“True,” Chad said, no longer making an effort to keep his voice low. “But he’s always been the serious, responsible one.”
Josh let out a snort as he pulled the chilled piecrust from the fridge and consulted the cookbook.
“Which is why we’re taking bets on what happened when you two disappeared during Eric and Georgia’s wedding reception,” Chad said. “My sister thought you might’ve gotten locked in the bathroom and needed a rescue. Liam went along with her because, well, agreeing with my sister is in his best interest. And saving the day is Brody’s specialty. But I saw the way he danced with you and I think it was more of a mutual rescuing.”
“I want in,” Josh called, pulling the spiral notebook out of his back pocket. He flipped it open and scanned a page. “Put my money on Brody. He was smiling this morning like he’d gotten lucky last night.”
Kat reached for her pen, determined to shift the focus on the conversation. “Josh, you knew to look in your notebook for that detail. That’s great.”
Josh stuffed the notebook into his jeans pocket. “Don’t get too excited, Doc. Brody parted ways with his last serious girlfriend nearly a year ago. I knew if he looked like he’d gotten some action, I’d have written it down. Easier to give him grief later.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” she said quickly.
“But you weren’t locked in the bathroom waiting to be rescued last night,” Chad said.
“I don’t need your brother to save me.” She turned her attention to the chart. “But in terms of the bet, you’d have to ask Brody.”
“I just might to do that.” Chad pushed back from the table. “While I’m at it, I’ll remind him that you’re not his girlfriend. And that you’re leaving soon.”
“He knows,” she said.
Chad placed his palms flat on the table and his smile vanished. “If that fact was front and center in his mind, Brody would never have left the reception last night. My brother goes all in for the people he cares about. And the way he looked at you last night, I’d say you’re on that list. Maybe he hasn’t woken up to that fact yet, but he will.”
The warning rang in her ears as Chad turned to Josh. “Save some pie for me, bro.” And then he slipped out the kitchen door and headed for the barn.
“Hey, Doc.”
Kat pushed Chad’s words away and focused on the man placing a pie into the oven. Fingers crossed it was edible. Most of the other patients in their trial had some prior cooking experience. The inspiration for the study, Maureen from upstate New York, had been a pastry chef before a horseback riding accident temporarily stole her short-term memory. Maureen had given Kat the idea to try cooking as a way to help patients recover their memory. Kat never would have come up with it by herself. Before she’d started working with patients, her idea of cooking had been limited to opening take-out containers. But when she’d mentioned it to Dr. Westbury, her mentor had been intrigued, and eager to start a clinical trial.
“Yes?” she asked as Josh closed the oven, before setting the timer and reclaiming the cookbook.
Josh offered a wicked smile straight out of his brother Chad’s repertoire as he glanced from his handwriting to the recipe. “Can I make extra whip cream and save some for later? I also wrote a line or two about Megan swinging by after her second job. According to my trusty notebook, she wants to lift my spirits a bit, and a nice serving of whip cream would sure help.”
“Sure,” Kat said with a laugh. “Go ahead and double it.”
Out the window, she saw Brody leaving the barn, carrying a toolbox. He gave her a wave and then headed for his truck. After yesterday in the wine cellar, she wanted more of him. But “seriou
s” and “girlfriend” were labels that didn’t fit with her life. Fling and Casual Sex? Those words worked for her. And she had an idea about how to win Brody over to her way of thinking.
“Josh, why don’t you triple the recipe?”
BRODY PULLED UP to the house with a solid plan for the evening. First, a shower to wash away the grease from working on one of Moore Timber’s trucks, then he’d find Kat and ask her to join him for a pizza in town. In a crowded restaurant—and A Slice of Independence was always packed, even on a Sunday—they could talk about Josh’s treatment and keep their clothes on.
Of course, Kat had proven last night that a roomful of people wouldn’t stop her from rocking his world in a wine cellar. But he could keep her out of the pizza place storage room while they split a pie.
He reached the sagging wraparound front porch, which he planned to rebuild now that the winter weather was behind them and they had money in the bank from selling the trucking company. As soon as he found the time. Between working with Moore Timber, volunteering with the search and rescue squad, and looking out for Josh, he needed more hours in the day. He had one foot on the steps when the door swung wide-open.
“Hey there, cowboy.” Kat stood in the entryway to his family home wearing jeans and a button-down shirt that hugged her curves. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. But the black ankle boots with the high, thin heel . . .
Brody paused on the porch steps. He had a plan for tonight, but those shoes made him wish he could reconsider.
“I bet my mental image for tonight beats yours,” she said, her green eyes blazing with mischief.
“Oh yeah?” He closed the space between them in two long strides, just in case his siblings were close by. Not that he was hiding his relationship with Kat. He’d seen the smirk on Chad’s face when he slipped into the reception last night just moments after Kat returned. But his siblings didn’t need details, and Brody didn’t have a clue what would come out of her mouth next.
“I have two words for you.” Her voice hit a sultry note that drove him damn near crazy. “Whip cream.”
The best two words he’d heard all day.