Read Online Stepbrother Aflame by Charity Ferrell - Free Book Online Page A

funny. Someone who’s never been in a relationship isn’t in the position to criticize other people’s.”
    He takes a step towards me, stopping at the other side of the island. “I understand your boyfriend is a fucking douche bag who ditches you to go party. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that shit out, princess.”
    “He wasn’t partying, and I told him that I’d rather be left alone. It can get awfully boring sitting in the dark.” But he did it for me.
    My heart starts to thump against my chest when he comes around the island and stops at my side. I feel the warmth of his shoulder hitting mine.
    “Are you feeling better?” He asks, bumping his waist against mine, and looking down at me with concern. His hand reaches out and he runs it down my hair.
    I nod, looking away from him. “I am, and thanks again.”
    I still feel a little exhausted, but I’m getting my energy back up.
    I shiver when his hand roams along my shoulder. “No problem.” He gestures to the mess in front of me. “What you got going on here?”
    I play with the dough in my hands. I have a hot mess going on. After I got out of the shower, I decided I needed something to take my mind off everything. I’d called Cam earlier this morning and asked him if he wanted to come over and hang out. He said no, he was hanging out with his friend, Freddy today. Which pissed me off and led to an argument.
    “I’m making cookies. Want to help?” I ask, looking over at him.
    “Sure. I can’t promise I won’t fuck some shit up.” He wipes his hands together. “What kind of cookies are we baking up in here, Paula Dean?”
    “Chocolate chip and peanut butter.”
    “Since I’m giving you my assistance, that means you’re giving me half, right?”
    I fake an annoyed groan. “Fine, you can have half.”
    He snatches the dough from my hand and starts playing with it. “I know you’re going to think this sounds like bullshit, but I really am sorry about what I said about you.”
    I gulp. I don’t want to have this conversation. I’d rather we act like it never happened.
    “It’s fine. I can’t be mad for what you think about me. It’s your opinion, and you’re free to express it to whoever.”
    My response sounds like total bullshit. I can tell he thinks the same thing.
    “That’s not what I think about you.”
    “Let’s just drop it,” I ask, my voice low. The last thing I need is to get another migraine.
    He nods his head. “Got it. Now on to the cookie making.”
    We get started rolling out the dough, mixing together all of the ingredients. He makes it a mission that my entire face is covered with flour by the time we’re finished. I put the timer on the oven and he slides them on the top rack.
    He grabs a can from the fridge, pops it open, and leans back, his lady-killer green eyes focusing on me.
    “Where’s your dad at?” He asks, crossing his arms.
    His personal question catches me off guard. My eyes flicker away from him and my stomach starts to sink.
    “He died when I was ten,” I answer, the words hurting as they come out.
    I don’t like to talk about my dad. When he died, my entire world came crashing down. The man who allowed me to be his shadow, following him around everywhere he went, and who had tea parties with me and my fifteen dolls was gone. That part of me was gone.
    “I’m sorry.” He scoots in closer. “How did it happen?”
    “He was a firefighter. He died on a run.”
    “Does that piss you off?” He asks. “Does that make you angry that he died because he was helping other people live?”
    “It did at first. I hated everyone in the department, wouldn’t even talk to them at his funeral, but I’ve come to the realization that no one could’ve stopped it. That’s what my dad wanted to do. He wanted to save lives and he did. Unfortunately, he couldn’t save his own.”
    I don’t realize a tear is trailing down my cheek until the warmth of his thumb tingles across my skin. He