14. Melanie

14

Melanie

A loud laugh crawls out of my throat as I turn in the passenger seat to admire Brady's strong profile. I can't seem to pull myself together, and maybe it has more to do with the lightness inside of me, than Brady telling my roommate's boyfriend to fuck off with a hand gesture. It really was kind of funny.

I didn't even know what was happening until I heard Jess's fiancé cursing and ran to the window to see what was going on. I found Brady giving him the finger, while putting his phone to his ear. I have no idea who he called, and he didn't offer up the information. Not that it's any of my business. We're just friends with benefits for the next couple of weeks, and well, maybe more now that I'm going to be staying with him.

I take the band off my wrist and tie my hair up, still chuckling. "I can't believe you gave him the middle finger."

"He deserved it," Brady snorts as he drives through Boston's Sunday traffic. I laugh again and he grins at me. "They're both assholes. Sorry, I know Jess is your roommate…"

"I know. But still…" I sink back into the seat. "You should have heard him curse you out."

"I did. He opened his window, remember?" He casts me a fast glance. "Did he really think I was going to be his buddy or give him an autograph after that ridiculous display of fake fucking? Screw him."

"Yeah, screw him." I chuckle as he flicks on his signal. "How about right here?"

I look to the left and see a quaint coffee shop, one I'd seen but had never been in before. "As good as any." He circles the downtown core, searching for a parking spot, but it's Sunday and busy.

"Damn tourists. Hogging all the good parking spots. Arseholes."

There's a twang in his voice when he says arseholes, and I assume it's a popular Newfoundland word. "Arseholes? Really?" I stare at him. "Aren't you a tourist yourself?"

"No, I live here. Remember?" He arches a brow and playfully does a weird bobble head thing that suggests I might have been dropped on my head at birth. The verdict is still out on that.

"Have you seen any of Boston, though?" Honestly, touring the city with him would be fun. Letting him see it through my eyes, and going on rides…well, maybe that would give him back a piece of his childhood.

He slows as a SUV pulls out of a space. "I've seen the inside of the Bucks arena. What else is there?"

"Ohmigod, Brady. Boston is full of history, shops, museums and great restaurants. You have to take in some of the downtown sights."

Once again, he casts me a joking look that suggests I might be insane. "Do I now?" Once the SUV leaves, he eases into the spot, and kills the ignition. "Come on. I have a headache from all the screaming and need a strong coffee."

Snatching up my backpack, I step from the car and on the sidewalk, we head toward the crosswalk. I note the way a few people stare, their eyes lighting as they recognize Brady. He keeps his head tucked, which is odd for a guy who supposedly loves all the limelight and attention. Oh Brady Fisher, there is so much more to you than you want the world to see. Strong fingers close around mine and hold tight, and my chest tightens around my heart as he pulls me to him, like right now, he wants the world to consist of only him and me.

We reach the coffee shop, and delicious scents fill my nostrils as he pulls the door open and puts his hand on the small of my back to usher me in. "You want to grab a table for us?"

I nod and search for a table in the busy café. As I drop into a seat and pull my laptop from my backpack, and as a loud shriek fills the space, two thoughts hit at once. Either my roommate is here and she and her partner are faking sex again, or the place is getting robbed. I stiffen as I lift my head, only to relax—slightly—when I find a group of girls surrounding Brady.

An instant wave of jealousy grips me by the throat as they throw themselves at him. Jeez, are they even fourteen? Okay fine, they're all in their early twenties and seeing the way they're dressed, with their boobs hanging out, reminds me I'm approaching thirty, and Brady is younger than me. Why the heck is he with me when he can have any of those girls, probably all at the same time?

I try to ignore all the fangirling, but it's impossible, considering more and more girls, as well as women and men, are jumping from their seats to get Brady's autograph. One of the blondes scribbles something on a napkin and stuffs it into the front of his jeans. Brady grins and smiles and when he says something to her, she laughs like it's the funniest thing she's ever heard in her life.

He's playing, joking, acting his ‘usual' self—supposedly—as everything inside me twists, because I can see below the surface, see another side of him. Why does he feel like he needs to act this way? I guess maybe fans expect that of him and he's just giving them what they want. And they do want it, because they're eating up his every damn word.

"Did I see you come in with Brady Fisher?"

I turn at the voice and find an elderly lady at the table beside me, leaning toward me. "Oh, yes. Are you a fan?"

"My grandson is. Do you think he'd give me an autograph?"

"I'm sure he would. I can ask him when he gets back to the table."

"I can't compete with those young girls." She chuckles, and once again unease hits because I can't compete either. Why again is Brady with me? "They'd probably trample me if I tried to get close."

"You stay seated. He'll give you an autograph when he comes back."

"You're sweet dear. Are you related to Brady? An older sister perhaps?"

Really? My stomach squeezes tight. I know I'm not fourteen like those girls, but do I really look like I could be his older sister? Is it out of the realm that I could be his girlfriend? I mean I'm not, but is it really so far-fetched? Heck, maybe it is.

I plaster on my best smile. "We're friends."

I steal a glance at Brady as he lets out a big laugh, and I work to fight down the pang of jealousy—not to mention the fact that this woman thought I was his older sister—as I boot up my laptop. I do my very best to check out the listings, and I send off a couple of emails for afternoon viewings. Though I'm sure we'll make them, not if Brady is going to continue entertaining fans all afternoon.

God, Melanie, get it together.

Ten minutes pass, and he finally shows up at the table, two mugs of coffee in hand. "Sorry about that." He sets the coffee down and slides one my way.

