One Night With a Hero

  So he’d kept his word.

  But she never said he couldn’t give her gifts.

  The fact that she’d kept them, that she hadn’t thrown them in his face, dumped them on his doorstep, or told him to cut it the fuck out, made him feel ten feet tall.

  Brady had just eaten the last forkful of his eggs when another knock sounded at the door. A pair of fairies fleeced him for four dollars this time. It was the matching dimples they wore that really did him in. He’d caved and given them two dollars each.

  At this rate, he was going to be broke by morning.

  He brought the whole coin jug downstairs, majorly glad for his habit of dumping his loose change in it at the end of the day.

  He was out thirty-five bucks when he saw her for the first time.

  He’d been shelling out money to a gorilla when Joss answered her door to another group of trick-or-treaters. It had only been a quick glance as she leaned out her screen door, but damn if it hadn’t been like dining on a decadent, fresh-made four-course meal after a lifetime of choking down MREs.

  And holy hell did he want more.

  The next time a group of kids came to the door, Brady couldn’t help but linger when they turned from his porch to go to Joss’s. And boy was he glad he did.

  The littlest kid in the group hung back from the others, too shy to come forward to get her treat. So Joss walked out to drop the candy in the girl’s bucket.

  And took Brady’s breath away.

  She was dressed as a Gypsy. Her hair hung wild and loose and curly, a red scarf knotted around her head. Some sort of a peasant shirt left her creamy shoulders uncovered, while layers of colorful skirts and scarves fell over her curves to her bare feet. She jingled when she moved.

  The sound beckoned him.

  He was immediately and painfully hard. Jesus, he wanted her in every way he could have her.

  Thank God the Power Rangers showed up when they did, or he wouldn’t have been responsible for his actions.

  When he finished dishing out…he didn’t even know how much money, his gaze drew immediately toward her house.

  She was standing on her stoop looking at him.

  Every muscle in his body tensed. For the love of God, she was beautiful, exotic, and utterly desirable.

  Ask me. Just say the words. He willed her to hear his thoughts.

  Joss dropped her gaze and disappeared into her house.

  Disappointment threatened to sink through his gut, but Brady would have none of it. She’d more than met his gaze—he’d bet his life that she’d been struggling over whether to speak to him. Otherwise, why would she have stood there so long?

  Adrenaline roared through his veins, had him planning, scheming, strategizing.

  A vampire came to the door. Brady dropped coins into his bag. “Hey, vampire dude.”

  The boy turned back. “Yeah?”

  “You been next door yet?” He pointed toward Joss’s. The vampire shook his pale head. “Think you could handle a special mission?”

  “Like what?”

  “Tell the Gypsy next door I think she’s pretty.”

  The boy grimaced. Brady dropped two more dollars in his bag. Shrugging, the vampire said, “Okay.”

  Brady grinned, freaking loving this plan, and waited, his shoulder holding the screen door open.

  The vampire knocked at Joss’s place.

  A moment later, her gaze cut to his. Her blush felt like the sweetest triumph.

  Yesiree.

  All of a sudden, he didn’t care how much money he spent tonight. Every penny would be worth it.

  When the next group arrived, he bribed them to tell her he hoped she was feeling okay. Then he paid a superhero to tell her Brady thought she was pretty. Again. The scowl that earned him made him laugh harder than he had in weeks.

  He sent his next message through a cop who apparently wanted Brady to know he’d gotten his money’s worth, since he nearly shouted at Joss that if she needed anything, she was supposed to let that guy next door know.

  She leaned in to the kid’s ear and he nodded. When the boy returned to Brady’s stoop, he couldn’t restrain himself from smiling like an idiot.

  Fuckin’ A. They were talking.

  The cop eyeballed him for a minute. “She said to say you’re a pita. Isn’t that bread? Why’d she call you bread?”

  Chuckling, Brady dropped another dollar in the kid’s bag. “Don’t worry about it. Thanks for the message.”

  He had the next two messengers tell her she was pretty.

