Opposites Distract (18 page)

Brody's door closed, and Harmony walked faster.

W
hen Harmony walked into the lodge, Paula hurried to check on her. With a sigh of relief, she said, “You look good. How's Brody? The kids are going nuts with worry.”

“He's sore and moving slow, but he gets to come home today. He'll probably stay with Ian and Tessa. His sister, Bridget, flew here to help take care of him.” If Bridget stayed at the lodge, Harmony was packing up and leaving.

“You've had your hands full lately. Don't worry about reading to the kids anymore. I'll do it. Heck, story time's made them so happy, I'll enjoy sharing it with them.”

Harmony thought about how the kids crawled all over Brody while she read, probably not a good idea now. “Brody's going to miss Harry Potter. He loved spending time with Aiden and Bailey.”

Paula snorted. “And you didn't? Brody told me Dirk was lucky you didn't impale him on the school fence.”

Impaling was too good for Dirk. She
was
going to miss them, damn it. “You've got really neat kids.”

Paula came to give her a hug. “Thanks, they think you and Brody are pretty awesome, too. So do I.” With a pat, she headed back to her apartment. “Hang in there.”

Harmony went up to her room and tried to write, but she couldn't concentrate. On wintry days at home, when she couldn't settle, she spent time in the kitchen. She moseyed down there and started a big pot of clam chowder. They'd bought the cans of clams on their first trip to the store and never used them. She turned on music while she cooked bacon, diced potatoes and chopped celery and onions to sauté. After adding the minced clams, she sprinkled flour over everything to thicken it while she stirred in the milk.

With the soup finished, she opened the refrigerator for inspiration for a side dish. Unfortunately, near empty shelves stared back at her. But there were eggs—lots of eggs—and milk. She started work on a frittata. If both Brody and Bridget stayed with Ian and Tessa, one small frittata wouldn't be enough. She chose a huge cast iron skillet and filled it with mild sausage and broccoli. When they were cooked and tender, she added two dozen eggs. She started it on the stove and finished it in the oven. While it cooked, she made a smaller version for herself with Italian sausage instead of the mild.

By the time she was ready to take the frittatas out of the oven, she heard voices in the foyer. She turned off the music and went to see who was there. Ian and Bridget were helping Brody into his room. Harmony frowned. “I thought Brody would stay at the house for a while.”

Ian grinned. “Nah, all of his stuff's here. Besides, Bridget's staying with us. He's trying to avoid her. Can't stand having someone fuss over him.”

Brody took a deep breath. “I smell food.”

“I made some stuff for Ian to take home to feed you guys.”

Ian wrapped her in a hug. “Tess couldn't have a better friend. I smell bacon.”

“Only a little. It's too greasy for Tessa right now. It's in the clam chowder. I just finished the frittata. It's hot.”

Ian started for the kitchen. “Is it ready to load?”

Harmony went to help him. “The skillet just came out of the oven.”

Bridget followed them and looked at the clean pots and pans drying on the rack by the sink. Then she glanced at the smaller containers that Harmony had saved for herself. “You won't get much of those. You'd better dip out more chowder for yourself. Brody's been bitching because he's hungry.”

Ian scooped out another bowl and put it on the countertop before he lugged the soup pot to his pickup. That left Harmony alone with Bridget. The woman pursed her lips, studying her. “I volunteered to stay here with my brother, but he's too damn independent. He said you'd help him brush his teeth and get him into bed.”

Harmony blushed. “I can help with his toothpaste.”

A knowing smile curled Bridget's lips. “Thanks, I appreciate it. I won't worry so much.”

Ian came back with a long cardboard box to fit the skillet in, and Bridget turned to leave with him. Harmony licked her lips, suspicious. “You're not staying to visit with Brody for a while?”

Bridget shrugged. “We had plenty of time to talk at the hospital. I've never gotten to spend time with Tessa. I'm looking forward to it.” Ian put his hands together like he was praying, and Bridget punched his arm. “I can be nice when I want to.”

Ian gave Harmony's shoulder a squeeze. “Don't let my brother whine too much or make you wait on him hand and foot. And thanks for staying with him.”

“But . . .” They were already on their way to the door. Harmony watched them go. Bridget looked too smug, just like Ian could at times. She bit her bottom lip, trying to decide what she was missing when Brody called to her.

She hurried to him.

“I'm sorry.” He looked frustrated. “I tried to get up and come to the kitchen with you, and I can't make it.”

“Give yourself a day or two. You just got out of the hospital. You okay?”

