Rock Solid

“I guess. Is there more than one?”

“Could be. Anyway, I’m Brandi.”

“Nice to meet you. So...Brody mentioned me?”

Hannah felt silly asking, but the words slipped out before she could stop them.

Brandi’s lips twitched as she looped her thumbs in her jeans. “Oh, you could say that. When he was under the influence of the drugs they gave him at the hospital when he fell off the horse, you were a very frequent topic. But I won’t share details since he wouldn’t have, either, except that he was pretty out of it.”

Hannah’s jaw dropped, her face heating as she tried not to imagine what Brody might have said about her. After a few seconds, she saw the humor in it and started to laugh. Brandi joined in.

Soon, a more serious thought occurred to her. “Can I ask, is everything okay with Brody? He didn’t seem like himself.”

“I agree. He hasn’t wanted to talk about much since he retired from the circuit. He just sort of sticks around here and works on the ranch, but doesn’t say anything about what he’s doing next. Believe me, we’ve tried, but it’s like poking a bear most of the time. Our parents think he just needs time and space to adjust, but I’m not sure.”

Hannah nodded. “I was surprised to hear about his accident, though he seems to be recovering. Still, he does seem...off.”

“He is. Anyway, I’m sorry I thought you were another, well, you know...”

“Oh, I know. Believe me. There was someone here this morning, then that pie was dropped off by another young woman, and a few phone messages since... I thought you were, um, a female friend, as well.”

Brandi rolled her eyes. “It’s as though they come out of the walls. You’d think they would lose interest since he retired, but it’s been even worse. I guess they all want to be the one who finally snags him. The one who brings Wild Brody Palmer to heel. It didn’t help that one of the reporters let leak something about him wanting to settle down.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

Brandi grinned. “Believe me, if there’s anyone less likely to settle down on this earth, it’s Brody. I don’t even know why he retired. At first we were glad. It was getting hard on my parents, watching him take his life in his hands every day. Whenever there’s a crash, we all hold our breath, you know?”

Hannah did know. Being at the track was exciting, but it had also been frightening, watching what he did for a living.

“But he’s not happy, especially since his accident,” Brandi added with a sigh. “Maybe you’ll have better luck at getting him to say what’s been bothering him.”

“It is hard to imagine him no longer racing. Didn’t he and Reece talk about owning their own car, having their own driver?”

Brandi shrugged. “Maybe, but Reece has settled into the winery, and Brody’s never been one to sit back and watch.”

That sounded exactly like Brody, and it made Hannah wonder, too: Why had he retired? He’d never talked about it when they were together, except to say “in the future” or “in time.” Retirement had been forced on Reece because of a horrific accident on the track. That hadn’t been the case for Brody.

Unless there was something none of them knew. Was he keeping a secret? Was he sick? Worse?

Hannah’s mind reeled with new, awful possibilities. Something so serious that he wouldn’t want to tell his family or friends? And that was why he was so surly?

“Anyway, whatever you have on the stove there smells great.”

“Thanks. Just some sauce and pasta,” Hannah responded, still distracted—and even more worried—by her dire thoughts. “Would you like some?”

“It’s nice of you to offer—Brody said you were nice—but I have to get home to my son. I’ll catch up with Brody tomorrow. Good to have met you, Hannah.”

“Same here.”

Brandi left through the back door and Hannah had her dinner alone. She distracted herself by working on her writing and enjoying a bottle of wine. By the end of the evening, she was deflated by the fact that no one was responding to the blog. She hadn’t taken any pictures that day, and Brody was nowhere to be found. For the first time since being in New York, she didn’t have anything new to post.

Brody said you were nice.

Nice. Bland. Boring.

Like her photos.

Maybe she should call her blog Hannah’s Lack of Adventure.

As she stood and paced, she noticed a display case on the far side of the room. There were trophies and awards, of course, from his racing, and pictures of Brody with various celebrities, friends, and even one with a US president. A scale model of almost every car he’d raced sat on a shelf.

There was a section of the wall devoted to these shelves. Mostly family pictures and personal items. Brody, she assumed, as a boy with his father, holding up a huge fish. His enormous, toothy grin made her chuckle. He must have been around seven, she guessed.

Hannah had been ten when her father died, and she still felt a slight, dull pain when she thought about it. He’d been a good man and the moon and the stars to her. Her dad had been the kind of solid, dependable man she’d hoped to find for herself. He’d farmed his land, provided for them and worked part-time at the local feed store in summer to earn extra income.

She remembered him as always being happy and laughing, telling her to work hard and do what was right. Those words had stood by her when he’d had a fatal heart attack, and there was no way she and her mother could keep the farm. So Hannah had done the right thing and worked diligently to support herself and her mother as soon as she was able.

She reached out, touching the picture of Brody with his dad. He’d never said anything about his family, which made sense. Theirs was a particular kind of relationship.

Not a relationship at all, really.

There were also some scouting badges—another surprise—and several sports awards, including high school baseball and college swimming trophies. On a table near that display were pictures of Brody in mountain-climbing gear with a group of people all clearly celebrating some sort of victory, and one of him...surfing?

And there were pictures of a very young Brody by a race car—his first one? He had to be only twenty or so.

She’d only known him as a champion driver, but clearly there was a lot more to the man. He’d done and accomplished a lot. She looked at some of the framed news articles and magazine covers. Words that came up often were things like brash, risky, and pushing the edge.

Brody said you were nice.

What did Hannah have to put on her walls? Her diplomas, certainly, and she was proud of those, along with her certified public accountant recognition. She had some pictures from school—mainly her and Abby and a few other friends having fun in Ithaca and at the senior dance. A few 4-H awards from the local fair. Not that she was ashamed of any of those moments—she held them dear, in fact—but in her thirty years, what else had she managed to accomplish?

Her work had been her focus. Creating the stable, perfect future that she had always planned on. She’d be thirty-one in a few months, and she had no job, husband, kids or house.

And here she was, cleaning Brody’s place and making him dinner and wondering why everyone, even the strangers on her blog, only thought of her as nice.

Maybe it was time to do something that wasn’t so nice? Something daring and un-Hannah-like.

The question was...what?

* * *

BRODY’S HEAD FELL back against the headrest of the seat when he saw Hannah’s car still in his driveway. Man, she was stubborn. And caring, warm, generous, gorgeous, sexy, funny... Brody bit off a curse, making himself stop there.

He didn’t want to lie to her. If he’d been a bad bet before, he wasn’t anyone Hannah would be interested in now. She needed security, stability. He’d never been a poster child for either quality, but that was especially true at the moment.

He could only think of one way to convince her to go. It was dangerous, but it was his only play, really. Entering the house through the back door, he stopped short for a second, taking in the gleaming counters and lack of clutter. Something smelled mouthwatering, and his gaze traveled to the pot still on the stove. There was a pie on the counter and he walked over to read a note next to it—“Jenna dropped this off.”

Brody shook his head, and then he checked the messages blinking on the phone in the kitchen. He kept the landline precisely so he could screen calls like this; only friends and family used his cell number. He winced, thinking about Hannah overhearing the messages, especially the last one.