Dear Mr. Brody by A.M. Johnson

Parker

A little girl with dark hair and gray eyes, like her father’s, blinked up at me as I walked into the kitchen. When I’d met Lanie at the door, I had to admit I’d been intimidated. I didn’t have to be straight to acknowledge that she was fucking gorgeous. I had a moment where I doubted myself.  She had all this history she shared with Van, this woman who’d stood next to him in the doorway looking like she fit into his life way more than I might ever be able. I was a confident guy. But right now, with this small, delicate version of Van sitting before me, I’d never been this damn nervous in my entire life. The kind of nervous that made my palms sweaty. Shoving my hands into my back pockets, I gave her a smile.

“Hi…” she said, wrinkling her nose at the mushroom she had in her hand. “Who are you?”

“Anne.” Van gave her a look that reminded me of my mom, and I had to hold back a laugh. “Where are your manners, little monster?”

“What did I say?” she asked, and a chuckle escaped past my lips.

Little monster.

Van smiled at me, and a heavy warmth filled my stomach. Apparently, I had a thing for dads.

“It’s okay,” I said, fighting a sudden urge to tug on one of her pigtails. “My name’s Parker, I’m a… friend of your dad’s.”

“I’m Anne.” She dropped the mushroom onto the cutting board with a bored expression. “Do we have to eat these?”

“No… I can save them for another day.” Van’s eyes slid in my direction as he walked around the counter. “Parker doesn’t like mushrooms either.”

Anne hopped down from her stool, and I thought she was tall for a ten-year-old. It was another trait she’d gotten from her father. But she stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, all balls and confidence, sizing me up in a way Van’s shyness would have never allowed.

“What about waffles?” she asked.

“The best breakfast dish, in my opinion. Van says you’re an expert waffle maker.”

“Toppings expert,” she said, grinning, and scooted past me toward the fridge.

Van watched us as he scooped the veggies he’d cut up earlier into a plastic container. His gray gaze smiling, and hell if I didn’t feel some type of pride taking root in my chest. Like maybe I wouldn’t fuck this up tonight and ruin whatever progress we’d made over the last couple of days.

“That sounds official,” I said, holding Van’s stare, and leaned my elbows on the counter. “How did you become a toppings expert?”

“Practice,” she said, but it sounded more like, “duh.”

Van let out a soft laugh as she set a carton of blueberries and strawberries onto the counter. Fuck, he was attractive, more casual than I’d ever seen him in loose-fitting jeans and a light gray t-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders. His hair was messy from my fingers, his lips full from our kiss, and when I smiled at him, he blushed.

It was going to be a long night.

“Strawberries or blueberries?” Anne asked, her voice as serious as if she’d asked me about the purpose of life.

“Both.”

She nodded satisfied. “Syrup or whipped cream?”

“Um…” I hesitated and any confidence she had in me evaporated as she narrowed her eyes. Well, goddamn. “Both?”

“I agree.”

“This is a test, if you haven’t noticed,” Van warned, snapping the lid shut on the veggies.

“I’m sensing that.” I smirked, and he grinned as he cleaned up what I assumed he’d originally planned on making us for dinner, leaving me to his daughter’s inquisition.

“Nutella?” she asked with an anxious furrow of her brows.

Unfortunately, I had no idea what the hell Nutella was, and I cringed when I said as much. “I’ve never had it.”

Her mouth popped open as she shared a look with her dad.

“Uh-oh…” He gently squeezed his daughter’s shoulder as he placed a waffle iron on the counter. “Go easy on him… I’d kind of like it if he stuck around for a while.”

Hiding my amusement, I rounded the counter and inched in beside him. Lowering my voice, I asked, “You want me around for a while, huh?”

Lightly touching my finger to his thumb, he turned to face me, both of us staring at each other, his slow smile so damn tempting. Maybe an adult would’ve keyed in on how close together we were, but his daughter didn’t seem to notice.

“He has to try it, Dad.” She placed a jar on the counter. “Like, he has to.”

Van was the first to look away, shaking his head, he said, “Parker doesn’t have to do anything. Be polite.”

“But he has—”

“Hazelnut?” I asked and winked at her as I picked up the jar for a better look. “Is it like peanut butter?”

“No.” She laughed. “Here…” She reached into a drawer and pulled out a spoon. “Just taste it. It’s way better than peanut butter. Do you like chocolate?”

“Is that even a question?”

Van laughed and leaned his hip against the edge of the granite counter. “I’m not a fan.”

“What?” I asked, adding as much mock horror to my voice as possible, and his daughter giggled. “That’s… I don’t even know what to say, Van. I’m not sure we’re friends anymore, if I’m being honest.”

