14. Shark Week and Sweet Nothings #2
He turns back to me, and something in his expression makes the breath catch in my throat—intense, hungry, deliberate. “Trust me. You have no idea how many times I’ve replayed that night with a different ending.”
A flush rushes to my cheeks as I look away, chipping at a roughened board on the dock with my nail. He’s not the only one, but I’m too scared to put myself out there again.
Who knows what ridiculous thing I’ll do or say next ?
I’m a one-woman circus act.
Braden senses my discomfort and settles against one of the dock pilings, the wine bottle resting loosely in his hand. “What did you want to know about me?”
I shake my head to clear it, momentarily confused by his sudden segue. “What? Oh, yes. My questions.”
Back to safe topics, which is for the best. At least that’s the bullshit lie I’ll keep telling myself, while trying not to remember how good it felt having his hands on my body.
I resume my cross-legged position, stealing a pastry from the plate and biting into the gooey sweetness. “Did you always want to be a tattoo artist?”
Braden shakes his head and pops a cookie in his mouth, dusting his hands against his pants.
“Nah. I always knew I wanted to work in the art world, though. I was a terror in school—hyperactive and always getting in trouble. But the second I planted my ass in art class, things shifted. Drawing calmed my brain. Brought me peace.”
I get that feeling. “That was dancing for me.”
“Although, unlike me, I’m sure you were a perfect student.”
“Not even close. Traditional studies, aside from English, weren’t interesting to me. I had a plan, and I knew mathematics and science weren’t part of it. I was going to be the next Martha Graham.”
Braden drags his finger along the rim of the wineglass in a smooth, sensual motion.
Damn it, now everything he does seems sexual, which is not helping my confused libido.
“Didn’t Time call her the dancer of the century?”
My eyes widen at his question. “You’ve heard of Martha Graham?”
Most people barely know who she is. The woman pioneered modern dance—like, totally redefined it.
“I did a bit of research. ”
“On Martha Graham?”
Braden shakes his head and bites his lip in the most adorable fashion. “On the world of dance. After all, I’m engaged to a terrifically skilled dancer, right?”
See? He’s a walking, talking sweetheart. Who else would research topics of interest for his fake fiancée?
Braden grabs a pebble and tosses it into the water. “Do you think teaching dance will fulfill you?”
I suck in a breath. “If you’d asked me two years ago, I would have laughed at the idea, because I was all about the performance.
The pomp and circumstance of the stage. But now, I see dance as an escape to a world that I create.
I’m tired of dance studios catering to the rich and famous when some of the best dancers out there don’t have a future because they can’t afford the lessons. ”
“You want to make dance accessible to everyone?”
I chew my lip and watch Braden from the periphery. “Is that a stupid idea?”
“Absolutely not. Since when is bringing happiness and fulfillment to people a stupid idea? It’s brilliant and totally like you.”
“Is that a compliment?”
Braden grasps my fingers, giving them a squeeze. “The best kind. You might feel like less than your family, but the truth is, you outshine them at every step. Almost as sparkly as that ring.”
I smile, glancing down at the ring on my finger. “It’s strange—despite Bitsy’s insistence on my having a proper diamond, she never asked to see it.”
Braden shrugs. “She won’t. It was never about the ring.”
He’s right.
With Bitsy, it’s about control, and Braden isn’t willing to let her lead.
“I’m surprised smoke hasn’t come out of her ears yet. She expects people to fall in line and do her bidding. ”
Braden squints his eyes at the setting sun. “I’m not here to do Bitsy’s bidding. I’m here to protect you… from hurtful comments, handsy men, and pond sharks.”
“Will I ever live that down?”
“Nope. That one is going in my permanent memory bank—but so are all the memories with you. Don’t want to lose a single one.”
On impulse, I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re the nicest guy on the planet?”
Braden throws his head back and groans. “Shit. I’m in the dreaded friend zone now.”
I give him a gentle smack in the arm. “That’s my area of expertise, remember? But enough about my woes. We’ve talked about me this whole time. Back to you. You found art and life made sense. Did you always know what you wanted to do artistically?”
“Yes. I wanted to be an illustrator for comic books.”
“Why didn’t you pursue it?”
Braden stares out at the ripples of the pond as if searching for answers. “After college, I was offered a gig in London at a renowned studio. Incredible contacts and networking opportunities.”
“I didn’t know you lived in London.”
Braden takes another swig from the bottle. “I didn’t. Right about the time I planned to leave, Dad hurt his back and needed help at the farm. Then Ash wanted to open Black Lotus and needed me by his side. So, I stayed.”
