"Who's Harry Potter?"
If this had been a sitcom, there would be the sound of a record player screeching inserted in that moment. I stared at her. "You don't know who Harry Potter is?"
She shook her head, wide-eyed.
I turned to Brody. "You have fallen down on the parenting job, Brody Murphy. How does your child not know about the Boy Under the Stairs?"
He shrugged. "I was worried the books and movies were too scary for her."
I frowned at him. "Hmmm. You may have a point. We could try the first one and then decide if we should continue. How does that sound?"
"Movie or book?"
"Both."
He shrugged. "It's up to Jacks. I don't mind if she's interested."
I turned toward his daughter to find her watching us with serious eyes and I understood one thing. If this relationship between Brody and I continued to grow, if we were going to get anywhere close to what I wanted, we would need to handle Jacks and her feelings with care. She was the most important person in his life and I never, ever wanted to come between them.
"Does that sound okay, Jacks?" I asked her.
She considered me carefully for a few moments before she nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good."
"Then, the next time I have a couple of evenings off, we'll watch the first movie. And I'll loan you my copy of the first book before then. You and your dad can read it at night before bed." I lifted a hand. "But you have to promise me you'll take good care of my book. No dog-earing pages or coffee stains."
"I don't drink coffee," Jacks said with a laugh.
"Okay, then. I guess I'll trust you."
Father and daughter both gave me the same look, an expression I couldn't decipher on either of their faces.
But I felt warmth rather than disquiet, so I decided not to obsess. Especially since my stomach was growling non-stop from the scent of the casserole in front of me.
To break the spell, I asked Brody, "Are you gonna feed me or what? I have to get back to work before Sierra walks off out of sheer frustration."
He grinned at me. "Then I guess I'll feed you. We'll save the 'or what' for another night."
Oh, holy shit. The man was trouble.
17
My interactions with Brody continued to be fairly innocent in nature for the next two weeks. Mostly because we had a tiny chaperone every time we saw each other.
He called me almost every night and we talked and flirted over the phone. Sometimes for ten or fifteen minutes and sometimes for several hours. We held hands when Jacks wasn't looking.
And we necked in the strangest places. Like the coat closet at his house. Behind my garage. And the bathroom at the shop.
It was almost...fun. And more than a little reminiscent of the scant high school relationships I'd had.
Except this time, I was with Brody.
It was everything I'd ever wanted. Only better.
He wasn't perfect. He was stubborn about things like who paid for dinner or wanting to pick me up when we went out. He refused to talk about what life would be like when his daughter got older, like when she hit puberty, started dating, or went off to college. As far as he was concerned, she was going to be six and in pigtails until the day he died.
But he was still the Brody I'd always known and loved.
We cracked each other up when we watched movies with Jacks. And he gave me shit all the time, just like he had during my teen years. But it stirred a different set of feelings in me than it once had. Looking back, I realized he was never intentionally malicious. My own hurt over the fact that I didn't think he reciprocated my feelings had tainted everything he said and did.
My heart still raced when he looked at me. And he looked at me a lot. Long, hot looks that made my skin burn with the need to touch him. Sweet, soft looks that made me want to wrap my arms around him and hold on tight.
Then, Wednesday night rolled around and Monica called. I was over at his place, hanging out with him after Jacks was in bed. Well, making out on the couch, but we never took it further. I wanted to, but Brody was holding back. While I was sexually frustrated, I understood. Sex would change our relationship in a fundamental way and he didn't want to push Jacks into something she wasn't ready for.
At least that was what I thought. Brody and I hadn't discussed it yet, mostly because when we had time alone, we spent it necking.
We'd been in the middle of a particularly hot and heavy kiss when his phone rang. I knew it was his ex by the way Brody's jaw got tight when he looked at the screen of his cell phone. His entire body tensed as soon as he lifted it to his ear and said hello.
Whatever she was saying, he didn't like it.
"Monica, I know it's your weekend, but the custody agreement states you get her from Friday to Sunday, not Thursday to Monday."
I couldn't hear her reply, but Brody developed a deep crease between his brows as he frowned.
"I know it's summer and she's at the babysitter's while I'm working, but she has activities and play dates that she won't want to miss."
His ex spoke louder and I could hear the angry buzz of her voice through the speaker even though I couldn't understand her words.
"Okay, I will ask her what she wants to do because I know she loves you, but this will not be a common occurrence. Understood?"
Whatever she said after that made his face turn absolutely thunderous. No, not thunderous. Murderous. It was even more frightening considering I was straddling his lap on the couch when it happened.
His thighs tensed beneath me and I shifted, ready to move off him. He was upset and needed space.
Brody shot me a sharp look, his brilliant green eyes laser-like in their focus, and grabbed my hip with his free hand, keeping me against him. Then, to make sure I fully understood, he shook his head.
"Listen to me, Monica. You will not take our daughter out of the country. You can't do it without my written consent and I will not give it."
He paused and this time I could hear exactly what she said.
"I will take my daughter wherever I please! We're going on vacation to the South of France and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it."
My eyes widened. Oh, shit. She'd put her foot in it now. I also understood that this was exactly what Brody was afraid of, that Monica would take Jacks out of the country. It would be a lot harder to get her back if Monica decided she didn't want to return.
"If you'd bothered to read our custody agreement closely, you would know that taking our daughter out of the country without my written permission will land your ass in jail. It's kidnapping."
"She's my child! How can it be kidnapping?" Monica screeched.
"Don't test me on this. You should know by now that I never bluff. If I find out you've taken her, and I definitely will, I'll call the airlines, explain that you've kidnapped our daughter, and there will be law enforcement waiting for you wherever you land."
After he finished speaking, Brody lowered the phone from his ear, his eyes burning with rage.
"What'd she say?" I asked.
"She hung up on me." His voice was low and dark. Deadly. His hands were gentle as he shifted me off his lap. He stood up. "Give me a few minutes, please. I have some calls to make."