and shut me down before I got my hand down his pants.
Now, at this point, you might be wondering what type of woman sticks her hands down a man’s pants in an effort to seduce him—and I’d tell you, a desperate one. A woman who knew she’d found everything she was looking for in a man, yet he refused to budge. How did I know he was the perfect man? Well, let’s see, there was the time he rushed into a burning house to save Tuesday Clark’s life. Then there was the time he took Liberty, Drake, and Carter’s back when a crazy guy broke into Triple Canopy wanting to kill my cousin Liberty and Carter.
But even before his last act of bravery, I knew it because of the way he treated the women in my family. The way he spoke to my mom and aunts with respect and tenderness. The way he respected my dad and the uncles openly and reverently. Like he was grateful they’d taken him in and given him a job. He was a man—all man—and showed his appreciation and loyalty. He was protective, he could be annoyingly bossy, and had I not been raised by Jasper Walker, I might have found this annoying in a different way. But to me, protection meant care. It meant I was of value. You didn’t protect worthless things.
And finally, I knew because since he’d come to work for Triple Canopy, he’d become my person. You know, the one you turn to when trauma strikes. I didn’t know how this came to be, just that it happened and it felt natural for him to be that person. It had started after Delaney was kidnapped by a crazy bitch named Dana who’d also shot at my other sister, Quinn.
That was nearing three years ago. And since then, he’d stood by me during the absolute worst time in my life when Quinn almost died. No, he didn’t stand by me, because I wasn’t standing. I’d crumbled and he’d picked me up and held me until I was strong again. And when my badass GI-Jane cousin, Liberty McCoy, had been taken as a POW, he’d gotten me through that, too.
So I knew he cared about me. I knew he had a lot to give and I knew he wanted to give that to me. However, something held him back. And I knew it was the same thing that put the sadness in his eyes.
I was not one of those women who saw a man as a project and wanted to fix him. I had my condo for that. But I couldn’t deny I wanted to help Brady with whatever was wrong. I wanted to help him find a way to let go of it, help him dig it out. I owed him that.
And that was why I was willing to try anything, including shoving my hand down his pants and using sex to get what I wanted. Not to mention, I just plain wanted to get Brady into bed because he was hot, and sweet when he wanted to be. But I knew that wouldn’t work because he didn’t ever let me get that close to him unless I was suffering some great trauma.
Which led me to now—Brady in my house looking at the new laminate flooring I was putting down—and not having a firm plan in place about how to get him to let me in.
He wandered around the living room which was devoid of furniture. I’d pulled out the ugly-assed brown carpet the day after I’d moved in and discovered it wasn’t just ugly, it was so dirty I didn’t want furniture touching it, much less my feet. So I hadn’t gotten around to buying any new furniture and I still couldn’t walk through the downstairs barefoot due to the renovations. But, I was no longer worried about getting a fungus that might lead to me losing a toe.
I did have a kick-ass new bedroom set and a kitchen table I found on sale because one of the legs had a scratch and it was missing one of the eight chairs that went with the set. I didn’t care about the scratch or the chair so I got the table for a steal.
There were two other rooms upstairs. One was empty and would remain that way. The other had my childhood twin bed and a dresser.
“So, the color’s not really my jam, but it’s neutral, and from what I read, neutral