Seeing is Believing (10 page)

If the girls were in bed, would she and Brady have a repeat of the night before? It wasn’t appropriate. At all. She knew that. She needed to resist. Or discourage. Or not throw herself at him. But it was going to be hard given how unnerved she’d felt when something or someone had yanked her hair so hard she’d had tears spring up in her eyes. What she really wanted was to feel Brady’s arms around her again.

She took a deep breath and gathered her resolve. “When you buy a chocolate factory, let me know. Otherwise, it’s bedtime for the twins.”

Brady laughed. “She’s a tough one,” he told Lilly.

“Nah,” was Lilly’s opinion. “Piper is the best babysitter on the planet.”

Kids had always liked her. Piper smiled, genuinely touched. “Thanks.”

“I babysat Piper once when she wasn’t much older than you,” Brady told her.

“Really? You must be
old
.”

Too old for her. That was what Piper needed to remember. She needed to repeat to herself ten times in a row that a man like Brady, who dated sophisticated city women, was not going to be interested in a small-town girl like her, who had nothing of interest to say to the living or the dead.

But that wasn’t exactly what she was thinking as she went up the narrow wood steps to the second floor of the creaky old Victorian house.

What she was thinking was that she wanted to indulge in a little nonsense herself. The naked kind. Again and again.

Emily was standing at the top of the stairs, looking a lot more terrified than her sister had. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, honey. Everything is fine.” Piper swept her into a hug, enjoying the tight grip of Emily’s warm arms around her middle. Family meant the world to her, even convoluted relations like these girls. “Your cousin Brady is here for a visit. It was a surprise for your mom and dad, only Brady didn’t count on the surprise being that your parents aren’t home.”

When she paused to reflect on it again, it was interesting that Brady had chosen to come home after being laid off, given that he hadn’t done so in a decade.

It wasn’t Shelby’s cooking that had drawn him back, that was for certain. Piper had tried her pot roast on more than one occasion and it never improved.

But it must have been something other than a deep desire to see cornfields and old women with perms.

“Oh. So why’d you scream?” Emily asked.

“I saw a spider.” Which was mostly true. She had seen one the night before. A shiver crawled up her spine when she remembered standing there in front of Brady, knowing he was going to kiss her, desiring his lips on hers with a fervency that was palpable, alive, when suddenly her head had snapped back, her hair tugged so hard she’d felt the sting of all her nerve endings in her scalp.

“I hate spiders.”

“Me, too. Now let’s say hi to your cousin, then it’s back to bed, little lady.”

“We’re coming up,” Brady said, Lilly hoisted on his back. They bounded up the stairs, he making sure to give her as much bounce as possible, she squealing with delight as she sailed up, then smacked down onto him with each step. “Hey, Emily, how goes it?”

“What do you mean?” Emily gave him a suspicious look.

Brady laughed. “We have Piper Junior here. Emily, I just meant how are you?”

Piper turned away from Brady and Lilly, his words confusing her. She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but it sure didn’t sound like any sort of compliment.

“I’m tired,” Emily told him.

“Into bed.” Piper ushered her back to her twin bed, her bedding a soft pale pink in contrast to Lilly’s in-your-face electric purple with a zebra accent. Maybe Emily
was
like her. Piper worked hard to keep her life and her surroundings calm, peaceful. And maybe that was boring. In fact, she knew it was boring, but it was what it was and she couldn’t change, not for anyone and certainly not for a man who wouldn’t be content to stay put. He was restless. If you nailed Brady’s foot to the floor, he would just run in circles.

His nature and her nature were two different things and there wasn’t any point in listening to her body. It was like a dog who’d just sat up and started panting, but there wasn’t any treat being offered. Not really. He might have caved the night before, and he might cave again, but it was pointless. Most likely he didn’t really see her as much more than the weird little kid she’d been.

Maybe it wouldn’t be as hard to resist sleeping with him again as she’d thought.

Brady dumped Lilly onto her bed and both girls crawled under the sheets, yawning.

