The Marriage Pact (15 page)

“Nothing yet, huh?”

“Not a word,” I confirmed glumly.

“Well, she
is
on her honeymoon. She’s probably… preoccupied.”

“I know you’re right; it’s just that we’ve never gone this long without at least a text. And I guess considering…”

“Considering?”

“That she’s, you know. Mad at me.”

“Ah.”

I’d been worrying my lip between my teeth, but when he said ‘ah’ in that knowing tone, it made me look back up to scrutinize his face. My eyes zoned in on the half-smile tugging at his lips and it immediately put me on the defensive. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged a shoulder, his smile becoming rueful. “Nothing. Just, you know, I can see why you’d be worried.”

I felt my shoulders stiffen. His words, said in that light, sympathetic tone combined with the smirk was enough to put me on edge. “Oh, really? Why is that?”

He shrugged a shoulder again, and even watching his muscles tighten as he rowed wasn’t enough to distract me.

“No, really, Brody. If you have something to say, go ahead and say it.”

He met my eyes, studying my face for a moment before he spoke again. “It doesn’t really surprise me that she hasn’t called, that’s all.”

“We’re best friends,” I protested weakly.

“Exactly my point. You’re her best friend and you more or less ruined her wedding.”

I knew he hadn’t meant it to hurt, but damn if it didn’t sting like a nest full of wasps. The words hit me right in the heart, making me grip the sides of the boat as though I would otherwise tip over. I reeled from the implication. Yes, I knew what I’d done had been stupid, but to hear it put so harshly…

“Shana? Are you all right?”

“Not really.” I could hardly move my lips, but I managed to force the words through nonetheless.

“Hey, don’t get upset, I just—”

“Don’t get upset,” I echoed, my eyes snapping back to his face. “Don’t get
upset
? It’s a little late for… do you really think that?” My voice cracked as my eyes pleaded with him to deny it.

“Yes.” Even though his voice was soft, it was unwavering as he firmly stood his ground. I could admit grudgingly that part of me admired him for it, but my heart still twisted painfully in my chest. “You said it yourself, you’re supposed to be her best friend, Shan. You just disappeared and no one knew what had happened to you.”

“I…” I sucked in air sharply, tears stinging my eyes despite his gentle tone.

“She was worried. We all were.”

“I know I screwed up.” I hastily swiped at my eyes, not wanting him to see the tears. “It’s just, she can’t stay mad at me forever. Right?”

“I honestly don’t know, Shan.”

I’d ducked my head, sniffling, but something in his voice made me look harder at him. “Are you saying she should?”

“I don’t know.” He seemed content to leave it at that and maybe I should have just let the matter drop, but I couldn’t.

“Don’t you think friends should forgive each other when they mess up?” I pressed.

“Sure,” he agreed amiably. “But this wasn’t your run of the mill screw-up.”

I felt my cheeks warm at the accusation, despite its bulls-eye accuracy. “Look, I’ve admitted I was wrong, but this wasn’t just my fault.”

He stared back at me calmly and for some reason, it made me angry.

How could he sit there and look at me like that—like he had the right to judge me! Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? “If she’d just told me that you were in the wedding in the first place, instead of leaving me to get blindsided like that, then none of this would have happened.”

“So the fact that she didn’t was a reason enough to bail on the most important day of her life? It was worth possibly losing her friendship?”

I knew he was right, and yet, the more he pressed, the more defensive I became. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

He set down the oars as he looked at me. “I didn’t realize there was a side to take.”

“Well, for not knowing you’re doing a damn good job of taking hers.”

“Look, Shana, I wasn’t trying to upset you, just—”

“Too late,” I snapped. “Just take me home.”

“Listen, we can—”

“No, I don’t think we can.”

“If you’ll just let me—”

“Can’t you hear me?” I demanded loudly. “I said no already. Now take me home!”

His eyes had been pleading with me to listen, but when I raised my voice, they hardened.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d watch that tone, Shana. You don’t need to yell at me.”

Part of me began to flounder when he turned that stern, tight-lipped stare on me, but I was more stubborn than chastened and I was determined not to give an inch. “Whatever.”

“Excuse me, young lady, just because I happen to have an opinion you don’t like doesn’t give you the right to yell at me.”

