Page 33 of I Knew You
“That doesn’t mean you get to see my…my parts,” I replied, frustrated at my body’s betrayal. Bram and I were only old friends, and my libido needed to get the memo. “Brothers don’t see their sisters naked.”
“I’m not your fucking brother,” he spat in disgust, and it was my turn to laugh.
“That’s not what I heard,” I muttered, thinking about that day at the hospital.
There was silence for a moment, and I was worried I had upset him. Quickly, before I could talk myself out of it, I swung open the door.
Bram put one arm up over the doorframe, and my eyes immediately latched onto the defined muscles of his biceps and forearms. The fitted gray tee he wore hugged every part of himperfectly. His attention was fixed directly on my face. It was unfair how hot he was.
“Damn it. You’re clothed,” he said with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes.
“Great observation skills.” I pushed his chest with open palms, and the solidness under my hands was melting my resolve to forget how attractive he was. We both knew that if he’d wanted to keep me trapped, it wouldn’t have been an issue for him. But after a couple of non-aggressive shoves, he moved back. I headed toward his bedroom.
“You could have just told me you didn’t see the bag instead of running from me,” he called out behind me. Lakey circled my legs as I entered Bram’s room again, and sure enough, my blue weekend bag was on the floor near the bathroom. I’d walked right by it.
“I assumed it was in the other bedroom, and I closed the door because I was going to change. Simple as that.” I would not admit to him that I’d been acting ridiculous. I looked back at him down the hallway.
“I won’t argue.” He sauntered toward me. He was not guarded, not like he used to be. It made me want to know all the things that had changed to make him seem more confidently open.
“Come downstairs,” he coaxed, doing the same doorframe lean as earlier. I couldn’t look at him and remain indifferent to his presence when he stood like that. All I could picture was his bare chest and strong body doing that same move over me.
“I need to dress first,” I said, looking down at my ratty tee and pajama shorts. Usually, I would have been self-conscious about flaunting my leg cellulite in front of anyone, but I refused to let him affect me that way. We were just old friends. I did not need to try to impress him in any way.
Maybe if I kept repeating it, my mind would get the memo.
“After,” he said, slapping the doorframe like his words were final. “Lakey and I made you breakfast.”
I rolled my eyes once again, but I followed his command.
In the kitchen,Bram explained that he’d called out of work. I felt guilty for keeping him from his life, but he assured me it was fine. I hadn’t thought about him going to work. My life had been turned so upside down that I had momentarily forgotten working was a thing. I would soon have to look for employment. It wasn’t something I could put off.
He presented me with a plate of fried eggs and toast.
“It smells wonderful,” I said.
“Thanks. Fixings are there.” He pointed to the table. “Just waiting on my toast.”
I took the plate, walked to the small, rustic kitchen table, and sat. Like upstairs, sunlight spilled through the windows and onto the kitchen floor, casting shadows unique to the time of day. The house was drafty downstairs from the morning air, a product of its age. I forgot how cool fall mornings were in the mountains. Lakey sat at my feet as I spread butter on my toast, and Bram took his place across from me.
“The bread looks homemade,” I noted, picking up a glob of berry jam with a butter knife. “And the jam. Domestic much?”
He shrugged. “It’s elderberry jam.” He took a big bite of his piece, chewed, and continued. “It was given to me.”
“Given? Who makes such things?” I poured a splash of half-and-half into my coffee from the small carton he’d set on the table.
I thought it was a harmless question, but I was surprised when he squirmed a little, looking unsure.
“Just some people in town. I volunteer sometimes, and some of the ladies like to pay for the help.” He winked.
“Help? Are you carrying old women’s groceries to their cars?”
I watched as he ran a hand through his hair.
“Something like that,” he said. “That butter is local from Elson’s farm, and that elderberry jam is elderberry. It is from?—”
“Let me guess. The elders?” I laughed. Corny jokes were my specialty. The more nervous I was, the worse they became.
