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Brant ignored the way his heart thundered behind his ribs. It is you. He wasn’t about to get drawn into her little world. Not now. Not ever. He had too much going on. Too much baggage banging around in his head. Too many memories that could unglue him if he let someone in.
“Like I said, you talk too much.”
She laughed, the sound wispy and sort of throaty and so damned sexy it sucked the air from his lungs. He was tempted to take the three steps he needed to be beside her. Maybe kissing her would get her out of his system. Maybe it was exactly the thing he needed to keep her out of his thoughts. But he stayed where he was, both irritated and fascinated by the relentless effect she had on him without even trying. And he knew the only way around it was to stay out of her way. To avoid her. To ignore her. To keep himself separate, as he had for the past eight months, and not get drawn into the land of the living where he would be forced to take part. Instead he’d stay on the sidelines, pretending everything was fine. Pretending he was fine. So his mom and brother didn’t work out that he was now a shadow of the man he’d once been.
“So, I’m right. It is just me?” she asked, stepping a little closer. “Why? Are you worried that I might work out that underneath all your brooding indifference there’s actually a decent sort of man?”
“Not at all,” he replied quietly. “Dr. Monero, the truth is I don’t think about you from one moment to the next.”
It was a mean thing to say. He knew. She knew it. And he hated the way the words tasted in his mouth. He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t good at it. He felt clumsy even saying the words. But he had to try to keep her at a distance.
“I see.” Her eyes shadowed over for a second. She looked...hurt. Wounded. And the notion cut through him like a knife. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to have any feelings when it came to Lucy Monero. “Okay. Fine. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. Now, I think I’ll find my own way home.”
She was past him and by the door in seconds. As she rattled the doorknob, Brant took a few strides and reached her, placing a hand on either side of the jamb. She turned and gasped, looking up, so close he could feel her breath on his chin.
“Lucy...”
The sound of her name on his lips reverberated through him, sending his heart hammering and his blood surging through his veins. She was trapped, but didn’t move, didn’t do anything but hold his gaze steady. And this, he thought as he stared down into her face, was exactly why he needed to keep his distance. There was heat between them...heat generated by a sizzling attraction that had the power to knock him off his feet.
“Don’t...please...” she said shakily, her bottom lip trembling fractionally.
Brant stepped back and dropped his arms instantly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She nodded. “I know that. I didn’t mean I thought you would. It’s just that...being around you...it’s confusing.”
She was right about that!
“It’s like you ignore me as though I don’t exist,” she went on to say. “But sometimes you look at me as if...as if...”
“As if what?” he shot back.
“As if you do...like me.”
“Of course I do,” he admitted raggedly, taking a breath, hoping she couldn’t see how messed up he was. “But I’m not in the market for anything serious. Not with you.”
There...it was out in the open. Now she could move on and stop looking at him as though he could give her all she wanted. Because he couldn’t. He didn’t have it in him. Not now. He’d been through too much. Seen too much. He wasn’t good company. He wasn’t boyfriend or husband material. He was better off alone.
“Why not?” she asked.
Nothing...
Brant sighed heavily. “I’d prefer not to get into it.”
“Oh, no,” she said and crossed her arms, pushing her chest up, which instantly grabbed his attention.
God, her curves were mesmerizing. He looked to the floor for a moment to regather his good sense and hoped she’d stop talking. But no such luck.
“You don’t get to make a bold statement like that and then think you’re off the hook. What’s wrong with me?” Her brows rose again. “I’m honest, intelligent, loyal and respectable, and have good manners. I even have all my own teeth.”
Brant laughed loudly. God, it felt good to laugh. There was something so earnest about Lucy it was impossible to remain unaffected by her. During the past few weeks he’d often heard her soft laughter through the corridors of the veterans home and wondered how it would feel to be on the receiving end of such a sweet, sincere sound. And he wanted to hear it again.
“Well, I guess if I was buying a pony, all bases would be covered.”
Her chuckle started out soft and then morphed into a full-on, loud guffaw. By the time she was done there were tears on her cheeks. She wiped them away and thrust out her chin.
“Wow...you do have a sense of humor.” Her eyes shimmered. “Your cousin was right, you’re not always a complete killjoy.”
“No,” he said easily. “Not always.”
“So, this being a jerk thing...that’s something you save especially for me?”
Brant’s mouth twitched. “I have to get my keys,” he said, ignoring the question. “Wait here.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Aren’t you going to invite me upstairs?”
