Fast Burn (Body Armor #4)(54)
They finished in the nick of time, because Brand returned, arms loaded with the specific items Becky had demanded, and more.
He put everything away, telling Becky where to find it, then went one further by asking her if she needed anything before he left.
“You’re going already? You just got here.”
“I’ll try to come again soon,” he said, without any enthusiasm.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she whined.
Sahara’s brows went up. Not once had Becky whined while Brand was gone. “It’s my fault,” she offered. “I’m out of time for the day.”
Becky flashed her a frown.
“I enjoyed our visit while Brand shopped for you. Are you sure there isn’t anything we can get you before we go? Maybe you’d like to sit in the recliner outside? It’s still sunny.”
“It’s getting too cold.”
“Nonsense. I’ll tuck a blanket around your legs.” Not giving Becky much of a chance to argue, Sahara stripped away the bedclothes and helped her to her feet. Near her ear, she said, “You need to start getting your strength back.”
Becky groused and grumbled until Sahara had her settled in the lounge chair on the patio, slippers on her feet, a quilt tucked around her. She even got Becky a sweet tea over ice, and a few magazines to look at, then put her phone beside her.
“Now, just relax and enjoy the air and think about getting better so you can have some fun.”
Brand had stood back, arms crossed and expression enigmatic, until Sahara mentioned fun.
“Rehab comes before fun, and Becky, I expect you to start doing what the physical therapist tells you.”
Sahara patted his arm. “She and I have already discussed it and she’s going to cooperate to the best of her ability. Isn’t that right, Becky?”
Refusing to look at either of them, her face set in mulish lines, Becky nodded.
Brand softened, saying, “I’ll try to check up on you next week.”
“Why not Saturday?”
“Sahara has a dinner party.”
“So a party comes before—”
Interrupting, Sahara said with heavy innuendo, “Just think how surprised he’ll be with your progress, Becky.”
Hinting that she’d have the makeover by then did the trick. “Yes, he will be.” Becky picked up a magazine and thumbed through it. “So what about Sunday?”
“We’re helping friends build a gazebo.”
Because she hadn’t known that, Sahara said, “We are?”
“Maxi wants one by the pond and I told Leese we’d join them. All the guys will be there.”
Warm pleasure spread through her, making her smile extra bright. “I’d love to.”
Brand tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “You know anything about building gazebos?”
She lifted her chin. “I’m intelligent enough to learn.”
He grinned. “I have no doubt.”
With a sound of annoyance, Becky said, “So I won’t see you this weekend. Fine. Have fun doing other stuff. Whatever.”
Brand didn’t move. “You’re welcome, Becky.”
Rolling her eyes at the prompt, she twisted to see him. “I already said thanks.”
“No, I don’t think you did.”
Screwing up her face, her tone sour, she said, “Thank you for taking care of your mother who almost died.”
Since he’d gotten his way, Brand smiled. “You’re welcome.” He took Sahara’s arm and guided her away.
Sahara was thinking that mother and son were more like adversaries who’d called a very temporary truce. While Becky might not be his mom, Brand couldn’t enjoy having such a strained relationship with her. In the long run, she didn’t know if she could help, but she’d give it her best try by giving Becky a new focus.
The second they were in the car, Brand asked, “Okay, what was that about?”
After just touting her intelligence, Sahara played dumb. “What’s that?” Unfortunately, she wasn’t that great of an actress.
“You know what I’m talking about.” He put the car in gear and pulled out of the lot, not once looking to where Becky sat on the patio. “What surprise do you have planned for me?”
After rolling down her window, Sahara waved to Becky. The woman ignored her, keeping her nose in the magazine. She sighed. “If I tell you it won’t be much of a surprise, now will it?”
He didn’t press her, but he did warn, “If you’re thinking to try to reconcile me with Becky, don’t bother. I’m doing my duty, but I’m not doing anything more.”
Sahara didn’t care about duty. She cared about his feelings. She cared about his life.
She cared about him—far, far too much.
CHAPTER TEN
BRAND DIDN’T LIKE the evasive way Sahara got her phone from her purse and checked for messages.
“Sahara?”
“Hmm?”
She was definitely up to something. “I’m telling you now, don’t get involved.”
In a huff, she lowered the phone and glared at him. “Do you think you could try trusting me just a little?”
“No. Not with this.”