“Maybe I want to,” she murmured, hating that she’d reared back as if he’d slapped her. Her once sturdy backbone had gone soft if she couldn’t handle a little deserved backlash from the man she’d so
callously hurt. She was still working out why she’d done it, beyond the obvious reasons.
That she was just beginning to learn the man he truly was, rather than the one she’d sketched in her mind. That of the two of them, he’d proven himself to be more mature.
That he scared her to death.
It had taken him putting the brakes on their relationship for her to understand what was truly at risk. They’d stopped being merely friends the moment he’d offered her his apple. There was no going back to the way things had been. Not when she knew how much more they could be. She needed to regain his trust—and show him she wanted him exactly as he was.
He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white. “You don’t need to feel guilty. I was the one who pushed you into this, and I told you I’d deal with it if it ended.”
She stepped closer and lifted her hand to his jaw, leaving it there even when his body tensed. “What if I can’t? What if I made a mistake?”
“People can see us, Sara.”
She knew that very well and was already fighting to stop imagining what his buddies would say about them together. They both had chips on their shoulders, and it was past time to knock them off. “So?”
Shaking his head, he looked at her for so long that she had to fight the urge to break his stare. Then he set his hands on her arms and nudged her back, gently but firmly. “I have to call a customer. We’ll talk later.”
Her first instinct was to nod and step away. This was his workplace, and she’d helped create this situation. Forget “helped”. It was all on her. The right thing would be to leave him be.
But when she met his gaze again, the startling color of his eyes reminded her of a fresh bruise, put there by her hands. She couldn’t stand it.
She stretched up to grab a fistful of his silky, messy hair and dragged him down for a hard, brief kiss. As their lips crushed together, she tasted his groan. Felt it echo through her body. She’d barely touched his tongue with her own when he started pulling back.
It didn’t matter. The sizzle that erupted between them the instant their mouths clashed told her everything she needed to know.
Feelings like this didn’t come along every day. She’d be damned if she gave them up—gave him up—without a fight. If they imploded, and he and Kim tossed her out on her ear, at least she could say she’d had the best time of her life instead of wondering what if.
What ifs fucking sucked.
She touched his forearm before setting a couple of her girly tissues on the counter. “They’ll hurt your nose less. Trust me.” He didn’t reply, so she gave up and left.
From snot to hot kisses and back again. Such was the nature of their relationship thus far.
She strolled past his men, her smile never wavering. Being open and free had to get easier with practice, right? “Enjoy your lunch, guys.”
Unable to help herself, she glanced back as she pulled the glass door shut behind her. The men stared back. One thing was for sure. They weren’t gazing at her as if they didn’t get why Brad would kiss her. More like they wished they could’ve taken his place.
She grinned and tossed her keys from one hand to the other with a bravado she absolutely did not feel. Now she just had to convince Brad to give them another shot, while simultaneously convincing herself the sky wouldn’t fall if she dared to believe she had a chance at happiness.
And oh, confess to her best friend that she was pretty sure she’d fallen in love with her brother.
All in a day’s work.
Chapter Ten
Brad walked in the door at nine-thirty that night, exhausted, cranky and sore. At least he thought it was nine-thirty. He’d checked his watch a while ago, and the numbers had blurred so much that he’d guessed at the time. Thank God it was Labor Day weekend. If he’d ever needed three days off more, he didn’t remember it.
One more thing he could thank Sara for. She’d infected him with her damn super bug. Forget bug. It was more like a dinosaur, stomping him with ferocious glee.
Even though his stomach had been growling for the last hour, he bypassed the kitchen in favor of dragging himself upstairs. His room. If he could get to his room, he could die in peace.
He’d just managed to strip—minus the one sock that refused to slip off his suddenly unflexible foot—and crawl into his blissfully cool sheets when a knock came at the door.
Fuck, no.
“Leaf me be.” He moaned it into the pillow, as feebly as a drunk. The knocking continued until the door creaked open.