Page 69 of Dear Mr. Brody
My smile grew as he exhaled and shook his head, a playful smirk spreading into a soft dimple on his left cheek that I’d never seen before. A wolfish gleam lightened his eyes, his easy confidence beaming back at me, and I wished he could see himself the way I did.
“Can I have two this time?” Anne asked.
“You have a hard time finishing one, sweetheart.”
She scowled and crossed her arms. Van expertly ignored her, but I didn’t miss the small smile on his lips as he started cutting the strawberries.
“Anything I can do to help?” I asked and he shook his head.
“I’ve got it,” he said. “But thanks.”
“I can eat two,” Anne grumbled and slid onto the barstool next to me.
Coughing to hide my laugh, I admired her full-blown sulk-fest.
“You can watchTwisterwhile I get everything ready.” Van peered across the counter. “Maybe Parker would watch it with you.”
“You like disaster movies?” I asked, surprised. “That’s cool.”
She rolled her eyes, lugging me by the hand as she jumped down from her stool. “It’s a movie about tornadoes.”
“I know.”
“Notdisasters.”
I looked over my shoulder and caught Van staring at Anne’s hand in mine. I almost let it go, thinking I’d overstepped, but when I met his gaze, I heard the silent thank you in his smile.
“Aren’t tornadoes disasters, though?” I asked, foolishly continuing the argument, and took a seat on the couch.
She curled up on the opposite side, television remote in hand. “Tornadoes are a weather phenomenon. Scientists are still trying to figure out how they work.”
“But they cause damage…”
She dropped her shoulders and tilted her head, glaring at me like I was the dumbest asshole on the planet. The girl was damn cute.
“I’m only saying… a movie about tornadoes is basically a disaster movie like…Into the Storm, or that one with the volcanoes.”
“Those movies are so fake.” She settled into the cushion of the couch and pressed play on the remote. “Just watch.”
I chuckled but did as she asked, wanting to make a good impression. About thirty minutes later, Van called out that dinner was ready. Anne reluctantly switched off the television and I followed her over to the kitchen table. It had four chairs and sat in front of a large bay window. The sun hadn’t set yet, the sky bruised with purple and a deep pink spanned across the horizon and over the large back yard.
Van said, “It’s a great view, you should see it at night.”
“I’d like to.”
“That can be arranged.”
I took the seat across from him, my pulse jumping at the subtle innuendo in his tone as he handed me a plate. Reaching for the strawberries, Anne took the bowl from my hands. She didn’t give me a chance to experiment on my own, directing me in the ways of proper waffle consumption, and by the time we’d finished with dinner, I’d eaten my weight in sugar. Luckily, Van let me help clean up, and I was able to burn off some of the excess Nutella and syrup energy. With the three of us, we’d been able to get the dirty work done quickly and ended up with enough time to finishTwisterbefore Anne had to go to bed.
“I should probably get going,” I said as I stood from the couch and stretched my arms behind my back.
Van’s eyes snagged on the exposed skin above my waistband as my shirt lifted. “Give me a second and I’ll walk you out. I just have to make sure she brushes her teeth.”
“Sure,” I said, and without thinking, pulled the end of one of Anne’s braids. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Maybe next time you can try the cookie butter,” she said, and I nodded.
“Sounds like a good plan to me.”