The Spark Between Us by Stacy Travis
Chapter Nine
Braden
Thank fuck.
If I’d had to spend one more minute with that woman in a pajama top that was somehow sexier than most lingerie I’d had the pleasure of stripping off a woman’s body, I was going to lose my shit. As it was, I couldn’t help but picture her upstairs showering, fantasizing that she’d call for me because she couldn’t reach the soap.
Then when she appeared in that figure-hugging dress and sexy professor pumps, I almost lost my mind. Even Bella looked at me like I’d better hit that, and she salivates over a tennis ball.
This had never happened to me before, and by this, I mean forfeiting all control over my reactions to a woman. Sure, plenty of women had turned my head, but Sarah had turned me into a walking hard-on.
It wasn’t just the way she looked, though I couldn’t ignore her lips, the impossibly blue oceans of her gaze, and her long, supple limbs. She had a sweetness about her, a genuine interest in the world around her, and I still couldn’t get out of my head that she cared what happened to me on the job when she barely knew me.
I didn’t have much time to analyze it because my shift started in ten minutes, and I needed to make every green light to get there on time. I took a shortcut around town and pulled into the parking lot of Engine 97 nine minutes later.
On my way through the side door to the locker room, I noticed that some of the plants along the walkway needed water. “Hey, whoever’s planning on washing the rig had better spray those plants out front,” I yelled to no one in particular.
Someone would hear me. And if they didn’t, I’d say it again.
Keeping plants alive was a pet project of mine, a hobby I’d inherited from my grandmother, who loved to garden. She made it her goal to keep vegetation alive in her front yard, and it didn’t matter if she was growing weeds or strawberries—she tended to them exactly the same way.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she’d told me. “As long as it’s mostly green and mostly alive, it earns a place in my yard.”
In the years when my mom was holding down two jobs as a single parent, I spent a lot of time at my grandmother’s. She lived between school and my house, so it made for an easy stop on my way home. My step-brothers were off doing whatever they felt like doing, and sometimes I didn’t want to go straight home, even when it was late after football practice, so I’d stop at Gram’s.
She took the divorces harder than I did and more or less disowned my dad. “I raised him better than that,” she said.
“I’m sure you raised him fine, but he’s a grownup. Whatever he does isn’t on you.” I felt fairly certain that it was true, though I had no proof.
“A man doesn’t leave his family.” She said it like a mantra, as though saying it would reverse time and make her son choose a different path.
“This one did,” I reminded her when I was fourteen. My dad wasn’t a sentimental man. He didn’t talk about love or falling in love. That is, until the day he told us he was leaving to be with some other woman he loved, a woman who was not our mother. He also didn’t tell me or my brothers that he loved us until the day he moved out, almost like a parting gift.
At age five, I was the middle child of three wild, unruly boys who tested every boundary. The full brunt of not having a male role model didn’t hit me until puberty smacked me even harder. Back then, I confused being a selfish asshole to women with being cool. I followed the example of my only male role model, and treated girls like they existed for my temporary pleasure.
The worst part—I didn’t ever stop to examine what a dick I was because I still managed to get dates with anyone I wanted. It shouldn’t have come as a shock that I entered high school with some pretty messed up ideas of what a good relationship looked like.
After high school, I never dated anyone for long, and if any of the girls I had fun with asked for a commitment, I either ran in the other direction or promised commitment and proceeded to cheat. Never cared enough to change my ways or risk my heart.
Until Ellie. She was the one woman I considered breaking all my bad habits for, and instead, she broke me.
“Morning,” I said, walking into the gym, surveying the empty treadmills. Placing the patches from the stim machine on Sarah’s skin and picturing what she’d look like without those ridiculous fucking bear pajamas almost did me in. Then, sitting next to her in my truck and smelling her lotion or perfume or whatever it was that smelled like honey and flowers had me fighting a semi. If we didn’t get called to a fire, I needed to release my adrenaline somehow. As soon as I finished my paperwork, I planned to run.
“Morning, man.” Mitch motioned me over to spot him on some bench presses. He was coming off a double shift, which I know he took to avoid problems with his girlfriend, choosing to sleep here instead of going home. We hadn’t talked about it yet, but a man doesn’t take extra shifts unless he needs the money or wants to avoid something at home, and Mitch didn’t need the money. I’d ask him once he’d gotten some sleep.
“How was the night?” I asked instead.
“Quiet. You? All good with the roommate? She okay?” He snapped the gum he was chewing, and a couple other guys smirked.
“Yeah, a little locked up this morning, but fine.” I tried not to let my mind wander to the physical therapy session.
“Oh right, I heard you got a ‘roommate,’” said Sean, one of our drivers. “You losing your touch? Chicks won’t let you bang them anymore unless you give ‘em room and board?”
