Rock Solid Read online

  And there were pictures of a very young Brody by a race car—his first one? He had to be only twenty or so.

  She’d only known him as a champion driver, but clearly there was a lot more to the man. He’d done and accomplished a lot. She looked at some of the framed news articles and magazine covers. Words that came up often were things like brash, risky, and pushing the edge.

  Brody said you were nice.

  What did Hannah have to put on her walls? Her diplomas, certainly, and she was proud of those, along with her certified public accountant recognition. She had some pictures from school—mainly her and Abby and a few other friends having fun in Ithaca and at the senior dance. A few 4-H awards from the local fair. Not that she was ashamed of any of those moments—she held them dear, in fact—but in her thirty years, what else had she managed to accomplish?

  Her work had been her focus. Creating the stable, perfect future that she had always planned on. She’d be thirty-one in a few months, and she had no job, husband, kids or house.

  And here she was, cleaning Brody’s place and making him dinner and wondering why everyone, even the strangers on her blog, only thought of her as nice.

  Maybe it was time to do something that wasn’t so nice? Something daring and un-Hannah-like.

  The question was...what?

  * * *

  BRODY’S HEAD FELL back against the headrest of the seat when he saw Hannah’s car still in his driveway. Man, she was stubborn. And caring, warm, generous, gorgeous, sexy, funny... Brody bit off a curse, making himself stop there.

  He didn’t want to lie to her. If he’d been a bad bet before, he wasn’t anyone Hannah would be interested in now. She needed security, stability. He’d never been a poster child for either quality, but that was especially true at the moment.

  He could only think of one way to convince her to go. It was dangerous, but it was his only play, really. Entering the house through the back door, he stopped short for a second, taking in the gleaming counters and lack of clutter. Something smelled mouthwatering, and his gaze traveled to the pot still on the stove. There was a pie on the counter and he walked over to read a note next to it—“Jenna dropped this off.”

  Brody shook his head, and then he checked the messages blinking on the phone in the kitchen. He kept the landline precisely so he could screen calls like this; only friends and family used his cell number. He winced, thinking about Hannah overhearing the messages, especially the last one.

  Since the nightclub story, he’d gotten several offers like that. Weekly.

  Speaking of Hannah, where was she?

  “Hannah?”

  He walked farther into the house and discovered her sitting on his sofa, quiet, staring at her laptop. There was a bottle of wine—half-finished—and an empty glass on the table next to her. When he came in, she just looked up at him.

  “Oh, hi,” she said, her brow furrowed as she turned her attention back to the computer screen.

  That was all.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “No. I’m boring.”

  Brody didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that. He assumed she’d be ticked off or concerned or whatever, but this threw him. So he went over and sat next to her, and saw on the screen, a page about...

  “Why are you reading about alligator wrestling?”

  “Because it’s exciting and crazy, and risky. Meaning, all of the things I’m not. A decent photojournalist needs to take risks. So I found this place that teaches people to alligator wrestle, and it’s not far from here. Do you know about it?”

  “Hold on a second. You mean you’re actually considering learning how to wrestle an alligator?” Brody’s tone was incredulous, but he couldn’t help it.

  Wait. Photojournalist? Hannah was an accountant. Wasn’t she?

  “How much wine did you have, Hannah?”

  “Only a few glasses. See, on the website, they take you through it step-by-step. Here’s a picture of a woman doing it, so it’s not just for men,” Hannah said, pointing.

  Brody looked at the screen. “She’s twice your size—and a game warden, according to the caption, Hannah. Have you ever seen a real alligator?”

  “No, but I have to do something, and soon. You can’t help me, and people aren’t going to look at my blog for pretty pictures of ocean waves or... Hey, wait. Do people surf down here? There are sharks, right?”

  Brody put up a hand, interrupting her. “Let’s back up a few steps. One, why do you think you’re boring? Two, why are you trying to commit suicide by wildlife? And three, what’s this about being a photojournalist?”

  She took a deep breath and poured some more wine. Brody suspected she’d had enough, but she was a big girl.

  “I quit my job,” she said after a swallow, and then told him the whole story, showing him her blog and some pictures of oyster farmers and kids in a decrepit playground in Atlanta. She was pretty good, and he was about to compliment the pictures, but she slammed the laptop shut.

  Brody was stunned at her ferocity. He was also somewhat ashamed of himself for having had no clue that Hannah was going through all of this. He was so busy focusing on his own issues that he’d assumed everything with her was status quo—which was how she always liked it.

  But apparently there had been some big changes. That had to be why she had come here. Out on the road, on her own, she’d been looking for a friend, and instead he had... Brody rubbed his temples with his fingers, completely disgusted with his previous actions and how he’d spoken to her.

  She was worried that he wasn’t okay, even though she was having her own professional crisis.

  “I don’t know what else to do,” she said in frustration, standing, albeit unsteadily, as she walked over to his display case.

