When Sparks Fly

by Helena Hunting

  “It happened once. It’s not a big deal.” I try to brush it off, not wanting London’s worry to rub off on me.

  “So does that mean it’s not going to happen again?” she asks.

  I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t know. Maybe it will, maybe it won’t, but we’re adults making adult decisions.”

  “I get that, and I fully agree that it’s your decision to make, but he’s taking care of you beyond helping you with your orgasm problems. You’re relying on him a lot right now. What if he wants more?”

  “That’s not going to happen. Declan doesn’t do relationships.”

  “Okay, but what if you do?” Her expression is earnest.

  “I can deal with my feelings.”

  “So say it’s a one-time thing and it doesn’t happen again. How will you feel when he inevitably brings someone home in the future?” London presses.

  “He’s not going to bring home a random.” Although, I hadn’t really thought beyond the next several weeks. The only times he’s been out since I came home from the hospital has been to go into work while my sisters are over or to run to the store if I’ve forgotten something important in my online shopping. Which was pretty much every time when I first came home from the hospital and my brain was in a fog.

  There have been no Saturday club nights. No nights out with the guys, no visits with Becky from two floors down. At least not that I’m aware of. “Stop being a buzzkill, London.”

  “A buzzkill?” Her expression shifts to hurt. “As if it isn’t hard enough on you being in this chair, now you’re adding all this”—she flails—“this potential complication. Excuse me for worrying about you!”

  “I’m a big girl, London. I can manage my expectations. And I think this is less about you worrying and more about you still blaming Declan for what happened. You need to let it go.”

  The muffled sound of my phone ringing comes from my purse. I fish it out of my bag and check the screen. It’s Declan.

  I answer the call and bring my phone to my ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Thank fuck. I was worried. Don’t do that to me.” His voice is high and panicked.

  “What?” I’m a little confused by his tone.

  “You said you’d message when you got to Spark House. It’s been forty-five minutes, and it doesn’t take that long to get there even if you’re going under the speed limit on back roads.”

  “Oh! I’m so sorry. We got to chatting and I totally forgot.”

  “It’s okay. It’s fine. I was just worried. I’m going into the office for a few hours, so if you want to let me know when you’re going to be home, I can try to time it so that we arrive at the same time.”

  “Okay, sure. That works for me.”

  “Great. Have a nice relaxing day, Ave.” He ends the call on a cocky laugh, and I slip my phone back in my bag.

  London sighs. “I’m sorry for raining on your orgasm parade.”

  “I know you worry.” I wave the apology away. “Tell me about Daniel. How are things there?”

  “He’s good. Nice. He’s a fan of buying me flowers and sending me things from the places he visits. He’s out of town this week, but I’m supposed to see him when he gets back. He’s asked if I would stay at his place for a weekend, but I’m on the fence as to whether that’s a good idea.”

  “Why wouldn’t that be a good idea?”

  “Well, a weekend implies more than one night, and I’m not sure how I feel about two nights. Anyway, it’s something to think about.”

  “It could mean a weekend of sex, and as someone who hasn’t had it in a really long time, I have to say, it’s definitely worth thinking about.” Harley and I exchange a look, and I can tell she’s biting her tongue. Every time London gets into a relationship she shifts from “fun London” to this serious version. Like all of a sudden being with someone means she’s no longer allowed to have fun. It creates weird tension that we don’t always know how to manage.

  “Anyway. Moving on. Let’s talk business.” She clears her throat and picks up her tablet. “Should we go check out the pool obstacle course setup?”

  Harley wheels me through the grand foyer and down the hall toward the indoor pool. It’s Olympic-sized and the entire room is a half dome of curved glass. It’s beautiful and serene. I can’t wait to have at least my arm back, so I can make use of it again.

  At one end of the pool is a massive inflatable slide, and the pool is set up with two floating obstacles that the participants will have to master to move on. “We set it up just like you explained, and Harley and I ran the course the other day to work out the kinks, but since it’s neither of our strong suits, we figured it would be good to get your input.” London flips a pen nervously between her fingers.

  “It looks good, but it’s hard to say unless I see it in action.”

  “I figured you’d say that.” Harley pats me on the shoulder and pulls her dress over her head. She’s wearing a bathing suit underneath.

  “Have you been wearing that this entire time?”

  “Yeah. I put it on this morning because I already knew London was going to make me run the course again.”

  “I’m not making you do anything. I told you I’d run it,” London replies.

  “But you also mentioned how you’d had your nails done and how bad the chemicals were for them, so I totally took that as a hint that you’d like me to run it instead. And honestly, I don’t mind. It’s actually a lot of fun.”

  Harley runs the course, and I make suggestions on tweaks for distance between the obstacles and dropping the number of beach ball baskets they have to score from five to three for the sake of timeliness.

  “I’m glad you could come in today; it’s great having your brain for these kinds of things.” London’s obviously trying to smooth things over.

  “Me too. I’m looking forward to being able to take on more. And it won’t be long until I have my arm back, which will make everything so much easier.”