“My mom isn’t a big fan either. They’re both weirdos.” Anne handed me the spoon, the expectation in her eyes overwhelmed me, like this one thing could make or break my chance at becoming her waffle-loving soulmate. “I hope you like it.”

“Wow,” I said with a mouth full of epic. “This is fu—freaking amazing.”

“Yes! It’s the best.” She pumped her fist and wiggled her hips. Probably the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

“Nice save.” Van laughed, forgetting himself as he brushed his thumb over the bottom corner of my mouth. When my lips parted with a quiet exhale, his eyes widened and darted to his daughter. “Sorry, you had some chocolate—”

“Thanks,” I interrupted him and tried to divert her attention since she’d started to stare at us like we had four heads. Or maybe I was paranoid. Either way, I needed to give myself some distance from Van before I mauled him in front of his daughter. “I think I want to try Nutella and strawberries on my waffle.”

“That’s my favorite, but you need whipped cream… oh, and cookie butter too,” she said, turning toward the pantry. “I’ll grab the waffle mix.”

Moving to the other side of the counter, I grabbed a stool and sat down. Van mouthed the words “I’m sorry,” and I whispered, “I’m not.”

My smile grew as he exhaled and shook his head, a playful smirk spreading into a soft dimple on his left cheek that I’d never seen before. A wolfish gleam lightened his eyes, his easy confidence beaming back at me, and I wished he could see himself the way I did.

“Can I have two this time?” Anne asked.

“You have a hard time finishing one, sweetheart.”

She scowled and crossed her arms. Van expertly ignored her, but I didn’t miss the small smile on his lips as he started cutting the strawberries.

“Anything I can do to help?” I asked and he shook his head.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “But thanks.”

“I can eat two,” Anne grumbled and slid onto the barstool next to me.

Coughing to hide my laugh, I admired her full-blown sulk-fest.

“You can watch Twister while I get everything ready.” Van peered across the counter. “Maybe Parker would watch it with you.”

“You like disaster movies?” I asked, surprised. “That’s cool.”

She rolled her eyes, lugging me by the hand as she jumped down from her stool. “It’s a movie about tornadoes.”

“I know.”

“Not disasters.”

I looked over my shoulder and caught Van staring at Anne’s hand in mine. I almost let it go, thinking I’d overstepped, but when I met his gaze, I heard the silent thank you in his smile.

“Aren’t tornadoes disasters, though?” I asked, foolishly continuing the argument, and took a seat on the couch.

She curled up on the opposite side, television remote in hand. “Tornadoes are a weather phenomenon. Scientists are still trying to figure out how they work.”

“But they cause damage…”

She dropped her shoulders and tilted her head, glaring at me like I was the dumbest asshole on the planet. The girl was damn cute.

“I’m only saying… a movie about tornadoes is basically a disaster movie like… Into the Storm, or that one with the volcanoes.”

“Those movies are so fake.” She settled into the cushion of the couch and pressed play on the remote. “Just watch.”

I chuckled but did as she asked, wanting to make a good impression. About thirty minutes later, Van called out that dinner was ready. Anne reluctantly switched off the television and I followed her over to the kitchen table. It had four chairs and sat in front of a large bay window. The sun hadn’t set yet, the sky bruised with purple and a deep pink spanned across the horizon and over the large back yard.

Van said, “It’s a great view, you should see it at night.”

“I’d like to.”

“That can be arranged.”

I took the seat across from him, my pulse jumping at the subtle innuendo in his tone as he handed me a plate. Reaching for the strawberries, Anne took the bowl from my hands. She didn’t give me a chance to experiment on my own, directing me in the ways of proper waffle consumption, and by the time we’d finished with dinner, I’d eaten my weight in sugar. Luckily, Van let me help clean up, and I was able to burn off some of the excess Nutella and syrup energy. With the three of us, we’d been able to get the dirty work done quickly and ended up with enough time to finish Twister before Anne had to go to bed.

“I should probably get going,” I said as I stood from the couch and stretched my arms behind my back.

Van’s eyes snagged on the exposed skin above my waistband as my shirt lifted. “Give me a second and I’ll walk you out. I just have to make sure she brushes her teeth.”

“Sure,” I said, and without thinking, pulled the end of one of Anne’s braids. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Maybe next time you can try the cookie butter,” she said, and I nodded.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

“It’s time for bed, kiddo.” Van started down the hall, turning he said, “I shouldn’t be long.”

I waited for him by the sliding glass doors that led to his backyard, stealing a peek of the sky. The stars disappeared behind thick clouds, the oak tree branches that lined the right side of his fence yawned and swayed in the breeze. I stepped outside to get a better look, walking out onto the porch. I leaned over the railing and the clouds parted, revealing thousands of tiny pinpoints of light as they broke through the cobalt blue veil.

