Page 20 of Never Say Yes To Your Brother's Best Friend

“What?” She must turn and look behind her because I slip forward an inch.

“Aspen!” I yell.

“Oh god!” She wrenches back hard. Again. And again. I can feel her throwing herself back over and over. She’s so small, but her momentum pulls me back enough that I can finally get my hands under me.

Between her pulling at my butt and jeans and my own brute strength, I slip myself back on the right side of the railing.

It happens so fast that I practically land on top of her.

“Oomph!” We make the same grunting sound at the same time.

I quickly untangle myself, then run my hands over Aspen’s shoulders and arms, hauling her up the best I can into a sitting position to make sure she’s not hurt. She leans back, breathing hard, and her hands shoot out and frantically touch methe same way.Shoulders, arms. Her warm, soft hands send a spark shower through me. I’m already jacked full of adrenaline and caffeine, but this is something more. Something white-hot that makes the hairs on the backs of my arms and neck stand up.

I’m frozen in place, half sitting, half sprawled out, my jeans torn just about clean off my bottom, such that I feel the cold cement of the step beneath me.

“Rick!” Aspen lunges forward and throws her arms around my neck.

I was infused with heat, but now I’m ice cold as she hugs me. Tight.

I can’t remember the last time I was hugged. Jace and the rest of the guys weren’t the type to do something like this. We slapped each other on the back, shoved a shoulder, or clapped a hand around the neck or the arm. We breathed together whenever we escaped a risky situation intact with our lives. We didn’t hug.

Even if we had, Aspen wasn’t one of the guys.

Not with her soft breasts slammed up against my chest, round and pert under her T-shirt. She’s warm but not sweaty. Not like me. I realize I’ve soaked my T-shirt. I feel cold and clammy, and I’m stuck like this. I can’t move. My chest won’t expand to breathe. She hugs me tight, her face pressed to the side of my neck.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

She starts shaking, but my arms are useless at my sides. I should wrap them around her. I should hold her. She’s scared. She smells like sleep, fresh air, and terror. I need to hug her back, hold her, and reassure her that nothing happened. I’m not a squashed melon down there at the bottom of the stairs. It’s all good. My training won’t let me be a squashed melon, but I’m unhurt because of her. We both are.

My best friend’s little sister is tougher than she looks, but at her core, she’s still sweet and innocent, and she’s always going to be that way. She showed up at my doorstep willing to do what her brother asked, no matter how much of a sacrifice it would be. She married me, even though it wasn’t the kind of marriage Jace wanted. I know I’m nothing like she anticipated. I know I frustrate her. I know she doesn’t understand me and probably doesn’t even like me. I hold her at arm’s length to keep her safe, and I always will. Through it all, she’s kind. If I had gotten hurt tonight, it would have hurt her even more.

I still have no idea what Jace was thinking, trying to give me a partner in this life when I’m the most solitary creature that was ever put into existence.

“Shh.” I pat her back. I’ve never been more awkward. Even half hanging over the railing and caught by my pants with my arse hanging straight out, I was less maladroit. “It’s all good. You saved my ass.”

Literally.

I try not to think about the fact that I’ll have a few bruises where she grabbed me. It’s an unholy mental picture, followed closely by others. There’s Aspen—pure, beautiful, and innocent. And then there’s me with my bloodstained hands.

I immediately release her and become so tense that she backs up. As soon as her hands aren’t doing a death grip on my shoulders and neck any longer, I scoot back and scramble to my feet, tugging my ripped jeans up with me.

“I’ll get changed, and we’ll go to the kitchen and have a cappuccino.”

“What?” She stares up at me, a totalare you insaneexpression taking over her frown. “Coffee won’t fix this. And it’s the middle of the night. No one has a cappuccino at this hour.”

“I have cappuccinos at this hour.” A gentleman will offer a hand to help her up, but I can’t touch her right now. I shouldn’t touch her ever. Not with all the blood on my hands.

She gets up on her own, frowning at me in a pair of fuzzy blue pajama shorts and an old faded T-shirt with a cat butt on the front. Butts seem to be the theme tonight. “Jace wasn’t…he…never mind.”

“I know,” I choke. I reach for the ladder and get it standing up straight. I’m going to take it down the stairs before anyone else nearly dies falling over it or off of it. “I know he wasn’t like I am.”

Maybe he didn’t think his soul was stained from the shit we did in the name of our jobs and in the name of freedom. I’m not saying all of it was legit because I never just blindly followed orders, and I would have gotten out a long time ago if it was like that. It wasn’t. But I have done things. I’ve done things in order to save my back and the backs of the men at my left and my right. Jace did things too. We all did. It was impossible to be that highly specialized of a soldier and not do things.

“Was your grandpa from Ireland?”

I’m so surprised that I look back at her. “No. His parents were. They made an ass ton of money investing in land and real estate, and my grandpa continued the trend. My dad didn’t do much of anything except go to college, get married, and live off family money, but I bet he would have been roped into it eventually. Why?”

“No reason. I was just wondering. Your last name and all.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, when was the last time you slept?”

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