One Night with a Hero (5 page)

“You too,” she said, hating to see him go, but knowing she’d be seeing a lot more of him. Her stomach fluttered.

“Hey,” he called as he reached his porch. “Know any good places for breakfast around here? I don’t exactly have food.”

“Oh, sure. There are a couple diners close by, and there’s a coffee shop and some fast food restaurants in the shopping center up the street.”
Don’t say it
. “Or—” She glanced down at her feet and wiggled her toes.

“Or?”

She peered through her lashes at him. “Or you could join me for breakfast. Coffee’s on. And I’m kinda badass with a waffle maker.”

Chapter Five

Brady’s instincts were shouting “retreat” while his stomach was all about the homemade waffles. He looked at his door with the word “no” on his lips, but it was just breakfast with his new neighbor, for fuck’s sake.
Your very hot new neighbor. Who you slept with last ni—
“You know what? Waffles sound awesome.”

She smiled, and Brady grew that much more satisfied with his seat-of-the-pants answer. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Gimme five and I’ll be over.”

“Okay.” Joss opened her door. “Just let yourself in.” She disappeared inside.

He stared at her empty porch for a moment and then went in his house.
What are you doing, Scott?
“I’m having waffles, goddammit.” He jogged up the steps and ditched his clothes in a pile in the bathroom. He grabbed the shower curtain package and tore it open, then shook out the dark blue fabric. “Aw, shit,” he said. He’d forgotten to buy the curtain rings.

In the tub, he lathered up a bar of soap in his hands before doing a quick scrub over his entire body. He scooped handfuls of water from the faucet to rinse off, then toweled dry, that little voice bitching at him about why a shower was necessary to eat waffles. He brushed his teeth and combed his short hair without meeting his own gaze in the mirror.

After he pulled on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, he hustled downstairs. As he reached the door, he realized he’d forgotten shoes, but then shrugged and headed to Joss’s.

“Knock, knock,” he called as he opened her door.

“I’m in here. Come on in,” she called from the kitchen. Her place was laid out identical to his, but that’s where the similarities ended. Where his house was monochrome, hers was a riot of color. One living room wall and an overstuffed sofa were a deep plum, and two framed autumn landscapes that hung above her couch added greens, oranges, golds, and reds that were echoed in the curtains, pillows, and rug. The warm brown on the other walls continued into the dining room, which had a dark red accent wall and long curtains with an intricate, colorful pattern. Where his house was empty, picture frames, knickknacks, books, and overflowing shelves filled every space here.

She flew into the dining room, cutting off his inspection of her home. “Hey,” she said with a smile.

“Hey. Need help?”

“Nope. I’ll just set this stuff out and the waffle iron should be ready to go.” She laid out the place mats, plates, and utensils next to one another at the small square table, giving Brady time to notice she’d changed clothes, too. Cut-off jean shorts replaced the rolled-up men’s boxers she’d been wearing, and the lacy outline of a bra was visible through the white tank. Which was somehow just as sexy. “Coffee?” she asked, waving him into the kitchen with her.

“Please. Black.”

“Oh, me too. Hope you don’t mind it strong.”

“No such thing as strong coffee in my book.”

“That’s the truth,” she said as she poured him a big mug full. “Here you go.”

He took a long sip, his gaze dragging over her long, wavy brown hair, pink strands mixed in. She’d had it up in a sloppy bun when he’d arrived earlier. Had she let it down for him? The thought shouldn’t please him the way it did. “Good coffee. Thanks.”

She smiled. “Okay, you want to go classic and have them plain? Or I can put chocolate chips or blueberries in them. Or a combination.”

Brady surveyed the ingredients she’d laid out on the small counter. “Some of each?”

“You got it.” She scooped and poured the batter, clearly comfortable working in the kitchen. And didn’t that throw him for a little bit of a loop yet again. A rebellious-looking woman who was at home in the kitchen. He glanced down to the
Courage
tattoo on her foot. Hell, she was even barefoot. The only thing she wasn’t was preg—
Don’t even go there.

“How long you lived here?” he asked to change the subject in his own mind.

“Three years,” she said as she turned the iron. “I rent, too. Saving up for a house someday, but who knows how long that’ll take.”

He tipped his cup to her. “That’s a great goal.”

She opened the iron and removed the first golden-brown waffle. Its buttery, sweet scent filled the kitchen and had his stomach growling. “Yeah?” She shrugged and busied herself with pouring the batter, this time with chocolate chips mixed in. “What about you?”

