Don't Let Go

  It was an hour of grueling running, shoving, and trash talking. Brady had to admit it was a hell of a lot of fun. When they stopped for a water break, he took several very thirsty swallows.

  "I don't know about the rest of you," Zach said, "but I'm getting hungry."

  "I could eat," Will said.

  "You can always eat," Reid said. "Then again, I'm hungry, too."

  Bash nodded. "I'm with you guys. Let's grab a shower and some food."

  They hit the showers, cleaned up, and got dressed, then assembled in the parking lot.

  "Where to?" Luke asked.

  "Anyplace but my bar," Bash said. "It's my night off."

  "Bert's?" Will asked.

  Deacon shook his head. "Let's go get a steak."

  "Lonestar in Tulsa?" Will asked.

  "Works for me," Brady said. He was hungry. Anyplace sounded good to him right now.

  They all agreed, so they piled into their cars and headed into Tulsa. Since it was a weeknight, it wasn't crowded. They were seated right away.

  "Beers?" Luke asked.

  Everyone nodded, so they ordered a couple of pitchers.

  "How's work, Luke?" Will asked.

  "Busy. I had to pick up an extra shift this week to cover for vacations, and thank God for Allison, the nanny Emma hired, because she's helping Emma with the baby so Emma can get some sleep while I'm working my ass off. All I do is come home, kiss Emma and cuddle Michael for five seconds, then pass out."

  "Rough," Deacon said, pouring himself a beer.

  Bash looked pained. "So that's what it's like having a baby?"

  Luke laughed. "No. That's what it's like working double shifts. Having a baby around has been awesome. Michael is just the best thing ever."

  "Look at him grinning," Will said. "It's like someone sprinkled magic freakin' fairy dust on him or something."

  Deacon studied Luke. "I think it's the lack of sleep talking."

  "Naw, that's the new baby glow," Zach said. "My older brother had that same look when he had his son last year. He didn't sleep well and the baby was up most nights, but he didn't even care. Just wore that same stupid grin on his face for months."

  Brady checked Luke's face. Zach was right. Luke was definitely smiling.

  "Good to know the whole baby thing isn't a total disaster," Bash said.

  "I don't think you have anything to worry about just yet," Brady said.

  "Well, actually . . ."

  "Wait. You and Chelsea?" Zach asked.

  Bash nodded. "Happened a bit before we were ready. Which ended up accelerating the wedding timeline. Like a lot."

  "No shit," Zach said.

  "Yeah. But we're really damned excited about it."

  "Congratulations, man. I didn't know." Zach shook his hand and patted him on the back.

  "I didn't know, either." Brady shook his hand as well.

  "Thanks, guys. We haven't told everyone yet. We're still getting used to the idea, and now Chelsea is in wedding mode. Which is in two weeks. You'll get invites if you haven't already. So there's a lot going on."

  "Two weeks?" Zach asked. "Wow, that's fast."

  "Like, really fast," Bash said. "Good thing Chelsea has great friends who can put this all together in a hurry. And with Des being an actress, she said she has connections in Hollywood who will drop everything to help her. So I think we've got it all together."

  Brady leaned back and took a long swallow of his beer. "So a wedding and a baby, huh?"

  "Yeah. Actually, we're both kind of glad to get the wedding over with. It wasn't a big deal to either of us anyway. Finding the house? Now that was important. And once we did, getting it renovated was the next big thing, which, thanks to Reid and Deacon, has been done."

  Reid raised his mug. "You're welcome."

  "Ditto," Deacon said. "We were happy to help with that project, and it didn't take that long anyway."

  Bash grinned. "So now we've moved into the new house and we're just ready to start our new lives. And we both really want kids and didn't want to wait on that, so this is kind of a blessing in disguise."

  Will held up his mug. "To Bash and Chelsea and the bun in the oven."

  Brady laughed and toasted.

  Hell of a lot going on with his new friends. After celebrating and talking about Bash's good news, they drank and ate. Brady enjoyed a great steak. After a while, most of the guys headed home, leaving just him and Deacon at the table.

  "Hell of a thing, huh?" Deacon asked.

