Brody (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood Book 3)

flooding her expression.
“Hello.” She looked up at Beth. “Am I supposed to call him Uncle Heath or Mr. Heath?”
Heath squatted down, bringing him closer down to Jamie’s level, his smile filled with kindness and warmth. “Hi, Jamie. It’s very nice to meet you. If you’re a friend of my momma, I’d like it if you called me Uncle Heath.” He held out his hand, and Jamie reached forward, her smaller one engulfed in his outstretched one. Looking up at Beth, he winked, and Jamie knew he had to be a hit with the ladies. He seemed a natural-born flirt.
Nica popped out of the kitchen, and nodded once to Beth, blew a smacking kiss to her brother, and Jamie followed her like a trained puppy. “Come on, pipsqueak, I’ll go to the barn with you.”
“Come back to the kitchen and I’ll fix you some breakfast. I’ll need to take down some steaks, too, since it looks like I’m making chicken fried steak for supper.” Without waiting, Ms. Patti breezed past them, Beth and Heath following meekly in her wake.
Beth refilled her mug, and got one for Heath too, figuring he could doctor it the way he liked it. He wrapped his hands around the mug, and studied her intently, a look of quiet speculation evident, which was quickly masked behind a cheeky grin.
“What’s your story, pretty Beth? What brings you to the Boudreau house?”
“I’ll fill you in later, Heath,” Ms. Patti interrupted, slapping a huge plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast in front of him. “And stop flirting with her, she’s taken.”
Heath quirked a brow at her words, and Beth felt a wash of heat flood her face.
“Taken, is she? Too bad.” He glanced at Ms. Patti. “Who?”
“Brody.”
“Ah.”
Beth watched the back and forth, her eyes widening at Ms. Patti’s declaration. I’m taken? News to me.
“I think I’ll go check on Jamie.” She headed for the back door like hellhounds had sprouted up through the kitchen floor, and half jogged, half walked toward the barn. Whew, that had been intense. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she’d overreacted to Heath’s arrival. He wasn’t the enemy. He wasn’t a threat to her daughter. The man had every right to be at the Boudreau homestead. It was his home, although if she remembered right, he lived in Virginia and worked in D.C. One of those government agencies with abbreviations, though she couldn’t remember which one.
On reaching the barn, she took a deep breath, and pasted an excited expression on her face, ready to face her daughter and put on a happy front. Ms. Patti’s words ran through her head. They thought she belonged with Brody?
Would it really be so bad to be loved by someone like Brody? He was caring, sweet. He loved her daughter. Without a doubt, he’s nothing like Evan.
Somehow, the thought of being with Brody didn’t scare her, didn’t make her want to run screaming for the hills in the opposite direction. In fact, if she got the chance, she’d run toward him.
This is crazy. We haven’t even been on a single date. Yet I can’t stop thinking about him, wanting to be near him. It can’t be wrong to feel this way. Oh, who am I kidding, we haven’t even kissed.
A bubble of excitement flitted through her, and she felt giddy. A flicker of hope raced through her, and she grasped it with both hands. No more running. No more hiding. No more refusing to live her life on her terms. Once she’d been a strong independent woman, capable of making her own decisions and running her life on her terms. Somehow over the years, she allowed Evan to turn her into a different person.
Never again. Starting today, she was taking back her life. Grabbing hold with both hands to what she wanted, and never letting go.
And what she wanted was Brody Boudreau.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Brody climbed out of the cab of the pickup and sprinted toward the smoldering ruins of the Summers’ barn. Plumes of white smoke spiraled upward from the charred remains, and he kicked at a clump of dirt, needing an outlet for his frustration and anger, but unwilling to show any emotion while Greg stood mere feet away.
“What happened?”
“I wish I knew. When I came by here yesterday, nothing had changed. Most of the barn burned, but some portions of the walls still stood. Now, here,” he pointed to a new pattern of burn wear, “there’s evidence of accelerant use. Here and here.”
“Wait…wait! Are you telling me somebody burned this down a second time? I don’t understand. Are you saying this is arson? Why? Who? This doesn’t make any sense.” Greg started forward, and Brody grasped his arm, stopping him in his tracks.
“You can’t go in there, Greg. It’s too dangerous. Besides, this is an active crime scene.”
“Crime scene?” Shock laced Greg’s words, and all the color leeched from his face.
“I wasn’t going to say anything yet, not until we have definitive proof from the lab in Austin, but, yes, we suspect arson.” He watched Greg closely, trying to gauge his reaction. He didn’t suspect his friend, but then again, he couldn’t automatically discount him. Hadn’t he shown up only hours after the barn had been torched again? Somebody was attempting to cover up their crime. Too bad he’d already collected all the samples and evidence and delivered it to the Arson Laboratory’s investigative teams in Austin.
“Why? There’s nothing here but an abandoned, rundown barn and the house.” He turned abruptly and took off running toward the farmhouse, Brody on his heels. He caught up within a few yards, and pulled Greg to a stop, keeping him for getting any closer to his hold family home. With this second attempt at burning the barn, the entire Summers’ property was now considered an active scene, and he couldn’t let Greg get any closer to contaminate any evidence.
“Stop, Greg. I need to call this in. I’m sorry, but you can’t go in