“No, I'm starving. Hospital food is for sick people.”

Harmony laughed. “I think that's the point.”

“And there's not enough of it.” He winced when she put an arm around him and helped him to his feet.

“I could bring the food in here. That would be easier.”

“I'd rather eat in the kitchen. I'd like to be away from a bed for a minute or two.” He walked beside her, getting steadier the longer they went. She helped him settle on a stool and he carefully exhaled. “I heard the music playing when we walked inside the lodge. I can't dip you today. My dance moves are busted.”

Harmony shook her head. “You don't need moves. I just enjoy your company.”

Brody's chest swelled, and he dug into his meal.

W
hen they finished eating, Harmony helped Brody back to his room. They walked slowly because he tired so quickly.

“I'm not going to make it very late tonight,” he said. “Can you help me change into my pajamas?”

She eyed his cast and sling. “I'll try.”

His lips quirking, he pointed to the ragged edge of his left sleeve. “Ian had to cut it to slip over my cast. And you know how to unzip men's pants.”

“Like this?” She undid the button on his jeans and slid down his zipper. She wriggled them past his hips and let them drop to the floor. “Step out of them,” she told him.

She clasped his right elbow to help him balance as he kicked them out of the way. Then she turned her attention to his sweater. Carefully, she worked him out of its sleeves and pulled it over his head. The T-shirt he wore under it came next. And then she almost cried, so much of Brody's beautiful body was bruised. But when she glanced at his face, Brody wasn't thinking about bruises or fractures. His gaze dared her to keep going.

She gave him an impudent grin and worked her fingers under the elastic of his underwear. Then she slowly lowered them, happy to see that Brody was enjoying himself. His cock stood at full attention. She gave it a few loving strokes, and Brody's breath hitched, then he coughed and groaned.

She immediately bent to help him pull on his pajama bottoms. “Sorry, boy, but you'd better stay at ease for a while.” She stretched the hell out of his left T-shirt sleeve and pulled the loose shirt over his head.

Brody let out a frustrated sigh. “Damn it, I thought I could work the sympathy angle.”

She laughed. “Good try, but you're not up for it.”

“I was up, but these damn ribs got in the way.”

“You're damaged goods right now. Be nice to yourself.”

He grinned. “I like it better when you're nice to me.”

Shaking her head, she settled him in his bed and propped enough pillows behind him so that he could watch TV comfortably. He patted the bed next to him. “I recorded more HGTV. Are you up for it?”

“Do you want popcorn? Something to drink?”

He shook his head. “I'm okay.”

“I'll get you water and your pills in case you get tired and want to fall asleep.” When she had everything within reaching distance, she settled on the bed next to him, and he started his shows. After a new
Fixer Upper
, he said, “You always go for cozy with a French country feel.”

“And as long as it has a big kitchen and granite counters, you're happy.”

“We could be compatible.” He did his best to stay awake for the next show, but Harmony finally shook her head.

“Time for your pills and sleep.” She got him all settled and started for the door, then turned around and frowned. “If you need something, I won't hear you on the third floor.”

He sighed. “Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I can crawl to the bathroom if I need to.”

Damn, that was good. He was working every angle. “I didn't know you had such a flare for the dramatic.”

He cocked his head. “Did it work? Are you worried about me?”

“Yeah, you did a pretty decent job.”

“I have a king-sized bed.” His gaze never left her face.

“Hell, you've come to my bed. It's my turn to come to yours.”

His grin was too big, too satisfied. The man was milking this for all it was worth. But how much could she complain about sleeping with Brody? It was a luxury she might as well enjoy.

He drifted off first, and she listened to the steady rhythm of his breaths. He'd scooted her to the left side of his bed, so that he could spoon against her, lying on his right side. His cast rested on her hip. Being draped in Brody felt pretty damned good.

She didn't realize she'd fallen asleep, too, until his alarm went off early in the morning. She couldn't move to hit the stupid button. His arm was draped over her, and his body was pressed against her.

He grumbled and flinched when he rolled to turn off the clock and hissed when he lay back down. She rolled to face him, a little put out. “What are you thinking, that you're going to go help Ian with the suites?”

He studied her intently and ran a finger down her cheek. “You look so pretty in the morning.”

She blinked, taken aback. She was far from lovely with her hair askew, her face unwashed, and her teeth unbrushed. She shook her head. “The meds are messing with you.”

He chuckled, then pressed a hand to his ribs. “No,
you're
messing with me, and I like it.”

