Erin Kern - Along Came Trouble

Brody must have felt her whole body go stiff. His arm unwound from around her shoulders, and his hand grabbed hers. “Hang in there,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

The vet discarded the first needle and picked up a second one. This time Elisa did turn her head. She couldn’t stand to watch him insert that hideous thing into Brinkley’s flesh. More tears ran down her cheeks when the doctor set down the last needle and used his stethoscope on Brinkley. He moved the listening device around, probably checking for a heartbeat.

“He’s gone,” the man said.

Was she supposed to feel relieved? A sense of peace that Brinkley was no longer in pain? Because she didn’t feel any of those things. All she felt was a deep sense of loss and mourning for the animal she had come to love.

She was vaguely aware of people moving in and out of the room, picking things up and talking to each other. Were they moving in slow motion? Was that her they were talking to?

Thank goodness for Brody. Elisa couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought. He practically lifted her out of the chair and ushered her to her car. She clung to him like the lifeline he was, as though he was the only thing capable of rooting out the despair that latched onto her heart like a leech. Wasn’t that why she hadn’t put up much of a fight when he’d insisted on coming with her? That she would have known how much she’d need his strong resilience?

He placed her in the car, running a hand over her hair before shutting the door. She leaned her head back and allowed her eyes to drift shut.

Sometime later, they were on their way back to her house with Brody driving silently and the town of Trouble passing by the car windows. Once at home, she could slip into oblivion for days and not think about anything.

Even though she’d protested him accompanying her, she was grateful to have Brody by her side. How could she have driven herself home when she couldn’t even keep her eyes open? How would she have sat there in that room by herself, watching Brinkley’s life slip away without Brody holding her hand?

She may have been mad as hell at him, but she was thankful—thankful to have met such a wonderful man as Brody.

He finally pulled into her driveway, turned off the car, and came around to open her door for her. She wanted to exert her independence by pulling away from him, but she just didn’t have the strength. So she allowed herself to lean on him, to feel all that muscle and rock-solid body holding her up. And it felt so good. He felt good. As if he would never let anything bad happen to her. Or so she once believed.

Instead of leaving her at the door, he used her key to unlock it and ushered her inside.

“Can I make you some tea?” he asked, setting her keys on the entryway table.

“Sure,” she said without thinking. Tea sounded good; she could get it down without throwing it back up.

“Go have a seat and relax while I make you some.”

He didn’t have to ask her twice. The couch looked like heaven, so she curled up on the soft cushions and rested her head on the armrest. A second later her eyes drifted shut, taking comfort in the sounds of Brody moving around in her kitchen.

A cabinet opened, then closed.

A gas burner on the stove turned on with a soft click.

Brody’s shoes made soft thumping noises on the kitchen floor. He moved around with the assurance of someone who knew where everything was and used them on a daily basis. What an odd sort of comfort, knowing he was using those big hands of his to touch the same things she touched every day.

The sounds of his shoes grew louder as he walked closer to her. He placed what sounded like a mug on her coffee table. A second later, his warm hand was on her face, caressing her cheek and brushing his fingers back through her hair. The pressure of his fingers on the back of her head made her body feel even heavier, as if she were sinking into a soft cloud.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he whispered.

A moment later she wasn’t feeling anything as she drifted off to sleep.

WHEN BRODY LEFT ELISA SLEEPING, he’d left a piece of his heart with her. What had he been thinking allowing her to push him away? Hadn’t he punched out his own brother for doing the same thing with Lacy? Why was he so blind when it came to his own actions?

A woman like Elisa was a rarity. She wasn’t interested in just a romp in the sack. She didn’t care about his past mistakes or think he was damaged goods because of it. And she loved Tyler. She’d embraced the boy and interacted with him in a way other women hadn’t.

And what had he done?

Screwed things up because he thought himself incapable of being loved by anyone else. He’d allowed the circumstances surrounding his divorce to dictate his life.

