Tasha’s eyes narrowed. “I could have sworn you used to be the talkative cousin. Or was that your brother Wyatt?”
Steely blue eyes lowered to hers. “Becoming a civilian again hasn’t been the easiest transition. I’m still rusty at one or two things. Casual conversation, for example.”
“Lucky for you I’m the queen of awkward silences,” she offered lightly, sensing his discomfort. “Making them or filling them. Practice those rusty skills on me, Brady Finn. Tell me how you ended up working for Stephen. The long version, with complete sentences, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Brady’s nod was sharp. “I suppose you could say I was looking for an alternative employment opportunity. Expectations aside, I needed to find my own way. When Stephen called me in and told me about his dilemma, I figured I could lend a hand instead of going stir crazy, so I signed on temporarily as his body man.”
“And as quickly as that, a new nickname is born,” she quipped. “Hot Body Man.”
Expectations aside. She knew what he was referring to. The Finn brothers she’d grown up around—Owen, Stephen and Seamus—were successful, relatively stable businessmen. Owen had his own construction company, Stephen had been the district attorney for a hot minute before running for political office and his twin Seamus had just officially taken over the family pub from their father. Before that he’d been a handyman. Their cousins on the other hand—Brady’s brothers—were cops and firemen. One was an EMT. They were all adrenaline junkies with hero complexes and a possible uniform fetish.
She could understand why Brady, who’d spent four extended tours in a warzone in a uniform of his own, might want to avoid that kind of lifestyle for a while. Politics was cutthroat and demanding, but your life wasn’t always on the line. Other people’s lives weren’t in immediate danger.
Unless a senator decided to do something reckless. Something that required a damn bodyguard.
Brady grimaced at the nickname. “Let’s not repeat that to anyone.”
“We’ll see. Speaking of sex…”
“Were we?”
She nodded. “We were. Ninety percent of the time, civilians are either thinking about it, talking about it, or doing it. They did a study.”
“It’s not just civilians,” Brady muttered, making her laugh.
“Speaking of sex, I saw the way Stephen’s assistant, a Mr. Calvin Grimes, was looking at you before we left. I know for a fact he’s out. Are you?”
He tensed in momentary surprise, but didn’t pretend not to understand her question. “Observant as well as liberated, aren’t you?”
“I am. I have exceptional instincts about carnal appetites and preferences for baked goods. You look like a spiced apple pie kind of guy. Patriotic, with unexpectedly zesty undertones.”
Brady dipped his chin, his grin restrained but genuine. “I’ve been out since high school. To my family, at any rate. So is Rory, if you’re curious. I won’t go into how retired chief of police Solomon Finn Sr. handled the news that two of his six strapping Irish sons were gay. Let’s just say we were all surprised at how well Uncle Shawn took Owen’s bombshell. Surprised and jealous. And for the record, I wouldn’t turn down any type of pie.”
“Good to know.” She kicked off her sandals and patted the space beside her on the bed. “Now we can gossip freely about Grimes and the big plans he obviously has to climb his boss’s new bodyguard like a jungle gym.”
Brady snorted, but sat down. “He can have all the plans he wants. It won’t be happening. He’s not my type.”
“Why?”
“Man’s a fast talker. Pushy. A real climber.” Brady studied his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s attractive and good at his job, but other than that…”
“No, I get it.” She knew exactly what he was talking about. A lot of the people around Stephen were like that. Men and women who never stopped talking but rarely said anything genuine. Unfortunately, it came with his job.
Brady Finn wanted something real.
“You and Jeremy have that in common. He wasn’t into settling for less either. Of course his version of not settling was a little slutty, which I can say because we’re so much alike and I’m partially responsible for his impressive track record. Not entirely responsible, mind you. Those comic book conventions he goes to give new meaning to the term wild rumpus. Sadly, I suspect that not only are you not bi, you’re also more of a traditionalist in the romance department.”
“Three for three. Do you read palms at that bakery?” He leaned on his elbow beside her, his smile bemused, but he was finally starting to relax. “I’m still in shock about the whole Jeremy thing, to be honest. I mean, I always knew he had it bad for Owen. But it was just as clear that my cousin was oblivious. Talk about the last person on the planet I’d have ever guessed was gay. My most recent relationship, if you could call it that, was with a tough-as-nails leatherneck with more testosterone than brain cells, and I was less surprised when he made a pass at me than I was to find out the family skirt chaser had settled down with a man.”