“Eh, you’re a fucking riot, Sean. You taking that comedy act on the road?”
“Gotta admit, she’s pretty hot, though she wasn’t really at her best after slamming into the back of the engine,” Mitch said.
Sean smacked a hand into his face. “Ha, how did I not lead with that? Wait, I need to understand more about this. Did she not see the truck? Oh, wait, this all makes sense. She’s vision impaired. No wonder she doesn’t mind seeing your ugly face every day.” He erupted into hysterics. If I hadn’t trained with Sean and been friends with him for a decade, I’d have popped him by now.
I let them go on. They had to get it out of their systems. There was no chance everyone at the station didn’t know about the accident and my new living situation, and I was going to endure their nonsense for about five more minutes, and then I’d shut it down for good.
“Alright, alright, anyone else have anything to say? Yes, I have a roommate. She’s the sister of a friend, and she’s in town temporarily for work. There will be no banging. Got it?”
“Oh, well if you don’t want a piece of that, can I have her number?” Sean pulled up the Contacts app on his phone and pretended to enter her number, elbowing me with a shit-eating grin.
I smacked the back of his head. “You’re cleaning bathrooms today. Just changed the chore list.” I flashed a genuine smile. I had no problem sticking it to any guy who crossed a line.
“You serious?” Sean whined like he’d lost a nut.
“As a heart attack.” I left them and went to the kitchen for some decent coffee. Sarah’s awful brew made the watered-down excuse for coffee here taste like a dream. I’d have to give her some pointers on using the French press.
The coffee pot sat empty, and as I emptied a packet of grounds into the machine, the image of Sarah sitting stiffly on the stool in my kitchen came back into my mind. I wondered what made her so stoic about keeping her pain to herself. I’d seen how much she hated people fussing over her after her accident, but she hadn’t told me why.
It wasn’t until Cash walked in carrying a couple bags of groceries that I realized I’d been standing motionless holding the empty coffee pot. “Dude, you look like a statue,” Cash said.
I went to the sink to fill the pot. “I was trying to decide how badly I wanted coffee,” I said, covering.
“You mean, badly enough to pour water into a machine? Shit, how lazy are you?”
I’d have to work harder to teach these guys some respect. Cash was a probie, and he’d already learned from the others that he could shoot his mouth off with minimal consequences. That was what I got for trying to build camaraderie—they treated me like the older brother whose only function was to buy them beer until their party woke the neighbors and they needed someone to talk down the cops.
Yeah, I might have had some experience with my two younger brothers shoving me into that role for real. Old habits were hard to break, and I mostly liked the guys in my unit, so I ignored their wisecracks.
The coffee maker started to sputter, and I leaned against the counter while Cash emptied the groceries. “What’s for dinner?” I asked.
He looked momentarily nervous. “I thought you weren’t going to be here.”
“I’m not. Don’t look so guilty.”
“Not guilty, but I shopped accordingly. I bought five steaks.”
“Steaks? Nice. Way to make friends, probie.”
“That was my thought.”
I grabbed a package of Oreos he’d just removed from one of the grocery bags and started to tear it open. Then I thought better of it. I needed to power down a few sips of coffee, do my work, and hit the machines in the gym. It was the only way I could think of to get rid of the agitation gnawing at my gut. That, or I needed to hit the showers and rub one out, and I didn’t much feel like doing that with a station full of guys walking in at any minute.
Why was I still thinking about Sarah?
It made no sense. Twenty-four hours ago, I’d never met her and my life was fine. I felt excited about Kelsey—legs for days, long blond hair, all-up-in-my-business-hinting-at-blowjobs Kelsey.
Now I debated canceling on her tonight. Should I make sure Sarah got to her physical therapy appointment? Maybe she’d need a ride.
She’s a capable thirty-three-year-old woman with an Ubert account. She doesn’t need you.
The really strange thing was I sort of wished she did. Having a brilliant, capable woman like Sarah rely on me to get her neck unlocked had felt good—it satisfied me in a way that one more blow job from Kelsey never would. Feeling Sarah’s gratitude for skills I took for granted made me see them as valuable, and I liked it.
But the last thing I needed was to get emotionally involved again with someone who’d only want me until she realized I was punching above my weight class. I wouldn’t be enough for someone like Sarah. So why was I picturing myself taking her to dinner instead of Kelsey?
I needed to get my head out of my ass and focus on my date, who wanted me for a good time and was happy when I delivered, while my roommate was busy tucking herself in at nine so she could be fresh in the morning to improve on rockets.
I admired the hell out of her, but that didn’t mean we belonged together.
“Yeah, so I won’t be here later. Got a date,” I told him.
“Uh, o-kaay?”
I shook my head. “Never mind.” I took the coffee with me and went to pound the treadmill until my lungs burned.