He called out to his buddies—tried to scream—because he knew what happened next. He knew that the second their truck crossed the plane of that dilapidated, broken down shack, the bomb would blow.

Despite his warning, his buddies didn’t stop, and Brody woke up when the blade of shrapnel plunged into Ernie’s chest.

“Motherfucker,” he huffed out, his voice shaking as badly as the rest of his body. He pounded a fist into the cushion beneath him, instantaneous rage snapping inside of him. When was this shit going to end? What the hell did he have to do?

Swinging his legs over the side of the couch, he sat up and pushed a hand back over his hair. The little pendulum clock on the mantle glinted against the moonlight streaming in through the window, and he squinted through the darkness to see it. Four in the morning? Thank God. Only two hours until daylight.

Not that it mattered, because two or ten, he wouldn’t sleep again. Fumbling in the dark, he found his phone on the table and thumbed it awake. Before he could think better of it, he replied to Jenny’s text.

I’m not the man you think I am, but you make me want to be.

Chapter Eight

Early Sunday afternoon, Brody’s text still echoed in Jenny’s head. I’m not the man you the you think I am... What did that mean exactly? Was he hinting at what Reed had told her Friday night or was there something more?

A hundred different questions whispered in the back of her mind as she did a quick pick-up around the house, even stripping her bed of all its comforter and sheets and throwing them into the laundry room to wash, lest she be tempted to break her own rules on their very first date.

Gah. Was this even a date? All she knew was that he’d called this morning to make sure she had winter boots. That’s it. He wouldn’t tell her what he planned for them and, by the time his truck tires crunched through the snow in her driveway just before one o’clock, she was on pins and needles, wondering.

Blowing out a nervous breath, she met him at the front door with a smile. “You found me.”

“I did.” He waved as he made his way up the freshly shoveled sidewalk, looking ruggedly hot in heavy winter boots, jeans, and a black and camouflage hoodie. He even wore a black stocking cap, just like all the other Nebraskan farm boys in the winter, but on Brody, the look was downright panty melting.

Considering she had on her biggest, oldest pair of granny undies that was no small feat.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” He climbed the front steps and glanced around the big yard, littered with apple trees, and down the length of the modest, ranch style house. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was hers and the fact that he liked it made her inner peacock preen.

“Thank you. I bought it from my aunt and uncle when they retired to Arizona a few years ago. Come in.” She pushed open the screen door and waved him in, where he again took everything in, nodding appreciatively at her simple, but carefully chosen decor. Her plush caramel-hued couch with its pink and crème throw pillows. The coffee table she’d bought at a garage sale and refinished herself. Even her sewing machine and the quilt that sat half finished beside it.

“Yep, I totally dig this. It’s very homey. Very you.” With that, he dipped his head and stole a warm, gentle kiss that sent shivers racing down her spine as the heat spread throughout her body. “Hey,” he said when he was done.

“Hey,” she said back, breathless, one hand hitting the wall behind her for support as she literally swooned.

He grinned. “You good?”

“Uh huh.” Maybe she should’ve left her legs unshaven, too.

“Great. You got your boots ready? We should probably get going.”

She pointed to the pair beside his feet on the entrance floor and dropped to the bench to put them on. “Maybe you should tell me where we’re going. Since you’re as bundled as I’ve ever seen you, I assume we’re going to get cold. I might need long underwear or something.”

Another ovary-quivering smile split across his face. “As sexy as that would be, I think you’ll be fine. Eventually.”

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

He shook his head, his mossy eyes sparkling. “Nope. All you need to know is that I’ve taken care of everything.”

Hmm. “So mysterious.”

To that, he winked. Five minutes later, she climbed into his truck, feeling like a giddy teenager. She and Reed hadn’t gone out in years and Jake, the last guy she’d actually dated, preferred that she do all the planning. Never once had he taken the initiative on his own.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Brody said as he started the engine and the new Shinedown song pulsed through the cab. “Shit, sorry about that.”

God, she loved that adorable blush on his face. “You’d hear the exact same thing if we got into my car right now.”

“Yeah? You like it hard and loud, too?”

She snorted and his cheeks went from pink to red.

“Good to know we both have the same twisted sense of humor.”

“Well, it is the best kind to have.” She buckled her seatbelt as her stomach growled. “You implied there might be food?”

“Yep, and I might’ve gone a little overboard.”

“Good, because I’m a lot hungry.”

***

He could’ve taken the expected route and asked her to a late lunch at one of the local restaurants, though he figured that wouldn’t have made for a very memorable date. But as he pulled to the shore of a frozen-over Sugar Lake, he second-guessed what he had been sure was a grand slam idea.

“Um, I probably should’ve asked if you’re one of those people who won’t go out on the ice.” He glanced over at Jenny, her fingers clutched around the edge of the seat and her face as white as the snow covering every surface around them.

She nodded quickly. “Yeah, maybe.”

Shit. “I’ll just grab everything from the fishing shanty. We can head back to your place to eat.”

“No.” She said the word adamantly enough, but she remained just as frozen as the wide, ice-covered expanse before them. Given the late season, only a half dozen portable shelters dotted the flat plane. Tony’s sat just left of the center, with no neighbors for several yards, hence, Brody’s initial excitement in bringing Jenny out. They could hang out all afternoon without a single interruption. Maybe they’d even catch some fish.

“It’s okay. I...I can try,” she added, her pretty neck working as she gulped. “You’ve already walked out there, right?”

He nodded. “A couple times. There was a lot of stuff to carry.”

She shot him an apologetic frown, complete with a timid nibble on her lower lip.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. The fear is real. I get it. I’m happy to shift gears and rethink what clearly wasn’t the kickass idea I thought it was.”

A small smile replaced her nervous one. “It’s a totally kickass idea. I just happened to have an irrational fear of dying a miserable, icy, blue-faced death. I mean, have you seen Titanic?”

“Um...can I plead the fifth on that one?”

She laughed and slowly let go of the seat to unbuckle her belt. “Do you promise I won’t die?”

“Uh...”

“Oh, God.” She slapped a hand over her mouth as realization flashed in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” Shit, I know. “And unfortunately I can’t promise you that. I can, however, vow to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t end up like Jack Dawson. If you’ll trust me.” He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. Hell, she knew more about his shortcomings than most.

“I trust you.” Her warm fingers closed around his and squeezed. “Maybe hold my hand?”

He grinned, because oh yeah. “I can definitely do that, sugar.”

***

“This is actually kinda cozy.”

“Thank God you don’t mind small spaces. I was really starting to question my judgment.” Brody fussed with the portable heater, cranking it on high and positioning it so it pointed directly at Jenny. He’d also given her the more comfortable built-in seat, while he sat on an upturned bucket. Between them sat a small cooler and thermal bag with their lunch.