Only Gloria Davenport.
She held her hands up and backed toward the door. “Don’t mind me,” she told them. Then offered Stella two thumbs up. For Pete’s sake. “But good job, honey. Way to take my advice.”
And then she was gone, blowing back out the door as quickly as she had interrupted them, taking Stella’s dignity with her.
One of Brandon’s dark brows lifted, showing nothing of the passion he’d exhibited just a second ago. “Advice?” he repeated.
“Ah…,” she began, not sure how to explain Gloria Davenport to someone who didn’t know her. “Just ignore her. She obviously hasn’t taken her medication today.”
The slight curl of his mouth widened. “You look like her.”
Please God, don’t say that. “Okay.”
His brown eyes narrowed, scrutinizing way too much. “Is this another thing you don’t want to talk about?”
Right on. She lifted a shoulder and pretended her heart wasn’t still pounding from their kiss. “I have no issues with my mom.” At least none that she was willing to share.
Brandon nodded. “You know, one of these days all those walls you’ve thrown up are going to come crashing down.”
As Stella watched Brandon saunter out of her studio as though he hadn’t just knocked her socks off with his mouth, all she could think of was how right he was.
Ten
You ready to spill yet?” Blake prodded for the umpteenth time since they’d ended their jog twenty minutes ago. The morning air was cool, dancing over Brandon’s bare arms and cooling the sweat dotting his skin from their thirty-minute excursion through the park.
He and Blake, along with Duke, walked across the street to the Screamin’ Bean for some coffee. Since the town was still buzzing from the Bobcats’ win the night before, he and Blake had scored some free joe. They’d snagged an outside table and Brandon tied Duke’s leash around a lamppost. The dog lowered to his stomach and watched the people as they passed by on the sidewalk.
In the meantime, Brandon ignored his cousin’s inquiry and sipped his coffee. Casually, as though he didn’t damn well know it was only a matter of time before Blake pried that shit from him. Because that’s what the man did.
“Can’t we just enjoy this beautiful morning?” Brandon asked, knowing Blake would see right through Brandon’s stall tactics. Because where could he possibly start?
Blake shrugged his shoulder. “Fine, then. Don’t tell me what’s eating your ass. No skin off my back.”
Brandon’s brow furrowed. “Did someone skip their Midol this morning?”
Blake lifted his cup and pointed a finger at Brandon. “You think I don’t see past all your jokes, my friend. But I know you.”
“And what do you think you know?”
“You’re doing that thing you do,” Blake said. “Where you clam up when something’s bothering you.”
Brandon wanted to call bullshit, but Blake would have seen through it. But he didn’t know what the hell was going on with Stella, so…
“I’m worried Matt and Adrienne are having sex,” he blurted out. Yeah, like ripping off a Band-Aid. A large-ass Band-Aid that left his skin red and raw.
Blake blinked and slowly lowered his coffee cup. “They’re kids,” he replied, casual as you please, as though they weren’t talking about Brandon’s own kid.
“What the hell does that have to do with it?” As though Brandon didn’t know. As though he and Trish hadn’t been doing the same thing at that age. And why was he such a chickenshit with his own kid?
Blake shook his head. “Again with the sarcasm. You’re really looking for a foot up your ass, aren’t you?”
Brandon set his cup down and scrubbed a hand over his face. Should have shaved that morning. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Got a lot on my mind.”
“Clearly.” Blake sighed and glanced at the people around them. “Matt’s a good kid.”
Brandon blew out a breath. “Yeah.”
The two of them were silent for a moment. Then Blake spoke. “He’s got common sense, right?”
Brandon sipped his coffee, then lowered the cup. “Most of the time.”
Blake nodded. “So he knows to use protection, right?”
“That’s not the point,” Brandon answered with a shake of his head.
Blake just blinked as though he didn’t understand. “I’m not following you, bro.”
Brandon wasn’t following either. And now that he was talking about it, he felt like an ass for worrying about something he probably didn’t need to worry about. That he ought to just talk to Matt instead of unloading on Blake. “I don’t want them having sex at all.”
Blake leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “Seriously? They’re kids, Brandon. Probably horny as shit. They’re gonna do what they’re gonna do.”
Brandon narrowed his eyes. “Great advice.”
Blake laughed, which only pissed Brandon off more. “Cam’s right—you do have a bug up your ass. What gives?” When Brandon just stared, Blake pushed. “This isn’t just about Matt.”
Brandon leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “I don’t know,” was all he said. When had he turned into such a grumpy prick? Blake was usually the designated grumpy one in the bunch. Especially after Annabelle…
Shit.
Was that what was happening to him? Stella had made her presence known and now Brandon couldn’t see straight, just as Annabelle had done to Blake.
“I know what your problem is,” Blake commented.
Yeah, here it came. “If you tell me I need to get laid…”
Blake swiped his drink and took a sip. “The only way that’ll work is if you can get Stella Davenport to agree.” When Brandon’s back teeth ground together, Blake’s grin widened. “Yeah, you think we all don’t see it. Do you suppose I wouldn’t recognize the signs after what I went through with Annabelle? You’ve got the same glazed-over look that I had.”
The same uncomfortable feeling coursed through Brandon’s system as the one he always got when Stella was too close to him. When he could see the gray flecks in her eyes and smell the sugar on her skin. And when he got images of sweaty limbs and tangled sheets.
Pissed now, as much with himself as with his cousin, Brandon stood and swiped his keys off the table. “Eat shit,” he growled.
Blake’s devious chuckle followed Brandon as he stalked away. “Yeah, have fun with that one,” Blake called out.
“What do you think of these pants?”
Stella stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she tried, and had been trying for the past twenty minutes, to tame her thick wavy hair to do…well, anything other than what it normally did. Which was float around her head in thick waves that refused to conform to Stella’s demands for some control. She’d already smoothed some serum in, but all that had done was make the strands stick together.
“They look great, Mom,” Stella told Gloria as she ran a brush through her hair again. No change. “They really make your eyes pop.”