  His grandparents had started the case, keeping everything he acquired since the time he was a kid, and Brody had added to it after he’d bought the house. Some of the things he’d thought about donating to Jackie’s auction, but he found most of the items were too difficult to part with. They represented the life he loved. The one he hoped he hadn’t left behind him.

  “You see? All of this? All the things you’ve done? You know how to live adventurously. I do not,” she said, sounding totally disgusted with herself.

  Brody ran a hand through his hair, unsure what to say. He’d had a plan, but with Hannah three sheets to the wind and obviously in the middle of a personal crisis, all bets were off.

  “Hannah, take it from me, you are not boring,” he said, trying to find some foothold in this weird situation. “You’re...exciting in your own way.”

  As he heard the words come out, he regretted them instantly.

  “No,” she argued. “I’m not. The only time I’ve ever done anything exciting was with you.”

  She walked back over, standing a few feet in front of him, her eyes taking on a softer quality. “Do you remember how exciting some of it was, Brody? Like that time at the track, with all of those people around—”

  Brody swallowed hard, remembering all too well. Vividly, in fact. How he’d kept the pretty sounds she made quiet with his mouth as his nimble fingers had made her come behind the bleachers. It had been after a great qualifying race, and when he’d gotten out of the car, all he could think about was making his way to her and celebrating. They’d done that a lot, and it had been one of his best seasons.

  “Why did you retire?” she asked bluntly.

  “Um—”

  “I knew it. You’re sick, aren’t you? How bad is it?”

  Her eyes welled and her lip quivered and Brody stood, pulling her in close and wrapping his arms around her.

  “No, honey, I’m not sick. I promise.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Except for my back, which is getting better every day,
I’m healthy as can be.”

  She pushed back, looking up into his face.

  “Then why? And why are you here, so unhappy and not cleaning up?”

  Brody shook his head, fighting a small smile at her focus on the mess. His cleaning lady had moved, and he wasn’t motivated to find another one. But that was unimportant.

  “It’s complicated. Let’s focus on you right now.”

  She made a noncommittal noise, her eyes dropping to his mouth. She licked her lips, and Brody had to hold back a groan.

  He and Hannah had had some pretty good times now and then after they’d both finished a bottle of champagne or the like, but this was entirely different. He wasn’t about to take advantage, though it was really tough to keep his head straight as her hand slipped down over the front of his pants, squeezing.

  “Hannah, oh, um, hon. Let’s get you to bed.”

  “Be adventurous with me again, Brody,” she said, pushing up on her toes to drag her tongue along his lower lip as she touched him in a way that made his head spin.

  “Hannah, this isn’t a good, um, idea,” he managed, closing his eyes as she touched and kissed him as he walked her to the stairs.

  “I’ll show you how good an idea it is,” she responded in a purr.

  Brody helped her up the stairs, his body liking what she was up to way too much for his own good. She was testing his control.

  He deftly steered her into his room and set her down on the bed.

  “Aren’t you going to take my dress off?” she asked prettily.

  Brody looked down at her, his entire body hard, wanting. Her hair was mussed, her lips parted in the most delicious way. The dress she mentioned was pushed up on her thighs, and Brody knew how soft she was underneath.

  He walked over to the other side of the bed, lowering himself down, fully clothed.

  “Come here, Hannah. We have time. There’s no rush,” he said.

  He gathered her up next to him, torturous as the contact was, since he had no intention of giving her what she thought she wanted.

  “You feel so good. I missed you,” she murmured against his chest, and Brody closed his eyes.

  He didn’t say another word, but kissed her hair and stroked her shoulder until her breathing evened and eventually, something he’d forgotten, she offered a soft Hannah snore.

  Extracting himself quite gently, he pulled the sheet up over her and left, closing the door. He’d sleep downstairs—after a very cold shower—and hopefully by morning he could figure out what the heck he was going to do.

  4

  HANNAH WAS MORTIFIED as she glanced out the window at her car, sorely tempted to make a run for it before she bumped into Brody. She couldn’t believe she’d practically begged him to have sex with her the night before. He must think she had really come to him desperate for more of...that.

  She’d awakened in his bed—still dressed and alone—but she hadn’t drunk nearly enough to have forgotten what a fool she’d made out of herself, or what a gentleman Brody had been about it.

  Of course, it had to be less than attractive to have a drunk, depressed chick groping you and talking about the good ole days, she thought as she softly banged her head against the window frame. And it sounded as if he had enough of that in his life, from what his sister had told her.

  What had she been thinking? Good going, Hannah.

  Still, there was no way she could up and leave. She at least owed him a thanks and an apology. So she took a deep breath and went outside. He had to be around here somewhere, since his car was still parked in the drive.

  On her way across the driveway, she rehearsed what she’d say. She’d thank him, tell him that if he did want to talk, she’d leave her number. That would be that. As she approached the path that led down to the barns, she had to stop and admire the sleek muscle car he drove. It defined power, she thought. It was made for speed and taking charge.

  Hannah had never really cared about cars one way or the other until she’d hung around Brody and the track for a month. She still didn’t understand all of the intricacies, history, and all the models and so forth. She did understand, though, how people could connect with a vehicle on a very visceral level.

