The Spark Between Us by Stacy Travis

Chapter Seven

Sarah

It tookme longer than I’d hoped to pull my sweatpants on because I had to lower myself into a squat while keeping my head facing straight ahead and barely moving anything above the waist. Getting a long-sleeved shirt on would be a challenge because I couldn’t raise my arms over my head.

Since I’d crashed last night without unpacking a thing, all my clothes were still in various duffel bags and suitcases. Thankfully, I was an organized packer.

I used my foot to push a blue duffel bag out from behind the others and squatted to unzip it. Several pairs of pajamas sat on top, and I grabbed the first one I found. I also pulled out a running bra, which I could step into and pull up. There was no way I’d be able to reach around behind me to fasten an everyday bra.

Eventually, I gave in to screaming in pain for a second, but I managed to pull the bra up my body through the neck hole and only winced once as I put my arms into the sleeves of the pajama top and buttoned it.

It was no worse than what I’d gone through trying to use the French press.

When I came downstairs, Braden was ready with a black ergonomic-looking table set up in the room next to the kitchen. He had music playing from his phone, some hip-hop band I didn’t recognize.

I was relieved. If he’d been playing some kind of spa music with singing bowls and birds chirping, it would have gotten very awkward, very fast. I didn’t need a roommate who ran a massage parlor.

Though this roommate . . . he made me think twice about hot guys not being my type. They were absolutely my type, even if ogling represented the closest I’d ever come to dating one.

Yes, I’m objectifying him. Hot guy magic—check.

Bella came galloping in from the yard and started circling my legs, whimpering and doing her non-jumping jumping thing until I squatted and gave her a big scratch behind the ears.

“Good morning. I didn’t see you before, were you still sleeping?” My dog-friendly voice came in an octave higher than my normal voice. I couldn’t help it. Bella was adorable and sweet.

I wanted to believe the same was true of her owner, but Braden seemed reluctant to let go of his stoic facade. Then he’d do something caring and kind like he was doing now, making it impossible to dismiss him as a mountain of muscle who liked dogs better than people. His generous, grumpy, confusing nature intrigued me.

He was messing around on the coffee table with a gadget that had wires and small white squares of tape dangling from the ends. When I leaned against the massage table, he looked up. “Who knew I’d end up needing an in-home physical therapist? Are all your houseguests clumsy? Is that why you have this?” I asked.

“I don’t have a lot of houseguests.”

Okay. Maybe that was why he seemed a little uncomfortable when it came to having me here.

He went back to untangling the wires.

“I’m almost ready. Haven’t used this in a while, and of course it’s a clusterfuck.”

His swearing made me laugh, which made my neck hurt more. “Ouch. Stop being funny.”

“Didn’t realize messes entertained you.” He shot me a stern glance, and I realized I’d already gotten used to the slightly peeved way he looked at me. It was almost a sexy scowl—if a person was into that sort of thing. And . . . I was.

Since I’d never lived in close proximity to someone of such spectacular physicality and I probably wouldn’t again, I pushed my better behavior aside and continued objectifying him. I took the opportunity to assess the way his forearms and biceps flexed as he untangled the wires. A muscle in his jaw twitched when he got frustrated at the mess. He was . . . just so beautiful to look at.

I sighed. Then covered by clearing my throat. “I’d offer to help, but knowing me, I’d blow up your house.”

He grunted without looking up. “I’ve got it. Can you get up on this table, or do you need a hand?”

“I think I can manage it.” Courtesy of my pole dancing experience, I flipped one leg up onto the table and the rest of my body followed.

Glancing back at the jumble of wires, I started to feel concerned. “What the heck is that thing? Are you planning to shock me into submission? Because you could just tell me to chill. Save the pain.”

He looked up, seeming to focus on me for the first time. “Nice jammies.” I couldn’t dip my head to see what I’d put on, but I had two pairs that were the dark shade I pulled from my bag. They were either maroon plaid, or they were the ones with teddy bears cooking breakfast on them. “Okay, this is the e-stim I was talking about. It sends an electric charge at very mild frequencies and stimulates a response in your muscles. Helps them relax.”

Those wires and the potential for some awful shock treatment scared the crap out of me. And the more stern and humorless he was, the more I wanted to get a rise out of him. “Electrocution as a calming technique. Wow, someone needs to introduce you to yoga, big guy.”

“Cute.” He actually smiled. “It sounds counterintuitive, but I swear it gets results.”

With the wires now hanging from the contraption, he nodded to the table. “I need you on your stomach.” I smiled, imagining him saying those words to legions of women under very different circumstances.

