They continued prepping for lunch and discussed what recipe they should highlight for the show. “I think the chili crusted rack of lamb would be awesome,” she offered.
“I think we should see what we get from Askey’s Farm that week and go from there,” he said as he scraped the cubed squash into a stainless steel pot and covered it with vegetable broth.
“But we need an actual recipe they can post on the web site, we can’t just wing it—”
He caught her around the waist and snuck a kiss that, though brief, was a fierce reminder of how lonely her bed had felt last night.
“I’m not going to let you down.”
There was something in his tone that told her he wasn’t just talking about a recipe. But before she could analyze it further he kissed her again, longer this time, taking her mouth with slow slide of his tongue that her flushed and aching with need.
“I missed you last night,” she breathed when he lifted his mouth from hers.
“And I missed the hell out of you.”
“I guess having Jordan around means my nightly booty calls are on hold for the foreseeable future,” she said, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice.
His mouth stretched into a lazy, promise-filled smile. “Jordan’s sixteen, more than capable of looking out for himself while I come pay
you
a visit.”
Though her body thrilled at the thought of Brady, all tan and naked and stretched across her cream and gold sheets, she hesitated. “But what will you tell him?’
“That I’m going out. I don’t owe him an explanation.”
Or anyone else
for that matter, she thought with shot of irritation that she quickly shoved aside. “Then I guess I’ll see you at my place.”
###
I missed you last night.
He told himself not to read too much into it, but those five words, uttered in Molly’s husky whisper, had Brady hard as a rock and over the fucking moon for the rest of the day.
After the happy hour crowd cleared out, he packed up dinner makings for himself and Jordan and left Molly and Ellie to close up.
The look Molly gave him as he left had him humming with anticipation all the way home. He figured he’d cook dinner, maybe watch some TV with Jordan so he didn’t feel totally abandoned, and be over at Molly’s no later than nine thirty.
As he parked his truck and walked up to his front door, he imagined her, waiting for him in her bed. All soft sheets and softer skin—
His thoughts halted like a needle scraping across a record at the sight that greeted him when he pushed open the door.
Jordan was sprawled on the couch in front of the blaring TV tuned into some cartoon featuring a creepy old man and a talking dragon. His kitchen looked like it had been ransacked by raccoons. An empty pack of lunch meat sat on the counter next to a bag of bread that had a couple pieces spilling out of it, and a jar of mayonnaise with the lid off and the knife still in it.
Next to that was an open gallon of milk and a box of cereal that had tipped over to spill its contents on the floor.
The small table in front of Jordan held an empty bag of barbecue potato chips and a half eaten bowl of cereal left to congeal in its milk.
“What the fuck is going on in here?” he hollered as he dumped the dinner makings on the counter and stomped over to the couch, which he now saw was covered in potato chip crumbs and what looked like a smear of mayo.
Jordan sat bolt upright. “You said I should help myself to whatever I wanted.”
“I didn’t say you could eat me out of house and home and trash the goddamn place in the process.”
“I’ll clean it up.” At least Jordan had the grace to look guilty as he pushed himself up from the couch, Brady thought.
It was only when he got a closer look at his nephew that he noticed the red-rimmed eyes and the unmistakable skunky aroma coming off of his clothes and hair.
He snagged Jordan by the collar of his t-shirt when he would have sidled by. “Are you fucking kidding me? You fucking smoked pot in my house?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Don’t you dare lie to me.” Brady said in a low voice that was more menacing than any shout.
Jordan’s eyes dropped to somewhere around Brady’s throat. “I didn’t smoke that much, just a couple of bowls—”
“I don’t give a shit how much or how little. Do you have any idea what would happen if you get caught?”
“It’s not that big a deal. Pot’s legal in some states.”
“It’s not legal in Montana, and even if it were, it’s not for minors,” he said and gave Jordan a rough shake before releasing his collar.
“You gonna narc me out?” Jordan said, the jut of his chin and his defiant stare making Brady feel like he was staring at his own reflection, minus sixteen years.
