He didn't interrupt like he usually did, but he looked more relaxed, knowing help might be on the way.

When they finished the chapter early, Brody herded the kids toward the door. “Let's go talk to your mom.” He looked at Harmony. “If Paula says it's okay, can you drive to the school with me tomorrow?”

“I wouldn't miss it.”

He smiled. “See you at six.”

Each kid took one of his hands, and out they went. Harmony went to the window and looked out at the snow-covered yard and frozen lake. She hoped Paula would be all right with Brody and Ian teaching Aiden how to defend himself. And she hoped the idea worked. What if Aiden punched Dirk, and it only made him madder and meaner? Then they'd have to think of something else, because no boy should be hit, kicked, and pinched at school—or anywhere. If she had to buy garter snakes to put in Dirk's desk, she'd do it. She'd pay a big bruiser boy to pound him, if she had to.

She checked her e-mails and Facebook page before she went downstairs at six. She was behind, but not buried. She and Brody bundled up, collected the quiches, and headed to Ian and Tessa's. The wind had created a crust on the snow, and their footsteps crunched on their way to the house.

Brody grabbed Ian's shoulder the minute they stepped inside, and the two brothers bowed their heads together for a serious talk. Tessa gave Harmony a questioning look.

“A bully's picking on Aiden,” she explained. They went to the kitchen and put the quiches on the table. Harmony grimaced and handed Tessa a bag of salad greens. “I got lazy and just brought the bag.”

Tessa dumped them in a bowl. “As long as I don't have to make anything, I don't care.”

The guys joined them, looking smug.

Tessa shook her head. “What are you going to teach Aiden?”

“How to flip someone. That should surprise dirty Dirk.” Ian grinned. “And if that's not enough, I'll teach Aiden how to do real kicks.”

“Let's hope it doesn't come to that. And Paula's okay with that?” Tessa eyed her husband with suspicion.

Brody sliced the quiche and started dishing up. “Paula's not too into her son being a victim. She's happy with him learning a few moves, said her husband would have taught him, if he was still alive.”

When everyone was served, Tessa glanced at Ian, her expression wistful. “Every parent probably wants to shield their kid from any hurt or harm, but it's a tricky balance, isn't it? We can't fight all their battles for them.”

“No, but we can help
them
fight them.” Ian divided the pulled pork between him and Brody. “Dirk's going down.”

Tessa tilted her head, studying him. “For all your laid-back charm, I wouldn't go up against the McGregor brothers.”

“Damn straight.” Ian pointed his fork at Harmony. “This quiche is really good.”

“Thanks.” She shifted the talk to their day in town, whom they'd seen, and the latest news.

Ian frowned. “Grams didn't meet you at Chase's? She hasn't been meddling enough lately. What's she up to?”

Tessa glanced at the wall calendar. “She's in charge of the big fund drive for the arts. She twists the arms of business owners to donate products for an online auction. You donated a free weekend at the resort.”

“I did?” Ian looked surprised.

Tessa nodded. “And I signed up to ship two dozen cookies to a winner each month for a year.”

“Can I sign up for your cookies?” Harmony asked.

Tessa laughed. “Sure, the auction goes online the first Friday of every February. Carl Gruber's donating a dozen, hand cut steaks.” She looked at Brody. “Carl raises Angus beef cattle. Evan Meyers does specialty cheeses. Harley sends bottles of wine.” She shrugged. “It's an impressive list.”

Harmony blinked, impressed. “No wonder I haven't met your Grams. She must be buried every January.”

“She likes it. She doesn't like to drive in bad weather, so she can stay home and keep tabs on everyone while she prods them for donations.” Tessa shook her head. “And I used to wonder where my mom got the social bug.”

Brody grinned at Ian. “Our mom's the same way. Maybe it skips a generation. Neither of us got it.”

When dinner was finished, Ian said, “Harmony, come upstairs and see how the cradle you bought Junior looks in our room.”

“Junior?” Brody groaned. “You wouldn't.”

“I might.” As Ian said it, Tessa shook her head, but the brothers kept bickering.

“What if the baby's a girl?”

Ian's brown eyes glittered with humor. “Then we'll call her Juney.”

“Ugh.” Brody crooked an eyebrow at Harmony. “You bought them a cradle?”

As they climbed the stairs, Tessa explained about finding the perfect one in an antique shop. When Brody stepped into the room and saw it, his expression softened.

“It's beautiful.” He rubbed a hand over the smooth wood.

Ian looked at his brother's face and said, “Come on. I need some ideas for the nursery.” He led him to a room across the hall.

Tessa stood with her hand resting on her stomach. She turned to Harmony, tears misting her eyes. “I can't believe how much my life has changed, and it happened so fast.”

“All for the good?” Harmony couldn't tell if the unshed tears were happy or not. Had the hormone peaks and plummets returned? Or was Tessa more emotional because she'd tired herself out?