Now I understand why there is a sadness lining Braden’s being. It’s a longing that matches my own—an opportunity snatched away before either of us had the chance to fully embrace it.
I snuggle against him, desperate for him to know that I’ll protect him, too. “You are such a good guy.”
He rests his chin on my head and huffs out a breath. “You know what they say about good guys. ”
“I far prefer the nice guys to the bad boy type. Don’t get me wrong, I love your brother, but there were several times I planned to bury his ass six feet under.”
“You weren’t the only one. He’s a handful, but I think Ori has a good grip on him.”
“He’s wrapped around her little finger.”
“Fuck yes, he is, but don’t you dare say that to him. He’ll never admit it as truth.” Braden takes another sip of wine, offering me the bottle. “I’m jealous of him, though. Jealous of what they have.”
“Me, too.”
“You’re young, Mina. You should be out there living it up.”
I huff out a breath and jump to my feet as my anger careens into the red. “There’s that damn word again. Young. I’m twenty-five, Braden. Not twelve. I grew up in the dancing world, surrounded by regimented schedules and diet plans. I’ve been an adult my whole life.”
Braden stands and grips my hand with a gentle squeeze. “I didn’t mean it as an insult.”
But my temper is still blazing, and he’s going to hear everything I have to say.
Everything.
“But it is—because you use it as a barrier between us. Meanwhile, I’m more ready to settle down than you are.”
Braden rubs the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on the water. “Don’t know about that.”
“You know what I always wanted besides a career in dance? A family, a cute little house, and a little girl who twirled better than me.”
A smile tugs at Braden’s lips. “Hmm.”
I toss up my hands, shooting him an exasperated look. “What?”
“You’re unexpected. In the best way. And for your information, I always wanted a family. ”
What’s stopping you?
I almost ask the question aloud, but what if I don’t want to hear the answer? What if he says he hasn’t met the right woman yet?
What if he only thinks of me as a pretty, fun girl with a big future ahead of her? Someone to pal around with, but never take seriously, because I had the audacity to be born twelve years after him.
This is why I never chased love before. Love makes no damn sense. Or maybe I’m just the world’s lousiest player in this game.
Sadly, my heart doesn’t care what I think anymore. She’s all in, so long as Braden is my endgame.
Heart, you’re going to wind up smashed to bits, you know that?
Braden rests his forearms on a piling, fixing me with a stare. “Didn’t Leo want those things? You know, marriage? Kids?”
My jaw slackens at his direct question. Looks like we’re going to discuss my former partner, whether or not I want to. “Umm…”
“You didn’t think I’d notice how he looks at you? Trust me, he’s obvious about it. How long did you two date?”
“A couple of years.”
“I’m assuming he was your first?” Another swig of wine disappears from the bottle. “Not my business, but I’m asking, anyway.”
Now it’s my turn to swallow some liquid courage. Alcohol, don’t fail me now. “He was. That one awful time.”
“Hmm.” Braden paces the length of the dock, his shoes reverberating against the wood in measured steps. “Did you love him?”
It’s the strangest thing. Braden seems tense, talking about Leo and me, almost as if… he’s jealous.
But that can’t be, right?
“I did.” I run my hand along the brass ring encircling the piling. “He was my first everything. I always figured we’d wind up together.”
“And now he’s back.” Braden grinds to a halt, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Look, do you want me to disappear? Stage a fight between us that results in me leaving? I’ll play the bad guy here. Just say the word.”
My mind reels, trying to unravel what Braden is really asking. “Why would you do that?”
Braden scrubs his face with his hands and releases a long exhale. “I don’t want to stand in the way of you being happy, but my jealousy is involved now.”
“How?”
“He wants you. Your aunt loves him. Fawns all over him. Meanwhile, she’s picking me apart, which is fine, except now you’re telling me he was your great love, and I refuse to be the guy who fucks that up.”
I rush to his side, running my hands along his chest. “He was my first love. Not my last.”
Braden averts his gaze, releasing another sigh. “I don’t enjoy being this way.”
“What way?”
Finally, he swings his head back, his eyes locking with mine as he flashes a rueful smile. “I shouldn’t be jealous. I know that. But seeing the way he looks at you… and knowing he’s had more of you than I have—it messes with my head.”
Am I shocked that Braden feels this way about Leo? Absolutely, but it warms me, too. Maybe my heart isn’t the only one involved.
I rise on tiptoe to give him a soft kiss. “You missed the most important part, then.”
His brow furrows. “What’s that?”
I shrug. Here goes nothing. “How I was looking at you .”