I shrug. “Maybe because we’ve only known each other for ten days.”
She nods, biting her bottom lip. Something about her expression tells me this hurts her feelings for some reason. It’s not like I know that much about her. Like the real reason she’s hiding out here on a farm in the middle of Bumblefuck.
But I don’t like that this is creating distance between us, so I quickly add, “I really haven’t inked much lately. I was pretty busy with my parents’ landscaping business for the last several months.”
She releases that bottom lip and her expression brightens. “I’d love to see your work.”
“Sure.” I smile back reassuringly. “If this hammers out, though, I’ll be working a few nights a week, and I’d need you to babysit. With pay, of course. If we work around your schedule at the diner, do you think this could happen? I’m just hoping to make a little money to keep things afloat around here until the insurance pays or until I sell this place.”
Her eyes dip and she stares at the table. “Whatever you need, Brady.”
“Hey.” I wait for her to look up. “I don’t have a choice.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend.
She stares back, looking just as devastated as the first time I told her I’d be selling the farm. But she nods slowly. “I know. I’m not judging you for needing to do this.” She sighs, and the sound settles around my heart and squeezes. “I just wish things were different.”
Me too, sweetheart. My gaze settles on her lips. Me too.
31
Katherine
The knock on my bedroom door barely registers until I hear Brady’s voice. “What are you doing?”
I scoot closer to my tiny TV. “Shh. The Lone Stars are kicking for a field goal.” When they make it, I jump off my bed and do a little dance.
I’m mid hip-thrust when I turn to him and stop my celebration. Because seeing Brady watch me gets my attention. His heated eyes wander slowly down my bare legs and back up again. Which makes me realize I’m only wearing a tiny white t-shirt and undies. But I didn’t expect to see him again tonight.
After he helped me put away our Thanksgiving leftovers, he headed to his room, and I went to mine. And now that he’s fixed the temperature in here, it’s almost too warm, which is why I’m wearing the thinnest t-shirt I own.
I pull at the hem of my top before I realize it’s ridiculous. The man had his mouth between my thighs the other day and licked me to an orgasm, for Pete’s sake. Shrug it off, Kat.
Kat sounds like the girl who can walk around in her underwear and not care.
I motion toward him. “What’s up?”
His jaw works back and forth. “Why are you watching the game in here in the dark on that thirty-year-old box? I’m watching it in the office. On the flat screen.”
Turning, I look at the small TV. It belonged to Mel’s father and flickers on and off sometimes, but no matter. Right now, it’s doing its job, so I like it just fine.
I consider his question a moment. “I didn’t think you wanted me there.”
He curses under his breath and presses his palms into his eyes. “Why would you think that?”
Oh, I don’t know. Kicking me out the other night? Not taking me up on my offer to hook up?
Yes, I get that he likes me, maybe even wants me, but I’m not going to throw myself at him while we watch TV. Been there, done that. And something tells me that if I’m in there with him, all alone in the dark, I’m gonna try again, and I just don’t have it in me to get shot down twice. Gracias, pero no. A girl has to have some pride.
Besides, I get the distinct impression he’s firmly placed me in the friend zone, and hearing him talk about me babysitting for Izzy and getting paid only serves as a reminder that I’m his employee. I’m the babysitter. Awesome.
“Brady, honestly?” I blow out a frustrated breath and remind myself that he’s a guy who clearly still has his head up his rear. I decide I can be as obtuse as him. “I’m watching the Lone Stars beat your precious Boston Rebels all up and down the field. Is this really the best you guys can do?”
Placing my hand on my hip, I cock it out. My tiny t-shirt slides up, and I don’t miss his quick intake of breath. I suppose little black lace boy shorts do the trick. Score one for Kat and her slutty underwear. Internally, I laugh. My mother considers anything that doesn’t look like a cotton granny panty slutty.
I stand stock still, my nipples pebbling under his stare, and I fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest because I know he can probably see them through the thin material of my t-shirt.
His laughter fills my room as he mumbles something I can’t quite make out.
“Excuse me?” I ask with mock irritation.
His lips curl into a smirk. “I said I’m this close to spanking your ass.”