To his apartment? His bedroom? “Not a chance,” he said and strode off without looking back.
* * *
Lucy wrapped her arms around herself and wandered through the tavern. Every sense she possessed was on red alert. By the door he’d been so close...close enough that she could have taken a tiny step and been pressed against him. The heat from his skin had scorched hers. The warmth of his breath had made her lips tingle with anticipation. It was desire unlike any she’d known before. And she wanted it. She wanted him. She wanted his kiss, his touch. She wanted every part of him to cover every part of her.
And she shook all over, thinking about her false bravado. She’d never spoken to man in such a blatantly flirtatious tone before. But being around Brant was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. As inexperienced as she was, flirting and verbally sparring with him seemed to have a will and a power all of its own.
“Ready?”
He was back, standing by the steps that led upstairs. Lucy swallowed hard and nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”
He shrugged loosely. “My truck’s out back.”
“No motorbike?”
He raised a brow and began to walk toward the rear of the building. “Not in this weather.”
He was right, but the idea of being behind him on his motorbike, holding on to him, being so close she’d be able to feel his heartbeat, made her pulse race.
“So you’re only reckless with yourself. That’s good to know.”
Brant stopped midstride and turned. “What?”
Lucy held out three fingers. “That’s how many times you’ve been in hospital in the past seven months. Twice off your bike because you were speeding and once when you thought it was a good idea to climb Kegg’s Mountain—alone—and without the proper gear, I might add.”
“You’re still talking too much,” he muttered and then kept walking.
Lucy followed him down the long hallway, past the kitchen and restrooms, and then through the rear door. He waited for her to walk outside and locked the door. It was still snowing lightly and she took quick steps toward the beat-up, blue Ford pickup parked outside. He opened the passenger door, ushered her inside, strode around the front of the vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat.
“What’s your address?” he asked.
Lucy gave him directions and dropped her bag into her lap.
She expected him to immediately start the truck and drive off. But he didn’t. He put the key in the ignition but placed both hands on the steering wheel. And then he spoke.
“I wasn’t speeding. My bike blew a tire the first time and the second time I swerved to avoid hitting a dog that was on the road.”
It was meant to put her in her place. To shut her up. To end the conversation.
But Lucy wasn’t one to be silenced. “And the mountain?”
“I was unprepared. Not a mistake I would make again.” He started the engine and thrust the gear into Reverse. “Satisfied?”
Lucy’s skin tingled. The idea of being satisfied by Brant Parker had her insides doing flip-flops. Of course, he wasn’t being suggestive, but Lucy couldn’t help thinking how good a lover he would be. Not that she would have anything to make a comparison with. But she had a vivid imagination and she had certainly fantasized about being between the sheets with the man beside her.
She smiled sweetly. “I guess I didn’t hear the whole story because I didn’t attend to you the night you were brought into the ER.”
He shifted gears again and turned into the street. “I thought my mother would have kept you updated. You and she seem to have become quite the twosome.”
“I like your mom,” Lucy replied. “She’s a good friend.”
“Yeah, my mom is a good person.” He turned left. “She also likes to play matchmaker.”
Lucy’s mouth twitched. She knew that. Colleen had been gently pushing her in Brant’s direction for months. “Does that make you nervous?” she asked, turning her gaze. “I mean, now she’s got Grady settled and engaged to Marissa, do you think you’re next?”
She watched his profile. Impassive. Unmoving. Like a rock. But he was trying too hard. The pulse in his cheek was beating madly. He wasn’t so unmoved. He was simply reining his feelings in...as usual.
“She’s wasting her time.”
Lucy tried not to be offended and managed a brittle laugh. “Considering how happy your brother is now, you can’t blame your mom for wanting the same for you.”
“I’m not my brother.”
No, he wasn’t. She knew Grady Parker. Oh, he still had the Parker pride and was a teeny bit arrogant, but he was a good-natured, hardworking family man with three little girls to raise and had recently found love again with Marissa Ellis. The wedding was only a couple of weeks away and Lucy knew Brant was standing as his brother’s best man. She’d been invited, more to please Colleen Parker than anything else, she was sure. And since Brooke and Ash were both going and she liked Marissa and Grady, she was delighted to be part of their special day.
“Have you got a speech prepared?” Lucy asked, shifting the subject. “For the wedding, I mean. I hear you’re the best man. That should be a fun gig...even for you.”