  He could feel the volcanic eruption brewing through the wall. And he couldn’t fucking wait.

  He kept it up the rest of the evening. After he’d run out of quarters, he’d gotten to the point of giving the kids big handfuls of loose change to make up for the fact that it was mostly pennies, nickels, and dimes. He’d probably gone through two hundred dollars in change, and he’d never spent better money in his life. When the late hour stopped the kids from coming, Brady battled back his disappointment that the night was dwindling to an end.

  His gut told him they’d turned a corner tonight. He didn’t know what it meant or what would happen next, but he could be patient. For her.

  Brady stood at the kitchen sink washing the grimy feel of the coins off his hands when a knock sounded at the storm door. He grabbed the near empty coin jug and jogged back to the door.

  Two teenagers in jeans and T-shirts stood on the other side.

  “What are you two supposed to be?”

  The guy grimaced. He wore a spiky pompadour that appeared to have lost a battle with a bottle of gel. And, was it Brady’s imagination, or were his eyes yellow?

  The girl grinned. “We’re Edward and Bella.”

  Brady frowned. “Who’s that?”

  The boy blushed at the same time the girl issued a long-suffering sigh. “From Twilight,” she said in the same tone kids used to say, well, duh.

  “Uh, if you say so. Anyway, here you go.” He upended his jug over the boy’s bag and gave them every bit of money he had left. Maybe he should’ve fished the buttons and pocket lint out of there first.

  “Thanks,” the girl said enthusiastically. From behind her bag, she produced an envelope. “We’re supposed to give this to you.”

  “Thanks.” Brady bolted inside, locked his door, and stared at the envelope for a long moment. Finally, he sat on the couch and ran his finger under the sealed flap to open it. He pulled two pieces of paper out. The first was a note from Joss. Brady ran his finger over the cursive lettering, feeling like he could almost touch her through the looping strokes.

  Brady—

  Thank you for the gifts. I thought maybe it was my turn.

  ~J

  Smiling, Brady shuffled the note card behind the next sheet.

  The breath caught in his suddenly closed throat. His heart thundered in his ears.

  It was an ultrasound picture.

  Brady leaned in. His gaze traced over ever grainy detail of his son or daughter. So small. So, so small.

  Brady was out his front door before he’d even thought to move. All he knew was that something so inconceivably small needed him. Needed his protection. And so did the incredible woman carrying him in her belly.

  He stopped before he reached her stoop. Her door was closed, porch light off. In fact, it didn’t appear any lights were on in the first floor at all. He took a few steps back so he could see her bedroom windows. A dim light cast a golden glow there.

  Didn’t she realize he would want to see her, to talk to her, after receiving this picture?

  Fine. Baby steps. If that’s what she could handle, it’s what he would give her. No matter how deep he had to dig to find the patience she required.

  He glanced at her room again and imagined her in that cozy space, stretched out on her bed, Gypsy costume cast away on the floor. He wanted her so damn bad.

  Forcing himself to be patient, Brady retreated to his place. He cleaned up his dinner mess. Watched a show o
n TV. Got ready for bed. Everywhere he went, he kept the ultrasound with him. He couldn’t stop looking at it.

  Maybe it was stupid, but seeing the picture made it so much more real.

  His sat heavily on the edge of his bed. Holy shit, he was going to be someone’s dad. He pressed his palm flat to their shared wall.

  Now he just had to figure out what else to do to win over the baby’s mom.

  …

  She’d come so, so close to giving in. Seeing him that first time, leaning out his door and staring at her like he was starving for her, had been like stepping into a warm whirlpool after a long time in the cold. And, good God, her memory had done him no justice at all. He was sexier than she’d remembered by a factor of at least, oh, eight thousand. Holy crap.

  And then all the little messages… Sweet, funny, and sexy. Lethal combination.

  Now, lying in bed and knowing he was just on the other side of the wall above her head, Joss couldn’t stop thinking about Brady Scott.

  The heat in his eyes. The way his biceps strained the sleeves of his shirt. The way his jeans hung on his hips. And oh, those hips, she knew just how they moved, just what kind of pleasure they were capable of providing.