There was a large part of me that wanted to cave, but I forced myself to stay mad. “I’m not your young lady,” I snapped. “Take me home.”

His brow furrowed as he frowned at me.

Maybe he wasn’t used to being put in his place. Maybe the girls he dated
liked
to be treated like children. Of course, that couldn’t be true, or he’d still be with one of them, I thought nastily.

“I will in a minute, but first, I have something to say and you’re going to listen.”

I shoved the nearly emerged submissive side of myself deep down, scowling at him.

He did an admirable job of pretending not to care. “
You
are the one who messed up with Becky. It’s not fair to take out your anger on me. Try putting it where it belongs—on your own shoulders.”

Torn between equally powerful feelings of remorse and anger, I knew I had to get away. I couldn’t stand even one more minute of this lecturing—I knew I was on the verge of tears and no
way
was I breaking down in front of him. Without thinking it through, I leapt to my feet, wobbling unsteadily as the boat bucked beneath the sudden movement.

“Shana, sit down. You’re going to fall.”

“I have been asking you to
take me home
!” My voice rose with each word until I was screeching with my hands balled into fists at my sides.

“All right, sit down and I’ll get you home.”

I glared, not sure whether or not to believe him.

His gaze grew sterner as he pinned me with it. “I mean it, Shana. Sit down right now before you get hurt.”

I snorted derisively, rolling my eyes, but moved to comply. Only problem was, just as I went to sit the boat rocked forward and I found myself tumbling off the side. With a loud splash, my body plunged beneath the shockingly cold water and I came up spluttering.

“Shana! My God, are you all right?”

Treading water and wiping my wet hair out of my eyes, I saw that he was leaning over the boat, peering at me in horror. I looked into his shocked, worried face and felt like the biggest idiot. I should have listened to him. If I wasn’t being such a brat, I would have. I was shocked at my behavior—it wasn’t like me to be so unreasonable and argumentative. What did being around him
do
to me?

“Yeah, I’m OK,” I muttered, realizing that nothing hurt but my pride. I was sure I looked ridiculous with my hair in wet, stringy pieces around my face.

“Come on, let me help you.” I’d no sooner taken his hand than Brody was pulling me back in and wrapping his brown corduroy jacket around my trembling shoulders. “Oh, baby. Are you sure you’re OK?”

I was embarrassed, but to hear him talking to me in that sweet, concerned voice after the way I’d yelled at him made me feel worse than I already did. Before I knew it, hot, stinging tears burned my eyes.

“Poor thing. Sit tight, I’m going to get you home right now, OK?”

I nodded miserably. Even with Brody’s jacket draped over me, what had once felt like a light breeze now hit my soaked bones like tsunami winds. By the time we got across the lake and into the truck, my teeth were chattering. Brody cranked the heater on full blast, which I was grateful for, especially knowing that he was probably burning up in his jeans and flannel shirt. By the time we pulled into his mom’s gravel-lined driveway, the sun was just stretching over the trees, painting orange and pink streaks throughout an otherwise dark, sleepy sky. Unfortunately, I was too miserable to enjoy the view.

In no time, Brody had ushered me up the stairs after mouthing a reminder for me to be quiet. I knew that his mother was probably still asleep. He tossed me an oversize t-shirt and a pair of boxers and I slunk away to the bathroom to slip them on. I assessed myself in the mirror and winced at my wet, stringy hair. I found a comb and pulled it through my tangled strands—it helped a little, but not much.

When I came out of the bathroom, Brody was sitting on the bed and motioned me over. I gingerly sat down beside him, tucking my legs underneath me and smiling bashfully. Suddenly, I felt like such an idiot. I’d gotten worked up and thrown a tantrum and look where it had landed me.

Brody leaned forward and began rubbing his hands up and down my arms, which I found pleasant for more reasons than one. I was content to let him warm me up, practically purring like a cat from the attention. It wasn’t until he said “Shana Rae,” in that stern, commanding voice that I began to wonder why he’d brought me to his mom’s place instead of taking me to my own.

“You know, I really should get back. Mom…” The excuse died flat because I knew he’d call me on it. I sighed, straightened my shoulders, and looked him in the eye. “I mean, I’m sorry, Brody. I shouldn’t have… yelled at you.”

