So Much More (Made for Love #3) (23 page)

When I finally see him, my heart skips a beat.

“O
H, MY GOD!” I
cry, racing toward him.

He’s hurt. His right cheek is scraped, just above his beard, and he’s got road burn along his upper right arm. There’s a tear in his jeans, near his knee, and he’s walking with a limp. His bike, while not twisted and mangled, is damaged—the front tire bent funny.

“What happened? Are you okay? You’re bleeding! Why didn’t you call me?”

“Breathe, Sunshine,” he says with a lazy smirk. “I’m fine. Nothing major.”

“Nothing—? You’re joking, right?”

“Why aren’t you inside baking? It’s getting late,” he says in reply as he locks up his bike.

“I was worried. I couldn’t—” I shake my head at him, appalled at his nonchalance. “I couldn’t think straight. Brandon, this is bad.” I roll up his sleeve and he shrugs away, obviously in pain. I scoff as I take his hand and begin pulling him inside. “Not that bad,
my ass!
I’m getting you cleaned up,” I tell him.

“Sarah—”

“If you tell me no, I won’t listen. This will go faster if you just do as I say.” I look behind me when he doesn’t respond and find him smiling at me.

God, this man is sexy. Even all banged up. I’m so relieved to see his smile. Relieved that his accident wasn’t worse
.

I give his hand a squeeze and then take him to the sink. I unhook the faucet hose and hand it to him, turning the water on. “Rinse off your arm. We need to make sure there’s no dirt on the wound before I bandage you up.” He follows my instruction without complaint while I go hunting for the first aid kit. I find it with little effort and then head back to the sink, pulling up a stool for him to sit on. “So, what happened?”

“I don’t know. I was going too fast. My front tire had a disagreement with something in the middle of the road that I didn’t see. I lost control and ran into the curb, which knocked me off my bike. Traffic was light, though, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

“You keep saying that,” I mumble, looking from his wound up into his eyes and then back down at his wound. “It was bad enough to damage your bike.”

“It isn’t—” He hisses and flinches when I dab his arm with disinfectant.

“You were saying?” I giggle.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out to pinch my side with his free hand. My smile stretches wider, his playfulness putting me at ease. We fall silent as I concentrate on making sure his arm is completely free of any debris. A couple minutes pass before he rests his hand against my hip, catching my attention. “Thank you,” he says when my eyes find his. “For doing this.”

I want to kiss him
.

It’s the first thought that comes to my head. I don’t want to say
you’re welcome
, even though
he is!
I don’t want to say
of course,
even though I’d do it again without a moment’s hesitation. I don’t want to
say
anything—I just want to kiss him.

Then I remember last night. I remember him pulling away from me and—

“Tell me about Olivia.” The words tumble from my lips before I can sift them through my filter.

“What?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

I shake my head, knowing that I’ve got some serious ground to cover in order for him to understand where my request is coming from and why.

“Luke. His name is Luke. My ex. I met him at school. His son, Micah, was in my class. I didn’t know he was married because he didn’t wear a ring. And Micah would mention his mother, but she seemed out of the picture. She
was—
but she wasn’t. It’s complicated.

“Anyway, when we found out about each other, it was awful. She blamed me, as if it was all my fault that her husband cheated.
I
was the bad guy,
not
Luke. And Luke let me take the fall.”

I pause, needing to take a deep breath before I even
mention
the most horrible part of the whole story. I wish I could say that it’s funny now, but it’s not. Harper proved that yesterday.

I’m not sure it’ll ever be funny.

“The Red Coat Incident,” I continue hesitantly, “I’d really prefer not to talk about it. It was humiliating and heart breaking and—”

“Sunshine,” he interrupts me, gently curving his hand around my cheek. “You don’t—”

“No, just listen!
Please
. I need you to know that last night—that kiss—it was
ours
. There’s so much that got screwed up because of my stupid decisions. I miss my old job. I miss teaching. I miss my students. I especially miss Micah. The three of us spent so much time together.

“Last night, I was making his favorite cookies. I just needed to do something, you know? I needed to get out of my head. I won’t lie to you and say that what happened doesn’t still hurt sometimes, because it does. But that kiss—it was
ours—
yours and mine
.

“Now, I need you to tell me the same thing,” I insist, taking a step closer to him, inching my way into the space between his legs. “It’s your turn to tell me that you trust me and that this is not about her. Tell me about Olivia.”

He sighs, dropping his hand away from my cheek. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ll accept the cliff-notes version,” I persist, stepping closer.

“Alright,” he says, reaching up to sweep a strand of hair behind his ear. It isn’t until he does it that I notice his knot is coming lose. “I fell in love with Olivia when I was seventeen. She was my best friend. In her warped, twisted way of viewing our relationship, I’m still hers.

