Chapter 48
Brody
My longest-standing enemy rang me earlier. It came right in the middle of an argument with Mam about the engagement party. Women—peculiar creatures. Mam was spending money hand over fist for this Friday night to shove it in my face that I’d made the wrong decision. She’d said if ye’re gonna marry and make the lass and the whole lot of ye live in misery, then the entire deal would be bigger than Christmas. Mam also said I’d been slinking around like a wee laddie.
Now, I’m standing at the front door of my bràthair’s house, and the last person I expected to see is Justice. Her car isn’t in the drive. But here she is, in the flesh, closer than the previous week, and I’d seen her every fecking day—from a distance.
Today, she has one long braid falling gracefully over her shoulder. It’s right where I wish I could kiss her. If she were mine, I’d kiss every inch of her body.
Confusion clouds Justice’s gorgeous face, and she places her palm to her forehead. As she sighs deeply, my eyes fall to the curve of her breast. My face loved resting there. My lips loved pressing over the heavenly plumps. My dick loved to piston between them.
Releasing a frustrated sigh, Justice says, “By the look on your face, Brody, I take it you weren’t aware of this setup.”
“Nae.”
“I’m gonna go. You can house sit.” She scoffs, muttering under her breath about Chevelle’s antics.
As she starts past me, I grab her arm. “Wait.”
“Brody. I’m—I regret telling you all I said. About wanting to, ahem, kill you. About Lance.” Her soft fingers run over my hand in an attempt to break free. “I shouldn’t have. But I still can’t do this.”
Clutching her bicep tighter, I yank her back. “Wit about me, Justice? This whole fecking thing is new to me too.”
Her arched eyebrows stitch together. We glance down the fragmented steps, where a guy is closing the door to a white van. On the side of it reads, “Le Fleur.” There’s an image of some sort of bird food—a block of beef with a yellow flower planter on top.
“Hello, Mr. MacKenzie?” The man shoots up a brow.
“Aye.” I clear my throat, unhanding the lass. “Uh, yes.”
“Great. You must be Justice. We will get set up.”
“Sure?” Justice mumbles in confusion. We watch him, along with another Black guy, open the back of the truck. One grabs silver candle holders while another has an insulated container.
Justice starts down the steps, and I grab her arm again, this time snatching her to my chest. The guy with the candle holders keeps his eyes forward while walking into the house.
Justice looks up at me. “Let me go.”
“Nae,” I whisper into her ear, marching her back into the entrance of the home.
“I’m not playing by your rules, Brody.” She wriggles, and my hand smacks down on her buttocks. I press her against the wall so close to a side table that an odd crystal figurine wobbles. I save the stupid thing and myself from Chevelle’s mouth.
Returning all my attention to Justice, I growl, “Do ya know how much arse ye have? I can spend all night slaughtering this arse. Ya hear me?”
The fellows are on their second round of walking into the house. Their inclination for discretion has me wondering what they see when catering to wealthy nuggets.
“Do ye hear me?”
“I apologized to you, Brody. That doesn’t negate the fact I’m still done.”
Her bottom lip quivers. I catch the plump meat into my mouth. “I’ve had it up to here with ye, Justice.”
Silent, she runs her tongue over her lip.
“Now, ye are a big girl. I’m a big lad. Apparently, Chevelle’s feeding us. I can carry ye out back. Wit’s it gonna be?”
In silence, Justice struts toward the sound of music. Out back, on the patio around the pool area, a table is waiting. The sun’s still setting, but one of the lads has lit the candles. The other offers to pull out Justice’s chair.
I growl.