  "What's that?"

  "Bash getting married and having a baby."

  "Oh. Yeah."

  "Life can surprise you sometimes. You never know what's just around the corner."

  "Isn't that the truth?"

  Deacon finished up his beer and his lips lifted. "Better him than me. I'm just damn glad I'm not in a relationship."

  "Really? Why?"

  "Too complicated. You think a woman wants one thing, then they end up wanting something completely different and you're left out in the cold."

  Brady could tell Deacon had had a few drinks, but he didn't appear drunk. Maybe he had a few things on his mind.

  "Break up with someone recently?"

  Deacon lifted his gaze to Brady's. "Recently? No. The last time I let a woman break my heart was a long time ago. I only let it happen once."

  "Well, at least you got smart after that time."

  Deacon laughed. "That's true. Problem is she's back in Hope now, so I keep running into her."

  "Really. Who's that?"

  "Loretta Black. Well, she's Loretta Simmons now, since she married that rich guy after high school."

  Brady got the gist of what was going on. "Ah. So you and Loretta were a high school thing, huh?"

  "Yeah." He waved his hand in dismissal. "But it was over a long time ago. It doesn't mean anything to me anymore."

  That's why Deacon was bringing her up now. "Are you sure about that?"

  "Definitely. Though I wish she'd have stayed in Texas with the rich guy."

  "Is it hard to see her?"

  Deacon shrugged. "Sort of. Dredges up the past, and I'm not much for that." Deacon poured another beer. "Anyway, I'm glad you came out with us tonight."

  He could tell Deacon wanted to drop the subject. "Me, too. I had a good time."

  "You should come play with us every week, Brady. You did great."

  "I don't know how good I did, but I could try it again."

  "Good. You need to get out more."

  "So people keep telling me."

  "Look, I know how it is to lose someone. I knew your brother. We weren't close in school, but we hung out some after high school. I'm really sorry, man."

  "Thanks."

  "I kept to myself a lot after my dad died. People didn't know what to say to offer comfort, or even worse, they'd tell me they knew how I felt. Until you lose someone you love, how the hell can you have any inkling of what it's like? It was my dad. He and I were close. I'll never have another father, no one who knows me like that."

  Deacon stared at his mug of beer, no doubt lost in memories.

  Brady knew exactly what that was like, being lost in the past, in all those what-ifs, like if you could have one more conversation with the person you loved, then maybe things would be different. Though Deacon's situation wasn't like his, he understood that feeling of loss.

  "Anyway," Deacon said, "I didn't want to hear any of it. So I closed up and shut myself out of everyday life. And I still felt like shit. In the end, it didn't help. Couldn't bring my dad back, so I figured I might as well go on living."

  Brady understood. "Well, I do know how you feel."

  Deacon laughed. "I know you do. It hurts like hell. And it's going to hurt like hell until it doesn't hurt like hell anymore. And I'm not about to tell you how to feel. But the one thing I will tell you is that isolating yourself doesn't help. So come play basketball with us and come have beers with us. It won't cure the ache, but it'll take your mind off of life for an hour
or two."

  "Thanks. I'm working my way out of it, little by little. Even dating."

  Deacon reared back. "God forbid."

  Brady laughed. "Yeah."

  "Who are you going out with?"

  "Megan Lee."

  Deacon nodded. "Really good-looking woman. And she makes the best damn croissants I've ever had. You could do a hell of a lot worse than a woman who bakes."

  "This is true." Though he hadn't seen Megan in a few days. He should call her and see what was going on. Maybe take her out again.

  He gave Deacon a ride home, which fortunately Deacon agreed to without argument.

  He pulled into Deacon's driveway and put the car in park. Deacon climbed out, then leaned his head in.

  "Had fun tonight."

  Brady shot him a grin. "Yeah, me, too."

  "You're in for next week's game, right?"

  "You bet."

  "See ya, Brady."

  Brady waited for Deacon to make his way inside his house before he pulled out of his driveway.

  Okay, so hanging out with the guys wasn't so bad. It gave him something to do besides work at the shop all the time, or hang out alone in his apartment.

