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What ifs fucking sucked.
She touched his forearm before setting a couple of her girly tissues on the counter. “They’ll hurt your nose less. Trust me.” He didn’t reply, so she gave up and left.
From snot to hot kisses and back again. Such was the nature of their relationship thus far.
She strolled past his men, her smile never wavering. Being open and free had to get easier with practice, right? “Enjoy your lunch, guys.”
Unable to help herself, she glanced back as she pulled the glass door shut behind her. The men stared back. One thing was for sure. They weren’t gazing at her as if they didn’t get why Brad would kiss her. More like they wished they could’ve taken his place.
She grinned and tossed her keys from one hand to the other with a bravado she absolutely did not feel. Now she just had to convince Brad to give them another shot, while simultaneously convincing herself the sky wouldn’t fall if she dared to believe she had a chance at happiness.
And oh, confess to her best friend that she was pretty sure she’d fallen in love with her brother.
All in a day’s work.
Chapter Ten
Brad walked in the door at nine-thirty that night, exhausted, cranky and sore. At least he thought it was nine-thirty. He’d checked his watch a while ago, and the numbers had blurred so much that he’d guessed at the time. Thank God it was Labor Day weekend. If he’d ever needed three days off more, he didn’t remember it.
One more thing he could thank Sara for. She’d infected him with her damn super bug. Forget bug. It was more like a dinosaur, stomping him with ferocious glee.
Even though his stomach had been growling for the last hour, he bypassed the kitchen in favor of dragging himself upstairs. His room. If he could get to his room, he could die in peace.
He’d just managed to strip—minus the one sock that refused to slip off his suddenly unflexible foot—and crawl into his blissfully cool sheets when a knock came at the door.
Fuck, no.
“Leaf me be.” He moaned it into the pillow, as feebly as a drunk. The knocking continued until the door creaked open.
“Brad? It’s me.”
He didn’t know who “me” was, nor could he open his eyes to check. Someone had glued them shut and sealed his lips for good measure. He grunted some combination of words, intent on making “me” go away.
A soft, damp cloth brushed his cheek and he relaxed into the sheets. Nice. If they could spray the rest of him down with about six gallons of ice-cold water, maybe he wouldn’t roast to death in his own bed.
Sleep closed around him, a familiar old friend. One he could count on. One who wouldn’t stiletto his heart into chunks and eat them for breakfast.
His roaring stomach woke him up. He groaned and tried to rise, but gentle hands on his bare chest pushed him back down. “Not yet. You need more rest.”
He knew that voice. “You—you did this. Your fault.”
“I’m sorry. I warned you that you’d get sick.”
“No. You didn’t warn me enough.” He rolled onto his back and opened one eye long enough to glimpse Sara sitting in a folding chair beside his bed, a small booklight attached to the novel in her lap. Reading glasses hovered on the tip of her nose. God, she was so cute, and he wanted her so much. More than he’d ever wanted anything.
“I know you probably don’t care what I’m saying right now, but I’m going to tell Kim about us,” she murmured. “I was going to tell her tonight, but you were a mess when you came home, and I wanted to run it by you first. So I guess I’ll wait until you’re not sick anymore, which means you need to get better fast.”
If she kept talking, he didn’t hear it. “You didn’t stop me.”
She brushed her hand tenderly over the one he’d fisted in the sheets. So soft. Why wouldn’t she get in bed with him? “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, baby. I went to get you juice and tissues, and there’s—”
“You didn’t stop me,” he insisted through thick and clumsy lips. “You let me fall for you.” He felt rather than saw her reel back. “Why you do that?” he asked, finally managing to open both eyes for a moment.
Her shocked expression in the narrow beam of light from the booklight trailed him into an exhausted sleep.
When he woke again, she was gone and Kim sat in her place, her wrapped ankle propped on the side of his bed. “Easy, tiger,” she admonished as he threw himself onto his side. “Hurt my ankle again, and I’ll give you more to worry about than a stupid cold.”
“Go ‘way.”
