Page 6 of Igniting Sparks
How hard can it be?
There must be a man somewhere, who isn’t related by blood, willing to step up for the interim. I’m not a bog witch, for God’s sake.
“Morning, Mina.”
And just like that, the butterflies in my stomach commence fluttering because I know who that sexy drawl belongs to.
Braden Hammond.
Turning on my heel, I shoot Braden and Zane a smile as they lounge against the bar. “Be right with you guys.”
“Take your time.” Braden drags a hand through his hair, his gaze wandering around the bookstore interior, drinking in the slow hum of the customers as they browse.
He’s completely unaware of how stunningly and stupidly gorgeous he is.
And Zane is no slouch, either.
Both are aces in the looks department. Must be a requirement for working at the upscale tattoo shop.
Normally, I’d focus 100% of my attention on Braden—his forest green eyes, his crooked grin, his muscles flexing beneath his tattoos. He’s a delicious distraction, and since I’m always tongue-tied around him, looking and trying not to drool is about all I manage.
But today, I’m too focused on another matter—my cousin attempting to bullshit her way into ownership of the dance studio.
She has several advantages, too. Vanessa swings in the same social circles as Bitsy. She already possessed all the right connections and the proper pedigree. Now, she has a perfect fiancé to boot.
But looks can be deceiving.
Vanessa isn’t in love and despite the diamond weighing down her hand, she isn’t properly engaged, either.
How do I know? Because I saw her just two weeks ago in a tiny dump of a bar on the edge of town. I went there for line dancing. She was busy riding a cowboy.
So, unless Mr. Wall Street wears different hats on different days, it’s all a ruse. A plan to ensure the studio passes into the right hands, i.e.,herhands.
The worst part is that my aunt is buying it.
“Ouch,” I yelp, jerking my hand back as the steam hits my skin. “Damn it.” I clasp my injured digits, the pain rushing up my arm.
Braden ducks beneath the counter and grabs my hand. He runs it under cool water before placing a tepid teabag against the injury. “Old trick my mom taught me. Helps to ease the burn.”
“Thank you.”
He lifts my hand to his mouth and gives it a gentle kiss. “You’ve got to be more careful, sweetheart. Your hands are too pretty to scar up.”
I’m sure he’s just being nice, but the feel of his lips against my skin does something to me.
Doesn’t hurt that he hasn’t moved from my side yet.
Why don’t you ask Braden?Ash’s words flash through my brain as I stare at our intertwined digits and I realize he’s right.
It’s now or never.
“Will you help me?” My voice is barely above a whisper as my gaze darts toward my family.
“Of course. Whatever you need,” Braden replies.
“Don’t you want to know what it is first?”
A smile stretches across his face as he traces an idle design on my palm. “If you’re asking, it can’t be that bad.”