  He headed back to his place, took Roxie outside, then came in. He wasn't at all tired, so he paced the confines of his extremely small apartment.

  He got out his phone and checked the time. It was only ten p.m., but then again, he knew Megan got up early in the morning to go to the bakery. So probably not a good idea to call or text.

  He'd go the bakery tomorrow and see her. For tonight, he needed to go to bed.

  But still, that restless feeling.

  He went into the kitchen and filled a glass with ice water, then wandered into the living room.

  He grabbed the remote and sat on the sofa. Roxie came over and looked up at him, so he scooped her up and she dropped her chicken on his lap, then climbed on and found a comfortable spot to sleep.

  He propped his feet on the coffee table, surfed to a sports channel and found a West Coast baseball game.

  Good enough. He laid his hand over Roxie and settled in for a sleepless night.

  Chapter 20

  MEGAN HAD HER hands full with a pan of burned cinnamon rolls. Something must be off with the oven, because she never burned anything. And she didn't have time to figure it out, because she had a bakery filled with eager customers. Fortunately, Stacy had handled orders out front this morning while she baked.

  She'd opened the back door to clear out the smoke, then glared at her oven.

  "Problems?"

  She jerked her head up to see Brady standing at the doorway leading from the front of the shop.

  "Oh. Hey. And yes. I burned the cinnamon rolls."

  He frowned as he stepped in. "That sounds kind of tragic."

  "Tell me about it. How are you doing?"

  "Good. Took a break and came over to see you. Stacy said you were back here wrestling with an oven issue and that I could come on back. Is there something I can do to help?"

  "I don't know. What do you know about ovens?"

  "Not much. What's wrong with it?"

  "I don't know. The temperature has always been predictable. And suddenly in the past day I've burned cookies, scones, and now the cinnamon rolls. That never happens."

  "So there might be something wrong with your thermostat."

  She pursed her lips and glared at the oven as if had grown horns. "This is not good. I have the owner's manual."

  "Okay if I take a look?"

  "I'm sure you have your own work to do."

  "Actually, I have some free time. Unless you'd rather call someone more qualified."

  "No, I'd be happy to have you look at it." She reached into the nearby drawer and shuffled through the manuals, pulling out the one for the oven. "Here."

  "Okay."

  He paged through the manual, rolled up his sleeves, and started to work. She backed away, salvaging what she could of the baked goods that had come out decently enough. Fortunately, she didn't need to bake anymore today, so maybe if Brady couldn't fix the oven she could get someone out here this afternoon who could.

  "I'm going to run to the store for parts," Brady said, wiping his hands on a paper towel. "I'll be right back."

  "Um, okay. But Brady?"

  He stalled and turned around. "Yeah?"

  "Do you think you can fix the oven?"

  He held up hands. "Magic hands, Megan. Magic hands."

  She arched a brow. "But does that mean yes?"

  He shot her an incredulous look. "You doubt me and my magic hands?"

  "Well, not exactly. It's just that I kind of need the oven to stay in business."

  He walked over to her and slid his arm around her waist, then tugged her close. He smelled a lot like motor oil with a mix of oven grease. Not a bad combination, actually. She waited for him to kiss her, and when he didn't, she was disappointed.

  "Never doubt my abilities, woman."

  She laughed. "Duly noted. Go to the store. I'll run and get us sandwiches and fix us some iced tea for when you get back."

  "Sounds like a plan."

  So he hadn't kissed her. That wasn't a big deal, right? It was way more important for him to repair her oven than to cater to her emotions and her libido right now anyway.

  She checked on Stacy, who had the bakery counter and cash register under control. This time of day people were more interested in lunch than baked goods, so traffic was light. She ran up the street and grabbed sandwiches, then came back and made a pot of iced tea. Brady showed up about twenty minutes later and started to work on her oven.

  "You want to break for sandwiches?" she asked.

  "Nah. Let me finish this first so you can try it out."

  Since she didn't want to hover over him, she busied herself with cleaning up the kitchen. Though she couldn't help but skirt furtive glances his way as she did. First, because she was worried about the state of her oven, and second, how could she not? Brady wore relaxed jeans and a dark gray T-shirt that, despite being both stained and dirty, made him look sexier than ever. And there was something about watching a man work that was simply hot. Or maybe it was watching Brady work that made her hot.

