5. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Brandy

C arrying three suitcases and a sewing machine is tough on a person's back. I'm finally in Miami and am struggling to get transportation to Erik's house. It's Saturday afternoon, so he might be there. I don't know what I will do if he's not. I want to surprise him, so I can't really have his mother call him and tell him to let me into his house.

I find the cab line outside. The driver helps me with my luggage and I exhale a breath of relief. I climb into the back seat of the cab, and the driver starts making small talk. I bring out my phone so I can see how far we are from Erik's house. The closer we get, the clearer it is that he lives in a fancy, schmanzy neighborhood.

When we reach our destination, I am in awe of the amazing house I see before me. It's huge, with modern lines and luxurious touches. It looks like a mansion for the rich. I guess Erik has done well for himself. Good for him. My quilting will never get me a house like this, and I'm oddly okay with that.

Once again, the driver comes to the rescue and helps me with the bags. They're piled in front of the door as I gather my thoughts.

This is it. I need to be prepared for any outcome. I'm certain this place has guest bedrooms. Erik won't mind one bit. I take a deep breath and ring the doorbell. The waiting is excruciating. I listen for sounds coming out of the house, but there's nothing. I ring the doorbell again, this time trying to remember what I packed in the larger suitcase. I might have to sit on it.

Finally, I hear footsteps, and I check myself. Stand up straight, shoulders back, breasts out. You don't have a chance, Erik Nelson. The door opens, and a gorgeous redhead appears. Shit. She's breathtaking with a billion-dollar smile. I try to hide my disappointment and put the smile back on my face. Oh my God, did I make a huge booboo? Is he living with someone right now? I'll have to be quick on my feet. I'm no home wrecker.

"Hi, I'm looking for Erik. Is he home?"

"Are you a friend of his?"

"Yeah."

"What's all this? Oh, a sewing machine! How exciting."

"Could you get Erik? Please. Tell him it's Brandy."

"Interesting." The redhead says, then turns around to go look for Erik, I guess.

I watch her walk across the living room floor to a sliding door that leads to a spacious deck. She leans into a very attractive man and whispers something in his ear. He smiles and looks back at me, saluting me with his drink. I'm standing here, stiff as a board, not knowing what to expect. Then I see Erik stand up. He looks stunning. The years have been good to him. He looks yummy enough to eat.

Holding my stomach in, I paste back on my smile. I've been told it's a rather effective tool when facing the enemy. He's walking towards me, and I can't take my eyes off him. He's just the perfect male specimen. His face shows his astonishment at my presence, and the butterflies in my stomach start to flutter. Finally, he stands in front of me, and his eyes reflect his surprise.

"Brandy? What are you doing here?"

"Surprise!" I put my arms in a ta-da pose.

His left eye twitches, and I hear laughter coming from the terrace. It's now or never, Brandy. Do your thing.

"Can you help me with my luggage?"

He takes a peek behind me.

"What's all this?"

"You look great, Erik. You've changed but for the better."

"Why all the bags, Brandy?"

"I'm staying here with you, silly." I push him gently on the shoulder, trying to make a point.

He's frowning now and definitely not helping me with my luggage.

"I have business here in Miami, and your mother said you'd accommodate me while I'm here."

"My…My mother?"

"Yes, remember? A kind lady with curly hair and a great smile. You call her Mom. We call her Mrs. Nelson."

"You can't stay here," he says.

"Can we at least get the luggage inside? It was a long trip, and I need to sit down and maybe hydrate a bit."

The frown grows in intensity, and I see his friends are coming to see what the issue is.

"Is there a problem?" The handsome man asks.

"Hey there!" I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. "Erik won't let me in."

Deciding to take the bull by the horns, I push past Erik and extend my hand to the other hottie in the room.

"I'm Brandy. I'm from Woodland Falls. Erik and I have known each other since we were kids."

I offer my hand to the redhead, and she immediately takes it. Her handshake is firm and confident.

"Oh, that's so wonderful. We want Erik to take us for a visit there, but he keeps changing the subject every time we mention it." Red says.

