Some Like It Hopeless (A Temporary Engagement) Page 7
She said, “Is it?”
“And Dungeons and Dragons?”
“He’s from Utah. Excuses must be made.”
Brady sat down, pulling her between his legs, his towel parting helpfully. “Just which one of us were you testing?”
“You. I can’t really picture myself sleeping with a guy who’s played D&D before.” She whispered, “Look at me using the lingo and everything.”
She pushed at him until he toppled backwards.
Not the question Brady had been asking but he didn’t need to ask again. Shane didn’t need to be tested.
Cassandra climbed on to the bed, climbed on to him, and said, “I didn’t send him in there.”
“You could have stopped him.”
“I don’t think you know Shane all that well yet.”
He knew Cassandra. He said, “I think we all dance to your tune.”
She smiled. “That’s nice. Now if only it was true.”
She stretched out on top of him, folded her arms across his chest and rested her chin. She said, “Did you have a nice drive?”
No. It hadn’t been nice. But it hadn’t been not nice, either.
He’d wanted to get back here.
He wanted what was next. He wanted to look in the mirror and see that same look in his eyes as he saw in theirs. The acceptance of what was, the hope of what could be.
But he didn’t want to leave his family behind.
He ignored her question. “What was Shane looking for in the bathroom?”
Cassandra pushed herself up, her brows furrowed in confusion. Then she laughed. “Probably sex toys.”
“Did you tell him we don’t need any?”
“No. I told him you were one gigantic sex toy.”
He should have guessed that. “No wonder he came in to get a peek.”
“No wonder. You didn’t have to give him one.”
He shrugged. “Seemed like the easiest way to assert my dominance. Because mine’s bigger.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Did he give you a peek, too? Then how do you know?”
“Because mine’s bigger.”
She patted his cheek, still laughing. “I don’t think it works that way with him.” She shrugged. “But okay, if you’re happy that it’s been resolved.”
“It’s been resolved.”
She looked confused again but he didn’t clarify. He and Shane had laid down a few lines. Had decided who would get what parts of Cassandra.
All without coming right out and saying it. Because they were men.
And since Brady did know Cassandra better than a few weeks would suggest, he didn’t tell her any of that.
And since Brady did know Cassandra better than a few weeks would suggest, he wiggled beneath her until his towel came apart and she got distracted.
Until she gave him the only part of her he wanted.
Five
Brady went down with Cassandra early Monday morning to get the car. He’d told Rodrigo that she would be driving it.
He just wasn’t sure either of them were actually going to let her do it.
His little Z was waiting in front of the hotel, Cassandra next to him tired and cranky that she had to wake up even earlier than normal to get to work on time. Brady couldn’t decide what was worse, her driving his car tired or her driving his car pumped full of caffeine, so he’d ordered her coffee half decaf.
She smiled when she slid into the driver’s side, and Brady briefly thought about Argentina. Briefly wondered if he’d see either one of them again, and then he remembered Shane. Shane and Christian.
If that ever ended, Brady would have to take his car back from Cassandra.
Rodrigo sidled up to stand next to Brady and said, “Jefe.”
And in that one word was all the disapproval one man could give another for letting a woman keep his balls in her pocket.
You didn’t give a woman your car. You didn’t give a woman like Cassandra your Z.
Brady nodded. “If she brings it back with dings or dents, just take care of it. I don’t want to know.”
Rodrigo said, “You give her your little Z and you won’t even talk to me about a raise?”
A smile played at Brady’s mouth until Cassandra pulled away from the curb, over-revving the engine.
“Madre de dios.” Rodrigo clutched at his heart.
Cassandra gave a little finger wave out the window, and Rodrigo and Brady watched until she was out of sight. Long gone, and they kept standing there.
They sighed, heartfelt.
And then Rodrigo thumped him on the back. “Better go make some money, Jefe. So you can buy another one when she crashes it.”