Then, in a total brain misfire, I imagined him saying them to me. I shivered at how it would feel when I obeyed.

So inappropriate. And . . . what else is new?

“I’m afraid I can’t do that without screaming bloody murder,” I grunted, unable to turn and look at him.

He placed a hand on the back of my neck and gently massaged with his fingers. “I can’t believe how locked up you are. And you were going to go to work like this?” He sounded exasperated.

“What can I say? I like a challenge.”

He didn’t know me well enough to understand yet, but the more difficult a situation, the more determined I felt to beat it. I saw pain as something to be conquered, not my body’s natural stop sign. So far, that mentality had gotten me pretty far, so I didn’t see a reason to change.

“Here, can you roll to your side and get on your hands and knees?” My brain misfired with more errant thoughts of him commanding me onto all fours so he could take me doggie style. My neck revolted with a fierce bolt of pain as if telling my brain to shut up and behave.

He popped a head cradle up at the end of the table, and I managed to slide like a marooned seal and lie down flat with my face on the cushion.

“You good?” he asked, his voice gentle. His hand rubbed my back in soothing reassurance, and I blinked back the eruption of heat over my skin.

“I’m good now, but there’s a decent chance I won’t be able to get up. Like, ever. Fair warning.” My voice came out muffled.

His deep, genuine laugh calmed me. “I’ll help you. Now I’m going to lift up your shirt and put these stickers on your back and neck, okay?”

He was going to lift my shirt? I was glad to be face down so he couldn’t see the blush rise on my cheeks. “Whatever you say, fireman,” I joked in a mock-deep voice.

“Please stop it.”

“What?”

“Just . . . think quiet thoughts and let me do this,” he said.

“Fine.”

I felt his warm hands lifting my pajama top partway, but mostly he reached under it and put the small patches in various places. “These might be a little cold. Bear with me.”

They were cold, but then his warm hands brushed over my skin, and I could only focus on the electric burn of his fingertips as they moved expertly down my back. He placed two more of the cold stickers on my neck at the collar of my top, and then I heard loud crunching.

“Whatcha got going there?” I asked, wondering if he planned on eating a bag of chips while I percolated.

“Ice packs. These will be cold, obviously, but they’ll help a lot.” He laid them on my back and I shivered. I didn’t mind the ice. It helped turn down the furnace he’d ignited when he touched me.

This must be what all the ladies line up for. Hot hands, blazing feels.

“I’m good with the ice. Perfect for me. Ice queen over here.”

“Ha. I don’t get that vibe. Okay, I’m turning on the stim. You’ll feel a tingling, but you don’t want to be twitching. So tell me when you feel it and I’ll stop.”

“Okay, boss. Hit me.” It was a strange sensation. Tiny prickles turned into bigger tingles on my skin. Then I felt them deeper underneath. “I feel that. I don’t think I’m twitching.”

“You’re not.” He turned it higher. It was almost too much to bear, but then the feeling receded. I felt a twitch. “Yup, that’s your threshold. We stop there.”

He came around near the top of my head and put his hands on the muscles between my neck and shoulders. Then he laid what felt like a scorching hot towel across the back of my neck.

I might have moaned.

He took a step back. I could picture him there, admiring his work. “You okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I felt weird but not bad.

“Good. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. You . . . just hang out there.”

Over the next fifteen minutes, I let the strange combination of sensations work their magic on my tweaked muscles while Braden made noises in the kitchen. It sounded like he was washing dishes, opening and closing cupboards, opening the fridge. Then I heard his feet walking away and water running in the bathroom upstairs.

My body absorbed the jumbled mess of sensations—hot, cold, tingly—and my brain tried to process an additional feeling—lust.

It made no sense. He’d barely touched me, but that was enough to have every nerve along the surface of my skin firing and a flood of heat building in my core. The second he left the room, my body craved his touch, probably because my body was confusing medical attention with foreplay. Yes, it had been months—fine, years—since any man had touched me in the intimate way Braden just had, even if just for therapeutic purposes. Apparently, he’d awakened some dormant female urges.

And let’s face it, the man was a hot rescue fantasy come to life, and I was caving to his charms like an expert spelunker.

That didn’t take long. I’d barely been in town a day, and I already found myself abandoning my “like attracts like” theory and signing on for brawny handsome firefighter. With great enthusiasm.

You’re in trouble, lady friend.

No. It would be fine. The fantasy would stay in my head where it belonged. Noticing his physical beauty and inner kindness didn’t need to make our roommate situation awkward. It was like appreciating a stunning work of art. I’d be crazy to ignore its beauty, even if I couldn’t afford to own it.

