Shameless(40)

“Oh, baby! No, no, no. We’re licensed for residential poops. This is an industrial-sized poop.”

Izzy squeals with delight, and I choke on a laugh. Good Lord, he’s adorable with her.

Being with him tonight, having him pick me up from work was freaking awesome. I’m not the bragging type, but seeing him brush off Darla’s advances at the diner made me want to do a victory dance.

Not that I blame her for hitting on him. From the moment he strode in on those long, muscular legs, every female turned her head toward Brady. It’s hard to ignore his dark, brooding vibe. When he took off his jacket, I swear the girls in the diner let out a collective sigh because those tattoos are sexy as all get-out.

Yeah, Brady looks like a badass with that swagger and ink.

For some reason, I think of my dad and how much he’d probably hate Brady on the spot. I can just hear him now. What kind of man rides a motorcycle? One who isn’t family-minded. Why does he need tattoos? Only gang bangers have tattoos.

I roll my eyes, hating how conservative my dad can be. I think he experienced such hardships growing up that he went overboard trying to protect me and my sister. So sometimes, he makes snap judgments and they’re wrong. So wrong.

Like with Eric. My father loved my ex. Thought he’d be the kind of man to watch out for his daughter. Thought he’d protect me. Love me through the bad times and not just the good. My dad couldn’t have been more off the mark.

“The munchkin’s in bed.” Brady’s voice makes me snap my head up. “Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

I place my hand over my chest and laugh. My heart is racing because he did kinda scare the crap outta me. “It’s okay. I was just making a grocery list. Oh, before I forget—” I reach into my purse and pull out my driver’s license. “You said you needed this.”

He takes a long look at it, and for some reason, it makes me nervous. “What?”

Shrugging, he says with a chuckle, “Nothing. Just making sure you’re legal.”

I roll my eyes. “I know I look young, but I’m not that young.” I already told him my age.

“No, twenty-three is old enough.”

“Old enough for what?” I ask innocently as I stare up at him. Old enough for you?

He clears his throat. “Old enough to vote.”

I hold in the laughter that’s dying to burst out of me. “You’re kind of a nerd. A hot, tatted nerd.”

Wait. What?

“Hot, huh?” Now it’s his turn to smirk.

“Shut up. You know you’re attractive.” I roll my eyes again and return to my grocery list.

The chair scrapes the floor as he sits at the table behind me. Mentally, I go through the items we’ll need for the week before I add them to the list, but after a moment, I get the distinct feeling Brady’s watching me.

When I turn around suddenly, his eyes lift to my face. Busted!

“Were you staring at my bottom?”

His chest shakes with laughter. “Bottom?”

“Yeah, bottom. Booty. Butt.”

He holds out his hand like he’s being helpful. “Ass?”

“Sure.”

His face is expressionless. “No, I was not staring at your ass. It was in my line of vision.”

I give him a deadpan look and return to my grocery list, not missing the way his lips tug up.

He rasps, “I fixed your vent problem. Your room should be warmer tonight.”

I’m glad he can’t see my face right now because I’m a little disappointed. I was sorta hoping for a repeat of last night… and this morning. Well, minus the snoring. “That’s great. Thanks. How did you fix it?” I turn around and try to muster a genuine smile.

“Can’t say I fixed it exactly. But I closed off the other vents. Everything except for the baby’s room, which sends all the warm air to your room.”

“But what about you? Won’t you be cold?”

“No, it’s pretty comfortable back there. Unless the temperature really dips like it did last night. Whatever. I’ll grab more blankets.”

Damn. He’s sweet.

I give him a crooked grin and stick my head into the fridge to see if we have enough milk. Several casseroles are piled up, one on top of another. Gifts from thoughtful neighbors. See, that’s why Mel and Cal were so right for this little town. People here take care of each other. I take a deep breath to quell the sudden rush of emotions at the thought that my best friends are gone.

As though Brady senses my pensive attitude, he doesn’t say anything else for a while as I duck in and out of cabinets to inventory what we need.

Finally, as he’s getting up, he motions toward me. “You still owe me some hot chocolate, you know.”

“What?” I pause mid-stride.

“Hot chocolate. You fell asleep before we had a chance to drink it. And since I was about to watch a movie, you can join me. If you bring the hot chocolate, that is.”

He says this so casually. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning like a tontita. “You’re bargaining for hot chocolate?”

“Yours tastes different. Spicier or something.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I like it.”

“It’s the cinnamon.” My stupid little heart backflips. I stare up at him, hoping I don’t look like a lovesick fool. I mean, not that I love him. That would be ridiculous. But him wanting to spend time with me has to mean something, right?