She stared. “It's been too long since you've been with someone. Your forty-year-old hormones are kicking in and you need to nest.”

“Like a big wren house? Should I start gathering twigs?”

She slid out from under the blankets and began to dress. “You're ready for a wife and kids.” And when he found them, it would kill her.

He tried to push himself up on one elbow, gritted his teeth, and collapsed. She crossed to his side of the bed and helped him sit. “You never told me why you set your alarm.”

“Because I don't want my brother and sister to come flying into the lodge and hurry in here to check on me. Bridget's not helping me take my morning shower.”

She got his point. She brought him his pills and started the shower water. She wrapped his cast in a plastic bag and sealed it, then removed the tape holding his ribs. Poor man. Bruises, bruises everywhere. She bit her lip when he tried to step over the side of the bathtub. Good lord, he was a prime candidate for a fall. Stripping out of the clothes she'd just put on, she climbed in with him and helped him balance. He had trouble washing with just his right hand, so she scrubbed his back and legs.

“I could learn to like this,” he said.

She smacked his hard fanny. “I bet you could. Maybe you shouldn't marry, just surround yourself with concubines to do your bidding.”

“Nah, too many women, too many headaches.”

She helped him out of the shower and dried him off, then rewrapped his ribs and got him dressed. After she pulled on her clothes, too, Brody grabbed her with his right arm, pulled her to him, and gave her a hot, thorough kiss. “Thanks for everything.”

She couldn't talk. Her breath and voice had left her. Her legs were as unsteady as his. Instead, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Then she glanced at the clock. Almost nine. She heard Ian's truck pull to the front door to drop Bridget off. Heaven help her. “Gotta go!” And she raced for the stairs.

H
armony wiped a tear from her cheek. She reached for a Kleenex and stared at her laptop in disbelief. Luxar had almost died, fighting Torrid. He defeated the evil vampire, but Torrid nearly ripped out his throat during the battle. Serifina blasted the last of the enemy army, then fell on her knees beside Luxar's body. She pressed her hands to his chest and poured healing magic into him. When he grew a little more stable, she and her fellow witches took him to his fortress, and Serifina stayed to nurse him.

Vampires heal, but some wounds took longer than others. Still, Serifina was worried. Luxar's were taking longer than they should. Had he come in contact with silver during the fight? Had some entered his body, lingering to poison him, so that he couldn't heal properly? She was about to call in more expert help when she went to his room in the middle of the day to check on him. He should have been sleeping, but when she cracked the door, he wasn't there.

Her heart missed a beat. Had someone crept into his fortress and kidnapped him while he was weak? In stockinged feet, she hurried down the hallway, determined to call her coven together to find him, only to see him dashing about from the kitchen to the dining hall to his cavernous living room. She started down the stairs and he glanced up and saw her. He froze where he was and looked sheepish.

Hands on her hips, she faced him.

“I don't want you to leave. You'd never desert me when I needed you, so I pretended . . .” He stumbled to a halt. “I want you here with me always.”

He was shameful. He'd tricked her to make her stay, but she discovered she didn't want to go. She walked into his open arms instead. He lifted her and carried her to his room. Fade out.

Harmony sniffled. She loved happy-ever-after. Luxar and Serifina were perfect for each other. She saved her work and loaded it onto a flash drive, the first draft of her novel finished. She'd rushed the last fifty pages, so she needed to go back and tweak them, but she was happy with herself. At home, she'd pour herself a glass of champagne, and after the champagne, she'd go to a bar and pick up a nice guy to commemorate the end of another story.

She looked out her window and blinked against the bright sunshine, reflecting off the snow. If Brody were in fit form, he'd help her celebrate. She smiled. He was good at that. This time, though, she'd have to settle for champagne and maybe a decadent dessert. She could go to Chase's bar, and he'd stand in for the night, but that didn't appeal to her. If she couldn't have Brody, she'd rather do without.

Her cell sang out “Oh, baby, baby . . .” and she picked it up. “Yes?”

Brody's deep voice said, “Everyone's here for lunch but you.”

She looked at the clock. “Sorry. I'm in the middle of a big scene.” If Bridget was there, she'd try to avoid her. “I'll grab a peanut butter sandwich later.”

He sounded patient. “You're just trying to dodge Bridget. She's promised to be on her best behavior if you come down. We'll wait for you.”

