Animal Magnetism, Page 30

  “Again? Christ.” He gave a big sigh. “And the next job?”

  “Maybe, but I’m going offline for a few days.”

  “You’ve been offline for a month.”

  “I need a little bit more time.”

  “And then?”

  “I’ll get back to you.”

  Brady and Twinkles got a hotel room to catch up on some desperately needed sleep, then got up at dusk and once more drove straight through the night. As Sunshine came into view around dawn the next morning, Brady stopped at the 7-Eleven to fortify his nerves for what he was about to do. “Breakfast?” he asked the dog.

  “Arf.”

  “Something with sausage. Got it.” He went inside and loaded up with breakfast burritos, bagels, and donuts.

  “Looks like you’re buying breakfast for a crowd today,” the young woman said. She was the same woman who’d been manning the cash register his very first day in town, when she’d asked him if men really thought of sex 24/7.

  “It’s actually more of a bribe than breakfast,” he said.

  She popped a bubble with her gum and adjusted her purple and black polka-dotted glasses frames. “For Lilah?”

  He’d almost forgotten that there were no secrets in this town.

  “Honey,” she said, leaning on the counter, “I’m going to help you out.” She added a package of donuts and two bags of chips to the stack. “Trust me.” She patted his hand and gave him his total.

  “That can’t be right. It’s not enough,” he said, looking over all the loot in front of him.

  “Oh, the donuts and chips are on the house,” she said, bagging it all up. “You make our Lilah happy, and that’s worth more than the snack food.”

  He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to people knowing his business, but the reality was that here in Sunshine, Lilah was everyone’s business. “Thank you.”

  She nodded and handed him his bag. “But you should know, screw up with her and I’ll never sell you another piece of crap food. Ever. And let me tell you, from one junk-food addict to another? Ever is a damn long time.”

  “Understood,” he said, not telling her he’d already screwed up. Because he was going to do whatever it took to rectify the situation. As he turned to walk out, she tossed in an extra package of donuts.

  “Just in case,” she said.

  In case of what, he wasn’t sure, but he’d take all the help he could get.

  Twenty-Five

  Lilah stood in front of her outside kennels, hose in hand. The duck and the lamb she’d been boarding had left a mess. She was literally elbow deep in things that she didn’t want to think about. It was a very attractive look for her.

  Not.

  Adding to the stress level was the fact that today was the first Saturday of the month. She had only a few minutes before she was due to work at Belle Haven’s monthly animal adoption clinic.

  “My life,” she said to no one in particular, “completely sucks.”

  Because he’d done it.

  He’d left.

  Brady had taken him and Twinkles and her shattered heart, and without even realizing that he had pieces of her with him, he’d gone.

  She hadn’t slept, she hadn’t eaten, and it was all so ridiculous. She’d known he would go.

  But she’d hoped . . .

  The tears that she’d managed to hold at bay clogged her throat and, dammit, fogged up her sunglasses.

  Stupid sunglasses.

  And perfect, now her nose was running.

  She tried to shove her sunglasses to the top of her head with her forearm but succeeded only in making them crooked on her face and she sighed deeply.

  And maybe a tear slipped.

  This was all her own fault. She hadn’t told him she loved him. She hadn’t told him what it would mean for him to stay. She hadn’t let him know.

  The thought brought a few more unwanted tears and further fogged her lens. She couldn’t see a thing. So when the hose hit a corner of one of the kennels and splashed up, it thoroughly drenched her with icy water and God knew what else.

  “Crap!” She dropped the hose and reached out blindly for the towel she’d set on the railing behind her. Except her feet landed in something slippery and down she went.

  For a stunned beat she just sat there on the ground, absorbing how bad every inch of her felt.

  A truck rumbled up the road and she went still because she knew the sound of that truck. Great, and now her mind was playing tricks on her. It had to be Adam or Dell. Or maybe a customer. She sneaked a peek and gasped out loud.

  It was Brady. He’d forgotten something. Dammit. She couldn’t take another good-bye. Keeping her back to the direction of the clearing where he was parking and—oh God—turning off his truck, she scrambled to her feet and grabbed the hose. Must. Look. Busy.

  Even when covered in dirt and gunk.