  Geez. She kicked the covers off, baring her legs to the cooler air. She was so freaking horny. Between the weeks without sex, the sex-god soldier who lived next door, and the rush of hormones flooding her system, she was a wet, needy mess.

  She slipped her hand down her body, over her sensitive breasts, and underneath the satiny band of her panties.

  Come on my tongue, sweetness.

  Joss moaned at the memory of his voice. That boy had one talented tongue. Her fingers circled over her clit, ratcheting up the tension that had been gripping her body all night. “Brady,” she rasped.

  Recalling his intense gaze, the strength of his body moving over hers, the incredibly satisfying fullness of his cock inside her, Joss slipped a finger inside herself, groaning and lifting her hips.

  She drew some of the slickness from inside and circled it over her clit, her fingers flying in tight circles.

  A noise—a muffled voice?—sounded on the other side of the wall.

  Joss froze, her heart thundering in her chest.

  There it was again. What was he doing?

  Joss rolled out of bed, debated for a moment, and pressed her ear to the cold plaster wall.

  Nothing. Huh.

  Then, just as she was about to step away, she heard it again. Brady. Moaning.

  Holy shit!

  She pressed her ear harder to the wall and closed her eyes to heighten her aural senses.

  Don’t be ridiculous. That could’ve been anything.

  But she didn’t step away. And then she heard it again. And it wasn’t just any old moan. It was her freaking name. She would’ve bet her house savings on it.

  Left hand next to her head on the wall, Joss spread her legs and let her hand resume what it had been doing moments before. In her mind’s eye, she imagined him stretched out on his bed, golden skin completely naked and damp with perspiration, muscles straining as his hand worked up and down his shaft.

  Damn, that’s hot.

  She pressed her hips forward, seeking out the friction her fingers were only too happy to provide. If this wall weren’t here, she’d step through, climb up on top of him, and take his cock deep inside her. She was so wet, her body would welcome him in to the hilt in one slick stroke. Fingers gliding, circling, pressing, she imagined it, felt his heat, smelled his scent, heard his harsh rush of breath.

  Energy spiraled through her and concentrated low, low in her belly. Joss moaned Brady’s name.

  A light thump sounded on the other side of the wall, then, another moaned, “Joss.” Another thump, like a hand falling flat against the surface that separated them.

  The embarrassment she might’ve felt flew away from her as her body drove her toward release. Knowing he was only inches away, that he was so very close…

  Her orgasm detonated within her. She unleashed a long, low moan and her knees went weak as her body convulsed again and again.

  A moment later, Brady grunted out her name on the other side of the wall.

  Oh. My. God.

  Joss dragged a hand through her hair. Did we just…? And did he realize?

  “Joss?” came his muffled voice. Yeah, he realized all right.

  She pressed her ear in tight again.

  “I miss you,” Brady said louder. He knocked twice. But Joss didn’t knock back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next Saturday, Joss wasn’t sure whether to expect another gift. Brady had just sent her the costume a few days before. And now that they’d reached an unspoken state of peaceful coexistence, she didn’t know if he’d keep giving them or not.

  She should go talk to him. She knew she should. She’d half wondered if he’d come over after she sent him the ultrasound picture the other night, but he hadn’t. Then again, she hadn’t returned his knock, so she couldn’t really blame him. Still, disappointment waged war with appreciation within her. She’d asked him not to talk to her or visit. And he’d been true to his word. Well, unless you counted all the Halloween messages. And the mutual masturbation. Since she hadn’t had so much fun in weeks, though, she could hardly be mad at him for those.

  Finally, she couldn’t not look out her front door.

  A small blue cooler sat on the bricks.

  Dying of curiosity, Joss brought it inside and sat it on the kitchen counter. She opened the lid and burst out laughing. Pickles and ice cream. She lifted out the jar of dill pickles, and then the half gallon of french vanilla. Given her milkshake cravings, which had only gotten worse, he couldn’t have known just how perfect this gift was. That it was typical Brady smart-ass made it all the more endearing.

