21
It turned out that I didn't have to worry about telling Sierra I wouldn't be at work tomorrow.
After our bath, Brody went into the kitchen to grab us something to drink and returned with two glasses of water and my phone.
"Your phone was beeping," he said as he handed both it and the glass of water to me.
I lifted the glass to my lips first because even after a bath, I felt dehydrated. Probably because it hadn't so much been a cleansing activity as an excuse for us to feel each other up which led to sex on the bathroom rug after Brody had broken into another unopened box of condoms he'd unearthed from beneath the sink.
Afterward, I'd teased him about having them stashed everywhere, but he just shrugged and said, "It's a good thing I did."
Since he was right, I left it alone, though I did make a point to check out his linen closet and pull out a third box of rubbers.
"Feeling ambitious, aren't you?" I asked, wagging the box from side-to-side.
He'd flushed but quipped back, "The way I've been feeling the past few weeks, we'll need every single box before Jacks comes back from her mother's."
That shut me up.
I lifted my phone and laughed when I saw what was on the screen.
Sierra had texted me thirty minutes ago and it read—Enjoy the weekend sexfest. You and Lee are on your own next week but I'll cover you til Monday.
I turned the phone toward Brody to show him and he grinned. It was a dangerous expression because it told me he was thinking wicked thoughts.
"I guess this means you're all mine until Sunday night," he stated.
I shrugged. "I don't know. I'll need clothes and toiletries. Deodorant, toothbrush. All that stuff."
Brody crooked a finger at me. After our bath, he'd tugged on a pair of loose athletic shorts and nothing else. Unlike my teen years, I got to stare to my heart's content. Which was a lot.
I was also wearing one of his t-shirts. When I'd asked him if I could borrow something, he'd told me to knock myself out and pointed at his dresser. So I dug around until I found a t-shirt he used to wear a lot his senior year.
The material was white and so thin and worn that my nipples were dark shadows beneath it. It also barely covered my butt.
When I came out of his bedroom wearing it, I thought he was going to haul me right back in there. Or pull me down on the couch.
Instead, he asked, "Are you hungry?"
I plopped my butt on one of the industrial-style stools at his island. "Starving. What are you feeding me?"
"I thought it was your job to make food," Brody said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the counter next to the fridge.
It took a second for his words to sink in because my brain was still hyper-focused on the picture he created. I took it back, he could absolutely be on the cover of one of my romance novels.
Then, the chauvinistic words sank in.
"Wow, I think we need to discuss your attitude toward women. The nineteen-fifties were a long time ago."
Brody laughed, his eyes bright. "At least you didn't throw something at me like you would have if J.J. said it."
"J.J. thinks women were put on this earth to serve him," I retorted.
"Not really," Brody answered, levering himself away from the cabinet. "He says stuff like that because it riles you up so much. If anyone else says it, he tells them to leave the Stone Ages behind."
"Brothers. Jeez."
He laughed again and opened the fridge. A container of black beans, a bag of Mexican blend cheese, salsa, sour cream, peppers, and a few other ingredients appeared on the island. Brody came out and nudged the fridge door shut with his hip.
