Page 40 of The Spark Between Us

Chapter Fourteen

Braden

I heardmusic coming from the house when I was halfway up the front walk—dance music. It was jarringly pleasant. Sure, I listened to music in my car or on earbuds while I worked out, but I went more for motivating rap anthems or classic rock. This sounded like a Top 40s playlist at a wedding reception.

It felt like joy. It surprised me how much I liked hearing it in my own house.

When I flung the front door open, Bella scrambled to greet me, paws dancing on the hardwood floors. As I knelt down to apologize for locking her out earlier, my senses were assaulted by the warm scent of chocolate and a Taylor Swift song about not needing a man.

For two years, I’d convinced myself how much happier I was living alone, but my emotions instantly called bullshit. I liked coming home to signs of human life in my house. And my heart surged with desire to see Sarah, redoubling the feelings I’d fought all night long.

I was getting tired of fighting.

“Hey, girl. Sorry about earlier,” I told Bella. She gave me the kind of stink eye a golden is capable of, which is not much. After I rubbed her under her chin, all was forgiven.

Bella followed me to the kitchen, which had to be the source of the chocolate. Whatever it was, I hoped there was enough for me too.

When I got to the kitchen, I froze.

There was Sarah, wrapped in a light blue towel, her honey-colored hair hanging down her back, leaning over the open oven door wearing two giant red oven mitts shaped like lobsters. I’d bought them at a craft fair in town a few years ago and rarely used them because they had curly feelers hanging off the ends, which got in the way.

But on her, the whole ridiculous outfit was perfect.

And hot. The unexpected sight of Sarah in bare feet and several other bare parts had my dick perking up despite myself.

Twirling to the music, Sarah brought a pan of brownies out of the oven and turned to put them on the counter. When she saw me, she screamed.

“Shit!” She nearly dropped the brownies but then righted them and held the pan, gawking at me until the heat bled through the mitts. Then she flung it to the counter and struggled to strip off the lobsters with little success.

“Great, these things are glued on.” She continued to struggle, and her towel slipped a couple inches, revealing the swell of her breasts, which were milky white against the blue towel. And they were heaving.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away, and as she saw where my gaze was fixed, she crossed her arms over herself and secured the towel, the floppy lobsters dangling from her hands.

A tendril of her hair dropped in front of her eyes, and I wanted to sweep it away, but I didn’t dare come closer. As it was, she looked terrified at the sight of me.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry,” I choked out, backing away from the kitchen until I nearly tripped over the ottoman in the den. So I sat on it and tried to seem convincingly interested in the basket of dog toys because the towel was pretty short on the bottom and was coming undone at the top.

She couldn’t fix it because of the mitts, but the last thing I was going to do was get between a thin layer of towel and her breasts.

After a second, she freed her hands, resecured the towel, and grabbed her cell phone to turn down the music. “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me. I didn’t think you’d be back for hours. Are you . . . with guest?” she stammered. Glancing around to check, she didn’t immediately concerned with the fact that she was wearing only a small swatch of blue terrycloth.

I held a hand over my eyes, looking at her through the slats of my fingers. A useless effort.

“Just me. I’m so sorry. I smelled chocolate and couldn’t resist.”

She grinned, one hand on her hips, the other fanning over the confections like a game show host. “Brownies. I might be a little addicted to this recipe. It has coffee in it, probably why.” She swayed to the side, her hip resting on the counter.

I took note of the half-finished bottle of wine on the kitchen counter. Was she tipsy? Her relaxed grin said she was, which I found unexpectedly charming for this hard-charging woman ruled by science and plans.

Sarah stayed like that for a moment, her smile warming me until she looked down at her barely-covered body and her eyebrows shot up in horror. She pulled the towel more tightly around herself and backed farther into the kitchen. I stayed on the ottoman.

“Oh gosh, you’re probably wondering...I was...I took a bath while the brownies were baking and forgot about them, so I rushed to get them out.”

I nodded. “I’m glad you’re getting comfortable in the house.”

She barked a laugh. “Um, yeah, just a little.” The pink color rose in her cheeks, and seeming even more self-conscious, she stood watching me expectantly. When I didn’t take the hint and leave, she moved carefully from the kitchen and past me, never turning her back, still holding onto the towel like a protective shield. “I’ll, um, be back in a second.”

While Sarah darted upstairs, I went to the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, and wiped the cold across my forehead. Jesus, I was burning up. Just glimpsing her creamy skin had heat crawling over the back of my neck and a fire building everywhere else.

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