Conflagration

by Tessa Teevan

  Cleaning proves to be therapeutic, and I end up dancing and singing into various cleaning materials as I pass the time. I’m on my hands and knees, scrubbing the hardwood floors, and jamming out to some old-school R&B hits when the music stops suddenly. Of course, it happens just as I’m belting out the chorus to Toni Braxton’s “He Wasn’t Man Enough For Me” and I can’t stop myself from finishing the last line.

  I’m staring down at the floor, feeling mortified, when I hear a throat clear. Turning slowly, I’m surprised to see Branson leaning against the wall, watching me with amusement, a briefcase sitting at his feet.

  Jumping up, I panic. “Oh shit! I lost track of time. Am I late?” I ask, turning my attention to the clock on the wall. I calm down when I see that it’s only noon. “What’re you doing home so early? Matter of fact, how did you get home?”

  “Let’s talk about that in a second. First, what the hell are you doing? You know I have a cleaning woman.”

  I blush and nibble on my lower lip.

  “Ari…”

  “I didn’t know what to do with myself when I got home. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I decided to make myself useful. It helped keep my mind occupied.”

  His lips twitch, a slow grin forming on his face. “Come here.”

  I do as he asked, folding into his arms as he holds them out for me.

  “And the song? I’m guessing it was purely a coincidence I walked in on that?”

  Biting my lower lip, I press myself into him. “You know you’re more than man enough for me, Branson.”

  He laughs. “I know. I just like hearing it.”

  Just as I roll my eyes, I hear his stomach rumble. I take his hand and lead him into the kitchen, pointing at the island and telling him to sit while I make lunch. Once I’m finished, I place my elbows on the counter and lean towards him before we both start eating.

  “So, care to tell me why you’re home three hours early? Is your knee bothering you?”

  “If my dad asks, yes, that’s exactly why.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You weren’t the only one with a preoccupied mind this morning. I think this whole ‘going back to the office’ thing is going to have to happen gradually. There are a couple of client meetings I’ll have to go to this week, but for the most part, he’s allowing me to work from home until my knee’s feeling better.” He grins mischievously. “And since the wedding’s this weekend, he was more than happy to give me more time to recuperate.”

  Elation swells in me even though I know that all we’re doing is putting off the inevitable. “So you’ll be home the rest of the week?” I squeal, bounding around the island and throwing my arms around his neck.

  “Yeah, baby, I’ll be here. I’ll still have to get work done in my office, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take breaks throughout the day. Hell, just knowing you’re right down the hall will make me feel at ease. Now, first things first. I’m getting the hell out of this suit.”

  I watch as he hobbles out of the room, and a lightness fills my heart. I have a feeling that Branson’s becoming as addicted to me as I’ve become to him, and I wonder what he’s going to do about it.

  AN UNUSUAL wave of loneliness washed over me the moment Ariana walked out the door of my office. It didn’t escape my attention the way everyone was watching us when we entered the building. Megan didn’t show up often, but when she did, everyone knew she was in the building and she made sure she was dressed impeccably. Ari didn’t give a shit, throwing on jeans and a T-shirt, and the fact that she didn’t even seem to notice the looks did something to me.

  As I signed on to my computer and tried to get lost in my work, I found that it was nearly impossible. Every minute that passed, my thoughts drifted to her. I wanted to know what she was doing, what she was thinking. I tried to shake myself out of it as I caught up on what I’d missed, but it was no use. My heart just wasn’t in it. What used to be the only thing that was fulfilling in my life was now leaving me feeling empty. Unsatisfied. Restless.

  And that scared the hell out of me.

  I’m not sure when things changed between us. It must’ve happened gradually because this is unexpected as hell. Well, as gradually as things can in such a small amount of time. I’ve never wanted anything more than my work. I’ve never allowed anything—or anyone for that matter—become a distraction. I’ve been so focused on the end game, my eyes set on that office with the placard reading “Branson Wellington: CEO.” Nothing has ever gotten in my way before.

