Page 22 of Never Say Yes To Your Brother's Best Friend

“There’s a park not that far,” he grunts. He opens the front door, and we step out into the night.

It’s not that cold, but I’m glad I wore a sweater. I like this sweater. It’s my furry bunny one where the fur is just this big cluster with ears and a smile and huge eyes. It’s absolutely and ridiculously adorable.

It’s never really dark here. The streets are well-lit with streetlights, and since this is an expensive part of town, all the houses have tasteful security lighting that gives off quite a bit of illumination as well.

We walk silently, Rick a few strides ahead of me, and me totally not letting my gaze stray to his ass every few minutes. I’m not sure what’s going on with me, but every single day, when I wake up and spend time with Rick, I dislike him less and less.It’s not anything he’s done. It’s me. I’m pretty sure it’s that thing where you get to know someone and realize what someone else who knew them better said about them was right. Salt of the earth. Yeah, Jace was right about that, I think.

Also, every day, when I wake up, I’m moreawarethat Rick is so much more beautiful than I ever gave him credit for. Right now, he’s walking with confidence, with a sway and athletic stride. He looks a little bit dangerous in the dark, dressed all in black.

I tried hard not to think about what Jace really did. I didn’t want to think about my big brother ever having to hurt anyone, but I know he did. And Rick? I could see him transforming in the blink of an eye, turning himself into a human weapon. He’d be lethal if he had to be.

I don’t want him to be lethallethal,but knowing he’d keep me safe if anything ever happened to us out here in this very safe neighborhood where it’s gated, and there are security driving by every other hour, makes my body heat up a few degrees while other parts of me feel tingly and cold.

A few minutes later, he stops dead on the sidewalk.

“Oh, this is the park.”

It’s obviously made for little kids, though there are a few sturdy metal benches at the sides. There’s lots of grass and sand surrounding big plastic play structures and a huge bank of swings.

“Ooh! Swings!” I race toward them like I’m five years old again. I plunk down excitedly, my hands looping around the chains, my feet already trying to lift off the sandy pit beneath me. Then, I see Rick, and I freeze. He’s just standing there, still in the middle of the sidewalk. I maneuver sideways and grab the swing to my right. Hauling it in with the chain, I pat the plastic seat. “Come on.”

“No way,” he grunts.

“It’s more than strong enough.” I think. At least if he ends up head over arse again, he won’t be falling to his death.

“Grown men don’t swing.”

“Oh, I see. You’re too bad baddy badass for this,” I say loudly.

“Yes, definitely.”

It’s probably four in the morning, and I’m practically shouting at him. “Unless you’ve wrestled a shark underwater, uppercut the beast, put it in a headlock, and tapped it out, you are not too badass for this.”

He huffs, but I see the way his shoulders twitch like they want to detach from his body and come and enjoy the swings. Did he ever do this as a kid? I know he didn’t have any of the good family stuff, but surely his boarding school had swings? Unless they were the evil kind of boarding school where only strict, nasty teachers ruled, and there were no playgrounds. Where their version of fun was extra math and scrubbing down toilets.

“If you come and swing for two minutes, I might be persuaded to forget this night ever happened.” Yeah, right. There is zero chance I will ever forget how perfect an ass the man has. Just saying.

He lets out another huff, but he moves. I let the swing go and watch as he takes it and sits down hard enough to make the whole structure shake. He looks grumpy and surly but also strangely adorable. I would be afraid of this man if I saw him on the street all dressed in black and snarly, but not when I now know how much he loves toasted peanut butter and banana sandwiches, how Jace trusted him with his life, and how Jace trusted him with me when he would literally trust no one with his little sister.

Rick doesn’t move. He doesn’t even start to swing. Doesn’t he know how? Oh, he’s just going to sit there for two minutes and call that good enough. Well, that is not swinging.

I leap up and race behind him. Before he can react, I throw my arms around him, capture his shoulders with the chains, and push.

“Aspen!” he hisses, but the swing moves. It bumps into my thighs.Hebumps into my thighs. And his broad, muscular back brushes against my chest.

Either my body has enough wild sexual energy with that contact to power this entire street worth of streetlights, or it’s the cappuccino hitting hard with a delayed reaction. Either way, my lady bits are buzzing, and I think if it’s coffee doing that, more people would invest in home espresso machines.

I wind up for another push, but he makes a sudden sound that stops me dead. I don’t know what it is, but it sounds choked and pained, and it tears at me like my chest is made of ancient fabric that can just be ripped in half because it’s so tattered and fragile.

Instead of clutching the chains, I sweep my arms around his shoulders and lean in like I did on the stairs. I hug him. Hard. He’s not fast enough to get an arm up to stop me. He could pull away, but he lets me. I think it’s because I’ve shocked him in a way that no amount of violence ever could. I breathe in the scent of his hair, and this time, I’m not as frazzled as I was after nearly losing him. This time, I can appreciate how he smells like coffee beans and fresh air andhimself, which is dark, earthy, and spicy.

My lady bits stand up and start doing the wiggly, waggling, happy dance of joy that those tube man things do in front of sales tents and car dealerships.

Yes, they doa real happy dancefor a man I thought wasn’t the least bit attractive when I first saw him.

I thought he was hard and muscular before, but now his body goes rigid, and I can feel the tensing strain in every bit of him that I have my arms around. “You shouldn’t do that, Aspen.”

“Why not? Everyone should be hugged. You’ve had a total lack of love and warmth in your life, and you need it just as much asanyone else. I might not be your first choice, but in Jace’s letter, we were both asked to look after each other. This marriage might not be real, but the letter is.”

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