“What do you think Mom and Dad are doing right now?” Emily asked innocently, obviously missing them just a little.

Brady snorted. “I can think of a thing or two.”

Piper shot him a warning look. It figured his thoughts would go there. She didn’t disagree with him. She was pretty darn sure that Shelby and Boston weren’t in Cincinnati for the culture and food but for the hotel room with no small children interrupting them. But the kids didn’t need to know about their parents knocking boots. “They’re probably eating room service and watching TV in bed. And missing you.”

Giving each of them a kiss on the forehead, she moved to the door, shooing Brady out into the hallway. Making sure the night-light was still on, she clicked off the overhead light and closed the door softly. Feeling the need to remind him what was appropriate in front of little girls who soaked up everything he said, she faced Brady in the dark hallway.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, grinning, before she could even speak. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” She knew exactly what he meant and it bothered her that she was so easy to read.

“That look of total disapproval.” He rested his hands on her waist. “It’s not going to prevent me from kissing you.”

Be strong. “Why would you kiss me?” she asked, intending it to sound disapproving like he clearly expected. Instead, it sounded breathy and flirty.

“Because you taste delicious.”

She tried to stand her ground, even as her body swayed towards his. “I shouldn’t have done what I did last night. With the girls here . . . It was wrong. Way too risky.”

“But we didn’t get caught.” He kissed her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. “Let’s go make out on the sofa and not get caught tonight either.”

Piper wanted to. She wanted to melt against him and have his lips make her forget everything around her, all her responsibilities, all her worries, all her fears. “Just kissing,” she said, which was a lame attempt at standing her ground. Way to not be a slut.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Sure thing.” He sounded like he thought that was about as likely as recreational space travel. “But if you start taking your clothes off, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

She would not blush. She just wouldn’t. She did. Damn it. What was she supposed to say to that? So she just went with honesty. “I would love to take my clothes off for you again.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat and he nipped her ear.

“But not here, not tonight.” She wanted to ask, suggest, imply that the blue house on Swallow might be a better venue for their activities, but she couldn’t force the words out. Not even in a dark hallway after she’d already had sex with him.

Moving away from him, she started down the stairs, annoyed with herself. Why couldn’t she just say what she wanted? She’d already thrown it all out there. It wasn’t like the man hadn’t figured out she had the hots for him. Why was suggesting they do it again so shocking? He’d already suggested it himself.

It was because she had been trained from an early age not to ask for anything. She knew that. She’d worked to erase that particular remnant of her childhood but those fears and habits were like cobwebs that clung to your skin. You could shake and they didn’t go anywhere. You could use your other hand to scrape them off and they would just transfer to the clean hand, an annoying sticky mess that might break into smaller pieces but was still there until you blasted it off under the faucet. Piper hadn’t figured out how to turn the faucet on yet to wash off her childhood. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure she should.

But then she found herself mute, unable to ask for what she wanted, needed, and it frustrated the hell out of her.

Asking or suggesting the rental house meant she had expectations beyond tonight, and she was afraid to have expectations.

“Well, there’s always the blue house,” Brady said as he followed her down the stairs, his voice a warm promise. “It will be empty except for you and me.”

“True.” Now that he had said it first, all her anxiety instantly disappeared, consumed by desire. What had she been worried about? He clearly wanted to have sex with her as much as she did with him. Last night proved it. Now proved it all over again. “Swallow Street.” She darted a glance back at him on the stairs as she neared the bottom of the staircase. “Ironic-sounding name, don’t you think?”

His jaw dropped. “Holy shit. You’re going to kill me.”

She wasn’t sure where that bit of flirt had come from. But it had popped into her head, and so she’d said it. Not that she’d ever swallowed, but there was always a first time for everything. The look of astonishment on his face amused her.

Looking back at him, Piper never saw it coming. As she hit the landing at the bottom of the stairs, her body was facing the parlor, her head turned to Brady. So when something slammed into her head, the pain was so unexpected, she felt her knees buckle. The smell of blood filled her nostrils and she grabbed onto the railing, confused and woozy.