Warm arms wrapped around my waist, and I hummed as Van pulled my back to his chest. “You don’t have to leave yet.”

I leaned my head to the side, shivering as his teeth nipped at my skin.

“What about Anne?”

“She’s already asleep.”

“That was fast,” I said and turned to face him. “I’m guessing the massive amount of carbs she had for dinner helped?”

He rested his hands on my hips as he laughed. “I think that might’ve been a factor, plus the story I read to her, she’s heard it a few times.”

“I think it’s cute you read her stories.”

A light breeze rustled through his hair, and he looked up at the sky. “I think it might rain.” Van stepped back and took my hand in his. “Come on, I want to show you something before it storms.”

A twinge of excitement pinched inside my stomach as he led me to the center of his yard. Smiling, he kicked off his socks and shoes and I did the same, the cool blades of grass soft against my bare feet.

“What are we doing?” I asked, confused as he let go of my hand and sat down on the ground.

He patted the space next to him and I sat down too. “I bought this house for the backyard.”

“It’s huge.”

“I thought about putting in a pool, but I didn’t want to ruin this.”

“Ruin what?”

He leaned back onto his elbows and looked up at the sky. “This.”

I followed his line of sight and sucked in a breath as the panoramic view unfolded all around me. Those tiny points of light had expanded once we’d left the confines of the porch, surrounding us. The sky seemed almost close enough to touch, and all I could think about was a scene from The Lost Boys.

“This makes me think of Pan and Silas,” I said and leaned back next to Van.

Our elbows touched, the heat of his skin drawing me closer until my thigh pressed against his too.

He looked at me, his lips curling up at the corners. “How so?”

“Remember, Pan rescued Silas from King Juno’s dungeon, and—”

“That’s right, and they barely escaped and hid from Wendy in that field.”

“It was the first time they kissed.” I pressed my lips together as his eyes fell to my mouth.

“‘How easy it would be… to get lost inside the stars with you,’” he quoted one of the lines from the book, and a goofy-ass smile broke across my face.

“Damn. Pan was a smooth motherfucker.”

Van’s head tipped back as he laughed openly, and hell if I didn’t want to bury my face in the hollow below his Adam’s apple, feel the sting of his stubble on my lips. Like the weight of my stare had touched his cheek, his laughter subsided, and he turned his head. With only the dim light from the porch behind us, his gray eyes seemed silver. We both leaned in, slow and gradual, every inch closer, the pull between us beat like a drum. He rested his back in the grass, my body covering his. Van’s hands fell to the curve of my ass, and I pressed our hips together as I tasted the maple syrup on his tongue. Holding myself up with my palms, I kissed him as he held onto me, his hard dick rutting against mine. He swore, shuddering below me, his fingers gripping the back pockets of my jeans, pleading for me to move faster. A cold drop of rain splashed against the heated skin of my neck, and then another, trickling down the side of my cheek.

Breathless, I rested my forehead to his shoulder. “Shit.”

Van pushed his hands into my back pockets and lifted his hips, his voice rough and desperate as he spoke. “Don’t stop.”

I raised my head as the rain started to fall in earnest, his hair already damp, his eyes wild. My shirt stuck to my skin, the humid scent of dirt pulled into my lungs with every ragged breath. “What about—”

“Park…” His face flushed as small drops of rain beaded along the line of his upper lip. “Please.”

Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance as I gave him my mouth. Licking the condensation from his lips, he opened for me, moaning as our cocks aligned, grinding together, trapped behind wet denim, the friction, the rhythmic pulse of our hips, the rain, the dirt, the smell of earth and lavender on his skin, and his hands, his strong hands grasping, holding me against him, it didn’t take long for both of us to lose control.  I dropped my head into the crook of his neck, my fingers twisting in the grass as I came too quickly. Van swore through his release, his hand on the back of my head, his chest rising and falling beneath me.

I rolled to my side and onto my back. Closing my eyes, the sky opened up with another clap of thunder. “Yeah… I might need to borrow a pair of shorts or something for my drive home.”

Van’s deep laugh made me turn my head and open my eyes. He stared back at me. A blade of grass stuck to his cheek, and as he smiled, I wiped it away.

“Or something...” He ran a thumb along my jaw, the storm soaking us through. “This is… you… you make me want to be impulsive.”

“I’m sorry I—”

“No, Parker. It’s a good thing.”

“It is?”

“Yeah…” The rain slowed as his thumb traced another line along my jaw to my mouth and back again. “It is.” He lifted onto his elbow and placed a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“We should probably go inside before we end up like Marcos and get pneumonia.”

Van pulled back, concern written in the stitch of his brow. “He has pneumonia?”

“Nah… just a virus, but the fucker acts like he’s dying.”

I captured his laugh with my lips, and at some point, it started to rain again.