  After Harley finishes the obstacle course—for the fourth time—she begs to be done because she’s exhausted and starving. London wheels me back to the office and orders lunch while Harley gets showered and changed.

  While we’re waiting, London gets a call from one of the companies she’s reached out to recently regarding a marketing partnership. Normally she and I would confer about these kinds of things, but I wasn’t here to have the discussion, so it’s clear she took matters into her own hands, which are nervously twisting behind her back. “They’re dedicated to sourcing environmentally responsible products and reducing their carbon footprint. If I can convince them to work with us, it could open Spark House to a whole new client base like you talked about before the accident. It could be a really amazing way to gain a new revenue stream, especially since I didn’t get the alumni contract.”

  “Harley told me. I’m sorry, London.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m the one who’s sorry. If you had been there, it wouldn’t have been a question, but they wanted to wait until you were back before they committed to anything.”

  I give her hand a squeeze. “I can reach out in a few weeks and see if they’ll reconsider.”

  “Sure, that’d be great. But in the meantime I have a meeting next week with Go Green, and it all looks really promising.”

  This is so hard for all three of us, not wanting to step on one another’s toes, having to shift roles. Usually I’m the one in charge, and now London has had to jump in with both feet. It means she likely doesn’t have the time she’d like to focus on the details. I make a mental note to get her Etsy site set up for her since she isn’t the best at making time for herself. She needs a place to channel her creativity and an outlet for her stress.

  “Can I say something?” London’s fingernails drum on the desk.

  “Sure, of course.”

  “I’m sorry I got on you about Declan. I know you’re capable of making your own choices. I just don’t want you to get hurt. This whole thi
ng, you being in the accident, it brought up a lot of the same fears and worries I had when Mom and Dad died. I don’t ever want to lose you, and it felt like we came close this time.” Her smile is sad.

  “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” I reach out and give her hand a squeeze.

  “Maybe when you’re feeling up to it, you could come stay the night at our place? We could have a girls’ night. Just the three of us?”

  “That sounds great. I’d love that.”

  “Okay.” Her smile widens.

  Sometimes I wonder how hard it is for her to always be in the middle. Always trying to keep the peace. Forever the mediator.

  17

  NEVER TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING

  AVERY

  Harley gets me up to the condo, but we stop at the dry cleaners on the way home to pick up Declan’s suits and make another stop at the grocery story to grab a few ready-to-go meals. I’m able to manage simple things in the kitchen, and although being down a hand means I lack the dexterity to prepare anything elaborate, if I can make meal prep easier on Declan, I absolutely will.

  Declan isn’t back from the office yet, and Harley asks half a dozen times if I want her to stay, but it’s been a long day and I know she has stuff she needs to do in preparation for the event this weekend.

  I forgot to message Declan before I left Spark House, so I fire one off to let him know I’m already at the condo. Message sent, I crutch down the hall to my bedroom to change. I’ve gotten used to not wearing bras with straps and going commando most of the time, so a bra, underwear, and a dress is a lot to handle.

  I also take a moment to freshen up below the waist, on the off chance what happened this morning happens again this evening. I don’t know what to expect, if anything. I’m as nervous as I am excited. I push London’s worries aside. Declan and I have a great foundation of friendship, and this shift, while unexpected, is something I think I’d like to explore more of.

  The change-and-clean-myself-up routine takes almost half an hour, but at least I’m feeling fresh and relaxed by the time I crutch back out to the living room. I grab a bottle of water and a snack and make myself comfortable on the couch.

  Declan has left the crossword for me, having finished the next ten words down. I turn on the TV for background noise and check my phone, but there are no new messages. It’s closing in on seven and I haven’t had dinner, so I polish off a box of crackers and work on the crossword for a while.

  I must pass out, because I’m startled awake by the sound of something being knocked off the coffee table.

  “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I messaged like half an hour ago, but I guess I know why I didn’t get a reply.” He winks and kicks off his dress shoes.

  He’s wearing a black suit with a white button-up and a pin-striped purple tie. I’m aware that Declan is a good-looking guy—he has a strong jawline, high cheekbones, full lips, thick dark hair, and gorgeous blue eyes. But today I finally understand why women lose their shit over him, because not only is he very, very easy on the eyes, he’s also incredibly adept with his hands, and good lord can he kiss.

  I swipe my hand across my mouth to make sure I haven’t been drooling in my sleep. “Guess I must’ve been tired. What time is it?”

  “It’s almost eight.” He picks the remote up off the floor and sets it on the edge of the couch.

  “Oh wow, you’re late getting home. Did you have a lot of work you needed to catch up on?” I feel a slight pang of guilt over the number of times Declan has helped get me into bed and then resumed working. Often, he’ll set his laptop aside when we’re watching movies so he can rub my back. I wonder how behind working from home has put him. I make a mental note to stay on top of his dry cleaning and the groceries so he doesn’t have to. And his laundry.

  “Nah, I just hadn’t heard from you when the guys were leaving, so I figured I could grab a beer with them. Have you eaten yet? I brought you dinner.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket and tosses it on the lounger before he loosens his tie and undoes the top two buttons on his dress shirt.

