He stepped in front of her, a wall of muscle and angst. “No. Not until you tell me exactly what the fuck is going on.”
She went toe-to-toe with him, tipping her head back so she could look at him. “I don’t owe you a goddamn thing!”
“Don’t push me, Remi,” he warned.
“Or what?” she taunted, poking him in the very large, very hard chest. “You’ll storm your way into my business? You’ll treat me like a little sister? Oh, wait, I know. You’ll go back to disappearing every time I come home—”
He grabbed her by the front of the shirt, and she found herself pinned between a plaster wall and a Brick one. She froze as those massive hands settled on either side of her head. His chest was heaving, nostrils flaring like a stallion about to run. His hips held her against the wall, an obscene length of hard flesh pressed against her belly.
“Shut. The fuck. Up,” he enunciated a mere inch from her face.
It was the shock and not the command that had her obeying, she decided.
Then he dipped his head toward her, and she forgot everything. It all slipped out of her head as her attention zeroed in on the man’s firm, scowling mouth as it drew closer in slow motion.
Her lips parted as if they were under someone else’s control. Heart thundering away in her chest. His breath was hot on her cheek. His body so warm against hers. Every part of her was alert. But this wasn’t fear. No. This was alive.
The breath she let out was a tremulous one. It had one corner of Brick’s mouth lifting in smug satisfaction.
But just when she thought he was going to finally, finally kiss her, he tensed against her instead. Those heated blue eyes were no longer focused on her face.
She heard it then. The squeak and swing of the front door. The change in him was instantaneous. Gone was the stubborn seducer and in his place was a battle-ready sentry. Her blood ran cold. No. It couldn’t be. Not here.
Brick, eyes blazing, clamped a firm hand over her mouth, dragging her out of her frozen fear. She managed a shaky nod, and he removed his hand. With surprising grace, he whirled her away from the wall and put himself between her and the intruder. Her brain, scrambling to keep up with the ever-changing situation, took a hot second to admire the barricade of muscle.
Footsteps realigned her priorities, and Remi snagged a knife from the butcher block on the counter. The hand that wrapped around the hilt shook, but it felt damn good to take a stand.
He spared her a glance, spotted the knife and mouthed the word “No.”
She jabbed the blade in the direction of the hall where it was apparent someone was approaching.
Brick moved soundlessly to the doorway, sinking into a crouch. A lion ready to pounce. She gripped the knife in both hands and held her breath.
16
“Yo, Brick! Bricky Tikki Tavi?”
Brick, in the midst of calculations that included where he’d left his service weapon and how to keep Remi in sight without putting her in danger, heard her ditch the knife on the table behind him. At least that meant he wasn’t about to get stabbed in the back. Before he could react to the intruder, she grabbed him by the waistband and held on.
“Spence?” Remi called weakly from behind his back. “Is that you?”
“Audrey?”
Remi’s hands slipped away from the back of his pants, and he swore under his breath.
He stepped into the doorway and came face-to-face with his little brother, who had no idea he’d just barely avoided an ass-kicking. “Spencer? What the hell are you doing here?”
Spencer took one look at him, shirtless, barefoot, ready to commit murder and blanched.
“Oh. Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Valentine’s Day. I didn’t realize you two were back together—Shit. Sorry.”
“What?” Brick needed a second to shake off the fog of adrenaline…and lust.
Spencer Callan was shorter than Brick, leaner, too. His hair was a light brown that went to blond under the summer sun. He had the kind of look Remi used to call Country Club, dressing as if he spent all his free time on the tennis court or golf course. Now, in fancy, name-brand winter gear, he looked like he’d just strolled off the slopes at some ritzy resort in the Alps.
“I’ll go. I just thought—Never mind. It was stupid.”
“Spencer Callan, you stay right where you are,” Remi commanded from over Brick’s shoulder. Well, more accurately, around his bicep.
“Remi?” Spencer went from kicked puppy to elated brother in the span of a single heartbeat. “Boy, am I glad to see you!”
“Not half as glad as I am to see you!” She elbowed Brick out of the way, leaving him to watch as his brother swept her up in his arms.
Jealousy sliced deep. His brother and Remi shared the kind of carefree, affectionate bond he could never be a part of.
“What are you doing here?” she asked when Spencer put her back on her feet. Brick had to squash the urge to yank her back to his side.
“The big guy glaring at me didn’t respond to my last two texts. Figured I’d fly in, make sure he was alive. Maybe do some tearing around on the ice bridge while I’m at it.”
Brick had the sudden urge to find and open a bottle of bourbon and drink until he fell down. His brother had either ruined a moment he’d been waiting for, or saved him from making a huge fucking mistake. “You could have called,” he said blandly, turning away from the affectionate reunion and pouring himself a glass of water for his burning throat.
“Since when do I need to call ahead to tell my big brother I’m crashing at his place for a couple of days?” Spence asked, dropping his duffel bag on the floor and wandering into the kitchen to open the fridge.
Halfway through his foraging, he poked his head up over the door like a prairie dog. “Hang on. Are you two…” The unfinished question lingered as Spencer looked back and forth between them, taking in Remi’s inappropriately short shorts, Brick’s bare chest.
“No.” Brick’s answer was stony.
“I mean, if you are, I can go find someplace else to stay for the night. It is Valentine’s Day.”
“I know how this looks. But—”
“Don’t be silly, Spence. You know your brother looks at me and sees just another sibling. He’d rather pluck out his own eyeballs with a cocktail fork than look at me that way,” Remi said sweetly. There was fire beneath that sugary surface, and Brick was afraid it might burn him alive.
“Good thing I never thought about you that way,” Spencer said smugly. “Thanks for taking my virginity, by the way.”
“Hey oh!” Remi smirked.
They high-fived, his little brother and his…whatever the fuck Remington was to him, in his kitchen as if it were all some hilarious joke. And maybe it was. But not to him. Brick wished he could just lock them both out of the house and go back to his nice, quiet life.
“Well, I should get going. Thanks for letting me soak up some of your lights, Brick,” she said, starting for the door.
“No,” he said again. And when she didn’t listen—because the woman never fucking listened—he had to grab her by the hood of her sweatshirt. “You’re staying here.”
“You know what that means,” Spencer announced. “Sleepover! I brought popcorn and beef jerky. We can light our farts on fire and tell ghost stories.”