He pulled the truck up outside her house, set the vehicle into Park and switched off the ignition. Then he turned in his seat and looked at her, his jaw set rigid. Boy, he was tense. And the intensity of it crackled the air between them. Lucy met his gaze and held it. Felt the heat of his stare as though he was touching her, stroking her, caressing her. She shuddered and she knew he was aware of the effect he had over her. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, as though he knew he shouldn’t react but couldn’t resist.
If he moved, if he so much as lowered his defenses in any way, Lucy would have planted herself against him and begged for his kiss. She wanted it. Longed for it. But he continued to look at her, into her, making her achingly aware of the intimacy of the small space they shared.
“Even for me?” he intoned, his deep voice as intense as a caress. “I do know how to have a good time, despite what you think.”
Lucy’s bravado spiked. “Really?”
He inhaled heavily. “What is it you want, Dr. Monero?”
The million-dollar question. Bravado was fine when it wasn’t challenged. But under scrutiny, Lucy quickly became unsettled. “I’m not... I don’t...”
“You want something. Is it me?” he asked bluntly. “Is that what you want?”
Color smacked her cheeks. “I just want—”
“Why?” he asked, cutting her off. “Why me? You could have anyone you—”
“Chemistry,” she said quickly, dying inside. “Attraction.”
“Sex?”
Lucy stilled. She didn’t want to think her reaction to him was merely physical. But since she did find him more attractive than she’d ever found any other man, perhaps she was blinded by those feelings? Maybe her daydreams about getting to know him, being around him and spending time with him were exactly that. Dreams. And foolish remnants of an old teenaged infatuation. She’d spent college and medical school wrapped in a bubble—wary of involvement with anyone because of what had happened to her roommate. But once she was back in Cedar River—more confident and older and able to meet his gaze head-on—Lucy had believed she would somehow be able to capture his attention.
But that hadn’t happened. He’d ignored her. Despite her smiles and friendly attention.
And the more he ignored her, the more she wanted him. His indifference became fuel for her teenaged fantasies and starved libido. So maybe it was just sex and she was simply too inexperienced to recognize it for what it was.
“What’s wrong with that, anyway?” she shot back as heat climbed over her skin.
His gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong with sex? Nothing...if that’s all you’re after.” He reached out and touched her hair, trapped a few strands between his fingertips. It was the first time he’d touched her and it was electric. “But you don’t strike me as the casual-sex kind of girl, Doc Monero. In fact, I’d bet my boots you are the white-picket-fence, happy-ever-after kind.”
God, if he only knew, he’d probably run a mile.
“That’s quite a judgment. And what are you? Only casual, no happy-ever-after?”
“Close enough,” he said and returned his hands to the wheel.
“Back at the tavern you said you...liked me...so which is it?”
“Neither. Both. You’re wasting your time with me. I’m not marriage material. So, good night.”
Humiliation coursed through her veins and Lucy grabbed her bag and placed it in her lap. She got the message loud and clear. He was awful. Just awful. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Are you going to walk me to my door?”
“This isn’t a date,” he said quietly.
He was such a jerk, and he was right about one thing: she was seriously wasting her time being attracted to him. Lucy set her teeth together and opened the door. “Thanks for the lift. I’ll get my car towed in the morning. Good night.”
“Good night...Lucy.”
She got out, shut the door and stomped up the path and to the front door. While she was opening the door she realized he was still parked by the curb. So maybe he did have some chivalry in him. Ha—but not enough. As she got inside and peeked through the lace curtains to watch him finally drive away, Lucy decided she was going to forget all about him and spend her nights dreaming of someone else. Anyone else.
And the sooner she started the better.
* * *
Brant had been visiting his mother’s home for lunch nearly every Saturday since he’d returned from his last tour. Colleen insisted they have a family catch-up and he didn’t mind. He loved his mom, even though she drove him nuts with her attempts to interfere in his personal life. He knew there were only good intentions in her meddling, so he usually laughed it off and ignored her. But today—the morning after the whole Lucy-Monero-and-her-broken-down-car thing—Colleen was onto him the moment he stepped foot into her kitchen.
“I went into town early to get eggs and milk and saw Lucy’s car outside the tavern,” she said, her wide-eyed gaze all speculation and curiosity.
Brant walked around the timber countertop, grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured coffee. “Her car broke down. I gave her a lift home.”
And acted like a total horse’s ass.
“She didn’t spend the night?”
