by Nia Arthurs
“Can you guess what the books are about?” Brenna whispers.
“Um,” Glory taps her chin, “African empresses?”
“Bingo!”
“Oh I can’t wait!” Glory gives Brenna another hug.
I watch the two of them and a big grin blossoms on my face. They really do have something special.
Unease follows on the heels of that revelation.
If I pursue Brenna and things don’t work out, Glory will be crushed. I have to tread carefully here. Not only for myself but for my little girl.
Glory clears her throat. “Daddy, can you show Brenna where to put my gift?”
“I can take—” Kaelyn pipes up.
Amina and Tierra bracket her on either side. “Actually, we need to ask you a few questions about advertising on your social media pages.”
Kayla nods. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Kaelyn shoots Brenna a questioning glance.
“Go ahead.” Brenna smiles. “I’ll join you when I’m done.”
“And I’ll watch Steph and Glory.” Elizabeth, Steph’s aunt, says. “Don’t worry.”
I nod my thanks.
“This way,” I gesture to the gift table.
Brenna smiles stiffly and marches past me.
When I glance back, I see Glory high-fiving the Make It Marriage ladies.
Hm.
Hurrying to catch up with Brenna, I grip her elbow. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” Her words come out stiff and harsh.
My brows furrow. “Look, if this is about yesterday—”
“Nothing happened yesterday.”
My jaw clenches. “Brenna.”
“It was just a kiss, Heath. It didn’t mean anything.”
“How could you say that?” I hiss.
“I don’t want to talk about this here,” she snaps. Moving ahead of me, she plants Glory’s gift on the table.
This woman…
There’s no way in hell I’m letting this go.
Striding forward, I grab her hand.
“Heath!” She struggles to break my hold.
I keep my touch firm but gentle enough that I don’t hurt her. Dragging her behind me, I stride into the park’s main cabin that doubles as the information center. There’s a bathroom to my left and a storage closet to my right.
The clerk rises to his feet when he sees us. “Mr. Jameson, can I—”
I lift a hand to stop him.
Heading right, I throw open the door of the storage closet and drag Brenna in behind me.
“What are you doing?” She wrenches her arm free.
I back her up against the shelf of air fresheners. “Say that again.”
“Say what?” she snaps.
“That last night meant nothing. And this time, if you want me to believe it, look me in the eyes and say it like you mean it.”
She clamps her lips shut and glares at the mop behind my head.
I step closer to her. “Talk to me.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“That’s not what I want to hear, Brenna. Tell me what’s bothering you so we can work it out.”
“There’s nothing to work out, Heath.” Her eyes snap on me and the fire I saw the first time we met blazes from the depths. “You are perfectly free to kiss me one night and flirt with someone else the next. I don’t care.”
“Flirt with… what are you talking about?”
She huffs and folds her arms over her chest.
“I didn’t flirt with anyone, Brenna.”
“Of course not.”
Suddenly, a memory clicks into place. “Wait, are you talking about the woman I was with a few minutes ago? Glory’s doctor?”
Brenna’s jaw slackens. “Who?”
Amusement spreads warmth through my chest. “Brenna, Dr. Garcia is happily married with three kids and a parrot—if you can believe that. We were discussing Glory’s progress and how well she’s doing on the new medicine.”
Her eyelashes flutter. “Oh.”
“Oh?” I press in until all of me is against her. “That’s all I get?”
She swallows nervously.
I stare her down, my eyes sliding heavily over her body. She’s wearing a blouse and a pair of pants that cling to her curves. The gentle flare of her hips in those jeans sends my body into overdrive.
Heat spirals between us.
The throb of awareness.
The hint of a spark.
My body flares with need.
One little kiss last night wasn’t enough.
I’ve been missing her all day. She was the last thing I thought about when I fell asleep. The first thing I thought about when I woke up.
Today, I searched every face that walked through those gates, looking for her.
It felt like I was waiting to breathe.
That I didn’t breathe until she strolled through.
“This isn’t a game to me,” I whisper. “I have a little girl to think about.”
“I-I know.”
“Do you?”
In the shadows of the locked storage closet, I can only see faint impressions of her face. The roundness of her cheek. The slope of her chin. The shape of her soft lips. They’re painted a muted shade today—something between pink and red.
My eyes lock on her mouth and I step even closer.
Brenna presses a hand to my chest, but she doesn’t push me away. The warmth of her flickers through my ribs and snakes all the way down to my toes.
I rasp my thumb over her bottom lip. “Is there are a reason you’re trying to push me away?”
She says nothing.
“Brenna,” I call her name firmly.
“I’m being cautious,” she croaks.
“Of?”
“This.”
“Me?”
“Us.” Her eyes lock on mine. Glittering black. Thick lashes. Heart-tugging gaze. “What are we doing, Heath? Seriously.”
“What do you want to do?”
“You can’t answer my question with another question,” she grumbles.
I chuckle. “You’re the one who got jealous, princess.”
