“Your father’s out there,” he pointed out, his defenses rising.
“My dad is in prison. And he’s never been a part of my life.”
“Same goes for my mom,” he said. “Not the prison part, though I guess it is possible. But she is not in my life now.”
Kat set her glass down, turned and stared at him, her head cocked to one side. “I’ve been wondering why you’ve stayed single. But I don’t think you have lingering commitment issues.”
“Is that your profession
al opinion, Doctor?” He shifted away, her words unsettling him. The way he saw it, he had major “commitment issues”—his family, work, search and rescue, the farmhouse he planned to fix up now that they had the money. The list went on and on, pulling him in a dozen different directions.
“Yes,” she said, sipping her wine. The waiter delivered their dinner, a burger for him, fish cooked in some sort of fancy bag for her, and an order of rosemary fries.
“You’re wrong,” he said as the server rushed away. “I have a pile of commitment issues. Right now, Josh tops the list. But it has always been one of my siblings or the company, needing my time and attention. When I settle down and get married, I want to do it right. I want to spend the rest of my life giving my wife everything I have in me to give. And everything she needs.”
“That’s a lot to offer,” she said, steam rising up from her fancy plate of fish.
Only to someone who’d spent years believing she’d never make the cut, he thought. Her hand tightened around the stem of her wineglass, and for a second he thought it might snap. Raw emotion swam in her green eyes. Awe mixed with confusion, as if the two feelings had been tossed in a blender. But she quickly masked it.
“What would you ask for in return?” Kat set the glass down and claimed her fork. Stabbing the fish, she pulled it apart.
“I’d like to have a family one day. But to be honest, I’d settle for waking up next to the woman I love every morning and knowing she has the same deep feelings for me that I have for her.”
Kat drew in a deep breath, her eyes wide as her fork remained buried in her food. Judging from the look of wonder he saw on her face, she’d never considered that anyone might feel that way about her. Seeing that look, Brody felt his temper rising at the injustice delivered to the woman sitting beside him. If only he could he’d erase the pain of her past. It fucking killed him that this woman had never known love, the kind that bound a family together.
He set his burger down on his plate before the anger pulsing through him flattened his meal. If he could turn back the clock, he’d find Kat hiding in the corners of his high school and he’d do something to make her believe she deserved love. Hell, he might take a swing or two at all the foster parents who’d sent her packing.
“You’re like the dream contestant for one of those reality shows,” she said. “Just think, you could have your own TV show with a hot tub full of women waiting for the chance to fall in love with you.”
After witnessing her unmasked emotional response to his words, seeing the awe tinged with confusion, he let her hide behind humor. “Yeah, but then I’d have to tell millions of viewers, including my friends and family waiting back home, that I want whip-cream sex. At least once a month.”
“Kinky sex is a deal breaker, huh?”
He picked up a rosemary fry without taking his eyes off her. “Seems that way.”
“You can’t find a woman in Independence Falls who wants you to tie her up and lick you clean?” she asked, her leg “accidentally” brushing his again.
“To be honest, I haven’t been looking all that hard,” he said. But who gave a damn about the past, when he’d found her now?
She set her fork down and rested her hand on his forearm, her fingers pressed into the sleeve of his flannel shirt. “It’s because you’re so sober. They assume you want serious sex.”
He laughed, allowing his temper over her rotten childhood to fade. He wanted to keep her here, laughing and joking with him. “Serious sex? Sounds pretty damn boring.”
“Like two people who keep their clothes on instead of using them for bondage,” she murmured, reclaiming her fork.
“Kat.” He set his burger down again. He was hungry, but he didn’t want the fancy French version of an American classic. Lowering his arm, he placed his hand on her thigh, his fingers running up it. “There is nothing serious about what I’m picturing right now.”
SHE SURVIVED DINNER. Barely. Every stolen touch, every movement of his body, propelled her desire forward. They’d reached the car and she was tempted to beg him to pull over. She’d wanted him to take her in the front seat of his truck. And if her mind was ready and willing to grant him control—here, now, anywhere—she knew for a fact the physical pull bordered on overwhelming.
Let it sweep her up and drag her under like a fast moving current, she thought. Focusing on the bulge in his jeans kept her mind from playing back his words.
I want to spend the rest of my life giving my wife everything I have in me to give. And everything she needs.
She’d spent years fantasizing about his warm smile and beautiful eyes, but she’d never stopped to fully picture the boy as a grown man. His broad shoulders tapering off to his waist, not an inch of fat on him. That she’d found anyway. She would be happy to resume her search. The muscles that screamed: I can tie you up, hold you down and make you scream with pleasure.
And she’d certainly never fantasized about the grown-up Brody’s desire to settle down and give the woman he loved everything. She never focused on the future with anyone—real or fantasy. If she began dreaming about forever, the inevitable moment would come when the rug was ripped out from under her. The person holding her heart would show her the door, wishing her the best, and then go on with his life as if she’d only been a momentary blip.
“Kat?”