I just needed to get off this table and ferry myself to work where I’d concentrate on the reason for moving here in the first place—science. If anything turned me on as much as Braden’s hands on me, it was the possibility of a scientific breakthrough.

Okay, I may have exaggerated the excitement produced by things in a lab just a bit, but it was all I had.

A few minutes later, Braden’s footsteps returned, followed by the clicking of Bella’s paws on the hardwood floor. His deep voice was close to my ear when he spoke, causing a chill down my spine. “You still with me?”

“Yeah. Only I’m pretty sure I’ve become one with this table.”

He let out a low laugh. “I’ll help you up.” He turned me onto my back then held out his hand, which felt large and strong as I gripped it. Then he supported my neck with his other hand and pulled me up to sitting.

As soon as I let go of his hand and relaxed my shoulders, a crazy thing happened. I could suddenly move my neck. I didn’t have a full range of motion, but I could turn it in both directions without pain. My back felt looser too. I wiggled around and felt so much better than I had just a half hour earlier.

“This is . . . wow. I can actually move,” I practically sang. It hadn’t seemed possible.

“That was the goal.” He crossed his arms in his Michelin Man pose, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Goal achieved! I’m healed.”

“Well, you’re not healed, but it’s a start. Now don’t do anything crazy at work today like lifting lasers or whatever.”

“Aye aye, Captain. Seriously, thank you. I think you’ve earned yourself another dinner. If you’re around later, name the dish and I’ll make it happen.”

He took a step back and his jaw clenched. “I, um, have plans.” He didn’t look happy about it.

“Ah, like, plans to go over your tax bill with your accountant?” It was the only reason I could think of that would make a person look so miserable.

“No, like a date.”

“Oh. Okay, well, cool. Good for you.”

Of course he’d have an active dating life. From the attention he’d gotten around town last night, I could imagine he had women lining up every night of the week.

“I could cancel . . . I mean, if you still can’t move around, you might need some help with things . . .” He rubbed a hand over his chin and looked at the ceiling, maybe considering what would be involved in canceling his plans.

I waved my hands at him in protest. “No, no! Absolutely not. I don’t want to keep you from your life. Go on all the dates. We’ll do it another time. Or not. All good.”

“Are you sure? Because then I’m back on a twenty-four-hour shift, so I won’t be around for a while . . .”

“Absolutely. Now lemme get some real clothes on so I make a decent impression on my first day at work. Can’t greet the physics community in my teddy bear pj’s.” Now that I could move my neck, I could see the bears clearly.

I pushed past him and made my way up the stairs. Feeling so much better than I had thirty minutes earlier, I moved in and out of the shower, gathered my hair into a knot on top of my head, slapped on some mascara and cherry red lipstick, and pulled on a navy-blue wrap dress and a tall pair of pumps.

The full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door convinced me I looked good enough to pass muster on my first day. I didn’t have much time to consider alternate outfits or better makeup application, so I grabbed my laptop case and my purse and headed back down the stairs.

Braden was waiting for me, kneeling down and having a quiet conversation with Bella. “You’re gonna be a good girl, right? No digging . . . or I’ll have to take away your yard privileges.” Bella sat obediently in front of him, taking in every word he said, as though she knew what he expected her to do.

He rubbed her under her chin and kissed the top of her head before he noticed me standing there.

His eyes traced over me from head to toe and clouded with heat for a moment, but just as quickly, he blinked it away.

“You ready?” He turned toward the door, and I noticed his toned muscular arms stretching at the dark blue sleeves of his T-shirt.

I seriously needed to get a grip. I couldn’t spend the next few months ogling my roommate, no matter how benign my interest was. He wasn’t a piece of meat. I had to stop looking at him like one.

“Sure.” I cringed a tiny bit as I hoisted my purse and laptop bag over my shoulder. I wasn’t loose and pain-free yet.

Braden shook his head and reached for the straps, pulling them off my shoulder and hanging them on his own. “You’re gonna undo all the good work we did in ten minutes. Let me carry it.”

He put a hand on the small of my back and steered me toward the front door. I tried not to react to the feel of his hand, but there was no doubt he’d left a permanent heat signature burned into the fabric. Spending time with him was causing my brain cells to leach from my body.

When he dropped me at the front entrance to Lawrence Livermore Lab, I couldn’t scurry away fast enough.

“Thanks! See you later. Or not. Just . . . whatever. Have a great day,” I rambled. Then I hugged my stuff and bolted inside.