Tessa sagged onto the mattress and motioned for Harmony to sit next to her. “I thought I was so smart, protecting my heart, guarding myself from any pain, but I was so wrong. I'd have never known what I missed if Ian hadn't been so . . . him.”

Harmony smiled. “It's awesome to see you so happy.”

“There's nothing like it, nothing to compare it to.” Tessa squeezed Harmony's hand. “I'll quit now. I know how crazy it makes you when people get all mushy.”

“You deserve this happiness.” Harmony leaned her shoulder against her friend's. “You've earned it.”

Tessa gave her a long, hard look. “So have you. More so.”

“Nope, don't go there. Don't be one of those people who finds Mr. Right, then tries to convert all of her friends.”

Tessa took a deep breath. “Okay, I'll resist, but I'm right.”

Harmony waved that comment away, then asked, “How far are you in your book?”

Tessa laughed. “You're trying to distract me with shop talk.”

“Did it work?”

“A little over halfway. What about you?”

Harmony frowned. “That's what you told me the last time I asked. Are you getting any writing time?”

“Plenty of it, but I keep falling asleep. It's funny how I don't type when I'm snoring.”

Harmony sounded smug. “I've got you beat. I'm one hundred seventy-five pages in.”

“Smart ass.”

The talk turned to plots and pacing for the next fifteen minutes until Brody stuck his head in the room. “We'd better go. The temperature's supposed to hit bottom tonight. I'd like to be back at the lodge.”

“Zero?” Harmony asked.

“Minus two. By the time the SUV heats us up, the drive will be over.”

She nodded, and they followed Brody downstairs. Ian pressed a bag in Brody's hand. “Two loaves of nut bread. I don't know what you've been scrounging up for breakfast, but these might help.”

When they walked outside, the cold took Harmony's breath away. The air felt dry and sharp. It cut her lungs when she inhaled. Her teeth chattered on the drive home, and she felt sorry for Brody when he parked in the lot and had to make his way to the lodge. He rubbed his ears, red from the cold, when he got inside.

“Wine or tea tonight?” he asked.

“You make tea?” Something hot sounded wonderful.

He hung up his coat and started to the kitchen. “I can pour hot water over a bag. Let's see what's in the cupboards.”

She chose wild berry zinger, and he went with Earl Grey. They sat at the kitchen table, cradling the mugs in their hands to warm them. When they finished, Brody went to get a bottle of wine out of the refrigerator. His gaze settled on her thoughtfully. “I figure you for the kind of friend who gives as well as takes.”

Uh-oh. Harmony eyed him with suspicion. “I like to think so. Why?”

“Paula and the kids are asleep. You wanted to celebrate when you finished a spicy chapter, and I was happy to oblige. Well, I finished all of the mudding in all of the suites today. Mudding's a bother, so I think I deserve to celebrate, too.”

She could feel a smile form. “Do you? What do you have in mind? A back massage?”

“That would work . . . if you're naked . . . and in bed.” He grabbed two glasses.

She stretched. “I am tired.”

“I don't intend to let you sleep.”

She looked him up and down. “You
do
look sexy in your torn jeans.” She rinsed their tea mugs and put them in the dishwasher. Then she started for the stairs, swinging her hips more than usual. “I'd never want to be called a fair-weather friend.”

He grinned. “I didn't think so. You're more like a friend in need.”

The thought of Brody in her bed sent her nerves buzzing. “Fair is fair. You're always there for me.” She pushed her door open, and when he stepped into the room, she smashed him against the wall for a fierce kiss. The fun and games were over. She'd thought about this for too long.

He gripped her with his free hand, pulling her closer. They stayed locked together until they both had to come up for air. He fumbled forward, kicking the door shut, and put the wine and glasses on her coffee counter. Then he reached for her again. Witty small talk was forgotten. Passion pulsed in the room. She could hear it.

“You wanted a massage, if I remember right.” She tugged off her thermal shirt and jeans. Her bra and panties fell next, then she bent and took off her socks. His clothes flew as he tried to keep up and watch at the same time.

She yanked the comforter lower on the bed. “Stomach down,” she told him.

He lay flat, and she positioned herself on her knees, straddling him. Holy Muses, what a gorgeous stretch of male. She could stare and drool for hours, but there were other pleasures that were more active. Bending forward, she began rubbing the corded muscles of his back. She tried to apply pressure, but quickly realized all he cared about was her touch. His muscles trembled every time she stroked them. Well, she could do better than that. She stretched herself on top of him, smashing her breasts against him, and began nibbling his neck. His breath came in short gasps as her hands explored over and under him. Finally, he groaned and rolled, taking her with him, so that he was on top, his weight resting on his elbows. He lowered his head, and his lips roamed from the top of her eyelids to her inner thighs and back again. When he moved to his side, it freed his hands, and then his lips and fingers explored in tandem. She squirmed when his mouth teased the base of her throat while his fingers played with her nipple. Her skin grew hot. Her insides melted. Nerves stretched and hummed. She held her breath. Every cell, every pore, longed for release.