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I shook my head, throwing off my thoughts, and turned the door handle. It swung open with a low creak, and once we’d stepped inside, I shut it again. We both stood in the dark, our breath mingling. He was the first to speak.

“I guess everyone is asleep.”

“Yep. Gran most likely fell asleep reading one of her murder mysteries, and Coop probably has an early start at work.”

Brody just nodded, and I gripped my lip with my teeth. You could slice the air in the hallway with a knife, but neither of us moved or said a word. The porch light coming through the door glass highlighted his lashes, and I could sense his eyes on me.

Damn, we were old friends. Why did this goodnight feel so awkward? Like we were on a first date.

At a loss for anything scintillating to say and worried I’d blurt out something silly, I stepped away, moving down the hallway to the stairs. Brody fell into step behind me, but when we got to the den door, he reached out and touched my arm. I held my breath and froze with my back to him.

“Well, this is me.” His voice was barely louder than the whir of the refrigerator in the kitchen beyond, and its gentle lilt soothed the drumming of my heart.

I turned my head to see him leaning against the door frame, every glorious inch of him outlined in the moonlight. I slowly let out my breath. “Goodnight, Brody. Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

He shrugged, and the balls of his cheeks lifted. “My pleasure. Goodnight, Ro.”

I hesitated a long beat, waiting for him to say something, anything else. To draw the moment out. To give me a reason to stay and hang out with him a little longer, but when he remained silent, I turned and headed to the stairs, taking one slow step at a time. A clunk rang out in the stillness behind me. It was the sound the den doorknob made when it was twisted. I’d heard it a thousand times before, but when I looked down to see if he’d gone inside, Brody stood in the hallway, watching me, too.

16

RO

After precisely thirty seconds of pacing around my bedroom, I threw off my clothes and climbed into a comfortable old T-shirt and panties. My skin was on fire, and so was my need for Brody. He'd sent me into turmoil when he walked back into my life just two weeks ago. I’d worked so hard to lock up my feelings, but I’d failed miserably, and now I was paying the price. I should never have played with his fire. Never agreed to try out for the derby.

I flung myself back on the bed with a groan and undid the bands around my braids. What the hell was I going to do for the rest of his stay? Outside of our training, trying to avoid him became harder and harder. The thought of him being so close yet so out of reach maddened me. Wasn’t this evening a perfect example?

Every night, the memory of his beautiful body lingered in the back of my mind. The lovely heart he’d always shown me. I fought images of his slow, sexy grin. The glow in his eyes when we laughed together. But mostly, I battled with the urge to touch myself, knowing he lay just meters away from me, twisted in hissheets, golden skin bathed in the moonlight we shared through our windows.

Well, now I was about ready to give up the fight. Total capitulation. I let out a slow breath and brought my hand down to my panties, tracing a finger along their soft cotton before nudging the waistband aside, eager to quell the ache at my center.

Seconds later, a gentle knocking at the door froze me in place. What if it was Gran, or worse still, Coop? What if they just walked in and caught me red-handed, or busy-handed? I held my breath, listening for any clue as to who stood outside my door.

Silence. Maybe I’d imagined the knock. Consequences of a guilty conscience. My shoulders loosened a little, but no sooner had I relaxed back into my mattress than the knocking came again, only this time louder.

“Yes?” My voice was almost a squeak, laced with panic.

“Ro? You okay?” Brody’s soft lilt was unmistakable, and I sucked in a stiff breath before reorganizing my underwear and scrambling to my bedroom door.

I made it to the knob in record quick time and, with little thought, twisted it open. Brody stood out in the dim light of the hallway. He wore a battered old T-shirt and that pair of gray sweatpants that hugged him in all the right places.

After a leisurely roam around his body, my gaze landed on his hands. In them lay his ball of neon green yarn, his crochet hook, and the string of stitches that he’d completed at the Dirty Hookers meeting. He had a sheepish smile, and his perfectly disheveled fair hair fell across his forehead in damp shards.

“I need some help with my stitches,” he said.

I blinked.

“Ro?”

The edge in his voice roused me from my stupor. “Oh, crap. Come in.” I practically manhandled him through the doorway, sticking my head out into the hall, listening for signs of us being discovered. Sure that neither Gran nor Cooper was about to batter down my door with a baseball bat, I shut it, turning the old key. With three brothers who loved to play tricks on me, I’d insisted on a lock in my early teens.

Brody stood in the lamplight, his solid bulk oddly out of place with my patchwork quilts and floral wallpaper. I met his eyes for the first time since he’d knocked. “What are you doing here?”

He held out his crochet, its vibrant hue paling in the low light. “I just can’t work out how I’m going to manage the fingers.”

The corners of my mouth twitched. He meant the gloves, but I’d had similar thoughts only minutes ago for entirely different reasons.

I took the yarn and checked it, examining his loose stitches. “Don’t run before you can walk. You need to think about your tension first. Tighten it up.”