Lit Up by My Brother’s Best Friend (Lit Creek #1)

Chapter 3

SIERRA

“Sweets, are you alright?” I feel a warm hand cupping my jaw. It’s so soft. Tender. The touch that dreams are made of. My dreams. And yes, I have had this dream many times. It’s so familiar that this time it actually feels real.

And that voice is like honey. It’s dripping over me and I just want to lick it all up. That makes no sense. But then again, neither does the darkness. Or the chill. I hear a moan and wonder where it came from until I realize that it’s me.

Me? I moaned? What the—

And then I’m alert. Enough. I know exactly whose arms I’m in. And why. Oh my God. I’m such a dingus. Yes, I said it. Dingus. My peabrain really set me back tonight, and I don’t want to open my eyes because I know I’ll have to look into the most gorgeous set of blues known to mankind. Womankind. All of humankind has never known such blues.

And though all five of the Anderson brothers have blue eyes (I think), his are definitely the bluest. Pictures have been painted to imitate his blue. Poetry has been written to pay tribute to his particular shade. Fantasies have been played out with those baby blues. Okay. Yes. I painted. I poeted. I fantasized. And no, poeted is not a word, but I really need it to be right now. Just give me this one. Please. Because it was all me. He’s been the one deliciously tormenting me in my dreams. I say tormenting because I knew I could never have him. And…oh my God, I’m just going to come out and say it, even though it sounds so lame. He’s too cool for me.

I’ve loved—whoa, that might be a bit much—him since I first laid eyes on him. Knowing I could never have him, I set my sights a bit lower. Alright, a whole helluva lot lower. To Brady. Well, he was…there. And there was better than…not there. And me and Brady liked each other enough. At least in the beginning. The last few years have been long distance. And I should have felt the distance for what it really was. Emotional. Not just physical.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when he returned from one of his filming stints and dumped me. I mean, the guy thought people would go nuts over watching him eat ketchup chips in every country.

Ketchup chips. It’s a Canadian thing. Eh? Anyway, he thought people would get a kick out of it. So far he’s made it to a total of two countries. And Canada is one of them. Needless to say, the guy is clearly going places.

Brady might have been setting the bar a bit low considering it started so high with Hunter.

But ya. Hunter has been the one that got away (that I never actually had) and who I know is too good for me.

There. I said it all.

Whew. It’s out there now. Feels like a bit of a burden eased from my shoulders.

But then that tender voice and just a whisper of a brush from his thumb over my lips has me rattled. “Sweets? ”

“Hmm?” I’m more alert than I pretend to be. But I don’t want him to know it. That thumb is feeling pretty nice on my chapped lips. Damn it. Why didn’t I put chapstick on?

His fingers are trailing down my neck into my hair.

“Did you hit your head?” he asks, full of concern. Right. Because that’s what he’s doing. Checking for lumps. Not caressing me. He’s a firefighter for goodness’ sake. This is literally his job. He’s just doing his job, Sierra.

“I’m fine.” I struggle to find my arms and then realize they’ve wrapped themselves around his warm, muscular torso. That chest. Mhmm! If I run my hand across his chest slowly and sloppily enough maybe I can feel his nipple without him noticing. Damn it! What am I thinking? I jerk my arms off of him and clumsily extract myself from the human cradle he made for me.

We’re both standing now, and he’s steadying me with his gaze and two strong hands loosely gripping my biceps.

“Are you hurt?”

This is so embarrassing, but I know I have to tell him. So I do. Sort of. “Umm…jesmyankleandmywrist.”

“What?”

“And my head.”

“What?” His eyebrows shoot to the sky. “Your head? Where?”

I shouldn’t have told him that part. Then again…his hands are braced under my jaw again and he’s staring into my eyes. So maybe it was a good move. Nope. I’m getting lost in those eyes. Those eyes that are oodles of cool. See? Who even says oodles of cool? That’s not even a thing. But me. I say oodles of cool. I shake my head.

“Don’t move,” he warns me sternly.

“I don’t know why I even have a headache. I didn’t fall on my head.”

His eyes dart over to the fence. “Maybe you banged it on the metal post when you fell back.”

I follow his line of sight and rub the back of my head. “Maybe.”

“Damn it, Sweets. I hope you don’t have a concussion.”

“I don’t.” I say stubbornly like I’m a doctor and know such things.

“That’s it. I’m getting you checked out.”

“No. Please.” Pleading, I grip my hands on his forearms. Whew! Who knew there could be so many muscles in forearms? I’m feeling woozy, and the knowledge pools warmly between my legs. “I really don’t want anyone to know about this.”

“Why?” His eyes are searching.

“I just don’t. Ugh. It’s so embarrassing.” I look up into his face. “Please, Hunter.”

“Fine. But I have three conditions.”

“Three? How did you even think of three conditions that quickly—”

His finger is on my mouth, sealing my lips shut. That’s not very nice. But…it is at the same time.

“One. I’m taking you home now. Two. You’re telling me the whole story. Three. I’m staying the night.”

“What?” I screech. Then I look around desperately to see if anyone heard that ungodly sound exit my mouth. Thankfully we’re alone. I’m especially grateful we’re alone because if that shriek wasn’t enough, now I’m spluttering. All over him. I know this because he actually takes his hands and wipes the lower half of his face. “You don’t have to stay the night. That’s ridic—”

“I’m staying. If you have a concussion, I’m going to be there to monitor you.”

“Monitor me? I don’t need a babysitter.”

He tilts his head at me. Waits. When I say nothing, he nods toward the fence.

“Fine.” I cross my arms and send him a death stare in order to brace myself for the harsh words I’m about to say to him, “But I’m not happy about this.” There. I didn’t want to go there. But someone had to say it.