"You'd love Woodland Falls," I gush. "It's like living in a fairy tale village. We even have a Christmas store that is open all year round. Kringles."

"What a cute name. Don't you think, Max?"

He just smiles and looks towards Erik, who is glued to the door. Finally, he takes a step forward.

"Brandy, you can't stay here."

"But your mother said…"

"This is my house."

"Aren't you a little bit happy to see me? Your high school sweetheart?"

He blanches, probably at my public declaration of what we used to mean to each other. His mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out of it.

"Really?" Red says.

I smile and wink at her. Maybe she could be an ally—if she's not his girlfriend.

"Max, bring Brandy's luggage inside. Brandy, what do you do with that sewing machine? It looks ancient."

"Yeah, it was my great-grandmother's." I move to the side as Max retrieves my bags. Erik is still frozen and speechless at the door.

"I make and sell quilts for a living."

"Custom made?"

"Yup."

"You've got to show me your portfolio. I'd die for a handmade quilt."

"Anne, just stop," Erik barks. "I need to talk to Brandy. Alone."

His voice returns, but thankfully, my bags are all inside now. Score.

"Geez, what a grouch. It was nice to meet you, Brandy. Come back and have a drink when you're done here."

Red takes the hottie's hand and drags him back to the terrace area. Good sign. Maybe they're together.

I turn to face Erik and paste on the brightest smile I can muster. He looks distraught, and my heart goes out to him. This is a lot.

"You can't stay here."

"I don't have anywhere else to go."

"I can get you a hotel room…"

"My budget is too tight for that."

"You came here even knowing that I could turn you away?"

"I had hoped our friendship meant something to you."

"Brandy, I…"

"Let me stay for a few days while I find somewhere else to go."

I see in his eyes that he's against the idea. What should I do? Think, Brandy, think. I sway a little on my feet and grab his arm to steady myself.

"Whoa, are you okay?"

"It's been a long day."

I think I really must look tired because his features soften.

"Come on back. We have some water and juice, and you can rest for a bit until we figure this out."

That's it, that's all I needed.

Erik

Brandy is here, in my house, in my backyard, smiling and looking as gorgeous as ever. When Anne told me who was here, I couldn't believe it. Then I saw her smile, and all I wanted to do was pull her into my arms and kiss her for hours. Then, the realization hit. I left her a long time ago, and I never went back. Why would she come to me, of all people?

I haven't even asked her why she's in Miami. And I need to have a stern talk with my mother, giving away my address, even if it is to a friend. Is Brandy my friend? I told her we would be friends that horrible night that I dumped her. She looks so different, yet feels the same.

Anne tries to get Brandy to talk about my teenage years, but so far, she just dodges the questions.

"Tell me all about your quilting business," Anne says.

Brandy sips her water and smiles. "I do custom work, as I mentioned, and I also teach classes and sell patterns. That's why I'm here in Miami. There's an apprenticeship with a famous quilter, and I got accepted."

Well, it looks like the silent treatment works, and Anne does all the digging for me. Brandy is really talented. I still keep the quilt she made me when I left for college. It hangs on the ceiling of my bedroom. She had this whole collection of night sky scenes she did for a contest. I was the lucky one to get such a thoughtful and priceless gift.

She's so beautiful. I forgot how her auburn hair curled at the ends, making her look carefree. The humidity here in Miami won't be good for her hair. I used to love it when she let it loose. I'd take the tresses between my fingers and enjoy the softness. I wonder if she still twirls her hair when she's nervous.

I watch her. She laughs at Max's jokes, drinks her water, and gazes at the ocean. She seems rather comfortable in my house, which makes me uncomfortable.

"How long are you staying, Brandy?" I say, interrupting whatever they are saying.

"Depends on the artist. Could be anything between one to three months."

"How on earth did you expect to come here without enough funds to stay somewhere decent?"

"Your mother assured me your hospitality."

"My mother doesn't speak for me, nor does she own my house."

"Erik, you're being rude," Anne says.