“She’s the only woman I’ve ever been with. I trusted her for longer than I should have. I loved her harder than she deserved. She hurt me more times than I can count. I forgave her until I didn’t have the strength left to forgive her again.

“I’ve wanted her—I’ve wanted
only
her—for almost a decade. Until
you
.

“Sarah—” He slips his arms around my waist and pulls me against his chest. He touches the tip of his nose to the tip of mine as he continues. “Since the moment you walked through that front door, I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you. Last night? That kiss—
this
kiss,” he murmurs before brushing his lips against mine. My eyelids flutter closed and goose pimples rise up all over my body. “And
this
kiss,” he whispers just before he sweeps his tongue across my bottom lip and then closes his mouth around mine. I circle my arms around his neck, my knees suddenly feeling less reliable than they were a minute ago. “They’re
ours
, sweet girl—they’re
yours
and
mine
.”

“Okay,” I manage—and then he’s kissing me again. Only this kiss isn’t a tease, like the ones he delivered a moment ago. No.
This
is an honest-to-goodness-swoon-worthy kiss. It’s different than last night. It’s tender and sweet. It’s intimate and sensual. It’s marvelous and I want
more…

So much more.

Damn
, my girl knows how to work my mouth—like she’s been doing it for years instead of minutes. I don’t want to let her go. Right here, right now, after her confession, after mine, I know that this is it. I’m all in. She had me
before
this moment and she can have me long after. I’m hers for as long as she wants me.

And I’m hoping that’s indefinitely.

She traces her fingers up my neck and sneaks them into my hair, burying them in my thick mane. Having her touching me feels so damn good and so right. I pull her closer and immediately a sharp pain shoots up my side.

“Shit,” I gasp. She sucks in a sharp breath as well, obviously startled by my outburst. “That hurt,” I mutter, lightly pressing my hand against my right side. “I must have a bruise or something.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Stop.” I reach for her chin and lean in to press a quick kiss against her lips. “Not your fault. Besides, don’t you
ever
apologize for kissing me. Got it?”

“Yes,” she says with a nod and a smile.

Butterflies.

I’ve got it so bad. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the way she makes me feel.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I speak softly.

“So are you,” she tells me, leaning forward to touch her forehead against mine. “Currently, you’re a bit of a beautiful
mess
,” she teases, cupping her hand around the side of my face that’s not all scratched up. “But beautiful, nonetheless. We should probably finish cleaning you up.”

“Yeah,” I agree, reluctant to say goodbye to this moment. I know we’re behind. I know we’re going to have to haul some serious ass this morning in order to catch up on all of our baking before we open. I know this. Yet, I don’t let her pull away from me when she turns to reach for the first aid kit.

“Wait,” I insist. “Before I let you go, I want to be clear about something.”

“Okay,” she murmurs.

“I’m going to wine and dine you, sweet girl. I promise you that. But you’re mine now. I won’t be shy about it and I sure as hell won’t share.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she nods her understanding. I don’t miss the grin she’s trying to hide.
It’s in her eyes
. As I reach up to ease her lip free, I realize that I’m going to get myself in so much trouble with this woman.

It takes another ten minutes for her to finish dressing my wounds. I don’t rush her, knowing she’d argue, but also because it feels nice having her dote on me. I don’t remember the last time anyone tried to take care of me—but Sarah’s been generous with herself since I hired her. She’s been incredibly stubborn in her efforts to lighten my load; and in the process, she’s stolen my heart and graciously entrusted me with hers.

I intend to keep it.

As soon as she’s finished, we switch gears and lose ourselves in our routine. It’s only been a week since she started baking with me, but our chemistry in the kitchen is undeniable. Somehow, the small space that I’ve come to know and love now fits two people. We’re in sync, doubling our efficiency and productivity.

It’s seven thirty before we know it. We’re so busy, we don’t notice that Sage has made his entrance until he raps his knuckle against the wall to announce his presence.

“Good Morning,” says Sarah.

“Hey,” I greet, glancing up for just a second.

“The door was unlocked so I—Shit, dude! What happened to you?”

I look up again, finally realizing that it’s unusual that I didn’t have to get the door for Sage. Sarah was so insistent about getting me to the sink to rinse off my arm, neither of us stopped to lock back up. I shrug it off, peek down at my bandaged arm, and then address Sage’s comment.

“Minor accident on my way in. We’re a little be—”

Sarah scoffs, cutting me off before I can finish. “He got thrown from his bike, Sage. Don’t listen to him. It wasn’t minor.
No
, he didn’t break any bones, but he was going fast enough to damage his bike.”

I look beside me at Sarah and smile, proud to have her in my corner, even if she is completely exaggerating.

“You really should wear a helmet,” she tells me.

“I have one,” I say with a shrug. “I wear it sometimes. Just depends on where I’m going.”

“Well, I think you should wear it
all
the time. Will you?”