Seeing is Believing Read Free Page A

women were confident, aggressive, independent. He liked that.
    But he liked that smile on Piper’s face, too. More than he should.
    “How are your dad and mom?” he asked. He’d seen Amanda a few years back when she’d been visiting her father in Chicago, but they had talked mostly about the city, the good restaurants to hit, and Brady’s job. Amanda had only briefly mentioned that Piper was in college, and Brady hadn’t given much thought to what was going on back here in Cuttersville.
    It felt odd to be back home, in a house that hadn’t changed, even as everything around it had. Brady had thought that he would be swamped with emotion when he came back after his self-imposed exile, but really so far he’d felt nothing but a mild sort of pleasure and curiosity.
    “Great. My dad’s looking at a good crop this year, and my mom sort of has her hands in everything. She raises purebred poodles, sells real estate, and is president of the PTA at my brothers’ school.”
    That was kind of a humorous image. When Brady had first met Amanda fifteen years earlier, she had been a bored rich girl. “No kidding? And what about you, Piper? You living in town now? Got a boyfriend or a husband or anything?”
    It would be easier if she did. Stop him from thinking thoughts about her naked body that he shouldn’t be thinking.
    But a hint of color rose in her cheeks. “No, no boyfriend or fiancé. And I still live with my parents in the farmhouse. I guess that sounds kind of lame, doesn’t it? Especially to someone like you who left home right out of high school.”
    He’d left home all right, chomping at the bit to get the hell out of Cuttersville. And twelve years later he was starting to wonder what he’d been running from. The success he’d wanted, expected to find in Chicago or New York, hadn’t arrived, and he had given up painting altogether three years ago. It hurt to pick up a pencil or brush and know that he couldn’t replicate on paper what he saw in his mind.
    “If you’re happy, then there’s nothing lame about it.”
    She nodded, then said, “Do you want me to put your shirt in the dryer? The shoulders are soaking wet.”
    He’d forgotten about the damp cotton clinging to his skin. The house didn’t have air-conditioning, and it was still summer temperatures. He wasn’t cold. But neither was he going to refuse a perfectly legit chance to take his shirt off in front of her and see her reaction.
    “Thanks.” Brady peeled it off, and wondered what the hell he was doing. Hadn’t he just told himself this girl—seven big, long years younger than him—was off-limits? And here he was going for the flirt.
    But he supposed every man had a bad habit. Some drank, others smoked, quite a few gambled to excess, and hell, some did all three. His weakness was women. He liked to flirt, liked to make women smile and laugh. He loved to wine and dine and sixty-nine a woman. Nothing wrong with that if both parties knew the score. Brady wasn’t the settling-down kind. He had been born restless, and this trip back to Nowheresville for no good reason was further proof of that. He should be back in Chicago, pounding the pavement for a job, yet he’d decided to come home for some strange reason.
    Because he’d found himself angry and bitter and maybe even a little scared for the first time in his whole life. That was why he’d come home. Like being back in Cuttersville would solve any of the mess his life had become.
    But he might as well enjoy himself while he was here.
    So he bunched up his shirt and stood, stretching a little so she had a good shot of the pecs and his ripped stomach. All those hours at the gym should be worth something. “The dryer still in the basement? I’ll just toss it in.”
    Piper’s eyes had gone wide. He was almost sorry he’d stripped the T-shirt off. She looked horrified, not flirtatious. But then her eyes dropped down, just a little, and she ran her tongue across thick, plump lips.