“Maybe you’d feel more at ease if I tell you you’re in control here. You say no—to anything, at any point—and I’ll back off,” Kade quietly stated.
This was a prime example of why she was attracted to him. Beyond the charm, beneath the sexy face and the scorching body, was the man she suspected the public never saw; someone who was thoughtful enough to put her at ease. Someone who could quiet her fears, who could make her consider casting off a protective layer or two.
Thoughtful Kade reminded her of Jay, which reminded her of the person she’d been before her life had been turned inside out. The open, happy, sunny girl who’d loved life with a vengeance. A young woman who had the world at her feet.
That was what scared her most about being with him. He made her remember who she’d been before she wasn’t that person anymore.
Sex she could handle, but she was terrified of feeling good, contented. She couldn’t deal with happiness.
Not when she knew how quickly it could be ripped away.
Brodie bit her lip and lifted her hands in the air. She saw a hint of frustration pass across Kade’s face.
“Okay, then I really don’t understand. You seemed to be as into me as I am into you.”
Brodie scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, I’m a mess. It’s difficult to explain but trust me when I tell you it’s all me and not you.”
Kade nodded. “Oh, I know it’s all you ’cause if I had anything to do with it then you’d be naked and panting right now.”
Well, there wasn’t a hell of a lot to say to that. She should just go. “This was a very bad decision on my part.” Brodie moved away from the window and clasped her hands behind her back. “I’m really sorry to blow hot and cold.”
Kade stood up and raked his fingers through his hair. “No worries. It’s not the end of the world.”
She was sure it wasn’t, not for him. He’d had a variety of woman hanging off his arm since he was eighteen years old and new to the Mavericks. In sixteen years, that was a lot of women and a lot of hanging. With one call, one text message, he could have Brodie’s replacement here in ten minutes.
So, there was an upside to this stupid scenario; she would never be one of “Webb’s Women.”
As she walked toward the door, Kade’s phone buzzed and he picked it up off the coffee table. He swiped the screen with his thumb and frowned as he read the text message.
“Quinn and Mac are on their way up,” he said.
Quinn Rayne and Mac McCaskill, Kade’s best friends, his ex-teammates and current business partners. Yeah, she wasn’t proud to admit that, like every other obsessed Mavericks fan, she read about their exploits in the papers and online. The women, although Kade wasn’t quite as much a player as Quinn and Mac, the crazy stunts—mostly Quinn—the scandals... Quinn again. Actually, these days, it was mostly Quinn who gave the press grist for the mill.
Brodie glanced at her wristwatch. It was 7:36 a.m. on a Saturday morning. “So early?”
“Yeah, weird.” Kade stood up and walked across the expansive loft to the kitchen area. He opened a huge fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. He waved one in her direction. “Want one?”
Brodie nodded and easily caught the bottle he lobbed in her direction. “Thanks.” She gestured to the door. “So, I think I should go.”
Kade nodded his agreement, saw she was struggling to crack the top and walked toward her. He took the bottle, opened the lid and handed it back to her. “There you go.”
“Thanks,” Brodie said and gestured to the couch. “Sorry, you know...about that.”
Kade’s expression was pure speculation. “Maybe one day you’ll tell me why.” They heard a clatter of footsteps outside the door. “My boys are here.”
“I’ll get out of your way.”
Kade moved past her and opened the door to his friends. Brodie opened her mouth to say a quick hello, but her words died at the looks on their faces. They pushed past her to flank Kade, looking pale. Their eyes were rimmed with red.
“What’s wrong?” Kade demanded, his voice harsh.
Brodie watched as they each put a hand on Kade’s shoulders. Her stomach plummeted to the floor at their expressions; she recognized them instantly. They were the bearers of bad news, the harbingers of doom. They were going to tell him his life was about to do a 180.
She’d seen the same expression on her aunt’s face when Poppy had told her that her parents, her best friend, Chelsea, and her old friend but new boyfriend Jay were dead, along with six other people, in a nightmarish accident. They’d been on their way to a dinner to celebrate her twentieth birthday and apparently life had thought being the lone survivor of a multivehicle crash was a suitable gift.