Page 26 of Igniting Sparks
But that’s as far as it’s gone, and unless I grow a whole bunch of gumption, it’s on Braden to make the first move—something I don’t think he’s willing to do.
“Ugh,” I mutter, pushing myself off the couch.
Time to rejoin the world of the living. Braden mentioned pruning the plants in the greenhouse. Maybe I’ll help him out.
Bonus is that I can stay off my foot, as per his demand, all while thoroughly enjoying the view.
I remember the first time Braden walked into One More Page. I damn near dropped the coffeepot on my foot when he smiled at me. He was all man, totally unlike the boys I’d met in school, with a swagger that exuded a quiet, but deadly confidence.
He was tall and fit with shaggy dark hair and the most piercing green eyes, but it was his smile that sealed the deal. The moment it stretched across his face, a warmth bubbled up inside me, and I was a goner.
I swear, his smile rivals the sun.
Ever since that day, I’ve been a lovesick fool for the man.
“Braden? Are you around?” I peek into the living room and dining area, but they’re empty.
Then I hear it. A banging sound coming from the far end of the house.
A rhythmic, continuous banging sound.
I pause in the hallway, unsure if I want to know what activity Braden is currently engaged in.
“Braden?”
“I’m in here. Hang on a second. Don’t come in.” There’s a fierceness to his tone which stops me in my tracks.
Lovely. So much for the whole no women in the house idea. Guess he hoped by using the far room that I wouldn’t notice.
Bad luck, I guess—for us both.
I grind to a halt, screwing my eyes shut against the visual I am damn certain I don’t want to have.
“Sorry to interrupt. I have a question to ask you.”
“No problem. Just a second.”
Great. He sounds winded, too. Isn’t this just wonderful?
I suck in a deep breath and try to find my center, my calm. It’s not happening.
Braden steps into the hallway, a sheen of sweat gleaming on his bare chest and arms. He closes the door behind him and shoots me an uneasy smile. “Are you okay?”
Absolutely not. Not in any way, shape or form.
Steeling my nerves, I plant a hand on my hip, determined to appear unbothered by the situation. Here’s hoping my acting skills are on par with my dancing ones. “Apparently not as good as you.”
I meant for my comment to sound light and flirty.
Yeah, that doesn’t happen.
My words sound as bitter as they taste.
But give me some grace, folks. I’m about to come face to face with the woman Braden is screwing. At least I’m still standing and not collapsed in a puddle in the corner.
Braden releases a chuckle, wiping a hand across his brow. “Worked up a bit of a sweat.”
That’s it. God hates me.
