Page 42 of Never Say Yes To Your Brother's Best Friend

Adorable? Delicious? I’m a soldier. I’ve spent what feels like a lifetime fighting other people’s wars. I’ve used weapons, and I’ve been used as a weapon. I know more about violence than I’ll ever know about love and tenderness. No, I’m certainly not adorable. Deadly, maybe.

I lick my fingers, suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore.

“Hey.” Aspen grazes my arm lightly. I have everything covered up by my usual black outfit. My Henley takes her touch, but it’s like I’ve been burned straight down to my bones. “Rick, it’s okay. You can eat the chicken out of the car trunk if you want. I didn’t realize you were that hungry, but of course you are. We worked up an appetite having crazy, wild, steamy sex.”

“Shh!” I exclaim. She practically just shouted that out.

I glance around without really looking, scanning for signs of danger and people with their eyes popping out of their heads because they just saw a guy pull over and start cramming chicken in his face and then overheard his sort of wife talking about all the wild banging that happened earlier.

I tuck the lid back on the chicken container and make sure it’s firmly in the bag. There are super soft-looking buns in there, a head of lettuce, and tomatoes. Everything to make a good chicken sandwich and more.

I shut the trunk and quickly get back in the car, but Aspen takes her time as though she’s trying to draw it out. When she slides into the front passenger seat, she’s smiling. I don’t see any reason for there to be smiles, but it’s like nothing can remove the sunshine from her.

Is now the right time to tell her that this isn’t going to work? That she needs to remove those stars in her eyes and the sunlight in her smile? Is now the right time to tell her that she doesn’t fit in my life? To tell her that what we did this morning might have been good, but it can’t mean anything? She still has to leave, and life has to go on the way it was before. I’ll still give her money and make sure she doesn’t want for anything. We’ll get an annulment, and she can start over and not think about me ever again. I’ll wait it out, then I’ll get rid of the godforsaken house and go and do something with my life too. I’ll have it figured out by then. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know right now. I just know Aspen and her happiness don’t fit. They don’t fit with me because I’ll crush them. I’ll make her unhappy. I’ll break her and wreck her, and then she’ll wish she never met me. She’ll tell me I’m not capable of kindness or goodness or love. She’ll know it for a fact. I’ll hurt her, even though it’s the last thing I ever want to do.

Yes, Operation Detachment needs to happen right now.

All it would take is one biting word to wipe that smile from her face. A chain of words that would hurt her enough to make her withdraw from me.

She’s just sitting there with huge, glistening blue eyes, open and kind. Her damn heart is in those eyes.

I can’t do it.

I don’t know anyone who can.

I’ve been on the toughest missions anyone could imagine. More than one of them was a life-or-death kind of deal. But this? I can’t do it. This is one mission I can’t complete.

“I can still make us chicken sandwiches when we get home,” Aspen says softly, but there’s no tremor in her voice. It’s surprisingly strong and steady, just like she is.

I punch the start button on the dash. “Yeah,” I mutter, keeping my gaze forward. I can’t look at her again. The emotions I need to tone the heck down, or better yet, not have at all, areslightlyhaywire. “Sure. That sounds good.”

Chapter fourteen

Aspen

The next morning, I could tell that even though the pool crew had arrived to map out the backyard and get it ready for the new swimming center of watery glory, Rick was still smarting about what I said. I’m pretty sure it was because I called him adorable.

Right now, I’m taking a tray of freshly baked sausage rolls out of the oven, even though it’s just after eight. There’s never a time too early for this level of deliciousness. I bought everything I needed yesterday in order to make them, mostly because I’ve had the worst craving.

Rick enters the kitchen freshly showered, looking far better and also smelling far better than anyone on earth could ever cook or bake. I’m instantly as hot as the oven I just switched off. He was quiet yesterday after we got back home. He ghosted around the house, making piles and moving stuff around in the last few remaining rooms. I don’t know what he’s going to do when he empties the whole house completely. I don’t know whathis mission will be then. I’m worried he’ll realize this wasn’t what he needed and that he’ll feel even more lost after.

I went to bed alone last night. And I woke up alone. I wasn’t expecting anything different, but I was disappointed. I know mind-blowing sex isn’t a stepping stone or a tool, and it’s not going to undo years of training. It’s not a weapon in itself or a bargaining chip.

Would I have just liked to have more orgasms with a man my body can’t stop wanting and craving and needing? Yes. Yes, I would have. I’m pretty sure he’d like it just fine himself, and by just fine, I mean immensely fine. Would I have just liked to spend a night curled up beside him in bed, even if he tossed and turned, hogged the blankets, and snored like he was felling an entire forest? I’m not going to lie. It would have been nice. More importantly, it would have been good for him. He needs to sleep more.

“Good morning.” I try not to be too chipper, and at the same time, I angle to the side so he hopefully can’t see that my nipples are poking straight through my bra and shirt. It’s a long-sleeved, cropped shirt, and I’m wearing high-waisted jeans, but they’re both on the thin side. Unfortunately, so is my bra. “Fancy a sausage roll?”

His eyes widen before they scan the cooling rack on the counter. I see him visibly relax. Sausage roll isn’t a code word for sex.

I wish it were a code word for sex. Right now, I wish he’d sweep me up, put me on the counter, literally tear my clothes off my body with his bare hands, and devour my pussy.

Instead, I get salty Rick, who pours himself a glass of water and shakes his head. “I’m good. The pool crew is here. I want to go out and supervise.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re going to discuss any and all plans with you. If you watch them, it might make them nervous.”

“I’m going to watch,” he says anyway.

“Alright. Sounds good.” Maybe it is a good thing for him to be involved with this. I think the pool might be a spite thing, but if it’s not, then I’m happy he’s found something he can be happy about. “I’ll come with you. I’d love to see how it works.”

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