  No, scratch that. She hosed herself down as fast as she could because no way was she going to let the last view he had of her be like this. Because looking like she’d just been in a wet T-shirt contest was ever so much preferable. Damn, why hadn’t she put on a black T-shirt instead of a white one this morning? Now she looked like she was on spring break in Florida. Or on Girls Gone Wild.

  Eat your heart out, Brady, this is what you’re leaving.

  Shading her eyes from the sun, she aimed the hose at the kennels to look busy, refusing to turn and look at him as he got out of the truck.

  She heard Twinkles’s little paws pounding the ground as he bounded through the open gate to her, butt wriggling happily along with his tail.

  “Aw,” she murmured, hugging him close with her free hand, feeling her throat tighten when he licked her chin. “What did you guys forget, huh?” she murmured, cupping his face. “What are you doing here?”

  “Lilah.”

  Her heart dropped to her toes. Keeping her back to him, she concentrated on hosing out the kennels as if it was brain surgery.

  “Can I come in?” he asked very quietly, pausing at the opened gate.

  He’d never asked before. He bulldozed, quietly demanded, or just did whatever the hell he wanted.

  But now he was asking . . .

  Oh God. She couldn’t do this. She’d gotten used to the fact that he was going, and now he was standing here being sweet and gentle.

  Okay, she hadn’t gotten used to the fact that he was going, and him being sweet and gentle was killing her.

  “Can I come in,” he repeated.

  She shrugged. “The gate’s open.”

  “I don’t mean into the yard, Lilah.”

  No, she really couldn’t do this. She was miserable and she’d lost sight of any positive reasons for him to go. If she had to say good-bye again, she was going to throw herself at him and cling. She nodded, swiping her eyes with her sleeve, probably smearing the last of her mascara while she was at it.

  A big hand pried the hose from her fingers. The water shut off, and then that hand was back, turning her to face him.

  Fingers slid along her jaw and forced her head up. He looked . . . wary. Not something she expected. He was dressed for the job, or so she assumed, in his usual cargoes, boots, and a nondescript button-down with the usual myriad pockets. He was carrying something, but she couldn’t pay attention to that at the moment.

  And if he was trying to intimidate with the solemn expression, the sunglasses were a nice touch.

  Reaching up, she took them off of him.

  He stood still and let her look her fill, his mouth unsmiling. He had a network of fine lines around his eyes, more from the sun than age. His eyes were stark and clear.

  And utterly implacable.

  He reached for her sunglasses, but she needed the barrier, the wall to hide behind, so she took a step back.

  “Lilah.”

  She closed her eyes behind the lenses. Which, oh good, were still crooked on her nose. And here she’d thought she might feel stupid.

  “Look at me.”

&
nbsp; She opened her eyes and saw what he had cradled between his free hand and his chest.

  A box of goodies from 7-Eleven. Be still her heart. “Breakfast?” she asked, and look at that, her voice was perfectly clear. No way to tell that she was broken.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of a bribe,” he said.

  “For what?”

  Ignoring her question, his gaze searched her face with that quiet intensity of his, the one that made her heart roll over and expose its tender underbelly. “Are you crying?” he asked.

  “No. I just cut up an onion. Yes, I’m crying, you big, unfeeling, insensitive . . . ”

  “Chickenshit bastard?”

  “I was going to say ass, but okay.”

  He nodded and set down the box of food on a fence post, lifting a hand to sweep his thumb beneath one of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean the ass part.”

  Though his eyes remained very, very serious, his mouth twitched. “Just the unfeeling, insensitive part?”

  Again she lifted a shoulder. “If the shoe fits.”

  With an exhale of air, he took her hand. “I’m in.”

  Confused, she lifted her face, forgetting for a moment that she was a complete disgusting wreck. “What?”

  His eyes were dark and still very solemn. “I’m in this,” he said.

  She stared at him. “Define ‘this,’” she said very carefully. “Because if you mean you’re here, in the kennels, I’m going to hurt you. Badly.”

  “Let’s start with where you are,” he said. “You’re here.” Taking her hand, he pressed it to his chest above his heart.

  Beneath her palm she could feel the reassuring heat and strength of him.

