Page 84 of The Spark Between Us

Chapter Thirty-One

Braden

The judgeson Top Chef would have bowed down and given Sarah a goddamned medal. Sure, I helped her push the ball over the goal line, but it was only an assist. She was as accomplished at hosting as she was at everything else she did.

Which was why it was getting harder and harder to deny what I knew in my heart—I fucking loved her.

I’m in love with her.

What to do about it was a different matter entirely.

The selfish part of me wanted to ask her to stay. She could get a job at the lab and do world-changing work. We could be happy. We could be more than temporary.

After her family left, I’d tell her how I felt. I had to let her know.

Meanwhile, Finn had some questions about the materials used for the deck off my bedroom, so we went upstairs to check it out. He was building something four times the size at his house, and I knew he had a slew of designers and expert builders weighing in, so the exact shade of the redwood seemed like a pretext for something else. I had a feeling I knew what it was.

“So. You and my sister.” He crossed his arms over his chest, but his stern look quickly dissolved to a grin, and I saw the gleam of amusement flicker in his eyes. He didn’t look like a guy about to pound his friend into the pavement.

No, he was going to sit there and enjoy watching me squirm. Finn swirled his Scotch in the glass. It had been stupid to come up here without anything stronger than red wine.

“I know what you said, and I...” What? What had I done? Had I resisted? Had I tried to keep my hands off her?

Yeah, for two weeks. And even then, I didn’t try that hard.

Plopping down into one of the blue Adirondack chairs, I leaned my elbows on my knees and bent my forehead into one hand. He could give me shit—that I could handle—but beyond that, none of it was any of his business.

While I continued staring at the floor, trying to come up with the words to explain that Sarah wasn’t another of the many women he’d seen me notch on my belt, a weird sound erupted from my oldest friend. At first, it sounded like he was choking, and my head shot up in fear.

I needn’t have worried for his health.

Finn was laughing his ass off. I stared at him blankly, still unsure he wasn’t having a mental breakdown.

He stopped laughing, took a leisurely sip of his drink, and pointed at me. “You’re so screwed. Does she know?”

“Does she know what?” I wasn’t sure I knew.

I must have looked as lost as I felt because Finn stopped laughing and leveled me with an expression of pure amusement. “Does she know you’re in love with her?”

“I don’t...I’m not...that’s not what I’m saying.” No time like the present to finish the rest of the wine in my glass. I could hear laughter coming from down below, and I peered over the rail to make sure no one had decided to come outside. The last thing I needed was for someone to overhear our conversation.

Bella dashed into the yard chasing a ball and promptly laid herself down on the grass, mouthing it and rolling onto her back. Someone must have opened the door because the cacophony of voices drifted up to where we sat, but there were too many conversations going on at once for anyone to focus on us.

Finn leaned back in his chair, sipping his Scotch with an amused expression that made it seem like he was enjoying a rollicking good romcom playing somewhere out of sight. “I know. I’m saying it. You’re in love with her. I assume you’re aware of that.”

“I’m just...fuck.” What was the point of denying it, especially to a guy who knew me well enough to call bullshit? “Okay, Yes, I love her. And not in a smarmy best-sex-I-ever-had way. The way I feel about her...it’s not temporary.”

“It doesn’t look temporary.” He studied me for a moment. “And by the way, please don’t talk about sex and my sister in the same sentence. Even if you do love her.”

“Sure. Yeah.”

“Seriously. Or I will kill you.”

I believed him. “Done. And I need another drink.”

“Yeah, you look a little dehydrated,” Finn said, smirking at the liberal sheen of sweat I now needed to wipe from my brow.

“It’s a warm night.”

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