“What the fuck?” Brady asked.

Grabbing her temple, Piper fought back a wave of nausea and tried to figure out what had hit her.

It was a candlestick, now lying on the floor in two glass pieces.

Chapter Seven

THE DOG CAME RUSHING INTO THE ENTRYWAY, BARKING
at the wall as Brady tried to retrieve his gut from his throat and wrap his arm around Piper, who looked like she was fighting the urge to faint dead away. Jesus Christ. A fucking candlestick had lobbed her in the head.

But while she was bleeding a bit above her left eye, it was a small cut. She was more scared than injured, so Brady pulled her against him in a lean, taking her weight. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“She threw a candlestick at me.” Piper’s voice shook. “They’ve never thrown anything at me. Ever. And she pulled my hair earlier.”

“Maybe they just don’t like someone being here when Boston and Shelby aren’t. Maybe they’re trying to protect the girls. A warped sense of loyalty or something.” Brady led her into the kitchen, where he sat her down in a chair and pressed her wineglass into her hands. But then immediately, he realized her hands were shaking too badly to hold it without sloshing liquid all over her sundress, so he took it back and held it to her lips. “Have a sip.”

“My feelings are hurt,” she said after obligingly taking a drink. “I know that sounds stupid, but I always thought that the ghosts liked me. That they wanted to show themselves, talk to me because I could understand them, have sympathy for them. You know, like an outcast kind of thing.”

Brady pretty much sucked when it came to comforting anyone. He liked to be left the hell alone, or distracted with a workout or a trip to the microbrewery, when he was feeling bad. So he usually offered the same to someone when she was upset. Yet Piper wasn’t the kind of girl who would pump iron to improve her mood. She was different, and Brady found himself sitting in a chair at the ancient kitchen table, pulling her out of hers and onto his lap, where she snuggled up against him without hesitation. Without thought or warning, his hand reached up and stroked that glorious hair.

“Maybe she meant to hit me, not you. Think about it. Didn’t Rachel kill her fiancé with a candlestick? And he had my name, I might add. Plus I was flirting with you. Maybe it offended her.” That actually made more sense than anything else. Why would a spirit suddenly take a hit out on Piper? From what he could tell, everyone liked Piper. People defended Piper. They didn’t hit her.

“I didn’t see anything both times tonight, no sign of her. Normally I see her. I can sense her. Last night, after you left my room, Rachel stood at the foot of the bed for hours.”

Well, that was damn creepy. Brady wondered if Rachel had been there when they’d been getting busy. Ghosts seemed to have zero respect for privacy. Not that he could blame anyone for wanting to see Piper naked, dead or not. “She didn’t say anything?”

“No.”

“And you’ve been seeing her since you were a kid?”

“Yes.”

Brady shifted, the weight of Piper in his lap oddly comforting. He wasn’t even the one who needed comforting, yet there it was. A sense of contentment stealing over him. Like nights cuddling in a cozy kitchen weren’t a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all. He wiped the little streak of blood that still marred her forehead, wanting its glaring color gone from her beautiful skin. The cut was tiny but it still twisted his gut to see it, and he wiped her blood on his jeans.

“I think maybe we need to look a little more deeply into what happened, Piper. I think Rachel is trying to tell you something.”

“What—that she hates me?” Piper asked, her voice glum.

Brady laughed. “I don’t think it’s personal, honey. I just suspect she’s pissed that she’s stuck here. And hell, maybe she didn’t kill old Brady. Maybe that’s what she’s trying to tell you.”

“I didn’t ask to be able to see ghosts.”

“And I didn’t ask to be laid off. It just is what it is.”

Piper sat up and studied him so intently he fought the urge to look away. To crack a joke. Run for the nearest highway. His normal tactics when someone tried to ferret out his emotions or ask him for an honest answer. He forced himself to stay put, to keep his mouth shut, to wait to hear what Piper had to say.

“Why did you stop painting?” she asked.