“No, really . . .” But she was talking to dead air. He'd hung up. With a sigh, she hurried to wash her face and brush her teeth, then ran down. She wasn't some teenager whose parents could bully her into putting on her best manners for their guests. Her hair had dried funny after showering with Brody, and she didn't have on any makeup. She walked into the dining room, dropped onto the chair opposite him, and gave him a sour look.

He laughed, then clutched his ribs. “I wish you'd quit doing that.”

“Serves you right.” She glanced at the sandwich on her plate, and her mood changed. “Philly cheese steak. One of my favorites.”

Paula reached for hers. “Good, eat up. We don't want to listen to you two bicker.”

Bridget listened to them with frank curiosity. “Do you two always talk to Brody like that?”

Ian nodded. “Men are outnumbered around here. We take a beating. Whoever called women the gentle sex didn't live with any.”

“Poor you.” Bridget leaned toward Harmony, intrigued. “Ian says that you've been cooking for Tessa every night since she's been sick with the baby.”

Her mouth full of cheese steak, Harmony nodded.

Brody asked, “What are we making tonight?”

“You?” Bridget stared. “You don't cook.”

Brody's tone turned defensive. “I'm not stupid enough to stay in the kitchen with you and Maeve. You'd criticize everything I did.”

Bridget pursed her lips, then nodded. “That's fair. How have his meals turned out, Ian?”

“Since Harmony's the cook, and Brody does exactly what she tells him, it's been great.”

“And he listens to her?” Bridget ogled her oldest brother.

“I have to, or I don't eat.”

Bridget threw back her head and laughed. “So what are you making for us tonight?”

Brody's gaze turned to Harmony. She shrugged. “The thing is, we haven't gone back to the store. That's why I had to make frittatas last night. We're running out of everything.”

Brody's face lit with excitement. “Do you have time to go this afternoon? After you finish writing your scene?”

Harmony could feel a blush tinge her cheeks when Bridget turned to listen to her answer. The scene had been a white lie. “The writing can wait, but can you drive?”

“No, but you can. We'll take your Jeep.”

“Maybe your sister would like to go with you and help you cook tonight.”

Bridget shook her head. “Nope, won't mind missing that at all.”

Ian shook his head, too. “Luther and I are installing a kitchen in the second suite.”

Paula shrugged. “Don't look at me. I'm on vacation.”

Harmony frowned at Brody. If she said she needed writing time, he'd give it to her, but why not pamper him a little more? If it made him happy to traipse around a grocery store, why not? “What are you hungry for?”

“Can you make salmon?” Ian's tone was pleading. “I love it, and I haven't had it for a while.”

“No problem. I make it once a month for James.” When everyone whirled to stare at her, Harmony put a hand to her throat in surprise. “He's my next door neighbor. He usually gets Meals on Wheels, but I like to treat him once in a while.”

Brody's shoulders relaxed. He gave her an odd look. “Not many people would do that. It's nice.”

“I enjoy it. He's an ornery old coot. Fun to listen to.”

Bridget finished her sandwich and leaned back in her chair, looking satisfied.

“Good, you're done.” Ian started gathering plates to take to the kitchen. “Luther and I can use your help. We're finishing suite two today. You get to be our go-fer.”

She didn't look thrilled. “That means I hand you things, right?”

“You got it, the fetch-and-carry girl.”

“I'll help Brody get bundled up, then I'll be there.”

While Bridget helped Brody, Harmony ran to her room to get her purse. Glancing in a mirror, she reached for a ponytail holder. Her hair looked like she'd stuck her finger in an electric socket, so she scraped it into an elastic band.

Good enough. She ran down the stairs and went to get the Jeep. Pulling it as close to the front door as possible, she hurried to open the passenger door for Brody.

Bridget helped him settle, then stared at her brother as though he'd sprouted orange spots. “You really enjoy shopping for groceries?”

He fidgeted. “I have the time now. I don't when I run the business.”

She patted his thigh. “Well, go have fun then. Honk when you get back, and Ian and I will help carry in groceries.”

Harmony drove slower than usual on her way to town. Her Jeep was dependable, but it didn't have the smooth ride of Brody's SUV. She didn't want to jostle his ribs any more than she had to. When she tried to hold his elbow when they crossed the parking lot, he pulled away from her.

“I'm getting stronger all the time. I can walk.”

“If you fall on your ass on a slick spot, I'm going to step over you.”

He grinned. “You would, too, and I'd deserve it.” He held out his elbow for her.

They bickered most of their way through the store. Brody wanted to buy enough to stock a hunting cabin until the spring thaw. Harmony wanted enough for two weeks. They compromised on more than Harmony knew they needed, but enough to make Brody happy. If they didn't use everything, someone would.