“Maybe I should. Because it sure as shit looks like I wasted my time, paying for that lawyer and keeping you out of juvie not two months ago. Maybe I should just hang you out to dry, if you’re not smart enough to keep yourself straight after all that.”
Jordan’s mouth flattened into a hard line as he held Brady’s stare, trying to keep up his tough facade. But Brady could see the cracks, the slight tremble in his lip, the fear lurking behind the bold stare. The knowledge that if Brady turned him out, there would be nowhere left to go.
That fear pinched at Brady’s heart. Because he’d been there. And only because he’d been that kid, the kid who couldn’t help but fuck up because that was what everyone expected him to do. The kid who desperately wanted something different from his life than what seemed destined for him, but with no idea how to make it happen or any faith that it really could.
Only because he’d been that kid did he soften. “But I’m not going to. Because I know when you’re not acting like an idiot, you’re a smart kid, and you deserve a lot better than the life your mom’s given you so far.”
“So I can stay?” The defiance disappeared, replaced by cautious hope. In that moment Jordan looked so vulnerable Brady was reminded savagely of the sweet little baby who had first captured his heart.
Brady had been only fifteen when Jordan was born. Connie, older than Brady by three years, had been less than enthusiastic about motherhood. She’d leave Jordan at their parents’ house, often for days at a time. And since his parents showed about as much interest in being grandparents as Connie did in being a mom, that meant Brady was often the one getting the baby diapered and fed in the morning while his parents slept off the effects of whatever they’d done the night before.
He’d shake his mom awake before he left for school, offering up a silent prayer to the universe that she’d manage to keep the kid alive until Brady got home that evening.
He’d never been much for kids, especially not babies, but he quickly came to love Jordan’s gummy little grins and the way he’d eagerly stretch his arms out the second Brady walked into the room.
It had broken his heart to leave Jordan behind when he’d left for basic training only a few years later. But Brady knew if he wanted a life different from the one he'd been raised in, he had to get the hell out of dodge.
Since then he’d kept in touch with Jordan as best he could, but he felt no small amount of guilt that he hadn’t been able to be around for most of his nephew’s life.
Now Jordan needed him more than ever, and he wasn’t about to let him down again. “You can stay.”
“Thanks, Unc,” Jordan grinned and started to reach for the TV remote.
“Hold up a second. You can stay, but only if certain conditions are met.”
Jordan let out a resigned sigh. “Like what?”
“First of all, you have to go to school. And when I say go to school, you actually go to school and sit in class—none of this skipping shit that your mom lets you get away with.”
“It’s not like I don’t get the work done,” he said sullenly.
Which was true, and a problem in and of itself. Jordan was the type of kid who was smart enough to keep his grades up without having to work very hard or even attend class. “Anything less than perfect attendance, and you’re out. Got it?”
Jordan nodded, eyes rolling to the back of his head.
“Second, no drinking, no drugs of any kind. And you’re not allowed to trash my house,” he said, waving his hand in the direction of the table littered with empty chip bags. “You’re going to help out around here, and at the restaurant, and pick up after yourself. Starting now.”
Jordan gave another eye roll but shoved himself up from the couch and started picking up his dishes and empty wrappers while Brady started dinner.
As Brady was plating the steaks, his phone buzzed from his pocket signaling an incoming text. It was from Molly.
Can’t wait to see you tonight.
A thrill of anticipation shot through him, crushed as swiftly by a wave of disappointment, knowing he had to cancel. Jordan might have agreed to the rules, but no way Brady was trusting Jordan alone without some hard evidence that he was committed to following them.
He sighed heavily and quickly tapped a reply.
Kills me to do this, but I can’t make it tonight.
Her reply came seconds later.
Something wrong with Jordan?
Nothing I can’t handle. But I’m going to need to keep a close eye on him for a bit.
To that she responded with a frowny face.
Brady wondered if there was an emoticon for blue balls, which was what he would be facing for the foreseeable future.