Because it was Piper, and because she really wanted to know, Brady found himself telling her the truth. “Because it hurt too much. To see something in my head and then produce a pale, watery version of that vision. It was like being disappointed over and over again, like the Coyote always trying to catch the Road Runner. I got tired of smacking into a wall repeatedly.”

“I understand,” she said, and he knew she did. “But we’re usually our harshest critics.”

He was definitely hard on himself. But then again, his art professors hadn’t exactly wrapped him in fluffy clouds of praise either. “Are you your harshest critic?” Though he honestly couldn’t see what anyone could criticize about Piper Tucker, loyal daughter, lover of children and animals.

“Yes, I probably am. Though it would seem the spirits are none too pleased with me tonight.”

“Maybe Rachel is just jealous that you’re alive and she’s dead.” Brady imagined it would suck with a capital S to just have to float around and watch people living. He wouldn’t be all that happy about it himself, especially if there were no erections in the afterlife.

He was also glad that she didn’t ask him anything else, for a better explanation, or to urge him to take up a paintbrush again. Encouraging people got on his nerves. If he wanted to do something, he would, plain and simple, and no amount of lip from another person was going to change that.

“I feel really sad for her,” Piper said. “Regardless of what she did or didn’t do, no one is denying that her fiancé was unfaithful. That must have hurt.”

“Yeah. Cheating sucks.” He’d never understood it himself. “If you’re not fully in a relationship, you should get out. It’s the right thing to do. But people are selfish. They want everything. A loving spouse and a flirt buddy. It’s all about ego.” Which was why he’d never gotten married. He knew himself. He had a short attention span when it came to women and he never wanted to be that douche bag of a husband who was eyeing every big-breasted waitress who served him.

“I had a boyfriend whose ego needed its own zip code,” Piper said softly. “It ruined my sophomore year in college.”

“That’s sucks. I’m sorry. At least it was only a year and not a lifetime.” Though Brady kind of wanted to find the guy and punch him in the face for making Piper miserable.

Piper climbed off his lap and stood, disappointing him. He liked the way she felt all up against him, her ass resting on his thighs, her breasts pressing against his chest, her arms wrapped around his waist.

“At least he never cheated. Or not that I know of. But he was the kind who was so into himself, he had to tear down other people, including me. I’m surprised I found the nerve to break up with him,” she said. “Sometimes I have a hard time saying what I want.”

Brady reached out and took her small, delicate hand into his. “You didn’t seem to have a problem last night.” For which he was very grateful.

“But I still didn’t use words. I wish I could figure out how to unstick my tongue.”

He appreciated how honest she was being. It made him feel less of an ass for sharing his feelings about his art. “Tell me what you want right now.” If she didn’t want to talk, he could think of a thing or two to do with her tongue.

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

“Start with the first thing that comes to mind.”

“I want to make out on the couch, like you suggested.”

He could get on board with that. “Done.”

She laughed, and it was the best thing he’d heard all day. “But you know we can’t . . . you know, because of the girls.”

Her inability to say “sex” amused him. “What—play loud music? Make popcorn? Watch a Disney movie marathon?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. We can’t. So maybe we shouldn’t get started on something we, uh, can’t finish.”

“Are you questioning my self-control?” Which she probably had a good reason to, because he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t try to charm her out of her panties if he got started on kissing her and feeling those curves up against him.

“No. I’m questioning mine.”

Brady watched her take a sip of her wine, leaning against the kitchen counter, her cleavage eye level with him, a hint at the glorious breasts he really wanted to worship in full detail. She had no idea what she did to him. That she was the most intriguing mix of innocent and direct, shy and sensual. She was the kind of woman who acted like what his stepmother would call a lady. She didn’t slam other women or snarl at her parents or a boyfriend. She would never be rude to a sales associate or stiff the waitress. Yet she was clearly a woman who wanted to explore her sexuality, who was comfortable with her body.

It was a combination that appealed to him on some deep, intrinsic level, sent a rush of desire through him so aggressive that just that little glance at her chest bursting out of her sundress and hearing her words had his cock rising and ready to salute.