I look at Max for confirmation of what I know is true. I'm being a jackass. But she can't stay here. I never asked for this. And besides—look at her. I don't think I could stay away from her. She's wearing a yellow sundress with white daisies on it. Her curvy body fills the dress just right. Her long legs have a soft tan, and just admiring them makes my cock twitch a little bit. Okay, a lot.

This will not work. I can't look away from her. She's wearing white sandals that show off her pedicured feet. The yellow color on her toes makes me smile, and I know I must look like a loon smiling for no reason. I want to kiss her toes. I want to worship her entire body. Damn it.

"I'll pay for your stay in a hotel." I blurt out.

Brandy's eyes go wide. "I don't know that I'm comfortable doing that. I hear there are parts of the city that aren't safe."

"For god's sake, Erik. You've got a perfectly good guest room upstairs and you're away most of the day at work. You probably won't see Brandy during the week. Right, Brandy?"

"Right."

There it is. The sad puppy look. How am I going to fight that? She crosses her legs, showing more thigh than is proper. Hell, I've got a semi now. I get up and go to the bar to refill my drink. When I get there, I fill my glass with water instead. If I get too drunk, I might not care and make unwanted advances towards my ex-girlfriend. Would they be unwanted, though?

Anne and Max seem to have hit it off with her. I'm not surprised. She was always very popular, but she didn't take advantage of it. Instead, she spent all her free time with me. We shared dreams and possibilities, but I became enamored with city life once I started at Yale and took weekend trips to New York City. I didn't exactly hang out with the in-crowd, but I had my own little group with Max and Theo.

She often begged me to let her visit, but I didn't want to mix my two worlds. Now, I accept the fact that I was an idiot. Every letter she sent me during those first two years of college was filled with encouragement and love. Back then, I resented those letters, but I've still got them hidden in a box in my bedroom closet.

I went back to my chair and did my best to look irked. Brandy looked at me and got up from her chair, walked toward my seat and knelt down before me.

"Erik, you don't owe me anything. I know I should have called you instead of talking to your mother, but I was just so excited about this apprenticeship. It's so important to me and can make or break my business. Can you find it in your heart to give me some time? I might be able to dictate some classes here and get the money to stay somewhere else, but it would take at least a month. It's a big ask, I know."

I look down at her round, beautiful face and can't fathom why I was against her staying with me. Oh, right, the semi I was sporting. I nearly lift my hand to move one of the tendrils of hair hiding parts of her face from me, but I manage to contain myself. What are you doing, Erik? I can't say no to her.

I'm a grown man. I can control myself. I don't have to fall into temptation. I can do this. But I need something from her. I can't just give in without asking for something. I know Brandy. She'll want to earn her keep. She has her pride.

"If I remember, you had mad cooking skills, right?"

"What?" She asks, frowning.

"With my schedule, I have no time to cook, and I'm tired of take out. If you could cook dinner a few nights a week—I would be most appreciative."

"Oh, I can do that." Her face brightens. "Thank you so much. You won't regret it."

Once my so-called friends leave, I show Brandy the guest room. I bring up all her luggage and wonder if she's lying about the three months because this seems like all of her belongings. Then I remember she's got work, and she's probably brought some fabrics to make her quilts. Why am I so quick to judge her?

"Brandy, I'm sorry."

"What? Why?"

"I've been acting like a jerk. It was a shock to see you, and it caught me off guard."

"No, I'm sorry it was such a shock. Thank you for letting me stay."

"Do you need help unpacking your stuff?"

"No, I'm good. What time do you leave for work in the mornings?"

"Around seven thirty. I'll leave the coffee on for you."

She moves quickly for a 5'5-ish curvy woman. Suddenly, she's in front of me, takes my hand in hers, and lifts it between us.

"Thank you, Erik, really. It means a lot that you're taking me in. I knew our friendship didn't die twelve years ago, and I was right."

Her touch is so soft that I almost miss what she's saying. All I can do is feel the warmth radiating from her hand onto mine. I will have to be really strong to stay away from this amazing woman.