“You…” Her eyelashes flutter. “Heath, I don’t do this. I don’t like what I can’t understand. And I don’t understand you.” She shakes her head. “We’re not on the same side. It’s too complicated and with everything—there are so many reasons why we shouldn’t.”
“Then let’s focus on the reasons why we should.” I lean in close to her, my thumb caressing her jaw. “Right here. Right now. What do you want?”
Her fingers tighten on my collar even as she says, “I want the farmhouse to be approved as a historical landmark.”
“And?” I nudge her nose with my own.
She lifts her head, parting her lips slightly and speaking on a shaky breath. “I want to—to keep hanging out with Glory.”
“And?” I slip my fingers around the back of her neck and nudge her so close my lips are a breath away from hers. Her hand falters on my back, the tips of her fingers trembling.
“And…” Brenna’s gaze darts to my mouth. Her head inches up on its own and her lips softly graze mine in a whisper of a kiss.
Eighteen
Brenna
Some things you know don’t belong to you.
Like when you’re upgraded on a flight because of a mistake someone else made.
Or when you find a hundred-dollar bill on the ground and the thrill of slipping it into your pocket fades with paranoia.
It’s as if, at any moment, an attendant will come charging down the airplane aisle and oust you from your seat. At any moment, the real owner will appear from the crowd, stretch their hands out to you and say ‘that’s mine; give it back.’
That’s how I feel when my fingers run over Heath’s cheekbones and my nails dig into his collar. It’s how I feel when I slide my tongue along his and listen to the way he moans—almost as if he didn’t expect himself to enjoy
my taste so much.
This doesn’t belong to you.
Loneliness has been a part of me for so long.
Ever since my sister…
Ever since Deshawna, I found it hard to let people close.
Happiness, passion, love—they feel foreign. Unfamiliar.
Even so, I don’t stop.
I kiss Heath because I feel like it.
Not because he’s goading me.
Not because I’m trying to prove a point.
Because.
I.
Want.
It.
And that scares me.
I need to remain impassive around this man. My heart needs to stay right there, barricaded and locked tightly in my ribs. I can’t have it flopping all over the place when his body presses into me. I can’t have my breath taken away when his big hands gather me up by my waist and his heat envelops me.
I can’t have it.
It’s not mine.
And yet I grab, and nip and pull him closer. I tilt my head so he can change to a better angle. So I can deepen his tongue’s invasion. I run my hands up and down his T-shirt, feel the muscles built from years of hard, honest work and sacrifice.
His hands cup my face.
These hands that built something from nothing.
These hands that cradled a tiny, sickly baby who wasn’t his own until he decided to make her so.
These hands.
I want them pressed against me.
I want them all over my skin.
Every inch of me.
Inside me.
Hiding my desire, keeping it tucked away, is not an option in this moment.
But neither is the possibility of letting it fully go.
Of taking possession.
Of losing myself completely.
My heart beats a frantic, urgent rhythm as I ease away from the kiss. Heath grips my chin, the way he likes to do, and gently guides me back to him so I have no choice but to meet his gaze.
Those olive-green eyes are far too intense in the darkness. There’s only a slight strain of light around us, ushered in by the slit at the bottom of the door. The light in his eyes must be from inside him.
“Don’t avoid it,” Heath whispers. “Look at me.”
I push his hands down.
“Brenna.” He doesn’t step closer, but I can feel him filling the air around me. I can still feel his skin on mine. The sensation of his boots pushing up against my sandals. The scent of sawdust and fabric cleaner. The scent of him.
The walls I’ve built around my heart shoot all the way up, touching the sky.
I grapple for anything to throw at him. Any weapon I can find.
My voice is heated. “If this is your way of trying to get me to drop the investigation—”
Heath throws his head back and laughs.
For a moment, I’m stuck in that dizzying place between astonishment and lust. My gaze jerks to his. The way his eyes crinkle. The little lines that form around them. The flash of straight white teeth.
How is it that I both want to punch his annoying face and lick every inch of it too?
“No, Brenna. That’s not what I’m doing.”
“You must think I’m gullible.”
“I don’t.”
“Should I just believe you because you said so?”
“I think you’re beautiful.”
I breathe deeply. “Be honest.”
“Honestly.” He stares me down. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
My eyelashes flicker. “I won’t stop the investigation.”
“I didn’t expect you to.” He smiles, eyes dancing with amusement.
“That’s it? That’s not—I know you need that job.”
His smile fades a bit. “I do.”
“Then?” I don’t understand him. “Why aren’t you fighting?”
“I am.” He tucks one of my curls behind my ear. “I’m fighting for you.”
“Heath—”
“There’s something special between us.”
“You can’t decide that by yourself.”
“And you can’t deny it.”
He sounds so freaking sure. So self-assured. It makes me want to fling all my cares to the wind and fall so deeply into him I can never resurface.
But things aren’t that easy.
