Light My Fire

11. Luke

CHAPTER 11

Luke

“Will you fucking sit down?” Jackson demands, exasperated.

I stop pacing long enough to glare at him. “You’ve been jumping up and checking on those puppies every five minutes so don’t come at me for being restless.”

“I’m not restless. They’re newborn puppies. I’m concerned.”

Watching the puppies being born was actually incredible. I’ve been checking on them periodically too, because they’re cute as hell. But Henley and all five puppies have been asleep for several hours. “I think they’re good.”

“Do you think Brooke is good?”

Jackson is lying on the couch, hands behind his head, feet crossed at the ankles. He’s staring up at the ceiling. Again. Maybe he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, but he keeps looking at the ceiling and glancing up the stairs every time he gets off of the couch.

Brooke has been upstairs in Wyatt’s room for hours .

They’re either talking extensively or having very drawn out sex, or hell, maybe even both.

All I know is they’re up there, most likely naked, and I’m fucking down here crawling out of my skin with blue balls and I can’t even go to bed because I refuse to walk past Wyatt’s room and hear any kind of moaning.

Do I think this is the right move for Brooke, losing her virginity to Wyatt? Yes. Absolutely.

Do I want to hear it happening in real time? No fucking way.

“Brooke is more than good if I had to guess,” I say wryly.

Jackson keeps yawning but he’s not going to bed either.

“Maybe I should sleep down here by Henley and the puppies,” he says now.

“They got moved to the laundry room. You’re going to sleep on the laundry room floor?”

“I can bring the box back in here.”

That damn fire Wyatt keeps feeding is blazing away, romantic and warm, and I’m stuck here with Jackson. Who I normally enjoy spending time with but we’re both off-balance and preoccupied. I need a distraction, but he doesn’t even want to play cards.

I yank open the back door and stick my head out for a blast of cold air. “It’s hotter than hell in here.”

“I think the real heat is upstairs.”

I close the door and eye him. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“Oh, it’s bothering me. I want to be up there. But Wyatt is Mr. Romance. I want Brooke’s first time to be special, like we talked about.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I try not to visualize Wyatt murmuring sweet words in Brooke’s ear while he moves inside her, but I fail miserably. “You don’t think you’re romantic?”

“I’m flirty and fun. I can be romantic but I have also been accused in the past of not being serious enough. You know this about me… I get easily distracted.”

He does. Jackson goes all in on something, burns himself out, then moves on to the next thing. I would say he does that with women sometimes as well. He likes the idea phase more than the day in, day out of relationships. And he clearly cares about Brooke, just like I do. He wants what’s best for her, just like me, but damn, this is harder than I expected.

“A puppy is a big commitment, you know.” Jackson made it clear he intends to keep Nugget, at the very least. “You can’t get distracted when you have a pet.”

Jackson snorts. “Yes, I understand that. Guess I’m starting there. Maybe I’m ready to finally settle down a little bit.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it up over his head while he’s still lying on his back.

If he drops it on his face, I’m going to laugh.

“It’s almost two in the fucking morning,” he says, after checking his phone. “They’re spending the night together, aren’t they?”

“Looks that way.” I didn’t really consider that. I just thought they would have sex and come back downstairs, but that’s a me move, not a Wyatt move. “It’s a good thing you two are here. If I were here alone with Brooke, I would have fucked this up so bad.”

The very thought makes me shudder. Nothing romantic about me and that girl deserves better than I could ever give her.

Jackson turns his head. “Nah. Give yourself a little credit. You’re good under pressure.”

I grunt. “Thanks. For a five alarm fire or an overdose call, sure. But women? That’s a whole different story.”

Jackson doesn’t press me and I’m grateful for that.

“Should we watch a movie?” he asks. “Something where shit gets blown up and asshole characters die?”

“I can get behind that.”

We’re discussing options when we hear a door open upstairs. Both of our heads swivel to the staircase. My heart starts thumping way too fast. I don’t know if I can handle seeing Brooke in Wyatt’s T-shirt and nothing else, looking glowing and satisfied.

Fortunately, it’s just Wyatt.

Though I could do without the smug look on his face. I also would prefer it if he wasn’t in his fucking underwear.

“I need water,” he declares, scratching his bare chest. “I’m dehydrated.”

That makes me roll my eyes. “Is Brooke staying in your room tonight?”

He strolls past me with the cocky arrogance of a man who thinks he’s performed well. “Yep.”

I refuse to ask him anything else. He wants us to and I fucking refuse.

Jackson can’t resist. He floats a “So…” out there.

“So what?” Wyatt asks.

“Don’t be a dick. Was everything okay, or are we going to have to pick up the pieces with a disappointed Brooke tomorrow?”

“No one was disappointed,” he says, taking a glass out of the kitchen cabinet.

“Speak for yourself,” Jackson retorts.

Wyatt grins.

“Seriously, though… she had a good time?” Jackson pushes.

“Yes. But I’m not giving you any details, so don’t ask.” Wyatt drinks the entire glass of water down in two gulps.

I don’t know what would make me more angry—him spilling details about Brooke or him not treating her to a good time, so I’m grateful he’s keeping his mouth shut.

Besides, I trust Wyatt did right by Brooke.

He wouldn’t be wearing that expression if it had gone sideways.

He refills the glass with more water and strolls back toward the stairs. “‘Night. Sleep tight, boys.”

“You’re making breakfast tomorrow,” Jackson grumbles. “You owe us.”

“I don’t owe you shit.” Wyatt shoots us a grin and walks up the stairs.

Jackson shakes his head. “I don’t know whether to knock him out or shake his hand right now.”

I feel the same way. “Maybe we should just go to bed.”

“No way. Let’s watch the movie. They’re still awake up there.”

“Good point.”

I settle in the club chair next to the couch and we put the TV on over the fireplace, the volume at a normal setting. In spite of thinking sleep will be elusive, I fall asleep after an hour and when I wake up Jackson’s asleep under a blanket on the couch and the TV is off. He looks settled in for the night, so I pad quietly up the stairs. I don’t even pause outside of Wyatt’s room. I just hightail it into my room and to the bed, which I made this morning. I always make my bed. It starts the day off right.

It has the advantage of giving me the opportunity to toss two pillows into the corner and yank the comforter back roughly. I punch the remaining two pillows. More than once.

Then I climb into bed and proceed to not sleep.

All I can think about is Brooke and how fucking gorgeous she must have looked with her expression softened by desire, her mouth falling open in surprise as she learned what exactly makes sex so incredible.

I roll on my side and wish it—and me—and everything could be different.