Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I say quietly. I’d prefer to come up with a snarky quip but I’m still rattled.
“I’m not going to pretend I wouldn’t take anything you offered. But I also understand that you’ve seen how Travis is with Alicia, and you’ve guessed that as soon as you gave me the go-ahead, I won’t be much different—and that probably seems like some scary shit.”
Scary? No. Intense, certainly. But nothing has ever made me happier than meeting Ranger and seeing how he cared for her. How he’d seen Alicia’s suffering and didn’t let anything stand in the way of helping her. My sister deserves every good thing in this world—yet for so long, no one else seemed to realize it. But Ranger did. He saw her clearly and accepted everything about her. Loved everything about her.
And to be loved like that. Wholly, unreservedly. That wouldn’t be scary. It would be the most incredible, wonderful thing.
In my case, though, also highly unlikely. “Not scary,” I finally tell him. “Just a really bad idea.”
“Or a really good one.”
“You say that now. But I’m…difficult.”
“Yeah? I’m a bear.”
And this is why I cannot lose him as a friend. How easily he makes me laugh. How easy he is to be with. That he just shrugs when I confess what a mess I am.
I’m not saying I’m difficult just to say it, either. I’ve got fistfuls of evidence to back up my choice to stay friends. Because I’m good at being friends. And I’m good at sex. But I’m bad at romance. I’m bad at relationships. Men don’t stick around.
“Yeah, you’re a bear,” I tell him. “And your brother’s a wolf who’s married to my sister. They’re happy. We all get along. But if we hooked up, I know exactly how it would end…and it wouldn’t be pretty. It’d also blow back on Ranger and Alicia, and what’s easy now between us would be hard instead.”
“I’m always hard, Sergeant Sam.”
Brandon gets that one past me, but I don’t let myself glance down to see if he’s telling the truth. Not sure I could have looked away from his face if I’d wanted to. The glow of his eyes has deepened to a rich honeyed gold, a faint smile tilting the firm corners of his mouth.
“You’re so certain it would end?” he asks in that deep, rumbling voice.
A lump fills up my throat. “I am.”
Just as I’m certain it’s better to hurt a little now, wanting what I can’t let myself have, than to hurt so much more when I lose him later.
“I’d make it work, Sam.” My heart stills as he trails the backs of his fingers oh-so-gently along my jaw, sending a shiver over my skin. “I’d bust my ass, making it work between us.”
I’d love to believe him. But aside from my mom and Alicia, no one has ever put that much effort into me.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“All right, then,” he says easily, his eyes darkening to brown again. His thumb brushes over my cheek in a fond caress before he withdraws his hand. “Netflix? And I made cinnamon rolls.”
Feeling stupidly bereft when that glow vanishes, I nod. He lumbers up out of the recliner. My hand disappears into his grip as he pulls me up off the swing.
Too quickly, he lets go again and follows me into the kitchen. I sit at the table and pull off my boots, leaving them beside my chair. He goes over to the pan of iced cinnamon rolls that sits on the counter…minus one roll.
Brandon stares at it in disbelief. “You took one right out of the center?”
Of course I did. The ones on the sides have a tougher edge. I like them soft and gooey all around, and I know Brandon likes the crusty sides.
“Didn’t we already have this argument when you made brownies?”
“When we established that you have psychopathic tendencies with desserts? But that’s not the issue here. You didn’t mess up any of the others while digging it out. It’s like you used a laser. How?”
Not using a laser. “With grit and determination.”
“You said that last time.”
“It’s always true.”
“One day,” he promises while snagging a dinner plate from the cupboard, “I’m going to catch you and learn your secret.”
“Not likely.”
“Just you wait. I’ll be over there in the broom closet, peeking out while you laser my cinnamon rolls.”
“You won’t even fit in that closet.”
“I will. With grit and determination, just like you.”
It’ll take more than that for Brandon to wedge his huge body into that narrow space. “Better use some grease, too.”
“I’ll use butter. Then I can lick it off later.” While I’m picturing that—and trying to decide if he’ll do it as a bear or a man—he scoops out four of the sticky rolls onto his plate. “You having another?”
I shake my head. “Save one for me tomorrow, though.”