The owner's son, Mark, insisted on helping them load the groceries into Harmony's Jeep. “Grams told us about your accident. You got off easy with a broken arm and messed-up ribs. That box truck driver is a menace.”

When they got back to the lodge, Harmony beeped her horn and helped Brody to the front door. He grumbled about not being able to carry things, so she knew he was starting to feel better.

“We could hang plastic bags on your cast,” she said, teasing him.

“I've seen a yoke for oxen at the antique shop in town,” Ian said. “We could strap that on his shoulders and load him up.”

“Very funny.” Brody glowered at both of them. “I'll be in the kitchen. At least, I can put things away.”

Bridget came to help them, and pretty soon, all of the groceries were in the house. Harmony parked her Jeep, then went to join the others.

Bridget was happily giving Brody grief. “Are you stocking up for the apocalypse? We could survive for months if we had to.”

“We bought this much last time,” Brody argued, “and the cupboards are bare. Maybe you underfeed your family, but we like decent meals.”

Harmony listened to Ian and Brody banter with their sister, enjoying how comfortable they were with each other. She'd spent her childhood staying out of her brother's way. Her family didn't banter. Their jibes were lethal. There were only a few items to finish when Brody glanced at the clock.

“I have to go get Aiden and Bailey. It's almost story time.”

Harmony put out a hand to stop him. “Paula's going to start reading to them. She said we'd be busy enough.”

Brody glanced out the door, across the lobby, to the east wing and Paula's apartment. “Were the kids all right with that?”

Bridget stared at her brother as though he were a stranger. “Story time? What the hell is that?”

“Harmony reads Harry Potter to Paula's kids every day at five.”

“Did you take your nap towel and stay for story time, too?” Bridget asked.

“You know I like being around kids.”

Bridget turned to Harmony. “You must be a kid person, too.”

“No, not really.” She did her best to avoid her friends' babies and toddlers.

“But you like to cook and spend time with kids?” Bridget looked confused.

Hell, Harmony was confused, too. Who
was
she anymore? She didn't even know herself lately. She was turning into a freak, someone she didn't know. At home, she cooked a few times a month, not every day. She saw her friends once a week and only paid the guy who delivered take-out the rest of the time. She felt like she was spinning out of control. “I have to go. I have a couple of things I need to get done before I start supper.”

She felt Bridget's surprised stare follow her flight from the room. She dashed up the stairs and slammed the door behind her. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Panic clogged her throat, and she fought it down. What was wrong with her? Did country air turn a person into a fifties icon—the common-sense wife in
Father Knows Best
? How did she get so attached to Aiden and Bailey? How did she fall for Brody? Because, all of a sudden, she realized that's what had happened. She loved Brody. How dumb was that?

She walked to the desk and glanced out the window. The sun still shone, bright and cold. She needed fresh air. When something bothered her in the city, she went for a walk. She left her room and crept down the hallway. Voices drifted from the last suite, out of sight. She grabbed her coat and boots, bundled up, and left the lodge.

Exercise helped. Her whirring thoughts slowly settled to match the rhythm of her footsteps. Things came into perspective. She loved Brody. She knew that now, but regardless of what the songs claimed, love wasn't a cure-all. Love often wasn't enough. Brody had loved Cecily when he married her, but that didn't make the marriage work. Still, how bad could it be to be married to Brody? She liked everything about him. But what they had here was an idyll—far different from everyday life. She couldn't base a decision on that.

The cold seeped through her many layers of fabric and she shivered. Time to turn around and head back to the lodge. When she stomped the snow off her boots and looked up, Brody was standing in his doorway, watching her.

“Time to start cooking?” he asked.

She nodded, hanging up the rest of her things.

“I thought you might jump in your Jeep and run away.”

“And let you ruin Ian's salmon? I like your brother more than that.”

He didn't smile. “Don't be scared, Harmy. Trust yourself.”

She turned to avoid his gaze. He understood her too well. Squaring her shoulders, she started to the kitchen. “Are you going to help, or are you going to use your broken arm as an excuse to play hooky?”

He grimaced. “You're a cruel taskmaster. You know that, don't you?”

“I never said I was nice.” She took out a baking pan, and he loaded the stainless steel counter with ingredients to make a salad. While she seasoned the fish, she watched him try to slice carrots with his right hand.

“Hold up.” She came to take the knife from him. “You're going to lose a finger. You can't hold the vegetables in place with your sling. It's not working.”