New Hope, Old Grudges Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Anne Malcom Advertisement1

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And had he kissed my forehead tenderly?

I must’ve hallucinated that.

I lost a bit of time as we were in the truck in one blink, then I was back in his arms, walking through the warm, cozy interior of an unfamiliar house. There was an excited bark as lights went on.

“Velma, down,” Brody’s voice boomed with warm authority. Canine heels clicked against the hardwood floor, then I saw a flash of chocolate colored fur curled up in a bed by a fireplace.

We were in a living room with cozy looking brown sofas, floor to ceiling windows showcasing the snow that tried to kill me. I didn’t get to look more because soon we were ascending a staircase, walking down a hall and entering a spacious bathroom. It was tiled in white with deep sinks, large mirrors, a walk-in shower and a large tub.

It was the bathroom of my dreams.

Looking in the mirror, my eyes caught my reflection. I was still bundled in blankets, and I was shocked at how pale I looked, how my lips seemed like they’d been smeared with blood, and my nose was red. Purplish smudges underneath my eyes showed just how cold I was.

Then I stopped looking at myself and turned my attention to the owner of the muscled arms that were holding me to his chest.

Brody Adams.

Was holding me in his arms.

In his bathroom.

After saving my life.

We stayed like that, staring at each other in the mirror as if we were frozen in time.

It was all so freaking surreal, I didn’t even know what to say, what to do. I didn’t have full control over my thoughts, my teeth chattering as if on cue.

Brody jerked.

“We’ve got to get you out of these clothes and into a warm bath,” Brody said, walking toward the tub. His voice was firm, deep, warm. Warm was good. Warm was great right now since it felt like my bones were frozen solid.

“Can you stand?” he looked down at me, his voice soft, tender.

I swallowed at the proximity to his face, his lips. I felt small and vulnerable, and I didn’t like it.

“Yes, of course, I can. In fact, it was totally unnecessary for you to have carried me this far,” I stated confidently. Or tried to sound confident. My words came out sounding husky and rough.

Brody stared at me with concern for a moment, looking as if he might argue with me, but luckily, he just nodded because I didn’t have the energy to argue. I was suddenly very tired.

Like I was made of delicate glass, Brody gently put me down on my feet, holding me steady as he unwrapped the blankets. I’d never had someone handle me so tenderly in my entire life.

“You good?” he murmured, his hands on my hips steadying me.

I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “Of course,” I lied.

His grip flexed on my hips, and the areas burned white-hot.

My body swayed as if I were on turbulent seas when he let me go. Brody jolted like he was going to catch me.

“I’m good,” I snapped, leaning on the edge of the bathtub.

Brody pursed his lips, obviously unhappy, but he let me be. He turned to the knobs of the tub, then the sounds of rushing water filled the silence.

Despite the warmth of the room, I shivered, looking at the steaming water with need.

Brody’s back was broad, shoulders wide and muscled. I looked from the water to his long, large hands working the knobs, holding them under the water to test the temperature.

I licked my lips.

Brody turned around. “I’m going to go get you a mug of hot cocoa and a bottle of water before you get in the bath. I’ll be right back.”

Before I could say anything, he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me, not roughly but firmly down onto the wide ledge of the bath so I was sitting. “I’ll be right back.”

I probably should’ve argued. Should’ve asked where we were—though I was pretty sure it was his place—should’ve demanded to be taken home, but I didn’t have the energy.

Plus, being taken home would’ve delivered me to my presumably worried and overly-doting mother and still mad brother. I’d have to face love, concern, anger. I only deserved one of those things.

So I didn’t argue with Brody. Nor did I think of anything as I watched the large bath slowly fill up. I didn’t think of the fight that led me there, the words that held true, the graveyard where my father’s body lay. I didn’t think of my ruined life. I didn’t even think of the fact that it was Brody Adams’s bathtub I was staring at.

It was nice.

I jumped when a large form moved beside me, placing a steaming mug and a bottle of water next to the now full bath before turning off the knobs.


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