Page 45 of When Sparks Fly

Absently, I trail my fingers over his arm this time. “A step-brother, but I’ve never met him.”

“How does that work?”

“Stephanie and Alan weren’t married long before we moved and his mom wouldn’t let him visit. I guess the issue never got pushed.” I think back to the new revelations my mother shared with me. I missed so much right in front of my face.

In some ways, it felt like sharing the reason for our move had been an attempt at an apology. Yet, Stephanie never actually said that. Instead, she continued to stand firm in saying she had done what was necessary, what she thought was right.

Nana would never have thought those decisions, or the treatment of me that followed, was the right choice. In fact, she didn’t. I finally understand Nana’s hatred of Alan aside from my own. Did that play into her decision about the house? Keeping his hands off it was the obvious goal.

“When I was younger, it was a little odd that even as an adult, my step-brother never came around. But I try to avoid Alan like the plague, so maybe he hates his dad, too.”

Sutton sits quietly without pushing further. A minute of comfortable silence passes.

Our conversation picks up and he shares a little about his sister. I tell him about Izzy and Leah. I do the majority of the talking, coaxed by his interested questions.

Eventually, he gives my knee a gentle squeeze. “I need to get back to the ranch.”

I lower my legs and walk to the top of the stairs. He follows, using the opportunity to back me against a porch post, leaving an indistinguishable gap between us.

The air between us is charged, my heart beating in anticipation.

He slides a warm hand into the hair at the base of my neck, lighting my entire body on fire, and leans his head down to press his lips to mine. My fingers grip his biceps, grounding me, as his grip tightens in my hair and his free hand finds my hip.

When his tongue slides along the seam of my lips, I open for him. A hint of cheesecake infuses with the hungry clashing of our tongues as they roll and dance together.

When he finally releases me, planting a small, soft kiss on my lips, I’m breathless.

Sutton slides his hand down my neck before running his thumb along my bottom lip. “I need to tell you something.” He drops his hand slowly.

A tiny part of my brain is yelling that this is the part where he comes clean about why I shouldn’t trust him. I tell it to sit down and shut up.

Once again, his eyes bore into mine, set ablaze. “I didn’t graduate Kindergarten.” His tone holds a hint of teasing.

My brows scrunch. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

The corner of his mouth tips up. “I don’t share.”

My face must be astonished because his smile grows. I can’t help but laugh, asking playfully, “Are you staking a claim now?”

“I am.” All teasing leaves his tone. His eyes are eager for the perfect response. Once again, I feel the need to dampen the intensity of the mood.

“I’m not a toy.” My voice is no more than a whisper and part of me wonders how he hears over the crickets.

Sutton leans in, placing his mouth right next to my ear. “I have no intention of treating you like one.” He pulls back slowly, keeping his eyes on me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ok,” I manage. He gives me one last feather-light kiss before tipping his chin and walking off the porch.

Chapter 19

Maci

Randi and Liv arrive at Nana’s around nine the next morning. I can’t decide if the breakfast tacos they bring from my favorite restaurant or the ‘Good morning, Firecracker. I hope you have a great day.’ text from Sutton has me in a better mood.

The morning is fairly warm, especially after the cooler weekend, and the three of us decide to eat on the back porch, sitting side-by-side on the wooden swing with Liv in the middle.

“I always loved this yard.” Randi crumples the foil from her last taco in her lap. “Believe it or not, Stephanie and I used to play down there. There’s a creek further back and we used to run barefoot all the way from the house. Those sticker burrs hurt!” She laughs at her historical pain.

The thought of Stephanie and Randi playing as children brings a smile to my face. Stephanie was never one to play with me, except for maybe a tea party, which is fitting considering her affinity for decorum. Imagining her carefree in the brush is difficult.

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