“Do you know how I made my money?” he asked, his tone serious now.
“When Sandy and Mike were buying their house, she said you answered a lot of questions for her because you flip real estate.”
“But I bought my very first flip property with money I won on the poker circuit. That’s how I got out of here and how I got my start.”
She hadn’t known that, but it concerned her even more than the possibility of gambling for paperclips raising some judgmental eyebrows. “Brody, don’t fill these kids’ heads with big dreams of gambling their way out of here.”
“What’s wrong with big dreams?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Nothing. But a lot of these kids will grow up and fish or work for little more than minimum wage and be just fine. The ones who dream big will either fight for their dreams or they won’t. Just because you got lucky doesn’t mean there are shortcuts.”
“Delaney, I’m not going to lure the adolescent population of Tucker’s Point away with me like some kind of poker-playing Pied Piper. It’s just something fun to do for the in-between crowd and the older folks who don’t want to play—and I quote, ‘baby games’—or risk getting their hands slapped by Mrs. Palmer.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll help you scrounge up fake poker chips, but you have to get permission from parents for the younger kids.”
“Deal.”
“One of the first grade teachers is a good friend of mine. We’ll forage in her classroom.”
She knew even as she led Brody through the doors into the main hallway that tongues would start wagging the second they closed behind them, but it couldn’t be helped. Sending another volunteer to accompany him wasn’t really an option because she wasn’t totally comfortable rummaging around the classrooms and she was personally responsible for the big ring of keys. Only the fact Patti Worth was a personal friend made it okay.
The squeak of their shoes on the waxed floor was the only sound as she led him down a maze of hallways to the door marked by a sign reading Miss Worth in colorful, hand-drawn letters. Delaney felt slightly naughty as she unlocked it and slipped inside, but she wasn’t sure if it was being in the classroom, or being alone with Brody.
And they were very, very alone.
“It’s so quiet here,” Brody said, kicking the door closed behind him. “Makes me want to grab a pillow and blanket and hide under the desk until the storm’s over.”
“I wish we could use the rooms, especially for Sandy and Noah, but there are rules and most of them boil down to insurance and liability.”
“You wouldn’t even sneak down here for a power nap?”
She gave him a stern look, and then glanced around the room to find the most likely hiding spot for boxes of paper clips. “It’s against the rules.”
“You always were a good girl.”
The way he said the words—the warm timbre of his voice—had flashbacks rolling through her mind. Stolen kisses. His hand sliding up under her sweater for the first time. Making love in a borrowed boat under an endless sky. “Not always.”
“No. Not always.” He was closer and, when she turned, she found himself close enough to touch.
This time he kissed her swiftly, with no time for deliberations. His mouth was demanding and she surrendered to him, tired of fighting her feelings. The kiss went on and on, until her knees were weak and it seemed as though his hands on her back were all that were keeping her from falling.
When he broke it off, he kept his face close to hers, his arms wrapped around her. She liked being in his arms. She felt safe there, and treasured. The world had always seemed right when she was in Brody’s arms.
His breath was warm against her cheek and she closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of him. Reality seemed to shift between the present and their past. His subtle, expensive aroma and the feel of fine wool were strange, but the feel of his body against hers and the way he touched her was so familiar her heart ached.
When his hand cupped the side of her face, she turned into it, savoring the feeling of his thumb brushing her cheekbone.
“Your skin is so soft,” he said in a quiet voice. “Every time I touched you, I hated my hands. They were rough and callused and you deserved to be touched by somebody whose hands didn’t scratch like sandpaper against your skin.”
“I loved your hands. Strong and capable. You worked hard and you loved hard. That’s what your hands meant to me.”
“I want to make love to you again, Delaney.”
Words clogged in her throat. Reasons why they shouldn’t. Confessions of just how badly she wanted that, too. But none of them came out.
“I don’t have any protection,” he said after a long moment of silence.
“And this is my friend’s first-grade classroom. I can’t have sex on her floor.”
“Or her desk?”
“Oh, God no.” She laughed, burying her face in his sweater. “I’d never be able to look her in the face again.”
“So we have to stop.” He paused, as if waiting for her to argue, but she was silent. “I don’t want to.”
“I don’t want to, either.” She took a deep breath. “But we have to.”
“Then we need to stop touching now.”
Very reluctantly, she backed away from him. Her face felt hot and flushed, and he looked a little hot and bothered himself. “Let’s find some paperclips and get you back to your poker buddies before they come looking for us.”
Brody held her hand for the walk back to the gym, and Delaney couldn’t help but feel things had changed between them. The hurt that had flared up when she saw him again had faded away and they were falling back into their old passionate but comfortable relationship.
She needed to remember that relationship she’d been so comfortable in had ended in pain and tears, though. Five years ago, Brody had kissed her and held her hand, and then he’d taken off in the night. No matter how good it felt to have him back, Delaney couldn’t forget he was only there because he couldn’t leave.
He released her hand before going through the doors into the gym, but not before giving her a quick kiss. Then he looked into her eyes for a few seconds. “I’d ask if you want to play with us, but now I remember just how bad your poker face is.”
She wanted to ask him what he saw in her eyes, but before she could work up the courage, he’d opened the door, brandishing the boxes of paper clips as though he’d been foraging for food and returned with a bounty.
Delaney watched as a group of kids swarmed him, their excitement obvious. But then she noticed Camille watching her watch her son and turned away. She was going to have to work on that poker face.
* * *
“HARD TO BELIEVE you made a living out of playing poker, son.”
Brody snorted, but it was hard to deny the fact his pile of paper clips was significantly smaller than the old man’s. “Maybe it’s strategy. Sucker you in and make you feel safe so you start betting large.”
“Or maybe you’re spending too much time watching that girl and not enough time watching your cards.”
If Delaney had been in the casinos and back rooms, fussing over people and checking things off her clipboard, Brody would probably have about two dollars to his name and be living in his car. If he still had one. She was one hell of a powerful distraction.
“What girl?” one of the kids asked. Jason, he thought his name was. He was the