  Forty-five minutes later, he put her oven back in place. "Okay, give it a try."

  She took a pan of cinnamon rolls she'd prepped earlier from the refrigerator, set the oven temperature and waited for it to preheat. While it did, she poured Brady a glass of iced tea and handed it to him.

  "Thanks," he said, swiping the sweat from his forehead.

  They both stared at the oven, watching the temperature rise to the appropriate setting. When it did, she slid the pan of cinnamon rolls in and set the timer.

  "Now we wait," Megan said. "So we might as well eat. I'm sure you're hungry. You were probably hungry when you got here."

  "Actually, I came by to see if you wanted to have lunch with me."

  They took a seat at the small table in the back of the kitchen.

  "Did you? I'm really sorry about this."

  He unwrapped the sub sandwich from the paper and bit into it, then swallowed. "Why? Not your fault your oven broke. And you're not eating your sandwich."

  She stared down at the food in front of her, her stomach a twisted knot of nerves. "I'm . . . not hungry right now."

  "You're nervous because you're afraid your oven is broken and you don't know what you'll do if it is. Trust me--it'll work. Eat your sandwich."

  She looked up at him. "So confident in your abilities, are you?"

  "Yeah. Plus, your thermostat was shot and I replaced it. That was your problem. Eat your sandwich."

  Keeping one eye on the oven, or rather keeping her nose on the oven, trying to breathe in any signs of her cinnamon rolls going up in flames, she took a bite of the sandwich and followed it up with a sip of the iced tea, mentally counting down the minutes until the rolls were finished.

  So far, so good. Nothing was burning, except her desire to pull out b
eautifully baked cinnamon rolls.

  "Sorry I haven't called you this week," Brady said, stealing her attention away from the oven. "I had back-to-back rush jobs and I've been working late. Then Carter pulled me into a basketball game last night with the guys."

  "Really? That sounds fun."

  "It was. I was going to text or call you after I got home, but I figured it was too late and you might have already gone to sleep."

  "You could have called me anyway. I'd always pick up if it's you."

  His lips lifted, and that smile he leveled on her was devastating. "Is that right? Anytime of the day or night?"

  "Okay, maybe not here at seven a.m. when the shop is filled with customers. But if you want to give me a call at midnight, I'll answer. Unless you're already in my bed, in which case you don't have to call me."

  He leaned forward. "Is that an invitation, Ms. Lee?"

  His seductive voice was hypnotic. She leaned forward as well. "Maybe."

  The timer dinged, dissolving the spell he'd woven over her. So far, no smoke from the oven, but she was still nervous. She stood and grabbed the potholders. "Nothing's burning."

  Brady followed her over to the oven. "Of course nothing's burning. Because I fixed your oven."

  She opened the door and pulled out the rack, revealing perfectly baked cinnamon rolls. She took them out and set them on the counter to cool, set the pot holders down, and threw her arms around Brady. "You fixed my oven."

  He sported a cocky grin, then held his hands out. "I told you, Megan. Magic hands."

  "So you did. Why don't you put those magic hands on me right now and I'll show you how much I appreciate what you did for me?"

  He tugged her toward him and kissed her, a blazing kiss that enveloped her in its heat. For a minute she forgot where she was, until she heard Stacy clear her throat.

  "Excuse me, Megan, but I've closed up the front of the shop."

  Megan pulled back, staring at Brady's gorgeous, desire-laden green eyes for just a second before she turned around to face Stacy. "Oh, sure. Thanks, Stacy. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Stacy gave her a knowing smile before she left the room.

  Megan turned back to Brady, who wore a very satisfied smirk on his face. "Is that smile for the kiss, or the oven?"

  "Maybe both?"

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome. Now I need to go finish up at work."

  "How about you come to my place tonight, where I can give you a proper, more thorough thank-you?"

  He cocked his head to the side. "Is that a sexual invitation?"

  "Well, I actually meant dinner and a decadent dessert, but . . ."