  After that day, Joss began noting the passage of time and the progression of her pregnancy by the gifts that appeared at her front door. Week 12: A stuffed bear wearing a “Go Army!” sweater. Week 13: A long-sleeved black T-shirt with hot pink lettering over the stomach that said, “Look what my daddy did.” She hadn’t been able to decide whether to fall over laughing or get pissed at that one, especially when she pulled the shirt out of the box and found another one, a baby onesie that read, “My daddy wears combat boots.” Every time she thought of the picture of the big combat boots next to the tiny baby sneakers, she burst into completely ridiculous, hormone-driven tears.

  If she didn’t count Halloween, Joss hadn’t talked to Brady in almost two months, and yet these presents made her feel more and more like he was right here with her. And he was, wasn’t he? That was the point. All she had to do was ask him for more, and he was prepared to give it.

  So, why didn’t she do it?

  The question stayed on her mind the whole busy week leading up to Thanksgiving. With less than four weeks until the center’s fund-raiser, she was finalizing venue details, making a hard push on selling admission and raffle tickets, and playing on everyone’s holiday spirit to beat last-minute donations out of the bushes.

  Still, the question nagged at her. And so did the answer.

  She was, in fact, falling in love with her baby’s father.

  And it made her even more afraid.

  If she stayed away, maybe this time she could keep from getting hurt. Ever since she’d given Brady the ultrasound, she’d been resolved that he deserved to know his child and play whatever role in his life he could. But if she opened up and let Brady in and it all fell apart, she didn’t think she could stand a lifetime of having to see him and pretend her heart wasn’t in pieces in her chest.

  She wasn’t proud of her fear, but there it was.

  Since Thanksgiving morning, Brady’s truck had been gone, so she didn’t bother to check her porch when she got up on Saturday. Instead, she threw herself into baking. She couldn’t decide between cinnamon rolls and pumpkin bread, so she made both.

  Baked goods heal all wounds. Or, at least, they didn’t hurt. Plus, s
he was damn hungry all the freaking time.

  Finally, she had the dishes done and the buns and bread cooling on a rack. She was just drying her hands when a knock sounded at the door.

  She tossed the dish towel over her shoulder and answered. For a moment, her brain couldn’t place the familiar woman standing on the other side, and then she gasped.

  “Hi, Joss,” Brady’s sister rushed to say. “I’m Alyssa, Brady’s—”

  “I remember. Of course.” Joss scrambled to organize her thoughts. “Wait. Did Brady send you?”

  Alyssa shifted her feet. “No. Not at all. In fact...do you think I could come in?”

  “Sure.” Joss stepped back and let Alyssa pass. She took a mental inventory of her appearance, wondering if Alyssa would be able to perceive the tiny baby bump under her yoga pants and tee. Alyssa turned, relief apparent on her face, and suddenly Joss knew. “He doesn’t know you’re here, does he.”

  Alyssa twisted her lips and shook her head. “No, but I really wanted to see you. I’m sorry I’ve just barged in here unannounced. I didn’t know how else to contact you.”

  “Okay, well, do you want a cup of tea?”

  “I’d love one.”

  Joss fixed the tea—decaf for herself now that the baby was on the way—and plated a few cinnamon rolls. She set the table for the impromptu chat and invited Alyssa to sit.

  “I really like how you’ve decorated. All the color makes it so warm and inviting,” Alyssa said, stirring cream and sugar into her tea.

  “Thanks.” Joss passed her the buns and then took one for herself, not sure exactly what to say.

  Alyssa sat back in her chair. “I’m sorry this is so awkward. Maybe…can I just be totally forward and ask you a question?”

  Joss gave her a small smile. She liked her all the more for just diving right in, so she decided not to make her ask. “Yes, I’m pregnant. And yes, it’s Brady’s.” Alyssa’s jaw dropped. Joss’s stomach followed. “Oh, God. That wasn’t the question you were going to ask?”