“Then there’s no hope for me,” he told her. “So why don’t I walk you to your room before we both do something you’ll regret.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “You wouldn’t regret it?”

“I seriously doubt it. But I’m not as good of a person as you are.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone, if you asked them, but I don’t think that’s necessary. Let’s just say I’m not the most selfless guy you’re going to meet, and you can bet the farm on that.” He wasn’t fishing for compliments. He was just being honest. He was no blue-ribbon prize. Maybe a consolation prize, but even more likely he was a participation prize. Thanks for showing up; you get a restless, selfish, jobless guy. What kept him from being a booby prize altogether was that he was good in bed. Everyone had at least one talent, and he supposed that was his.

Piper didn’t argue with him. But neither did she agree. She just put the two-thirds-full bottle of wine on top of the refrigerator and drained her glass, which she then rinsed out, like she knew he wasn’t the kind who could be convinced with a few words. “Are you done with your wine?”

He stood up. “Yes.” There were just a few drops clinging to the bottom of the glass. Before he could blink, or think too long about how amazing it would taste to dribble that red wine on her nipples and suck them into tight peaks, Piper had both glasses washed and turned upside down on a dish towel.

“I think you have low self-esteem,” she told him, surprising the crap out of him. “And that’s unfortunate because I’m sure you have a lot to offer to the people in your life.”

Brady stared at her for a second, wondering whether he should be offended. But he couldn’t be. He just started laughing. “No one has ever accused me of having low self-esteem. I think that’s a first. It doesn’t sound nearly as sexy as being selfish does.”

“I don’t suppose so.”

“I’m bringing sexy back, that’s for sure. I’m unemployed and I have low self-esteem.” God, that killed him. There was one thing he wasn’t, and that was displeased with himself. Piper clearly couldn’t believe that someone was just hardwired to be selfish, yet wasn’t a total dick. But he figured that summed up the majority of people.

Piper tucked her hair behind her ear. “Now I have all these dumb slogans about being sexy running through my head.”

“Like what? Selfish is the new sexy?”

“Sexy is saving a whale.”

Now he really laughed. That was an awful slogan. He wouldn’t have thought of Piper as being funny, necessarily, but she had a dry wit that entertained him. “That it is. Come on, you whale saver, let’s go to bed.” Before he kissed her and never wanted to stop.

At the top of the stairs, Brady stood in front of Shelby and Boston’s room and tried to resist those big brown eyes staring at him. Piper had her hand on the knob but she didn’t go in the bedroom, and it wasn’t fair that he had to be a better man and walk away. It just seriously wasn’t fair and he sucked at it.

But he forced himself to brush a kiss across her forehead and murmur, “Good night.”

Then he walked across the hall, closed the door behind him, and locked it for his own protection.

What the hell was he doing?

He was starting to really like Piper Tucker—that was what.

Flopping down on Zach’s twin bed, he tried to remember all the reasons why he couldn’t date Piper.

The only one that even came to mind was her father’s fist, and Brady was starting to think he’d risk a black eye for the chance to explore what there might be between them.

Brady groaned into his pillow. Nothing. That was what there was. He was going back to Chicago and she would marry a nice boy who farmed a neighboring plot of land.

That was reality.

The truth stank and so did Zach’s sheets.

* * *

HER STEPFATHER, MARK, HAD HER BY THE ARM AND
was shoving her into the closet. Stay in there until I get back, he said, his eyes bloodshot, his words slurred. Piper fought the panic as the door slammed shut, leaving her in darkness. It was okay. She’d be fine. Anita would keep her company, and once Mark the Butthead left, she could open the door a little. He was too drunk to remember to lock it. She wouldn’t leave the closet, because he could come home at any time, and then she would get caught, and then he would hit her in the face, hard, the way he had when he’d knocked her baby tooth out and the Tooth Fairy never came. When her mom was still alive, the Tooth Fairy came. But now no one seemed to remember that Piper was here. Just Anita.