Brody by Cheryl Douglas

impulse.”
    Ever since he’d decided to make poker his career, I’d never heard him voice any reservations, so this was all new to me, and I didn’t know how to take it. Was he just going through a crisis after seeing his father for the first time in twenty years, or was there more to it? Maybe he really was ready to stop running.
    “I don’t think this is the time or place to question that.” I gestured to the door. “Right now, you just need to focus on getting to know those boys.”
    “Right.” He stood, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black bomber jacket.
    I hadn’t seen him dressed up since he came to stay with me, and I liked this more casual Brody. He reminded me of the boy I fell in love with.
    Slipping my arm through his, we walked to the door, and I rang the bell. I felt the tension in his body, so I patted his arm before giving it a reassuring squeeze.
    A woman I guessed to be in her late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a warm smile, opened the door. “You must be Brody.” She offered her hand. “I’m so happy to finally meet you.” She closed her other hand over his, her soft brown eyes conveying her genuine pleasure.
    “Nice to meet you too,” he muttered.
    “I’m Sandra, your dad’s wife.”
    He slipped his hand from hers before gesturing to me. “And this is my girl—uh, my friend, Riley.”
    “Hi, Riley,” she said, taking my hand. “Brody, your dad is in the garage working on something. He wanted to give you a little time with the boys.” She stepped back, inviting us in. “You’re welcome to go out and see him, if you want to. He just didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
    I glanced around, noting how lovely their home was. It was warm and welcoming, with polished honey wood steps leading to a second floor. There was a formal dining room on the right and a casual family room on the left. Both spaces were decorated in warm shades of crimson, gold, and green, with solid-looking wood furniture.
    “If you don’t mind,” Brody said, barely noting his surroundings, “I’d just like to meet your sons.”
    “Of course,” Sandra said, smiling. She walked to a staircase that led downstairs. “Guys, Brody’s here.”
    Given the fact we were in Vegas, I was surprised there was a basement. I was about to comment on it, but I figured Brody had more pressing matters on his mind at the moment. He looked as anxious as I’d ever seen him, which was saying a lot, since he’d perfected his poker face years ago.
    Two boys bounded up the stairs, and I must have gasped because Brody shot me a curious look. They looked so much like Brody and his brothers at that age, it took me back.
    “Hey,” the boys said in unison, looking even more anxious than their older brother.
    I tried to imagine what they must be thinking and feeling. He was a man they’d never met, one whose reputation preceded him, especially in the town that made him famous. Brody was all about flashy clothes and cars, a multi-millionaire with a gift for high stakes poker, and they were clearly intimidated.
    “Hey, guys,” Brody said, stepping forward to offer his hand. He clearly realized it was up to him to put them at ease and make it clear that he was here because he wanted to get to know them and hopefully forge a lasting relationship with them.
    I watched them all shake hands and share reserved smiles before their gazes landed on me. Then their smiles broadened.
    The one who introduced himself as Beck asked Brody, “She your girlfriend?”
    Seeming at a loss for words, Brody said, “She’s—”
    “Hi,” I said, stepping forward to offer my hand first to Beck, then Tanner. “I’m Riley. I’ve known Brody since he was younger than you guys, if you can believe that. When he told me about you, I couldn’t wait to meet you, so he offered to bring me along.” It wasn’t entirely true, but I didn’t think a little white lie would hurt.
    After claiming it was nice to meet me, Beck hooked a thumb over