Brady’s heart squeezed, imagining Cassandra lying broken and bloody in his car. Another death on his shoulders.
Then he pushed it away and turned to go to work.
Rodrigo stopped him with, “Jefe, wait.”
Brady turned back to find him looking pained. “What’s wrong?”
“Her car. It’s right there, where everyone can see it. And, if you need to go somewhere. . .”
The horror of Brady driving Cassandra’s car nearly made him laugh out loud.
Rodrigo said, “Let me take care of it.”
Brady nodded. “Carte blanche.”
Rodrigo grinned and said, “Now that is better than a raise.”
Brady lasted until noon, and then he sent a text to Cassandra. Make it to work alright?
He waited for her reply. And waited.
Twisted steel, mangled body.
The Z was too powerful for her. He’d driven with her up Mulholland Drive and hadn’t been sure they were going to make it.
She’d rev it, lose control, and spin it around like a top.
He waited ten minutes, the fear and nausea pushing him to his feet. He paced in front of his window.
When his phone chimed, he stopped dead and pulled his phone up to eye level like a man walking to his death.
No. In Mexico. Mmm, burritos.
His heart started thumping again, the breath that had been caught in his chest exploded out.
His phone chimed again. I’ll bring some back for dinner.
He didn’t try to stop the grin, didn’t fight the relief coursing through his veins.
He wrote, One drip and Mexico won’t be far enough away.
Will be home late. Gonna stop by a car wash.
Brady laughed.
She wasn’t home late.
Brady was “helping” at the front desk, making his staff nervous with his presence when he saw Cassandra drive up.
He walked outside to the relief of everyone and heard Rodrigo say to Cassandra, “You would be lucky if the junkyard would take your little green pu. . .car.”
Brady saw the fire flicker in Cassandra’s eyes at the insult to her car and said, “Rodrigo is getting your car fixed. Something’s got to be done to it if it’s going to be parked in plain sight.”
“It’s a green 1996 Honda Civic. How good could he make it look?”
Rodrigo jutted his chin. “You insult me.”
Cassandra folded her arms and faced him down. “What are you going to do to it?”
“Make it better.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Impossible.”
“Jefe, your woman’s got a mouth on her.”
Cassandra said, “Jefe?” She turned to Brady. “Your woman?”
Rodrigo jerked his thumb at Brady. “Jefe. The boss.”
Cassandra nodded. She’d been born and raised in southern California, she had to know what “jefe” meant.
Rodrigo looked her up and down. “You’re not his woman?”
Brady said, “She is.”
Cassandra raised her eyebrows at him.
Rodrigo hopped into the Z and said out the window, “Don’t think she knows it. Maybe you want to take her upstairs and remind her. And then I’d like to talk to you about my raise.”
Cassandra watched him peel away, her arms still crossed
. “Your woman?”
“He’s not politically correct.”
Cassandra snorted at that and got to the real issue. “You just gave him my car to do whatever he wants?”
“I gave you my car to do whatever you want.”
“Not the same. Because it was my car.”
“Trust Rodrigo. He loves cars.”
She watched as Rodrigo parked the little Z in its place of honor and muttered, “You could have just covered it. Or parked it somewhere else.”
“And made Rodrigo run to kingdom come and back every time one of us leaves?”
She flung her hand out. “It’s right there! I could walk to it myself!”
“And then what would I be paying Rodrigo for?” He looked at her empty hands. “Hey, where’s my burrito?”
She didn’t smile. She said, “Do you pay him a slave wage? Because I can’t put out for a man like that.”
“I do not. And he could have that raise anytime he wants. He’s been in line for a promotion for two years.”
“Maybe you should tell him that.”
“He knows. He won’t accept it. He likes to be outside.”
Rodrigo jogged back, eyeing Brady and Cassandra. He called out, “Jefe’s woman?”
Cassandra muttered under her breath, “He’s doing that on purpose,” and turned back to Rodrigo. “What?”
