Page 66 of Igniting Sparks
“On Martha Graham?”
Braden shakes his head and bites his lip in the most adorable fashion. “On the world of dance. After all, I’m engaged to a terrifically skilled dancer, right?”
See? He’s a walking, talking sweetheart. Who else would research topics of interest for his fake fiancée?
Braden grabs a pebble and tosses it into the water. “Do you think teaching dance will fulfill you?”
I suck in a breath. “If you’d asked me two years ago, I would have laughed at the idea, because I was all about the performance. The pomp and circumstance of the stage. But now, I see dance as an escape to a world that I create. I’m tired of dance studios catering to the rich and famous when some of the best dancers out there don’t have a future because they can’t afford the lessons.”
“You want to make dance accessible to everyone?”
I chew my lip and watch Braden from the periphery. “Is that a stupid idea?”
“Absolutely not. Since when is bringing happiness and fulfillment to people a stupid idea? It’s brilliant and totally like you.”
“Is that a compliment?”
Braden grasps my fingers, giving them a squeeze. “The best kind. You might feel like less than your family, but the truth is, you outshine them at every step. Almost as sparkly as that ring.”
I smile, glancing down at the ring on my finger. “It’s strange—despite Bitsy’s insistence on my having a proper diamond, she never asked to see it.”
Braden shrugs. “She won’t. It was never about the ring.”
He’s right.
With Bitsy, it’s about control, and Braden isn’t willing to let her lead.
“I’m surprised smoke hasn’t come out of her ears yet. She expects people to fall in line and do her bidding.”
Braden squints his eyes at the setting sun. “I’m not here to do Bitsy’s bidding. I’m here to protect you… from hurtful comments, handsy men, and pond sharks.”
“Will I ever live that down?”
“Nope. That one is going in my permanent memory bank—but so are all the memories with you. Don’t want to lose a single one.”
On impulse, I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re the nicest guy on the planet?”
Braden throws his head back and groans. “Shit. I’m in the dreaded friend zone now.”
I give him a gentle smack in the arm. “That’smyarea of expertise, remember? But enough about my woes. We’ve talked about me this whole time. Back to you. You found art and life made sense. Did you always know what you wanted to do artistically?”
“Yes. I wanted to be an illustrator for comic books.”
“Why didn’t you pursue it?”
Braden stares out at the ripples of the pond as if searching for answers. “After college, I was offered a gig in London at a renowned studio. Incredible contacts and networking opportunities.”
“I didn’t know you lived in London.”
Braden takes another swig from the bottle. “I didn’t. Right about the time I planned to leave, Dad hurt his back and needed help at the farm. Then Ash wanted to open Black Lotus and needed me by his side. So, I stayed.”
Now I understand why there is a sadness lining Braden’s being. It’s a longing that matches my own—an opportunity snatched away before either of us had the chance to fully embrace it.
I snuggle against him, desperate for him to know that I’ll protect him, too. “You are such a good guy.”
He rests his chin on my head and huffs out a breath. “You know what they say about good guys.”
“I far prefer the nice guys to the bad boy type. Don’t get me wrong, I love your brother, but there were several times I planned to bury his ass six feet under.”