“Ask me what I want,” Heath says, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip.
“You think I don’t know the answer to that?”
“Say it then.”
I clamp my lips shut.
He rests his hand on the shelf over my head and leans down, his voice a tempting whisper. “Say. It.”
“You want me.”
“And…?”
My shoulders rise and fall as I inhale a deep breath.
The words well in my chest, but letting them out…
“Brenna.”
“I-I want you.”
His touch slips down to my side. “It’s that simple.”
“It can’t be. The farmhouse—”
He places a finger to my lips. His eyes glimmer. Shift.
From green to turquoise.
Pupils more honey than black.
We’re fighting. We’re flirting.
With this man, it’s hard to decide which is which.
Heath grazes his fingers down my back and hoists me up, his palms flat beneath me. I gasp when I realize I’m no longer standing. That I’m suspended. Floating on top of him.
He rests his forehead against mine. A low, contented sound leaves his throat. “Just stay with me, Brenna.”
“Can it really be that easy?”
“No.” He sighs. “But we can try.”
“I don’t know how.”
“You just breathe.” He closes his eyes. “And you do what you feel is right.”
I spread my legs a little wider.
Ease my hips from side to side.
Feel him beneath me.
So good.
So much of him.
Tingles explode from my core.
I imagine my fingers sliding his buttons apart. The flash of skin. The heat of his breath on my neck as he fills me. As I try to keep myself quiet by muffling my moans in his neck.
Sweat beads on my temple.
Desire burns in my stomach. Crashing. Rolling.
A storm of emotions I can’t hold back.
“Brenna,” he growls.
“You told me to do what I want,” I say breathlessly.
He thrusts me against the shelf. The wood digs into my back.
My breath snaps out of me.
“Woman, don’t tempt me.”
“You want me to stop?” I slide my hands down his neck.
“Not here. The door can’t lock.”
“And there’s a birthday party outside,” I remind him. Even so, I clamp my thighs harder around his waist, digging my nails into his shoulders for sanity. “Glory’s probably wondering where you are.” My smile trembles on my lips until it breaks free like a bird soaring high. “We’re really doing this?”
“How do you feel?”
“Nervous.”
“But…?”
“Excited.”
“It’s simple.” His nose brushes mine. “It’s real simple, isn’t it?”
I close my eyes and pretend that I can own this moment. That I can stay here and grasp it in my palms. I brush my fingers down the back of his neck and inhale his scent of man, sawdust, and cologne.
It’s supposed to be simple.
But it still feels too unsteady. Too unfamiliar. Too risky.
My eyes burst open at the same moment that a phone starts ringing.
I feel Heath’s fingers brush my ankles as he digs around his back pocket.
He checks his cell.
“You can let me go, you know,” I say when I see him struggling to grab the device without putting me down.
He rubs my hip with his thumb. “Never.”
I laugh. Warmth spreads through my c
hest. Down to my fingers and toes.
Time is running out.
We’ll have to leave this storage closet soon.
We’ll have to face the world.
The fact that we’re still fighting for the farmhouse won’t go away.
Neither will my insecurities about whether I can handle a relationship.
But right now, I just want to hug him.
So I do.
I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight, pulling him into my body.
Heath chuckles. “It’s Kastle.”
“Answer it.” I slide my hands into his shirt and kiss his neck, murmuring. “I’m not stopping you.”
Heath stares at me with half-hooded eyes as his hand cups my backside. He makes a sound deep in his throat that tells me I’m not the only one feeling like a tide is dragging me under.
Emboldened by the way he’s looking at me, I keep on kissing him. “Answer.” My lips brush against his neck. “It.” Under his jaw. “It could be…” I suckle on his ear, “important.”
The phone rings again.
Heath groans loudly and presses a button to put the phone on speaker. His voice sounds scratchy when he says, “Hey, Kastle.”
“Heath,” Kastle’s tone is urgent, “you need to get out here.”
I pull my lips away from Heath’s face, my eyebrows raised.
“What’s going on? Is Glory—?”
“It’s not Glory. It’s dad.” Kastle pauses. “He’s here.”
Nineteen
Heath
Brenna and I sprint out of the lobby. The clerk gives us a funny look as we pass by, but I barely pay him any attention. All my thoughts surround dad’s unwelcome presence at my daughter’s party.
We head to the south entrance.
I careen to a stop when I see dad in the custody of the two mascots. They’ve got a good grip on dad, who’s slouching between them, having given up on any attempts at escape.
“The mascots were security?”
“I had a feeling dad would try to slip in, so I hired some guards, but I didn’t want to make it too obvious.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Of course.”
Brenna squeezes my hand before letting it go.
I take strength from the gesture and face my dad as calmly as I can. He’s dressed like he’s going to an awards ceremony. His hair is meticulously styled and cut. His beard and eyebrows are trimmed. The burgundy suit doesn’t have a single crease and I can see my reflection in the shine of his Italian shoes.