  She and Brody had connected on the hood of his stock car once, and the memory made her feel warmer than the early-morning heat could be blamed for.

  Hannah turned her attention to the beautiful grounds as she walked along the path. Quiet and peaceful, the only sounds came from birds and the whinny of a horse down in the barn. The rolling fields were a mixture of mowed lawn closer to the house, wildflowers, then longer grass and bushes beyond, all surrounded by mature trees, many of them draped in the Spanish moss she’d always thought was so pretty. It provided a nice mixture of sun and shade over the area.

  She stopped and smiled with delight as she saw a small deer about fifty feet away, nibbling at some moss. It didn’t seem to notice her, content as it ate its breakfast.

  She wished she had her camera; it wasn’t an exciting picture, but it sure was cute.

  Figuring Brody was down in the barn, she continued in that direction. Indeed, she did find him inside, tending to several horses.

  She paused for a moment in the entrance, loving the cool air that was thick with the smell of hay, wood, horses and hot summer. It reminded her of her childhood. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat as she watched him secure a lead rope around the neck of a beautiful red roan.

  The interplay of muscles in his arms didn’t escape her attention, either, nor how his obvious strength contrasted with the gentleness he exhibited with the animal. He conversed with it in low tones, smiling as the roan seemed to answer his comments with snorts and nods.

  As the horse fully emerged from the stall, Hannah saw it was a mare, and a beauty at that. She loved horses, and she’d had one of her own when she was very young, but they’d sold it with the farm, which had been one of the most heartbreaking parts of her youth. There was no room for a horse at their apartment in the city, of course, and renting stable space had been financially impossible then. The new owners had let her come back to ride the horse now and then, but it wasn’t really hers anymore.

  Abby and Reece also had horses, and Hannah loved taking them for a ride or even helping out in the stables. Still, she never expected to find Brody with equine. She supposed in some ways it wasn’t such a surprise; Brody was drawn to powerful things. Fast, potentially dangerous things, she thought with a smile.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Hannah said, making her presence known.

  Brody turned, greeting her with a smile.

  Well, that was a good sign. Hannah relaxed, stepping farther into the barn. Having the horses as a buffer helped somewhat, since she still wasn’t sure what she wanted to say to him.

  “This is Sally,” Brody said, petting the horse’s nose.

  “Hi Sally. You are such a sweetheart,” Hannah crooned, putting her hand out to the horse, who promptly stuffed her nose into her palm, snuffling for goodies.

  “And who is this?” she asked, walking farther down the aisle and lifting a hand to another horse’s nose.

  “Zip, meet Hannah. Hannah, meet Zip,” Brody said with a sidelong look at the horse.

  “Nice to meet you, Zip.”

  The horse nodded his head in greeting, snorting.

  “Of course. They told me he was a ladies’ man,” Brody said as Zip nuzzled Hannah’s fingers.

  “He’s absolutely beautiful. They all are,” she said, looking at the curious heads poking out over their stall doors. “But he’s...special, isn’t he?”

  “That’s one word for him,” Brody teased, chucking the horse gently on the chin and receiving a tolerant huff in response.

  “Were you taking them out to the pastures?”

  “Yeah, they al
l go out for most of the day, then I clean up the stalls.”

  “You don’t have people to do that for you?”

  “I don’t mind the work. What else do I have to do?”

  Hannah bit her lip, unwilling to pry at the moment, though his tone gave her another hint at his frustration.

  “I’ll take him for you, if you want to go with Sally. I could help with the stalls, too.”

  “That’s not a good idea. I know you’re around Abby’s horses a lot, but Zip is... Well, as you said, special.”

  Hannah understood immediately from Brody’s tone. “He’s the one who threw you?”

  “Yeah, and he enjoyed it, I’m pretty sure.”

  “He does have a sparkle in his eye,” she said, grinning. “But I can handle him. He’ll be fine, walking out.”

  Brody hesitated, but finally nodded.

  “You take Sally—I’ll get him and we’ll take them out together. We’ll be fine, Brody.”

  He relented, handing her the tack while he returned to Sally, who waited patiently. Hannah forgot the awkward encounter she’d been expecting and enjoyed the distraction.

  She kept a firm hold on Zip, Sally on the other side with Brody. As she walked the thoroughbred, she let her shoulder gently bump up against his, like buddies walking along together. He seemed to like it.

  She liked him, too, but she also couldn’t help but be aware of the power of the horse. He walked as though he was barely holding back from bolting. It was much the same feeling she got from Brody a lot of the time, especially now. Strung tight, needing to be let loose.

  “Where did you get him? I can feel the energy practically coming off him in waves,” she commented as they walked out into the sunlight.

  “Thoroughbred rescue. He has a very impressive racing pedigree, but he was too unmanageable, so they surrendered him to the rescue when they couldn’t sell him. I know the owner of the rescue, and she knew I had open stable space. They wanted me to keep a few of their horses for a while, but they weren’t being adopted, so I took them on permanently.”