Page 35 of Light My Fire

Wyatt

I’m prettysure I’m falling in love with Brooke Wilder.

I really liked her the first time I ever met her.

Her sweetness over the past day we’ve been together has only made me like her more.

But watching her with the dog and puppies?

Stole. My. Fucking. Heart.

She was caring, but commanding when needed. Her confidence and intelligence shone, and kindness just emanated from her.

How is this gorgeous creature a virgin?

No, that is not the most important thing about her. Of course not. But it’sveryfucking hard to stop thinking about.

Yeah, she’s a little quiet and shy, I suppose. But God, the way she responds to our flirting, and the way she snuggled into me when I put her on my lap during the movie last night, and the fact that she even has a vibrator and that she openly used it just down the hall from our poker game, makes me think that she has some needs that could use a guy’s touch… no, could usemytouch.

Not just any guy. Not anyotherguy.

Me.

Brooke Wilder should be mine, and I’m going to make sure she knows that.

She can tell me no. She can choose Jackson. Or someone else entirely.

But I’m not giving up easily.

I want her. And not just for this weekend.

Now I just have to figure out how to let her know that.

Satisfied with the state of the fire I’ve been tending all day, I straighten and turn just as Luke and Wyatt both come into the living area. Luke hands Brooke a bottle of water before settling into the armchair perpendicular to where she’s curled up in the corner of the sofa.

She has showered and dressed in another pair of comfortable lounge pants and an oversized sweatshirt. These pants are more like leggings, so they fit against her more tightly than the sweatpants from last night, but the shirt hits her mid-thigh and covers her curves.

Her hair is pulled up on top of her head. She’s not wearing any make-up. And she looks completely content. A little tired, but also satisfied.

She should. She was magnificent with the dogs.

During dinner—spaghetti with marinara meat sauce, salad, and garlic bread, one of Luke’s specialties—we took turns checking on the dogs, but now they’re quiet and settled, secured safely in the makeshift box, which we moved to the laundry room so that Henley would feel secure. Though I know that’s where Jackson just came from. He’s enamored with the dogs. It’s pretty cute.

I take a step toward the sofa, planning to settle next to her, but Jackson beats me to it.

“The patients are all sleeping, Doc,” he tells Brooke as he effortlessly scoops her up, moves her over slightly and slides in between the arm of the couch and her curled-up body.

She laughs lightly and settles back in against his side, his arm draped around her shoulders.

I scowl at him. He just grins up at me over her head.

Okay, fine. We both agreed we were going to turn up the flirting.

I take the cushion right next to her, my hip pressing into her opposite side. I reach for her stockinged feet and pull them into my lap. Now she is partially draped over both of us.

She doesn’t protest, so I press my thumb into the arch of one of her feet, stroking through her sock.

She gives a happy sigh.

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