sofa. “Don’t drink my beer.”
And with that parting shot, LT left. After the screen door slammed shut, Bran sat in stunned silence.
He felt like the bonds of the past, the fear of the past had unraveled in the last few minutes. Just a little bit. And what was left in the place of those lifelong threads was a glimmer of hope, a ray of dreamlike promise that he might have a chance for a future.
With Maddy.
Chapter 28
The next day…
Maddy’s mouse icon hovered over the Send button in her email account. For the last five minutes she’d gone back and forth over whether or not she should click it.
“It’s not like you’re askin’ to move in with him,” she muttered to herself. “You’re just askin’ if he’d be okay with you comin’ to visit. You say in the email you’ll bring your sleepin’ bag. So, no pressure. And friends visit each other, don’t they?”
She sat back against her headboard and fisted her hands in her lap. She’d tried. Lordy, how she’d tried to go back to the way things were before. But things weren’t the same as before. She wasn’t the same as before and—
Ding-dong!
She jumped at the sound of the doorbell and glanced at the glowing red numbers on her alarm clock.
“What kind of person shows up at someone’s house at seven-thirty in the mornin’?” she grumbled, setting her laptop aside and tossing back the covers. She threw on her favorite robe—it was green and tattered and totally comfy—before stopping to give her reflection in the mirror above her dresser a cursory glance.
Hair? Every which way.
Face? Smudged with the mascara she hadn’t washed off last night.
Breath? She blew into her hand. Not daisy fresh.
She padded to the bathroom to give her teeth a quick scrub and contemplated running a comb through her hair and a washcloth over her face. Then she figured, Anyone comin’ this early in the mornin’ deserves what they get.
Ding-dong!
“I’m comin’!” she yelled, running to the front door. She would bet her sweet bippy it was one of her big, dumb brothers. Either that, or another reporter looking for an exclusive. Either way, she was about to give someone an earful. She tossed open the door at the same time she opened her mouth. The latter snapped shut with a click of her teeth when she saw Bran standing on her front porch.
“God, woman,” he said in lieu of hello, his deep voice swirling around in her ears and raising goose bumps over the back of her neck. “Would you stop getting more beautiful every day?”
Somehow, she managed to answer him around the heart that had jumped into her throat. “Har-har. Very funny. But let me tell you right now, bucko, if you show up at a woman’s house before she’s had her first cup of coffee, this is what you’re in for.” She did her best Vanna White impersonation and gestured dramatically at herself.
What in the devil-lovin’ hell is he doin’ here?
She could think of only one thing. A glimmer of hope ignited in the center of her chest. It grew to a small conflagration when he said, “Since you mention it, I haven’t had my first cup of coffee either. You got enough to share?”
If her heart beat any faster, it was liable to hop right out of her mouth and go bouncing across the foyer. Not wanting to see that, she kept her lips sealed and held the door wide. And bonus, she used the support to keep herself upright. Her knees had gone weak at first sight of him. How cliché. His words, and his possible intent, made them weaker still. You really are a stereotype when it comes to him, you know?
Yessirree, Bob. She knew.
When he brushed by her, she closed her eyes and breathed him in. Irish Spring soap and Tide laundry detergent and…Bran. The familiar smells tunneled up her nose and made her dizzy, like fine champagne. Like a roller-coaster ride. Like…love.
“And, Maddy?”
“Yeah?” She opened her eyes to discover he’d stopped beside her. She had to tilt her chin way back to look into his face, to see his dark eyes and the pirate smile that stretched his lips.
“I wasn’t joking about you getting more beautiful every day.”
Before she could answer that thoroughly devastating statement, he sauntered into her house. She watched his loose-hipped swagger the way you might watch lasagna after having been on a low-carb diet for a year. She was suddenly ravenous. Rabid for a taste. But