few moments before she nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good."
"Then, the next time I have a couple of evenings off, we'll watch the first movie. And I'll loan you my copy of the first book before then. You and your dad can read it at night before bed." I lifted a hand. "But you have to promise me you'll take good care of my book. No dog-earing pages or coffee stains."
"I don't drink coffee," Jacks said with a laugh.
"Okay, then. I guess I'll trust you."
Father and daughter both gave me the same look, an expression I couldn't decipher on either of their faces.
But I felt warmth rather than disquiet, so I decided not to obsess. Especially since my stomach was growling non-stop from the scent of the casserole in front of me.
To break the spell, I asked Brody, "Are you gonna feed me or what? I have to get back to work before Sierra walks off out of sheer frustration."
He grinned at me. "Then I guess I'll feed you. We'll save the 'or what' for another night."
Oh, holy shit. The man was trouble.
17
My interactions with Brody continued to be fairly innocent in nature for the next two weeks. Mostly because we had a tiny chaperone every time we saw each other.
He called me almost every night and we talked and flirted over the phone. Sometimes for ten or fifteen minutes and sometimes for several hours. We held hands when Jacks wasn't looking.
And we necked in the strangest places. Like the coat closet at his house. Behind my garage. And the bathroom at the shop.
It was almost...fun. And more than a little reminiscent of the scant high school relationships I'd had.
Except this time, I was with Brody.
It was everything I'd ever wanted. Only better.
He wasn't perfect. He was stubborn about things like who paid for dinner or wanting to pick me up when we went out. He refused to talk about what life would be like when his daughter got older, like when she hit puberty, started dating, or went off to college. As far as he was concerned, she was going to be six and in pigtails until the day he died.
But he was still the Brody I'd always known and loved.
We cracked each other up when we watched movies with Jacks. And he gave me shit all the time, just like he had during my teen years. But it stirred a different set of feelings in me than it once had. Looking back, I realized he was never intentionally malicious. My own hurt over the fact that I didn't think he reciprocated my feelings had tainted everything he said and did.
My heart still raced when he looked at me. And he looked at me a lot. Long, hot looks that made my skin burn with the need to touch him. Sweet, soft looks that made me want to wrap my arms around him and hold on tight.
Then, Wednesday night rolled around and Monica called. I was over at his place, hanging out with him after Jacks was in bed. Well, making out on the couch, but we never took it further. I wanted to, but Brody was holding back. While I was sexually frustrated, I understood. Sex would change our relationship in a fundamental way and he didn't want to push Jacks into something she wasn't ready for.
At least that was what I thought. Brody and I hadn't discussed it yet, mostly because when we had time alone, we spent it necking.
We'd been in the middle of a particularly hot and heavy kiss when his phone rang. I knew it was his ex by the way Brody's jaw got tight when he looked at the screen of his cell phone. His entire body tensed as soon as he lifted it to his ear and said hello.
Whatever she was saying, he didn't like it.
"Monica, I know it's your weekend, but the custody agreement states you get her from Friday to Sunday, not Thursday to Monday."
I couldn't hear her reply, but Brody developed a deep crease between his brows as he frowned.
"I know it's summer and she's at the babysitter's while I'm working, but she has activities and play dates that she won't want to miss."
His ex spoke louder and I could hear the angry buzz of her voice through the speaker even though I couldn't understand her words.
"Okay, I will ask her what she wants to do because I know she loves you, but this will not be a common occurrence.