Page 12 of The Spark Between Us

I stroked the top of her head, and she lifted her paw to shake hands. “Aw, she’s adorable. Did you get her as a puppy?” Her soft ears felt like velvet.

He looked away when he answered. “Rescued her three years ago after a fire burned down her owners’ home. They couldn’t keep her at their new apartment, so we took her in. They still visit her when they can.”

I caught his use of “we,” but he’d seemed a little guarded, so I decided to focus on the dog for now. “Perks of the job, I guess. But also sad for them. Does that happen a lot, fires displacing pets?”

He nodded and ran a hand over his scruff. “More than you’d think.” He cast a wary look in my direction. “Finn thought you’d be okay with a dog. This one’s all fur. You’re not allergic?”

“Nope. Love dogs.”

He gave a quick nod. “Like I said, she’s possessive, so don’t be offended if she ignores you and clings to me.”

“Aw, Bella. You won’t ignore me. We girls need to stick together, right?” Bella’s tongue rolled out and she licked my hand.

Braden’s smile stayed fixed on his dog, but he tipped his head toward the rest of the house. “Lemme give you a quick tour.” He rose to his feet, and I followed him as he walked me through a nicely furnished living room with overstuffed gray couches and navy pillows. There was no sign that a human bottom had made a dent in any of it.

On the coffee table, a painted ceramic bowl sat next to a stack of architecture books. In a corner, an upright piano stood with its bench pushed in tight, no sheet music on the stand.

Despite appearing untouched, the room looked cozy. In fact, it begged for use.

We moved down a short hallway past a staircase. Bella followed dutifully behind with a ball in her mouth. Instead of heading upstairs, we kept going into a great room where the modern kitchen and den were divided by a countertop island.

Judging by the flatscreen TV and the rumpled pillows, I guessed this was where Braden spent most of his time. He had a few magazines shoved onto the shelf of the rustic wood coffee table, sleek appliances plugged into the kitchen outlets, and Bella’s food and water bowls near the French doors that led to the yard.

Braden pointed to the left. “Kitchen. Make yourself at home. Eat whatever you want. Don’t worry about moving my stuff around to make room in the fridge...”

As if to demonstrate, he opened the refrigerator, moved a carton of milk to the shelf on the door, and left some space on the top shelf. “Just...do whatever you normally do.”

“Thanks,” I peeked into the fridge, noticing a six-pack of beer, several kinds of mustard, and a bowl of apples among myriad takeout containers. “Looks like you and I have similar eating habits. Takeout and fruit.”

“Hmph. Yeah, sometimes I get lazy. And I’m at the station one out of every three nights.”

“Oh, really? You sleep there?” I had no idea what kind of schedules firefighters kept.

“Yeah, twenty-four hours on, forty-eight off. But I also go in sometimes for day shifts. Anyway, you’ll have the place to yourself some nights. Plus, I’m out a lot in the evenings.” He left that tidbit hanging, but I assumed he meant he dated. Or hung with friends from work.

Fine by me. I was an independent person. And after living alone in Berkeley for the past few years, I felt relieved to have a roommate who’d be gone every third night.

Braden ran a hand through his hair, which drew my gaze there. He had good hair, thick and dark with some wave to it, and rumpling it just made him look better.

I rolled my eyes at myself, unable to stop ogling his various parts. Apparently.

From his comment about cooking for one, I concludedhe didn’t have a wife. There could still be a girlfriend—and let’s be honest, from looking at him, he likely had a girlfriend or ten—but this wasn’t going to be a Three’s Company situation.

Bella sat at his feet with the ball in her mouth, eyes fixed on him with her tail wagging. He opened the back door, grabbed the ball from her mouth, and chucked it across the yard. Bella flew after it. I expected her to reappear a second later to continue the game, but she didn’t.

“Where’d she go?” I craned my neck, but she’d gone off behind a row of hedges.

“She likes to bury stuff out there. That ball will be gone for a few days, then she’ll dig it up and something else will disappear. She’s not much of a retriever. Well, she does retrieve, she just doesn’t relinquish the stuff she retrieves unless she feels like it.” He gave me the hint of an almost-smile.

I made a mental note—the dog makes him happy. If conversation got awkward, I’d bring up Bella.

He continued his tour, pointing to the patio and the grass beyond it. “The yard’s a nice place to sit if you have free time. I keep intending to build a fire pit out there but haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Free time, outdoors, check.”

I took a look around the kitchen, which was clean but not overly tidy—there were dishes in the sink and dishtowels lying around, but nothing that screamed that he was either an incurable neat freak or a pigpen disaster. Straight down the middle—kind of like me.

His eyes roamed the room, fixing on the dishes, scanning the clean marble countertop, nodding at the pile of dog toys, almost like he was seeing the room through my eyes. He pointed at the TV. “No idea what you like to watch, but I’m pretty easy.”

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