to deny it?"
"No. Why would I?"
"I don't know," I said. "But if you're not afraid of getting scolded, why keep it a secret?"
"Because," he said, "there'll be a hundred more battles before the project's done. Why fight one I don't have to?"
"But the whole thing's ridiculous," I said. "I mean, anyone could see that you did the smart thing in preventing further damage." The pronouncement had barely left my lips when I realized something totally dreadful.
I'd just complimented him.
Damn it.
I picked up the pace, even as I gave him a secret sideways glance. From the look on his face, he felt the compliment just as much I did – except he didn't look nearly as horrified.
Quickly, I added, "But you're still a coward for not owning up to it."
Abruptly, he stopped moving, and so did I.
As we faced off, he said, "That's what you think?"
No. It wasn't. Not really. With a loose shrug, I mumbled, "I don't know."
"Yes, you do."
He was right. I knew Brody. And for all of his many other flaws, he was no coward.
"Alright, fine," I said. "I take it back. But I still don't get it. Why not do whatever you want and tell Waverly to shove it if she gets mad?"
He gave me a look. "You mean on camera?"
"No. Like in private."
"Where? In the house we're fixing up?" His gaze dipped briefly to my lips, and his eyes softened. In a low voice, he said, "There is no private, as you damn well know."
Something in his look made my knees go embarrassingly wobbly. Or maybe I was just mortified at the memory of Roy and his camera catching us in the attic.
Either way, I felt distinctly unsettled, even as I said, "Yeah, well, maybe you and Waverly could've discussed it across the street, away from the cameras."
"Or maybe," he said, "I could just do what needed doing and skip all the bullshit."
I started to argue, but then thought better of it. After all, the same sort of logic had driven me to mow the lawn – except unlike Brody, I'd gotten caught.
As usual.
I studied his face. "So what are you saying? You didn't want to waste the energy arguing about it?"
"The energy or the time," he said. "I've got four months to finish the house. And yeah, the show's important. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna stand by and watch the property rack up more damage – not if I can help it."
On this, we were in total agreement, and I might've told him so, except Brody wasn't done talking.
"And," he continued, giving me a hard look, "I'm sure as hell not gonna waste my time arguing with someone who doesn't know what the hell she's doing."
"Hey!" I bristled. "I know more about the house than you think."
At this, he looked almost ready to smile. "I wasn't talking about you."
"Oh." I cleared my throat. "So, I'm guessing you mean Waverly?"
Brody nodded. "She's no construction expert."
No kidding. "So why is she the producer?" I asked. "I mean, it seems an odd choice, doesn't it?"
"Not if you know who she is."
I wasn't following. "Sooooo…Who is she?"
"Landon's Tarrington's niece."
My jaw practically hit the sand. "Really?"
"Really."
"But the other day, they didn't act like they were related."
"Right. Because in Waverly's mind, she got the gig on her own."
"But she didn't?"
Brody's eyebrows lifted. "What do you think?"
The answer to this was so obvious, it didn't require an answer. "But if she's his niece, why did he hire me? I mean, even then, it was pretty obvious that Waverly didn't want me around."
"My guess?" Brody said. "He wants fireworks."
"Why?"
"Because it's good for the ratings."
Hearing this, I almost cringed. Apparently, just as I'd feared, I was the new Miss LaRue – someone who'd bring more drama than anything useful. With renewed concern, I asked, "What kind of fireworks?"
With Miss LaRue, the fireworks had ranged from mild disagreements to full-blown hissy-fits. I wasn't the hissy-fit type, but even I had to admit that my relationship with Brody promised enough friction to rub everyone raw.
Brody shrugged. "I guess that's up to you, isn’t it?"
"So you're saying they want us to argue?" It made sense in a way, considering that we'd been arguing on the front lawn just before Landon had offered me the job.
Brody looked at me for a long, penetrating moment before saying, "Arguments. Or worse."
I frowned. "What could be worse than arguments?" But then, I froze. "Oh. That."
Slowly, Brody looked around, as if taking in the beauty around us – the endless water,