Chapter 9
Molly waved in greeting as Brady walked into the restaurant, followed by Jordan, as he had been for the last three days. As usual, Jordan had a laptop case slung over his shoulder, which he set up at the bar and connected to the wireless network.
Turned out enrolling Jordan in the high school was not a simple matter of showing up and signing him up, Brady had explained, his jaw clenched in frustration the morning after he’d canceled on her. Turned out you needed things like a birth certificate, vaccination records, not to mention permission from his mother. Given the fact that Connie was still AWOL and all of Jordan’s documents were unaccounted for, Brady had enrolled Jordan in a bunch of online courses so he wouldn’t fall behind once he returned to school, either here or back home.
Brady hadn’t given any more details about what had gone down that night, but whatever it was it required keeping Jordan on a short leash.
In addition to dragging Jordan to work with him every day this week, Brady took him home every evening and, to the best of Molly’s knowledge, stayed there.
Which meant her contact with Brady was limited to working together and a few scalding hot make out sessions whenever they found a moment alone. Though it was torture, Molly never let it get any farther than that, no matter how quick and quiet Brady promised he would be.
“I can do quick but I can’t promise quiet,” Molly had said the day before when he’d pinned her up against the closed office door, kissed her until every nerve was screaming with need as his hands found their way up her shirt to cup and squeeze her breasts. “And I would die if my mom or my sister caught us having sex at work.”
“I’ve already caught your sister and Damon twice,” Brady said as he rained hot, sucking kisses down her neck.
“That’s different, they’re married,” she said, even as her hands tugged his shirt up his back. “They’re supposed to be having sex. We’re not.”
“Sure as hell feels like we’re supposed to,” he grunted as his hand skimmed down her stomach and dipped into her waistband.
“And Jordan’s out there,” she said, desperately clawing for her last shred of common sense. “What if he finds us? What kind of example is that setting?”
“That I have great taste in women?” Brady joked, but slowly eased his hand out of her pants.
Based on the hot look Brady shot her on his way to the kitchen, their involuntary celibacy was killing him as much as it was her.
Odd, she thought as she walked the dining room and helped Janelle set the tables up for lunch service, that she was suddenly so obsessed with sex.
When she and Josh had been together, there had been several long stretches when they’d gone without (probably, as Brady had once pointed out, because Josh was getting it elsewhere), but Molly had never missed it.
Now it was only five days since she’d been with Brady, and she felt like she was going to come out of her skin.
That’s because sex with Brady is like a thousand times better than anything you ever did with Josh.
From the bar, Jordan let out a low curse, snapping her out of her sex-obsessed thoughts. “Everything okay?” Molly said as she headed over.
“Sorry for swearing,” Jordan said sheepishly as he looked over his shoulder. He turned back to the computer. “I just can’t figure out this stupid problem and the help videos aren’t worth shi—uh, squat.”
“What is this? Trigonometry?” She asked as she peered over his shoulder.
“Pre-Calc,” he muttered. “I took trig last year.”
She nodded in appreciation. “You’re only a junior, right? You must be good at math to already be on Pre-Calc.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know how good I am if I can’t even finish the first unit.”
“Do you mind?” she said, indicating the notebook next to him covered in penciled calculations. She took his shrug for an assent and looked over his work. “Ah, here’s the problem,” she said when she spotted his error. “You missed the coefficient on the third indeterminate of the polynomial.”
He reworked the problem and turned to her with a little smile when he got the answer right. Molly smiled back, her heart pinching when she realized this must have been what Brady looked like in high school. “You look so much like your uncle,” she marveled. “You know, when you first showed up, I thought you were his son.”
“I wish,” Jordan said, as he went onto the next problem.
Molly took a seat on the barstool next to him, answering questions and explaining concepts as he worked his way through the rest of the day’s assignment.
“You’re really good at this.”
“Thanks. Math has always kind of been my thing.”
“You don’t look like someone who would be good at math.”