“What?”

“Any big goals?”

“Getting promoted to staff sergeant is my goal at the moment.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s great, Brady. When will you find out?”

Damn good question
.
Maybe when Dr. Dolittle gives my head a clean bill of health?
“Not sure yet.”

Joss kept the small talk flowing between them as the plate of waffles stacked up. She was a complete natural at the cooking and the conversation. But the uncertainties Brady’d had about coming over refused to disappear. The more comfortable she made him feel, the more the alarm bells rang.

Dammit all to hell.

When was the last time he’d had a home-cooked meal? When was the last time someone had cooked, just for him? Aside from his sister Alyssa and Lily Vieri—his best friend’s mother and Alyssa’s soon-to-be mother-in-law, which was still weird—Brady couldn’t come up with a single instance.

Couldn’t he just enjoy this, without all the running mental commentary? Fuck’s sake.

By the time Joss turned the waffle iron off and guided them to the table, Brady was brooding and starving. Maybe if he took care of his gut, he’d shed the dark mood that insisted on clinging. He grabbed his fork.

“Eager much?” She grinned. “Just teasing. Dig in. It’s fun to have someone else to cook for.”

He nodded and took half a blueberry and half a chocolate chip waffle. He grabbed for the syrup.

“Oh, wait. I forgot something.” She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bowl of mixed berries and a can of Reddi-wip. “The
pièce de résistance
.” She waved her hand over the whipped cream.

“Seriously? Doesn’t that make it dessert?”

“What? No. That’s crazy talk.” She loaded waffles onto her plate, drizzled on syrup, piled on some berries, and topped it all off with a crown of whipped cream.

Brady took a sip of coffee to hide an unexpected grin just as Joss swiped her finger through the white confection and stuck it in her mouth, sucking it off without seeming to notice he was watching. Raptly. Any number of sordid images flitted through his brain and the coffee stuck in his throat, sending him into a coughing fit.

“You okay?” she asked as she dug into her waffles.

He nodded and set about preparing his breakfast the same way she had. “All right. I’m going to trust you know what you’re talking about here.”

“Always a good plan.”

Brady carved his fork through the mound of fruit, cream, and waffle, and took a big bite. He moaned as the flavors burst on his tongue—chocolate, buttermilk, a hint of vanilla, sweet berries, and sweeter cream. “You,” he said pointing his fork at her, “are a waffle goddess.”

She grinned. “And you are a man with much wisdom.” She cleared her plate, grabbed and prepared another half-waffle, and dug in.

The urge to return the humored expression tugged at his cheeks. What was it about this woman? Here he was, the morning
after
, having breakfast with his supposed-to-be-
one
-night stand. What did he even know about her, really? A gut check called bullshit on that train of thought. He’d actually gotten to know quite a bit about Joss last night. But not everything. Like... “Know what I realized?” he asked, watching her eat.

“What’s that?”

“I only know your first name. And since we’re, you know, neighbors and all, I was thinking…”

Pink crept across her cheeks. A satisfaction he didn’t understand warmed his chest. “Daniels. Joss Daniels,” she said.

“Joss Daniels,” he murmured. “Is Joss your real name or a nickname?”

She twisted her lips and nailed him with skeptical gaze. But all Brady could see was the smear of whipped cream on the edge of her lip. He reached over and wiped it off, his groin going tight at the feel of the sticky confection on the soft skin of her lip. “Little bit of cream.”

“Oh.” She wiped her mouth and dropped her gaze. “Nickname,” she said, pushing her empty plate away stiffly and giving off all kinds of topic-not-up-for-discussion vibes. Interesting.

He let it go. “So, here’s a question.”

“Okay.”

He finished his last bite of waffle. “How the hell does someone who looks like you eat like that?”

Her mouth dropped open. She let out an indignant scoff and whipped her napkin against his bicep. He caught it and yanked, tugging her half out of her chair. Laughter spilled out of her and the sparkle returned to those bright-green eyes. He hadn’t liked the seriousness that had settled there when he’d asked about her name, and was glad he got her to smile again.

“So I like to eat. Sue me.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

His hard-on took notice and he shifted in his seat. “Did you seriously just stick your tongue out at me?”

She crossed her arms. “I seriously did. And you deserved it.”

Foreign amusement rocked through him. “I wasn’t complaining. More admiring. And these were great, just as you promised.”