“Don’t worry about your ugly little car. I’ll bring her back to you a lady.”
Cassandra jerked her thumb at Brady. “You’d better. Or I’ll make him give you that promotion you don’t want.”
Rodrigo grinned wide enough to show gold caps on his back molars. He said to Brady, “No wonder you let her drive your Z.”
Rodrigo put his polite smile back on as another car pulled up, hiding his gold caps just as he hid the tattoos marking his body. Not forgetting who he used to be, not forgetting what he’d done in the past. Just moving on.
Brady had always thought that it had been easier for Rodrigo because he hadn’t loved the person he’d killed. Hadn’t even known the man.
But now, Brady wondered if it was just that he could accept what had happened. Understood that he couldn’t change the past, only the future.
When they got in the elevator, Brady said, “We were in prison together.”
“You probably could have told me that before I started threatening him.”
Brady smiled. “Vehicular manslaughter. He’d boosted a Maserati and hit a pedestrian.”
Cassandra was quiet a long time. She finally said, “Is that why he likes to be outside?”
Brady nodded.
She said, “You hired a car thief as a valet?”
“A man can change.”
She grunted at that, and Brady wondered if all men could change or if it was just a lucky few.
They watched the floor number count higher and higher and she said, “I really wish I’d brought home burritos.”
On a Friday evening a few more weeks into their. . .thing, Brady treated her, Shane, and Christian to dinner.
Cassandra was more impressed he’d taken the time off work than with the venue. Give her a burrito stuffed with french fries and she was happy.
But she knew Shane would love it, so she’d gone along quietly.
Christian looked uncomfortable. What else was new.
When they were all seated, Cassandra said, “Now you may tell us. Just what are we celebrating?”
“Tomorrow I get my car back.”
“Er no, you don’t.”
“Er yes, I do. Rodrigo is picking yours up in the morning.”
Cassandra studied the menu, noting the prices, then looked back at Brady. “I’ll have the lobster. Christian will have the filet mignon.”
Christian opened his mouth and she shot him a look.
He shut his mouth.
Shane said, “What about me?”
“I know you’re not going to pick the cheapest item on the menu.”
Everyone looked at Christian, then realized she was right and went back to looking at the menu.
After Brady had ordered for everyone, lobster and mignon and duck, the waiter placed a large bowl of ice ringed by beautifully balanced shrimp in front of them.
Shane wiggled in his seat with excitement. Christian and Cassandra looked at each other with wide eyes, and she thought for one moment that there was at least one other person at this table who would not be bowled over by shrimp.
Cassandra said, “This is not going to work. You’re not getting your car back for a bowl of shrimp and outrageously priced lobster.”
Shane picked up a shrimp with his pinky in the air and said, “If Ethan brought you here, you’d be giggling and promising him your firstborn.”
Cassandra looked at the pink shrimp and the red cocktail sauce and tried not to gag. Hot-buttered shrimp was one thing. Cold shrimp dipped in you-can-call-it-whatever-you-want-but-it’s-still-ketchup? Something else entirely.
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Shane wobbled his head and pushed out his lips. “Oh yes, you would.”
Cassandra thought about Ethan O’Connor and stopped thinking about shrimp, and she started smiling.
Brady squinted his eyes at her. “What’s going on?”
Shane sighed. “That’s her Ethan O’Connor face.” He held up his hand. “Wait, wait. Here’s mine.”
Shane’s head tipped to the side and his eyes lost their focus. He looked dreamily off into space, a silly smile tilting his lips up.
Christian and Brady looked between Cassandra and Shane for a long minute. Then Christian said, “Who’s Ethan O’Connor?”
Shane blinked and straightened his head. “Oh, he’s just the most charming man you’ll ever meet. Our friend Mackenzie swept him off his feet.” He muttered under his breath, “Lucky bitch.”
He patted his lips and cleared his throat. “They come back to L.A. a few times a year. You’ll see what I mean when you meet him.”
