Introduction To Romance (10 Books). Кэрол Мортимер
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while he’d come back on his Harley after his last physical therapy session, he didn’t have a car.
Nope. Dinner in San Diego was more romantic. A drive would give them time to talk. And if they stayed here, people would see. Then they’d talk. Her father would hear and things would get ugly. Worse, her mother would hear and head straight for the hospital.
“Good question. You should eat in town. I hear Ziapatta’s is serving lasagna tonight,” Macy broke in. Stepping forward, she started reciting the menu as if her life—or Genna’s virtue—depended on convincing Brody to eat there.
Genna scowled. The woman couldn’t say hello, but she saw a chance to ruin the night and she turned into a chatterbox.
“We have reservations,” Genna interrupted smoothly. “And I don’t want Italian food.”
She wanted her date, dammit.
“Good night, Macy,” she said emphatically.
As huffs went, Macy was a champion. Muttering warnings the whole way, she skirted around them to yank open the front door, then stormed down the walk.
Genna grimaced at the scowl her friend threw over her shoulder before climbing into her car.
“I’ll bet she’s on the phone by the end of the street,” she predicted, letting the door slam shut with a satisfying bang.
“Gossip?” Brody guessed.
“Tattling.”
He glanced out the window at the departing car, then arched a brow her way.
“To whom about what?”
“To my parents about us,” Genna said, heading over to grab her purse and coat off the bench.
She didn’t make it far.
Two steps and she was stopped by Brody’s hand on her arm.
“Hold up a sec. So let me get this straight. Your friend is going to run to your mommy and daddy and stir up trouble when she tells them that you’re hanging out with me?”
Genna frowned for a second at his use of hanging out instead of dating. He was working hard to keep that wall between them. Or maybe it wasn’t hard work on his part and he really did only think of her as someone to hang out with while he was stuck in town.
Then, taking a deep breath to shake that off because she was sure she’d change his mind eventually, she focused on his question. And the irritation on his face.
“Totally obnoxious, right? I know she’s my best friend, and she really is a sweetie. But she’s always doing stuff like this. She thinks she knows best, and just has to interfere.”
Genna started to move toward the bench and her coat again, but Brody didn’t let go of her arm.
“What?” she asked.
His irritation had settled into a scowl.
“Tell me something. Other than your friend, does anyone know you’re hanging out with me?”
Again with the hanging out? Genna huffed, then shrugged. He let go this time, but shifted so his arms were crossed and his legs wide. She had the feeling that even if she did get her coat, she wasn’t getting past him to open the front door.
“I don’t know,” she said, throwing both her hands in the air. “I suppose your gramma knows. And people have seen us together, right?”
At her corner grocery store. The little café on the edge of town. The movie theater matinee. Nobody who knew and might report back to her parents. But that was beside the point. They were still people.
“You ashamed?”
He said it so matter-of-factly, with no inflection at all, that it took a few seconds for the implication of his words to sink in.
“Of course I’m not ashamed to be hanging out with you,” she protested, ignoring the guilty little tickle in the back of her throat at the words.
He didn’t look convinced. In fact, if Genna didn’t know better, she’d think he was a little hurt. But Brody didn’t care about things like approval. And, despite the fact that they were playing this let’s be friends game of his, she doubted her opinion registered in his world.
“Yeah? But you’re worried about your friend ratting you out. Worried enough about word getting around that you only wanna be seen with me if we’re out of town.” Brody pulled a contemplative face and rocked back on his heels, then gave a decisive nod. “Yep. You’re ashamed.”
Genna’s jaw dropped in a shocked gasp. She took a step backward, but figured pressing one hand to her heart might be overkill. He wasn’t buying it anyway. Brody was still giving her that pitying look, as if she’d just admitted to sleeping with his photo cut from a high school yearbook under her pillow. Which she hadn’t done for at least nine years.
“Oh, and you’re one to talk,” she tossed back. “If it hadn’t been for my father warning you to stay away from me, you’d never have come over.”
He just stared, no expression in those gold eyes. Damn that SEAL training of his. So Genna pushed harder.
“What’s the difference? Isn’t you being with me your own form of rebellion? A way to give the finger to the guy who shipped you off ten years ago?”
Well, that changed his expression. Right from casual suspicion to icy distance.
Oops. Maybe she’d pushed a little too far.
“I’m your rebellion?”
Genna winced. Leave it to him to home in on that one particular statement. Couldn’t he focus on the insult instead? It’d be a lot easier to smooth that over.
“Aren’t we going to dinner?” she asked in her brightest, let’s-change-the-subject tone. “We’re going to be late if we don’t get on the road, and I’m starving already.”
His expression didn’t shift.
“I don’t think you’re doing it right,” he mused, his slow contemplative tone at odds with the cold look in his eyes. “If you want to rebel, you throw your actions in people’s faces. You don’t hide your bad side away hoping nobody will notice.”
You did if you were afraid of their reaction. Genna pressed her lips together to keep that confession to herself.
“Then, by your own definition, I’m not rebelling,” she pointed out with a teasing smile, hoping to charm him out of pursuing this conversation. “And we’ve already established that I’m not ashamed of being seen with you. So why are we wasting time talking about this? Especially since chitchat is right up there with wearing pink on your list of manly things to do.”
“Because I don’t like being played.”
This was getting ridiculous. Genna took a couple of deep breaths, trying to push away the edges of panic that were pressing down on her. She was so close to her dream. So close to having something—maybe not a relationship, but something—with Brody. And now it was shattering so fast she couldn’t even see where the pieces were flying.
“I’m not playing you. I’m not ashamed of you.” She shifted, lifting her chin and giving him a direct look filled with all the sincerity she had. “And I’m not using you to rebel.”
“Right.”
There was so much sarcasm in that single word that Genna was tempted to look at the floor to see if it was dripping on her feet. What was his problem?
“Don’t you think you’re blowing this out of proportion? I just said that Macy was a tattletale.”
“Exactly. C’mon, Genna,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re all grown up and still living under your parents’ thumbs. What better way to wiggle out than to piss them off by dating the guy they blame for introducing their princess to the