  And his heart, beating steady and sure.

  “I haven’t had enough caffeine for this,” she whispered. “And I’m easily confused. I’m going to need more words here.”

  “I love you, Lilah.”

  Her heart stopped dead in her chest. “Okay,” she said shakily. “Those are some damn fine words.” She swallowed. “You came back to tell me you loved me?”

  He nodded.

  “And . . . that’s supposed to make it easier to let you go again?”

  “That, and the fact that I intend to come back. Every single time. If you’ll have me. And plus,” he said, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself, “I brought junk food.”

  “True,” she managed, nodding, throat so tight she struggled to speak. “And not that the junk food isn’t perfect, but the other thing. I need you to explain the other thing to me, Brady.”

  “I thought the I-love-you was self-explanatory.”

  “Oh my God. The coming-back thing! The every-single-time thing!”

  Some of the wariness drained and he tugged her close, hauling her up against him, making her gasp. “Oh, don’t! I’m wet and very possibly wearing doggie puke—”

  Ignoring that, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. He was taking comfort in her, she realized with a shock, something he’d never done before, and it touched her deep to her core. “Oh, Brady.” Unable to hold back, she hugged him as tight as she could. “I love you so much.”

  He kissed her. It was a really great kiss, too, deep and soul searching, and by the time he lifted his head, he wasn’t breathing any more steady than she. Dropping his forehead to hers, he closed his eyes. “For as long as I can remember,” he told her, “from the time I was just a stupid little kid, to being in the military, to working as a pilot for hire, I’ve lived my life as purposely uncomplicated as possible. You changed that.”

  She winced. “Because I’m . . . complicated?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled, and it spread to a grin when she frowned. “Turns out, I like complicated,” he assured her. “But I’ve always thought of myself as a wanderer, a guy with no roots, no home base.”

  Maybe even a guy who couldn’t be saved.

  He didn’t say those words but she felt them from him, and it broke her heart.

  “It changed,” he said before she could speak. “It changed because Adam and Dell nag like a couple of old women. It changed because of one silly dog. It changed because of a woman with a fierce, loyal, warm heart, a woman who refuses to back down for anything.”

  She melted against him. “I back down for donuts. I’m a’ho for donuts.”

  A smile crossed his face. “I know, I count on that.”

  She smacked him and he smiled and took her hand. “What’s it going to be, Lilah?”

  It wouldn’t be easy. Despite how much she loved him, he came with flaws. He was impatient, gruff, demanding . . . but she kind of liked the demanding part.

  Besides, she was no picnic herself. She was flawed, too, as flawed as they came. He was waiting for her answer, his eyes holding more emotion than she’d ever seen from him. She rested her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt. “You were never lost,” she whispered.

  “I know that, too. Now. Thanks to you.” He drew a long breath. “My home base is here, Lilah.”

  “In Sunshine.”

  “No. With you. It’s you, you’re my home base, wherever you are. In the damn magical lake, cleaning shit out of the stalls, playing Uno. It’s all you. You’re it for me.”

  “You’re good at this,” she murmured.

  He choked out a laugh. “If I were good, I’d have done this before driving all the way to L.A. and back.” Cupping her face, he caught a tear on his thumb. “I’ve always been on my own. I liked it that way. No one waiting on me, depending on me in any way. I thought that meant I had it all, but that’s not how it works. You taught me that. You showed me what it means to belong. I need you, Lilah. I need you with me, loving me. I didn’t realize how much until I tried to go.”

  “Sort of like home is where the heart is?”

  “Yes. And mine is in the palm of your hand.”

  She slid her fingers into his hair as the last piece of her broken heart clicked together. “Oh, Brady.”

  “I mean it. Life before you . . . It wasn’t the same. I wasn’t the same. I can’t imagine being without you.”

  “That’s good, too,” she whispered. “That’s probably going to get you good and laid.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  She laughed and he lifted his head, his eyes fierce and intense on hers. “I always thought love was a weakness,” he said. “That might still be the case, but I don’t want to be without you. You’re it for me, Lilah. You make me a better man, you make me feel . . . ”

  “What?” she said breathlessly when he paused.

  “Everything. You make me feel everything.”

  Epilogue