Cassandra shook her head, clearing it of Ethan O’Connor when the waiter placed her lobster in front of her. “You should have seen the wedding. Everyone was walking around smiling stupidly, jumping to help whenever Ethan asked for anything. And Mackenzie just watched him wrap everyone around his finger and rolled her eyes.”
Shane said, “And when Cassandra says everyone, she means us, too.”
She didn’t deny it. “Well. He’s. . .charming. And beautiful. Honestly, I think he married the one person who was immune to him.”
Shane shook his head. “She’s not immune. She just fights it when no one else does.”
“It’s a good thing they live in New York. I wish they didn’t, but I’m kind of glad they do.”
Shane nodded. “We would get nothing done. Spend all our time making excuses for why we needed to pop by.”
“We wouldn’t need any excuses. Wyatt and Grant need to see their Aunt Cassandra and Uncle Shane, don’t they?”
“Mm-hmm. And we need to moon over their daddy.”
Cassandra’s mind slipped into Ethan Land again, where all the men were handsome and gallant. And dreamy, and made her want to have sex, and then want to have cooing babies. . .
When she came back to L.A., a smile was playing at the edges of Brady’s mouth. He said, “Why don’t you look like that when you think of me?”
“He’s a different kind of man. Ethan would never ask anything from me that I didn’t want to give.”
“And I would?”
Cassandra drowned a forkful of lobster in her melted butter. “You wouldn’t ask. And yes.”
The smile bloomed.
A man walking past their table stopped and said, “Ivy?”
Brady turned, the smile dropping from his mouth. When Brady saw who it was, he stood, shaking hands with the man.
“Carter.”
“It’s good to see you, Ivy. I heard about what–”
Brady nodded his head, cutting Carter off.
The long, awkward silence made Cassandra and Shane reach
for their wine glasses. Christian drank his water. Cassandra should have ordered him a drink as well.
Carter finally said, “Still at the hotel?”
Brady nodded again and Carter said, “I haven’t seen you at the club.”
“Too busy.”
“I know how that is. Still, a man’s got to take some time for fun.” He looked at the table. “Which it looks like you’re doing.”
He grabbed for Brady’s hand again, patting his arm like a politician greeting a donor. “It was good to see you, Ivy. Let me know if you come back to the club.”
Brady sat back down and everyone watched Carter walk away.
When it looked like Brady wasn’t going to explain anything that had just happened, Shane said, “Ivy? Oh, please tell me there is some story to that. Like. . .you were climbing up some ivy and fell, but your pants caught on a window sill and saved you. And you were stuck swinging in the wind for hours, mooning everyone.”
Cassandra started laughing but Brady said, “No.”
Christian said, “That would have been amazing. You should have just said yes.”
Brady nodded soberly. “I should have.”
Cassandra sighed. “Okay, then, what is the story with ‘Ivy’?”
“I.V. The fourth.”
Shane reached for his wine glass again. “I liked mine better.”
Cassandra closed her eyes. “The fourth. Why is it that Ethan’s wealth is not off-putting but yours is?”
Brady’s lips twitched.
Christian said, “I like it.”
Everyone turned to look at him, watching him cut his steak into tiny pieces and enjoying every melt-in-your-mouth bite like he knew he shouldn’t.
Cassandra said, “The filet or the I.V.?”
“Both. Thank you for dinner, Ivy.”
“Brady.”
Christian nodded. “It sounded like a childhood nickname. My brother is a Junior, and anytime someone called we had to ask ‘Big Steve or Little Steve?’ I think he would have preferred Ivy.”
Shane said, “I think I’m glad I wasn’t named after anyone.”
Brady said, “My father goes by Carl. Carlton Brady Roberts, the third. Ivy was a school name.”
Shane put his fork down. “Carlton? Carlton?”
Cassandra patted Brady’s forearm. “Just ignore the next few minutes.” She said to Shane, “He goes by Brady.”