I try for casual and wave a dismissive hand. "No worries. You have fans, I get it." I gesture with a nod toward the elderly lady blinking eagerly as she waits for his attention. "This lovely lady would like an autograph for her grandson."

"Oh sure." He turns his attention to the lady, talks to her for a minute and signs a sheet of paper she pulled from her purse. Two big steps and he's back at our table. "Any good leads?" he asks.

"I guess I could you the same thing." I wince as soon as the words leave my mouth. "Sorry. I think I'm just still upset from the way Jess and her boyfriend were acting." It's as good an excuse for my behavior as any, but I'm not sure he's buying it. Dammit, I don't want him to think I'm jealous. If he knew I ‘might be' catching feelings, he wouldn't be so quick to offer me a place to stay. I mean at first, I was wondering why he would, until he talked about ravishing me. Tit for tat. Jeez, it almost sounds like I'm pimping myself out for a place to stay. I'm not, because I actually want to be with him again.

His dark eyes hold sympathy as they move over my face. "I guess it's not easy realizing you're where you're not wanted, eh?"

"She could have asked me to move out."

His hand snakes across the table and closes over mine, giving it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."

Wanting to lighten things I say. "No worries, eh."

He laughs. "Nice Canadian slang. Almost mistook you for a Newfoundlander." He takes a sip of coffee as I reach for mine. "Hey, wait, you still haven't kissed the cod."

I choke as I swallow. "Um, yeah." He laughs and if I'm not mistaken, his cheeks have turned a shade of pink.

"Right. Okay." He shifts, pulling his hand from mine to adjust his pants. "Let's talk about something else, shall we?" The server comes over, and sets two cinnamon rolls in front of us, and she gives Brady a big smile.

"See you soon."

My heart stalls, and I do my best not to show any kind of reaction as she ignores me like the bitch she is, and goes back behind the counter. I focus hard on my screen and Brady explains. "She has season tickets." I nod, and he takes my hand again. "I told you. You and me, until the pre-season."

Heat goes through me, and my heart stumbles a bit, and dammit that is not supposed to happen. I pull my hand away and pick up the cinnamon roll. I'm not even hungry after breakfast, but this looks delicious. I bite into it and moan as sugar and spice and cinnamon burst on my tongue.

"Ohmigod, Brady, this is delicious."

"Yeah, well." He shifts uncomfortably, adjusting his pants. "If you keep moaning like that, I'm going to take you back to your place, because it's closer than mine, and give your roommate a run for her money."

I laugh and it almost hurts to swallow. I take a sip of coffee to help me push the roll down, and Brady takes his chair and moves it to sit beside me.

"Focus, Lanie. Focus," he jokes as he turns the laptop so he can see the screen. "Okay, this is the one I thought you'd really like."

I scrunch up my nose as I take in the price. "If I didn't have a full year of school left, this might be more doable. I have to save for tuition and don't really have savings to dip in to." I really hate discussing money with anyone, but if he's helping me search, I need to be honest about my finances.

"I'd better get my guys to start upping their tips."

"No, they're great as it is. Let's just find something else."

He nods and we scroll and search until we come across a place that isn't too far out of my budget. "Hey, this looks good. I could manage it if I eat more boxed macaroni and cheese."

"You like that one?"

Of all the ones available, this is really the only one that's suitable. "Not bad. One bedroom, kitchen is small, but that's okay, and it's right near the T."

"Once you get your car fixed, you won't need to take the subway."

"True," I agree, as he pulls his phone from his pocket. He punches in a number, and I frown. Who is he calling? The second he starts talking, I realize he's calling the apartment to see if we can view it. He nods as the woman on the other end speaks and I take another bite of my cinnamon roll. This time I don't moan, and he can thank me for that later.

He ends the call, and checks the time. "We can view it right now. Only problem is, it's a sublet, and won't be available until November."

I turn my attention back to the laptop. "I guess we'd better keep looking."

He reaches across the small café table and picks up his cinnamon roll. "November isn't that far away."

"It's far enough. I can't stay with you that long."

"Really, Lanie, I won't even be home that much. Not with practice and the season starting. You'll pretty much have the place to yourself. Occupancy rates are down all over town, and if this is the apartment that suits you, you'd be smart to stay with me until it's available." He bites into his cinnamon roll. "Holy shit, this is the best thing I've ever put in my mouth."

I grin. "Right."

He washes down the roll with a big drink of coffee. "Right as in you think it's smart to stay with me, or right as in this is the best thing I've ever put in my mouth."

"The second thing." I know he's trying to help me out, but I've come to learn the man has enough people counting on him. He's always giving, and getting nothing in return. Except this time he's getting sex and while that's good for both of us, maybe there are things I can do to make his life easier.

He touches my hair and twirls it around his finger. "What's going on inside that big brain of yours?"

"Maybe the first thing too." The smile that crosses his face, like he's genuinely happy that I'm agreeing to stay with him, messes with my ‘big brain' a little—makes me consider that there could be more than just sex going on between us.

Don't go there, girl. Lessons learned taught you that love comes with a price.

"Then let's go view this place." He takes a big drink of his coffee and sets it down. "I'm taking this with me, though." He picks up the cinnamon roll and I grab mine.

"Me too."

As we head toward the doors, all eyes once again turn to us and I listen to the hushed murmurs. Brady grabs my hand, but quickly lets it go when another group of girls come in through the door. For a second, I'm taken aback by the abruptness of it all, until he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the napkin that blonde girl stuffed in there earlier. He drops it into the trash can and I can't help but grin.

I like that.

I like him.

Damn.