Page 8 of Irresistible

“How many times did I catch you when you climbed like a monkey to the tallest branch in that old oak at the park?” Crossing his arms, he watched a small smile lift the corners of her mouth. When she was nine, she climbed that tree at least twice a week and he’d instantly assigned himself her protector. He knew the more times he caught her, the more times she would jump.

Even back then they were inextricably tied. What neither of them knew was that it would never end. No matter how long they ignored it. Standing in her warm kitchen with the late afternoon sun filling the room, he accepted the truth and vowed to do something about it.

“You caught me maybe once a week for the better part of two years. I loved the feeling of flying out of those branches and the way the breeze rushed against my ears.” Leaning against the counter, she shrugged. “I was fearless ’cause I knew you’d be standing there, ready to catch me. Always my protector.

“When you told me that you were joining the Marines out of college, I wasn’t surprised. You’d been protecting everyone for years. Then when Brady told me you decided to join MARSOC, I knew you’d found something that made sense for you. There was no way that you wouldn’t pick one of the most dangerous jobs in the world.”

He looked down at the wood floor. “I’m not an adrenaline junkie.”

“I know. But to be able to serve this country, protect people and test yourself in the harshest environment seemed like the perfect place for you to see who you were.” Covering his hand, she smiled. “And you are an adrenaline junkie.”

“Maybe. But the things that make my heart pound have changed over the years. And those are the only things that I’m interested in pursuing.”

A loud knock on the front door echoed through the house, and then the sound of it opening had Brock on alert. When Pete’s loud voice echoed through the house, he figured his time was up. “Well, I’ll get out of your way.”

“Don’t be silly. I know how much you love my shrimp and grits. I’ve made an onion remoulade to go with it. Stay and eat with us. If you come up with any good ideas, then I promise to give you some ice cream.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Leaning against the counter, he watched Pete stroll in. The way his buddy was looking at Lilly made him realize that there was something more than friendship going on between them. At least there was for Pete. His suspicion was confirmed when Pete’s smile dropped as he caught sight of him. “Hey, Pete.”

“Brock,” Pete responded quietly. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Walking over to Lilly, he kissed her cheek and gave her a bottle of wine and a loaf of French bread. “Hey, sugar. Smells terrific. As usual.”

As usual? How many times had Pete been over here? Crossing his legs, Brock drank his tea. Bottle of wine. How stupid. He could’ve brought a bottle of wine. “Need any help?” he called out as Lilly patted the shrimp dry.

“No, I’m almost ready. You all go sit down and get out from underfoot.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they said simultaneously.

Brock picked up the cutlery on the counter, then opened a drawer and pulled out another set. He might not have been invited, but that didn’t mean a thing in the end. The idea that Pete was interested in Lilly put more of a flame under his butt. Right now, his ass was on fire, and he planned to do something about it.

One week into the New Year and he was about to take the biggest risk of his life. Forget years in the military. Doing something about his feelings for Lilly was scary shit. He picked up the basket of napkins and walked over to the table. It would be interesting to see how invested his friend was in something happening with Lilly. Pete had never mentioned her to Brock, but that didn’t mean a thing. It had been his experience that if a man was interested in a woman, he didn’t talk about it. He just went out and got her. “You heading over to Hank’s later for the game?”

“No. Lilly needs me, and I’m not leaving until she has everything she wants.”

Brock watched a satisfied smile cross his friend’s face. Where was the laid-back man he’d known since he was in high school? Nodding, he gave Pete his own confident smile. Game on. If Lilly had needs, then he was going to make sure he was the only one who took care of them. The fact that this was the second time he told himself that made him more resolute about his plan.

No one was more tenacious, and he planned to prove that to Pete, Lilly, and anyone else who might be interested. “Better go see if Lilly needs anything.” He stood and walked into the kitchen. “Can I help?”

“Grab the salad out of the fridge and take the bread in.”

“Okay.” He noticed the funny look she threw him and decided to ignore it. There was no way he could explain his actions because he didn’t completely understand them himself. It had started on Thanksgiving, and every day since then only proved that it wasn’t going away. It being his desire to stop denying himself what he wanted. The Bertrands and the Landrys had spent the holidays together for as long as he could remember, and when he sat across from Lilly this time, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t want her the same way he did when he was eighteen. Four years in college and eight years in the Marines had only put the feelings on hold. But now that he was back home, they’d returned tenfold. So here he was in her kitchen, acting like an idiot.

“Brock, we’re ready to eat, so shake a leg.”

“Yeah…sorry.” He grabbed the salad and bread, then walked to the table.

Once they were all seated, Pete lifted his glass in a toast. “To book twenty-one. May it be the best yet.”

Lilly clinked his glass and then turned and clinked Brock’s. “Thank you. Right now, I think it’s a stinker, but who knows? Maybe I can salvage it.”

“It’s going to be a bestseller,” Brock said before he dug into his food and groaned. “Damn, girl, you can cook. This is delicious.”

“You didn’t say that back when I was experimenting in high school. Brody was the only one who was brave enough to eat my creations back then.”

“After I got food poisoning, I became more cautious,” he said as he covered her hand.

Pushing his hand away, she laughed. “It was never proven that my food made you sick.”

“True,” he responded with a laugh. “But it wasn’t disproved, either.”

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