She rolled her eyes, but the effect was lessened by the satisfied smile she wore. “You should finish them,” she said. “They’re best when they’re fresh.”

Brady eyed the remaining pieces of waffle and debated. He’d need to add another mile or two to his run if he loaded up on any more carbs. But, damn, it just might be worth it. He was pretty sure he could live on this meal for the rest of his life and die a happy man. “Fine. Twist my arm.” He grabbed a quarter piece this time and loaded it with syrup and berries. He tilted the can of whipped cream, but nothing came out. Shaking it, he couldn’t feel anything inside. “I think it’s empty.”

“Really? I thought that one was new. Here.” She rose and grabbed the can, then shook it next to her ear. “That’s weird.” She pressed her finger against the white nozzle twice, but nothing happened. “I’ll get a new one.” She pressed it again.

Built-up whipped cream shot out in a long, fluffy stream and sprayed across her cheek, neck, and hair. She yelped.

Time froze for a long instant as Brady memorized the image of Joss covered in whipped cream, her eyes and mouth wide. Then, miraculously, he burst out laughing. Deep belly laughs racked him until he had to push his chair back from the table and grasp his stomach. Her face went bright red. She narrowed her eyes and scowled at him, but even that was funny because of the whipped cream hanging off the corner of her eyelashes.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he choked. He handed her a napkin. “Here.” She ripped it from his hand, setting him off again.

Something cool hit him in the forehead.

His laughter died in his chest and he gaped up at her as whipped cream sagged across his eye.

And then he was in motion.

Brady dove for her and she screamed and bolted into the kitchen.

He grabbed her around the waist and hiked her against him. “Gimme that,” he growled, reaching around for the can.

“No,” she squealed through her laughter. A stream of whipped cream covered his arm.

“You little…” He made another grab and ended up with a handful of soft, warm breast. His cock came alive against her squirming body.

She gasped and attempted to twist away, sending off another stream of whipped cream that landed in both of their hair. They were laughing and panting so hard their words were more gibberish than not.

Funny as it was, there was no denying that his body was also reading something else into their horseplay. Something that involved cleaning her off with his tongue.

He swiped his thumb across her breast and groaned at the feeling of her rigid nipple pushing against the cotton that separated them. “Joss,” he groaned, pushing his hips into her lower back.

She moaned and ground back.

He’d
so
not intended this. But, damn.

His mouth found a line of cream on her neck and sucked.
Delicious
. Her natural taste and scent of peaches mixed with the sugar to create an absolutely irresistible treat. “Even sweeter now.” Her head sagged back against his shoulder and the feeling of her melting into him made his jeans painfully tight. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered before dragging his tongue through the cream on her jaw.

“I can’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to.”

Brady growled against her skin, her words taunting him to give in.

He traced his fingers down her belly and Joss moved her arms to let him. When he removed the Reddi-wip from her grip and sat it on the counter, she grinned over her shoulder at him. He devoured her in a kiss, loving the sweet enthusiasm of her mouth, the slip and slide of the little metal piercing, as he undid the button and zipper on her shorts.

Yeah, he was going there all right. And, suddenly, her tongue wasn’t the only thing he needed to taste.

He settled his hands on the waistband of her cut-offs. “Okay?”

She nodded her face against his.

Her jeans and panties fell to the floor. Together, they kicked them away.

“Turn around.” When she did, he tugged at the hem of her tank. “Take this off for me, too?”

She only broke eye contact when the shirt passed over her head. Damn if he didn’t feel her gaze right down into the tension filling his balls.

She dropped her bra from her shoulders, then stood nude before him. Long, tan legs, chocolate brown triangle of hair at the hidden apex. Flared hips perfect for gripping. A softly rounded belly curving up to full breasts just begging to be sucked. Her wild mane of hair was dampened here and there with whipped cream and just covered the swallow above her heart, but he could still tell that the colors of the tat were striking against her skin.

The room spun. “Jesus, Joss. You’re stunning.” He tossed his shirt to the floor, closed the space between them, and slanted his mouth over hers.

Her hands curled around his neck and pulled him in harder, tighter. Satisfaction roared through him.
Sonofabitch
. What was happening here? At least he wasn’t the only one who felt this intense need, this unrelenting desire. What he didn’t understand was why it all felt so
natural
between them. He’d never felt anything like it. Never allowed himself to get close enough, to stay long enough, to let himself do so.