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As much as he hated it, the idea pinged around his cranium more than it should have. What if he stayed away, perhaps for a day or so? Just long enough to get to the bottom of what the hell was going on. His fire immediately revolted against the concept, though, as was recently evident, his powers couldn’t be trusted to act in his best interests, not anymore. That was far more terrifying than all the other alternatives laid out before him.
What if he hurt her? Or worse, what if he did more than just taste her?
Brass shot to his feet and gave his back to his brothers. He wouldn’t offer them his hand, knowing they’d see the assist as more insult than aid. So, instead, he threw his shoulders back and padded out of the sparring ring on limbs that had never truly regained their strength since the moment he’d untangled Molly from them and likely never would.
Chapter 18
While most people would have been dragging ass at five in the morning on a Wednesday, Molly was infuriatingly awake as she turned the key and let herself into Suerte and Honeysuckles. She didn’t bother to punch on the lights in the dining room or set up anything for Benny, who always trampled in a hair shy of fifteen minutes before the place officially opened. The dine-in breakfast rush didn’t usually get going until after school drop-off, so until then, their customers were mostly just commuters of the coffee-and-muffin-grabbing variety anyway.
Fine with her. There was only so much peopleing she had in her after a night that devolved from mind-blowing to second-guessing to tossing and turning amid twisted sheets wondering just what the hell she was going to say to Brass the next day.
A lot of things tended to flare up in the light of a new morning, not the least of which were regret, bad decisions, awkward silences, and the realization of a shared moment that her pea soup brain could only describe as . . . significant. Oh, and because she was one of the few people on the planet who was more neurotic when not caffeinated, she’d spent otherwise good sleeping hours agonizing over all of it.
Would Brass regret their time together? Had he landed on the same no-employee-relationships conclusion and then fiddled his game piece around the board like she had, secretly hoping the spinner had landed in the middle of two impossible choices, therefore warranting another turn?
Molly ambled into the office and dumped her exhausted body into her chair while she emptied out every last ounce of her frantic thoughts all over her desk like a field of mismatched puzzle pieces. Blue velvet cushioned her neck, and she allowed herself a few quiet moments to breathe through the events of the prior evening.
One event, in particular, kept surfacing, and in the quiet of her private office, she finally gave herself permission to revisit it.
What if I want to be the boss?
The whispered command had shocked her almost as much as Brass’s hands on her skin. It wasn’t just out of character for her, but out of the question. She had more than enough bossing to do in her waking hours, so why the hell did the thought thrill her when alone with Brass? And more to the point, his responding words had stunned her as much as they had seduced her.
Tell me what to do.
It had all unraveled from there in the headiest combination of power and pleasure. Everything she wanted, she didn’t just ask for but took without apology or explanation. And he gave with equal zeal, so much so that even when his actions were leashed while he waited for her instruction, he still doted on her with a devotion to rival that which ancient civilizations showed to immortal gods.
And holy shit, it had been amazing.
With Brass, the sexual acts they’d shared had gone so far beyond pleasure. Somewhere around the three a.m. mark, when she was staring at her bedroom’s pre-1970s popcorn ceiling and counting the pockmarks to try and fall asleep, a strange image arranged itself among the mélange.
Two golden eyes staring down at her. Not amber or hazel but a blazing gem-colored ochre that swirled with an inexplicable fire. They were the same eyes Brass had trained on her before he blinked the moment away and fled her apartment faster than a building inspector who hated paperwork. All she’d been left with was the parting shot of fear twisting his features into something she didn’t recognize and a boatload of confusion on her part.
Instead of dwelling on the misshapen pieces, however, all she could focus on was the one insistent word that wouldn’t let her sleep, strategize, or even scream.
Significant.
Whatever she’d shared with him wasn’t just sexual but significant, like a change had occurred, one where she’d chase down lifetimes to experience it again.
Even if it was unnerving or—she hesitated to say her growing suspicion out loud—unnatural.
“I know what I saw,” she whispered to no one before opening her eyes. “I’m not crazy, and I’m not entirely convinced Brass is either.”
“Yoo-hoo! Anybody home?” A man’s voice filled with far too much humor than the hour called for preceded Brass’s brother Bronze into the open doorway of Molly’s office. A graphic tee stretched across his lean chest, which was covered by a barely acceptable winter layer of what she’d seen some of the touristy boutiques in town refer to as a fleece-lined flannel shacket. His charming demeanor seemed to hold up more of the doorframe and conversation than Molly had the energy for, so much so that she couldn’t even muster the appropriate response for what amounted to an unannounced guest in her closed restaurant at the ass-crack of dawn. Though, given that said guest jangled a familiar set of keys next to his ear—a set she’d supplied a certain new employee with—she figured it was in her best interest to call on her remaining active brain cells to stand at attention.
Without coffee, however, that was a lost cause. Instead, she let fly the first thought her cranial team could muster.
“Why are you all so tall?” she grumbled, debating whether closing her eyes again would make more or less of Brass’s family appear in her restaurant.
Wait . . .
Remembering what time it was, Molly shot out of her chair. “Where’s Brass? Is he all right?”
Bronze, who Molly had only met once before, shrugged and lifted one corner of his goateed mouth in amusement before attempting to tuck his unruly shag of red hair behind his ear. “A healthy mix of fiber-filled carbohydrates, lean proteins, and a whole lot of avocados. Makes us shoot up like weeds in the rain. And gummy bears. Can’t speak for the rest of my family, but something about that red dye 40 just really agrees with my constitution.” Bronze gave his abdomen a soft pat of appreciation.
Molly blinked, then let her head drift to the side as if processing what he’d just said would make more sense from a different angle.
“And to answer your other questions,” he cut in, “Brass is taking a bit of a siesta today. He sent me to help instead.” Bronze waved his arms to the side in a ta-da moment and threw her a smile so wide not even the most aloof of preschool drop-off moms stood a chance at resisting his charms.