  But as I sit here, my thoughts aren’t on mergers and acquisitions or making executive decisions. No, instead, I’m too busy thinking about a raven-haired beauty who’s quickly taking over my life. And, if I’m honest with myself, my heart. Shaking myself out of it, I return my focus to the file in front of me and manage to get a few hours of work done, but she’s never far from my mind.

  With a sigh, I finish going over the proposal, having made my suggestions, and toss it on my desk. Loosening my tie, I lean back in the chair and glance around my office. My first thought is that my desk is incomplete without a photo of Ariana and me. Perhaps, if I could see her, look at her smile, I could make it through my day. Plus, if I have a photograph of her, I’ll at least have something to hold on to when she’s gone.

  When she’s gone.

  The thought sends fury rushing through me and I grit my teeth, suddenly understanding why I’m so on edge. It’s not enough that she’s waiting for me when I get home.

  Every second spent away from her is a second I could be losing out on. Because I have no idea when I’m going to come home and find her gone. And I’m realizing that I never want that day to come. I need to start showing her that I want her in more than just a physical sense. She’s so much more to me than a quick lay or someone to pass the time with. My life’s been turned upside down and inside out since she came into my life, and I wouldn’t change a single second of it.

  In such a short time, she’s become my confidante. My companion. My closest friend—probably the only friend I have. And I can’t imagine her being out of my life. I don’t want to. She’s shown me compassion when I didn’t deserve it. She’s cared for me when everyone else would have probably let me fall down. She saw me at my lowest and didn’t turn her back on me. She’s given me hope for the future, but it’s only a future I want if she’s in it. It’s time I do everything in my power to prove to her just how much of a vital part of my life she’s become.

  She once called me her savior, and yeah, I may have pulled her out of that burning car, but Ariana saved me from myself, my past, and the lonely future I was barreling towards.

  Suddenly, the office feels suffocating and all I want is her. The high I used to feel when I commanded the boardroom or worked on a new project is gone. Eventually, I’ll have to find balance between work and home, but for now, I resign myself to the fact that I’ve become a junkie for her and I need my fix. Going cold turkey won’t work for me. It isn’t working for me.

  Buzzing Caroline, I have her transfer all my afternoon calls to my home office. After packing up my briefcase, I head to Dad’s office with a pronounced limp, ready to beg if necessary.

  Because I have a fiancée to woo.

  WHEN I get home, I’m surprised to hear music blaring and even more surprised when I see her on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. The way her ass is sticking up in the air has me wanting to take advantage of her position by taking her from behind, but I refrain, knowing that this is the first step in proving that I don’t just want her for her body. But goddamn, it’s fucking hard because she looks sexy as hell in her tiny shorts and T-shirt, messy hair, and sweaty face as she works the polish into the wood.

  Seeing the remote for the docking station on the end table, I grab it and lean against the wall, pressing pause, which stops the music—but not Ariana. She finishes out the chorus then looks up at me, a pink blush creeping over her cheeks. After a quick round of questioning, we have lunch in the kitchen, her
eyes lighting up when I tell her why I’m home. The look on her face lets me know that I’m doing the right thing, and I’m suddenly aware that getting any work done this week is going to be a struggle. But if I’m going to find a way to balance my work life and my home life, this will be the first step.

  Once I change into more comfortable clothes, I find her back in the hallway, scrubbing the floor again. I resist the urge to haul her up and throw her on the couch so we can continue our South Park marathon. Instead, I pause in the doorway of my office and look down at her.

  “Hey, baby. I’ll be in the office getting work done. If I lose track of time, just knock and let me know when it’s time to go.”

  She smiles up at me, nodding.

  Just as I’m about to close the door behind me, I turn back to her. “Hey, how about we get out of the house tonight?”

  “That sounds nice, Branson,” she tells me.

