He’s light on the balls of his feet for such a big guy; we both are. I follow suit, bringing my hands up in front of my face and getting ready to hit him with an uppercut-jab combo.
“It’s Brantley,” I admit, reluctance coating my tone. “Can’t stop thinking about her.”
Flash senses my impending combo and twists out of the way, adjusts, and answers with a left hook of his own. I block, and we circle one another. Sweat begins to glisten on my shoulders as my pulse quickens. I’m not sure if it’s the workout causing my heartbeat to race or the thoughts of Brantley that haven’t left my mind since I left her house after we all sat down to my lasagna dinner.
“She surprised us all.” Flash’s reply comes between breaths. “Arden had no idea she got pregnant in high school. I can tell it’s messing with my wife, making her question a lot of things when it comes to their friendship.”
I pause, frowning. “Why’d she hide the pregnancy?”
Flash walks away from me, turning to whistle at Nitro. The dog lumbers over from where he was lying next to the mat, waiting for his master to need him. Flash places a hand on Nitro’s harness and the German Shepherd leads him to the bench where we left our water bottles. I follow suit, and we both sit down. I wipe my face with my towel, then wrap it around my neck.
“I think you need to let Brantley explain everything to you. Are you asking because you’re into her, little brother? Really into her? Because the game has changed now. It isn’t just Brantley anymore. And I would have warned you off before because she’s Arden’s best friend. I don’t want anything messing with that, you know? But now…she’s a mom. Totally different ball game.” Flash sips from his water bottle, staring straight ahead. His gray eyes, normally covered by glasses, are bare today. They’re darting this way and that, drawn by the lights of the gym.
I’ve thought about this all night. But strangely, my attraction for Brantley hasn’t minimized with the revelation of her daughter. The opposite has happened; I’m more intrigued than I ever was before. I want to know her story, the reason she felt like she had to hide something this big from everyone in her life.
I want to know this woman.
“I get it,” I mutter. “I see what you’re saying, and I know why you’re saying it. But I don’t give a fuck that you’re my brother and I love you. Don’t warn me off Brantley Hughes. No one’s going to do that, not even Brantley herself. Once I have my sights set on something, I’m going after it with everything I have inside me. And now? I’m focused on her.”
Flash is quiet for a moment. Then he turns his head toward me. “This is real?”
“Damn real.”
Flash nods slowly. “Then I won’t stand in your way.” A slow smile lifts his mouth. “It’s about time.”
We shower and change. Flash heads to the Sage-Jackson high rise in downtown Savannah, and I only have two clients this morning, so I head straight for the Savannah State University campus, where I’m meeting with a young woman who’ll be working with a guide dog for the first time.
After my last client’s session ends, I can’t hold myself back any longer. My car, a BMW X7 SUV, seems to maneuver of its own accord, pointing itself in the direction of The Art of Java without my express consent. I end up parked across from the coffeeshop, walking across the busy, midday street, and walking inside the frosted-glass front door before I really have a plan of what to say or do when I come face-to-face with Brantley.
When I see Arden behind the counter, my spirit deflates. But only for a moment, because Arden gins when she sees me, and her head tilts toward the doorway leading to the kitchen.
I hear Brantley’s exclaimed “Mira!” as she pushes through the door with a plate of something that smells and looks delicious.
The smile that lands on my face as I saunter up to the counter is inevitable; Brantley’s dark honey eyes meet mine over the top of her plate, and she goes still only for a moment before she continues to the counter and pauses beside Arden. Unloading her burden, she announces for the two customers on stools: “The Cubano Sandwich! A Cuban classic.”
The man sitting on the left murmurs a noise of delight. “Darlin’, you are a ray of sunshine. This looks delicious.”
The woman sitting beside him picks up her sandwich and takes a bite. “Yum, Brantley,! You’ve outdone yourself. This is the perfect sandwich!”
Brantley smiles, the one that tells everyone she’s confident and full of pride. It’s not a true beam, but not a smirk, either. It’s warm and special, and it pulls me in. “Thank you. I’ve made it my mission to learn my Cuban classics.”
The man nods as he chews. When he swallows, he gives her a thumbs-up. “You keep serving up your Cuban classics. We’ll keep enjoyin’ ‘em.”
Finally, Brantley turns to me. Her soft, wavy hair is pulled into a ponytail on top of her head today, her face fresh and free of makeup except for some gloss on her lips and maybe some mascara which makes her lashes long and thick. Her full attention brings an intense sensation to my entire body, making my shoulders straighten, my stomach tighten. I lift my hand in a wave before walking to the end of the counter and leaning against the smooth stone surface.
Arden calls out, “Hey Axel!” But she continues pouring a cup of coffee for a customer and carries it over to one of the tables by the front windows.
Brantley moves so that she’s standing directly in front of me and leans forward. The action pushes her breasts together, the V-neck tee she’s wearing gives me ample view of her cleavage and that does things to my body I don’t want to admit to. My dick goes hard in my pants with one look at her voluptuous curves, and I only let my glance rest there for a moment before meeting her gaze once more. The soft arch of her eyebrow lets me know she’s caught me looking, and I don’t try to hide my smirk.
“Hey there, Spice. You didn’t waste any time getting back to satisfying your regulars, I see.” Drumming my fingers on the countertop, I incline my head toward the couple happily eating their Cubanos.
Brantley lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Gotta do my part, don’t I? I’ve got a daughter to support now.”
Clearing my throat, I hold her gaze and lower my voice. “How is she? And how are you both adjusting?”
Brantley cocks her head to one side, studying my expression. Then, her full lips purse and she calls out to Arden. “I’m gonna make the Airman a sandwich in the kitchen!”
Arden glances up, tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, and smiles. “I’ve got the front, you slacker.”
Brantley rolls her eyes and cuts her gaze to me. When I don’t move, she makes an impatient gesture with one hand, motioning for me to move around the counter.
“Let’s move, Jackson. I’m making you a Cubano. You like them, right?”
Chuckling, I follow her through the swinging door and into the kitchen. I stare around me, taking it all in. The coffeeshop itself is classic design, taking traditional southern Savannah touches and pairing them with seaside beauty. Everything is older and rustic, with elements of classic coastal shabby chic. But here in the kitchen, the place where Brantley spends so much time, modern amenities take precedence. There are top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances and a large, matching steel surface prep top gleaming from different points in the room.