If I’d expected him to smile and wave it off, I was sadly disappointed. His eyes stayed stern and his mouth laid flat in a hard line of disapproval. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry, really. It won’t ever happen again. You know that’s not like me.”

“You seem to be doing a lot of things lately that aren’t like you.”

I blinked in surprise. “You mean the Becky thing?”

“Yes, that.”

I slumped down with another sigh. “So you really are taking her side.”

“Just like I told you before, I wasn’t aware there were sides. I thought you two were friends. And
if
you’re her friend, then it doesn’t make a lot of sense to do this whole her versus you thing,” he said, speaking over any protest I would have made. “And no, you shouldn’t have yelled at me, you shouldn’t have disrespected me, and you sure as hell should have listened when I told you to sit back down.”

I dropped my eyes, feeling my cheeks warm with embarrassment at being scolded and shame for deserving it. There wasn’t much I could say to defend myself.

“It was dangerous, Shana, not to mention childish.”

“I know, OK?” I muttered. “I said I was sorry.”

“Yes, you did. Now I want you to prove it.”

I glanced up at him. “O-kay… how am I supposed to do that?”

“That’s simple. You behaved like a child so I’m going to treat you like one.”

I hunched my shoulders at the
c
word—not that I could protest. He was right; the clock seemed to have turned back and instead of the mature thirty-four-year-old I’d become, I was acting more like the teenager I’d been when I’d left. “Meaning?”

“I think you deserve a spanking for the way you treated me.”

Time froze all around me and my face froze along with it, torn between a perplexed frown and a laugh. I stared at him, unblinking and he stared back. It was a surreal reminder of the staring contests we used to have as kids, which was what tilted the scale toward laughter. “Come on, Brody,” I said when I finally found my voice. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s definitely not, and I’m dead serious.” His eyes showed me that he meant every word; there wasn’t an ounce of laughter to be found in them.

I kept waiting for his grin, for him to drop that stern, commanding voice and say, “Gotcha!” or even “Just don’t do it again,” but it never happened. I felt something charging the air between us and this time, I wasn’t sure I liked it. “I don’t think I can let you do that,” I said softly, dropping my eyes once more and tugging at a string coming loose from his boxers.

“Why is that?”

This time, I did smile. What kind of question was that, anyway? “Because! Because I’m thirty-four, because I’m a grown woman, because it’s ridiculous, that’s why.”

“I believe I’ve already addressed the issue of your age.”

I could feel his eyes boring into me, but no way was I looking at him. He seemed to have some kind of crazy, diabolical power over me and I just knew if I let myself look at him long enough, I wouldn’t be able to remember why this idea was crazy.

“So why not then?”

Against my better judgment, I met his eyes. “Because it’s… because it’s the twenty-first century and you just don’t… women don’t… this doesn’t happen anymore.” I knew it. The minute I’d looked at him, I’d lost all ability to think clearly and apparently the power of speech had gone right along with it.

He shrugged a shoulder. “So your objection is that it’s not politically correct?”

“I…”
Think, Shana, think
, I coached myself.

“Do you think you don’t deserve to be punished?”

I was about to laugh and say no, of course not, but somehow words failed me at the worst possible time.

“Is that a no?”

Dammit, I hated him for being so perceptive and what’s more, I hated how sweet he was about it. How could you stay angry with a man like that? “You know what? I’m sorry, but I can’t. I… I’m going to head home. I’ll, uh… be sure you get your clothes back.” I pushed myself to stand, and yet, my feet didn’t move.

“I’m not worried about the clothes. Keep ‘em, if you want.”

Don’t look at him
, I coached myself. Don’t
look
. “Would it hurt?” I asked instead, cringing as soon as the words escaped my mouth. I wanted to snatch them out of the air and keep them from his ears or at least bolt for the door before he had a chance to answer, but my feet stayed planted firmly to the floor.

“It would hurt,” he answered, as though our conversation wasn’t completely bizarre. “Spankings are supposed to hurt.”

God, if a shiver didn’t run through me when he said that. I chanced a look at him and saw, to my surprise, that he didn’t look smug or pissed, like I’d half-expected. He still looked like Brody, normal, next-door, wonderful Brody. That was what made it so much harder to run away. That and the weird tightness in my chest. “And if I don’t?”