New Hope, Old Grudges Read Online Anne Malcom

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

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His father still lived here, was still alive as far as I knew, but he wasn’t spending the holiday with him. I guess it didn’t surprise me, given what I knew of the man.

I felt a stab of pity for Brody, sitting here in his picturesque cottage with his dog and no family.

I quickly shoved that thought away.

I didn’t know anything about his life now, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to pity him. Nor was I going to ask questions about his life. Beyond opening it to eat, I kept my mouth shut. As did Brody.

It wasn’t awkward. It should’ve been. We had sat together with years of ugly history between us, with years of resentment and anger—on my end, of course. He hadn’t even remembered that he ruined my teenage years. Then there was the failed seduction routine, let’s not forget that.

It was a recipe for the world’s most awkward Thanksgiving dinner if I’d ever heard. But yet…

He had Dean Martin playing through Bluetooth speakers. A dog was panting happily at our feet. The snow fell silently at the window, the fire crackled in the background. Our silverware clattered against plates. Somehow, all of that served to replace conversation, and the dinner was actually almost … nice.

Except there was Brody’s eyes on me the entire time. I felt them like a weight, heavy, intense, unyielding. I refused to meet his gaze, concentrating on my food, on the snow outside, the framed art on the walls. I would’ve looked at the weave of the carpet if I’d had to.

“You can’t go,” Brody replied to my statement.

I frowned at him, finally looking in his direction.

He’d rolled up the sleeves of his Henley, revealing sinewy forearms. I swallowed my appreciation for them. I hadn’t been into muscled men in the past. I liked them smaller, nerdier, anything that didn’t remind me of the boys who taunted me, trying their best to practice toxic masculinity.

Yet here was the exact boy who’d taunted me, yet his masculinity was no longer practiced. It seeped off him like cologne. And it didn’t smell toxic. Not one bit.

“I can go,” I sighed. “It’s a free country, and you can’t keep me here.”

Something moved on his face, an expression I couldn’t place. “I’m not keeping you here. The weather is keeping you here.” He nodded outside.

I’d been looking out the window periodically like someone might mindlessly stare at the TV … not really seeing it.

Now I saw that the snow was falling fast and heard the whistle of the wind picking up.

It looked worse than it had when I went out in it and almost died.

“But you’re a mountain man,” I exclaimed. “You have a truck.”

“I also have precious cargo.” His eyes quickly ran a path from my head to my toes then back again. “And this weather means emergency trips only.”

“This is an emergency trip,” I argued, ignoring the ‘precious cargo’ and the way it made me feel.

Brody’s features were instantly covered in concern. “Why? What’s wrong?” he rushed from his chair to kneel at my knees as if he were about to examine me.

I pushed out from my own chair quickly in order to get out of his vicinity. “Nothing’s wrong with me … physically.” I walked to the window to examine the weather. It looked very bad.

“You did this!” I turned around to begin pacing, as if he were to blame for the weather.

“Will, will you sit down?” he watched me pace with a crease between his brows.

I ignored this and continued to trod his cozy rug in my oversized and annoyingly warm socks, staring at the snow coming down outside. The peaceful fall of the flakes was infuriating. It might’ve been serene and calming if I were in a cabin alone with a hot drink, a bunch of cookies and a stack of books.

Not with the man who tormented me in high school who I still hated.

The man who was far too handsome for his own good.

And had saved me from certain death.

Then dressed me in soft clothes that took the chill from my bones and smelled nice.

“Why did you bring me here to your house? Why didn’t you take me home after you found me?”

“My place was closer,” he hiked up a shoulder. “Weather was packing in. My main goal was getting you safe and warm. You need to sit.”

I stopped pacing to glare at him. “I need to do whatever it is I want to do because it’s becoming increasingly clear that I’m stuck here with you.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a playful smirk. “I don’t bite.”

A surge of desire shot through me. I did not need to think about him biting right now. Or his mouth.

“I need wine,” I declared, spying the wine rack beside a bookshelf. I strode toward it purposefully, grabbing a bottle opener after yanking open a drawer in the sideboard and rifling through it.


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