  “Have you eaten already?”

  “I had a few wings at the bar, but I saved myself for you. Let me grab some plates.”

  “Sure. Okay.” My stomach does a flip when he winks again and heads for the kitchen. A couple of minutes later he returns with plates, cutlery, and two bottles of beer. “You think you can handle one of these?”

  I nod. “What’d you bring home? That smells amazing.”

  “Your favorite.” He unpacks the bag and flips open the lid on the top box.

  “Oh man, is that lobster-bacon mac and cheese?” My mouth starts watering instantly.

  “Sure is.” He spoons half the contents onto a plate and sets it on my lap tray.

  “I love you so much right now,” I mumble around a forkful of cheesy pasta, groaning as the flavors hit my tongue.

  He quirks a brow. “As much as you did this morning?”

  I blink a couple of times and use sarcasm to try to hide my surprise at his casual mention. “It’s a toss-up.”

  “That orgasm was better than this pasta.” He stabs a spiral noodle and smirks. “At least it looked like it from where I was standing.”

  “Can your inflated ego, Deck. I haven’t had an orgasm in weeks. Sitting on the washing machine during the spin cycle would be almost as good as this.” I find a chunk of lobster and pop it into my mouth, savoring the delicate flavors. I love comfort food, and there’s nothing better than lobster-bacon mac and cheese.

  “Do you think I should try again? Maybe see if I can do better the second time around?”

  “And what if you can’t do better?” My nipples tighten under my shirt and the muscles below my waist clench at the memory of what happened between us this morning.

  He lifts a shoulder in a semi-uncertain shrug. “Practice makes perfect, doesn’t it? Besides”—he drags his tongue across his bottom lip and points at my chest—“based on what’s happening under your shirt, you might like that idea as much as I do.”

  I rap his knuckles with my fork. “Or I might be really excited about this.” I shovel another forkful of pasta into my mouth.

  “I didn’t know lobster fetishes were a thing.”

  Both of our phones ping at the same time, lighting up with a message from our group chat. Several more messages follow, Jerome chiming in after Mark.

  “You cool with it if the guys come over Monday night to watch the game?” Declan taps his bottom lip, something he does when he’s nervous.

  “Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Just checking.” He sets the food aside and flips the other box open. He always gets the peppercorn steak and fettuccini.

  “Are you okay with the guys coming over?”

  “Oh yeah, of course.” He nods a bunch of times and focuses on twirling noodles on his fork.

  “It sounds like there’s a but coming.”

  “I think we should probably keep what’s going on between us.”

  I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth. “Uh, it’s not like I’m going to tell the guys you’re giving me orgasms because I’m incapable of giving myself one.”

  “Yeah, no, I know. I just mean, I don’t think they’d like it is all, so we should act like nothing is going on when they’re here.”

  I set my fork down and give Declan my full attention. His ears are going red, and he’s been spinning the same noodles on his fork since he brought this up. “You don’t think they’d like it if they knew I was having orgasms?” I’m playing dumb, because I know if I push hard enough, Declan will crack and come out with it already.

  He gives me a look. “No, Ave.”

  “Are you worried it will make things awkward?” I’m trying to figure out why he’s suddenly so sketched out.

  “I don’t want to rock the boat, especially when you’re still healing.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I like all this time I get with you right now. I like that I get to take care
of you and make you feel good. I don’t want there to be drama with the guys to mess it up, you know?”

  I’m trying to understand why he’s so adamant about keeping this from the guys. “Why do you think there would be drama?”

  “They’ll have questions. They’ll want to know what the deal is and what we’re doing.” He threads his fingers through mine and brings my knuckles to his lips.

  “What exactly are we doing here, Deck?” The question comes out an uncertain whisper. I’m acutely aware of the way my body is already reacting to his touch. My skin tingles as his lips move along my knuckles, soft and sweet, and an ache swells and settles between my thighs. It makes me both nervous and needy.

  “I don’t know. I guess it really depends on what you want this to be.” He flips my hand over and presses his lips to the inside of my wrist. “But I don’t think the guys need to know about how well I’m taking care of you.”

  I huff a laugh. “It only happened once, maybe it was fluke.”

  It’s Declan’s turn to chuckle. “That sounds a lot like a challenge.” He unthreads our twined fingers and tugs at the edge of the blanket covering my legs. “Should I give it another shot? See if it was a one-time thing or not?”

  I lift my shoulder in a careless shrug. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to at least see, would it?”

  “Probably a good idea, really. That way we’ll know for sure if it was a fluke or not.” His fingers drift up the outside of my thigh and slide under my nightshirt.

  “You’re probably right.” I bend my knee and the blanket slips off my leg. We both look down as his hand moves higher, curving inward, the fabric bunching as he goes.

  His fingertips brush over me, skimming the sensitive skin.

  A soft moan escapes my lips.

  Declan’s lips meet the edge of my jaw. “Fuck, Ave, that has to be my new favorite sound.”