The time for that was over.

Time to pull his head out of his ass and live life with his eyes open.

Hell of a time for him to come to that realization. He’d been ready to tell Elisa how wrong he’d been when she’d fallen fast asleep. Not that he blamed her or was surprised. Exhaustion colored dark circles under her eyes and had drawn lines of stress around her mouth. He suspected that was the first time she’d allowed herself to sleep. Revelation or no revelation, he hadn’t had the heart to wake her. So, he’d left the tea, along with a note to call him, and he’d left her in peace—reluctantly. What he’d really wanted to do was curl himself around that soft, womanly body and share a deep snooze with her.

Something had held him back. Probably the fact that she’d told him to leave the last time she’d seen him. And she still needed time to process things, so he figured space was the best thing for her right now.

In the meantime, he was supposed to interview a potential replacement for RJ in half an hour.

Even days later, Brody still couldn’t get his brother’s words out of his head. Over the past few years, RJ had built a very successful business for himself. He’d had to take on employees to handle the workload. Yet he’d stepped up to help out at the restaurant without question. Lord only knew how much work he was missing out on to help Brody out in a jam. Knowing RJ, he was probably working late at his body shop to make up the hours he was tending bar.

By his own fault, Brody had completely taken that for granted. What kind of brother did that? He’d been too busy wrapped up in Elisa and stressing over Tyler to notice that RJ was working almost full days.

His brother had every reason to be pissed at him. So, he’d done something he should have done weeks ago: start interviewing replacements for Anthony. He was so behind that if this guy could string together intelligent sentences, Brody might just hire him on the spot.

Interviewee number one had a criminal record.

Interviewee number two had been fired for hitting on an employee.

Interviewee number three had no work history and didn’t even look old enough to be serving drinks.

Brody had been holding out slight hope for interviewee number four when it turned out the guy didn’t speak a word of English.

At this point he was ready to take a number two pencil and jab it through his eye. It would probably be less painful than this. His fifth interview was due to arrive in ten minutes, but Brody was seriously thinking about groveling for RJ to stay full time.

How was it possible that not one person could pull together a decent resume? Anthony must have been the last good bartender within a hundred-mile radius.

“No luck, huh?” Charlene asked when she poked her head in the door of his office.

Brody rubbed a hand down his face. “Not one.”

She jabbed a hand on her hip and frowned. “Darn. I was holding out some hope for that second guy. He was kind of cute.”

“You wouldn’t think so when you’re filing a sexual harassment suit against him.”

She chuckled and stepped into his office. “So, what’s the story with the latest one?”

Brody picked up the resume and glanced it over. “He has eight years of bartending experience, and before he moved here last month he was living in Kentucky.” He set the paper back down. “He’s got a pretty long list of references.”

“So, it looks good on paper?”

“From what I can tell. I just hope that when he comes in here, he can say ‘hello’ in a language I can understand.”

“That’s pretty sad when the most qualified guy doesn’t even speak English. Are you ready for this shindig to go down next week?” she asked, referring to the catering job for Avery’s fundraiser.

He leaned back in his chair. “I’m more than ready. Chase is going to be loaning us his sous-chefs to help out with the preparation.”

A sparkle of excitement lit up Charlene’s eyes. “Anthony’s so giddy about it. It’s all he can talk about.”

A knock came from his office door. Both Brody and Charlene glanced toward the sound to see a tall man wearing ripped jeans and a leather jacket standing in his doorway. His dark brown hair was a bit too long and curled over the collar of his bomber jacket. He whipped off the pair of dark sunglasses that sat over his eyes and slid them into the front pocket of his jeans.

“I’m here for the interview,” he stated.

Brody stared at the guy for a moment, taking in his casual appearance and thinking it didn’t match the edginess that radiated off him. There was something about him that Brody couldn’t quite put his finger on, something that made Brody unsure about him.

He picked up the resume and glanced at the name. “You’re Joel Garrison?”