She toyed with the soft hair on his forearms, wishing they’d just wrap around her and offer some comfort. “But I just did open up about it.”
He shook his head. “Not the same thing. She needs to know what’s going on in here,” he added with a palm over her heart. She knew he meant the gesture in a totally nonsexual way, only using his hand to get his point across. But her traitorous body couldn’t stop responding to his touch. How big his hand was compared to her, how the warmth bled through the material of her shirt and bloomed across her chest.
And she knew he recognized the arc of sexual tension between them because his nostrils flared and his pupils blackened his eyes. It wouldn’t take a lot to lean forward and press her lips to his. But tonight wasn’t the night for that and Stella liked to think she was levelheaded enough for that.
Something behind them vibrated, but neither moved to check on the sound. Brandon’s gaze dropped to her mouth and the air between them froze for a split second. Just an instant, but long enough for them to realize the moment had shifted to something deeper.
Brandon dropped his head, then pushed to his feet. Her eyes roamed over his broad back as he snatched his cell phone off the coffee table. He stared at the screen for a moment.
“I need to get this,” he told her.
She nodded and didn’t get up from the couch, too exhausted to move even if she wanted to. “Sure.”
He stepped away, leaving her bereft in the wake of his departure, already missing his strength and quiet reassurance. Somehow he’d slipped past all her barriers and made himself right at home.
With a deep sigh, Stella sank farther back into the couch and closed her eyes. Her body felt heavy and weighed down, drained from the evening. Going from wanting to jump Brandon’s sexy bones to crying like a maniac had left her feeling empty. The weightlessness of sleep crept into her bones, despite her mind’s warning not to succumb. She didn’t want to fall asleep on Brandon’s couch, but she slipped anyway and the last thing she remembered hearing was Brandon muttering his ex-wife’s name.
Fifteen
The first thing Stella noticed when she woke up was how different her bed smelled. Musky and spicy like…Irish Spring.
Irish Spring? What the…?
What happened last night? Talking to Brandon…yes, she remembered that. That weird seductive game of golf…definitely remembered that. Breaking down in his driveway, which had led to her pouring out all her dirty stuff…unfortunately remembered that.
With a groan, Stella fell back on the pillow, then inhaled deeply when Brandon’s scent floated around her. Damn, his bed smelled even better than he did. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, drawing in his essence and conjuring an image of him lying in the bed. The sheet low on his hips, barely concealing the goods underneath. Yeah, he probably slept naked. Brandon threw off heat like nobody’s business and probably couldn’t be bothered with a trivial thing like boxers.
As mouthwatering as those images were, because damn, it still didn’t answer how she’d gotten here. Why hadn’t she just gone home?
The phone had rung, which he’d answered, and then…what?
Had she fallen asleep?
But if she had, why wasn’t she on the couch, where she’d been last night? Or, better yet, why hadn’t he woken her up and sent her packing?
As she sat up again, she heard a noise. Voices. Two male voices. Brandon and Matt. Then the smells hit. Something frying. Fatty and greasy, like maybe bacon.
On cue, her stomach growled. She slid from the bed and groaned when the room spun. She grabbed the nightstand for support and knocked something over. She picked up the overturned picture frame and replaced it by the lamp. When she righted the photo, something in her chest turned over. The shot was of Brandon sitting in a chair, holding a newborn Matt probably just hours after he’d been born, given the hospital bracelet fastened to this tiny wrist. Stella picked the photo up for closer inspection, memorizing every detail of Brandon looking exhausted and way too young in his backward baseball cap and Blanco Valley High School T-shirt. But it wasn’t his youth that struck her. It was the pure, unadulterated adoration and love on his face as he gazed down at the baby. A little boy who’d been unplanned but who had been loved and wanted from the moment he’d entered the world.
The scents from the kitchen prompted another growl from her stomach. Stella found a mirror, ran her hands through her hair, and tried to dispel the image of Brandon carrying her to his room. Tucking her in.
The voices from the kitchen grew louder as she walked on bare feet down the hall. Brandon said something, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep, to which Matt laughed. The crackle and sizzle of cooking bacon accompanied the wafting smells, along with freshly brewed coffee. Brandon was leaning against the counter and, Holy Lord, had his shirt unbuttoned, sipping from a mug. His casual, barefooted, ruffled bed head had her stomach turning over and overwhelming the hunger she’d woken up with.
Matt turned from his place at the stove as he tossed another piece of bacon on the pan. His brows pinched in confusion at her appearance. “Hey, Stella,” he greeted as he tossed a look back and forth between her and Brandon.
Brandon just smirked at her from behind his mug, which said World’s Okayest Dad.
She managed a smile, which probably came across as more of a grimace. Oh Lord, she hoped Matt didn’t think she’d done the nasty with his dad. How horrifying was that?
“Morning,” she muttered, then stood in the middle of the room while Matt cooked breakfast and Brandon sipped his coffee. Why didn’t he button his shirt already?
He must have caught her ogling the cut of muscles because his smirk bloomed into a full-grown grin. “Hungry?” he asked.
She eyed the plateful of pancakes and inhaled the sweet scent of bacon grease. “Actually, yeah.”
His grin remained when he set his mug down. “Have a seat at the table.”
Why was he so damn happy? Who was this cheerful at…she eyed the clock. Six forty-five? Who even got up this early?
She did as instructed and waited while he grabbed a plate from the cabinet. He and Matt exchanged conversation while Brandon plopped some pancakes on the plate, then added bacon.
“You eat like this every morning?” she asked as the food was set in front of her.
Brandon eyed her like she’d lost her mind. “Growing men need their protein.”
“I wouldn’t really call bacon and pancakes protein,” she argued.
“It’s not,” Matt called from the stove. “Dad just likes the fat.”
Brandon ambled back to the counter and smacked Matt upside the head. “Don’t be a douche.”
Stella couldn’t help but grin at the easy banter between the two.
“Sleep okay?” Brandon asked when he took a seat with his own plate of food. Only he’d piled three times as many pancakes and half a package of bacon.
“Geez, save some for the starving people,” she commented while eyeing his plate.