  Once I’ve closed myself off in my office, I spend the next few hours catching up on work. Even though she’s right on the other side of the door, just knowing she’s there is enough to keep me focused at the tasks at hand, working efficiently and meticulously. Because the minute it’s time to hang up work for the day, I plan on doing just that—not let myself think about work until I step foot into my office the next morning.

  She pokes her head in the door at three, letting me know that it’s time to leave for my physical therapy appointment. As I save my work and shut down my computer, a sense of fulfillment washes over me and I know this is what I’ve been missing. All this time, I thought I only needed my work to satisfy me, but in reality, I’ve been using it as a means to not get close to anyone. Now that Ariana is here, I’m learning that there’s more to life than just becoming the next head of Wellington Enterprises.

  For the first time in my adult life, I have everything I’ve ever wanted right here. And it feels pretty damn good.

  “STOP PACING, Knox,” I say, watching my brother walk back and forth in the back room of the Methodist church we grew up in. “Why the hell are you so nervous? It’s not like Charlie’s going to stand you up at the altar.”

  He stops and glares at me, causing Jace, his best friend and other groomsman, and Cohen to laugh. “I’m not nervous, asshole, and I’m not a fucking idiot. Of course Charlie’s not going to stand me up. She knows I’d hunt her down and spank the shit out of her if she tried doing that.”

  The room falls silent as Cohen, Jace, and I glance around at each other.

  Dad clears his throat, and Knox looks over at him. “Umm, son, what do you kids call it? TMI?”

  “Yeah, Knox. The rest of us don’t need to know the kinky side of your relationship. I mean, after all, she’s going to be my sister-in-law, and the last thing I need to be thinking about when she’s walking down the aisle is you spanking her,” Cohen teases, causing Knox to growl and step towards him. Not threatened at all, Cohen just laughs.

  Stepping in between them, I turn to Knox. “Okay, if you aren’t nervous, then why are you pacing?”

  He groans, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Charlie insisted we write our own vows and I still don’t have mine memorized. And it’s all his fucking fault,” he says, pointing at Jace, who holds his hands up in surrender

  “Hey, don’t blame me just because she was inspired by my poetic words when you brought her to my wedding,” he teases.

  Patting Knox on the shoulder, I give him an encouraging squeeze. “Dude, chill. Charlie loves you. You could get up there and say anything and she’d still marry you. Calm the hell down.”

  He nods, his jaw still tense. “Thanks, man.”

  The door opens and the pastor sticks his head in. “It’s showtime, guys,” he informs us, leaving quickly as he came.

  Knox lets out a deep breath, and I place my hands on his shoulders.

  “You ready for this?”

  He fold the piece of paper and sticks it back in the pocket of his dress greens. “Fuck yeah, I’m ready,” he says with renewed confidence. “And, Branson? I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too, kid. Me too.”

  He looks at me, cocking an eyebrow. “You do realize I’m thirty. I haven’t been a kid for a long damn time. Cohen’s the baby of the family,” he says just as Cohen walks up to us.

  Placing an arm around each of my brothers’ shoulders, I grin back and forth at them. “True, but that’s the beauty of being the oldest. Both you and Cohen will always be my kid brothers. And I love you assholes.”

  Cohen looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  But Knox gives me a head nod then pushes the side of Cohen’s head. “I love you shitheads too.”

  “So I’m an asshole and a shithead, yet I’m supposed be feeling the love?” Cohen asks, pushing away from me.

  I drop my arms, and Knox grabs Cohen and pulls him into a headlock, threatening to fuck with his hair.

  “You love us, Coh. Admit it.”

  I’m laughing my ass off when Mom walks in, gasping when she sees her sons. “Knox Nathaniel, unhand your brother this instant!”

  “Say it,” Knox tells Cohen. “Or risk the wrath of Amelia Wellington.”

  “Fine. I love you fucking pricks. Both of you.”

  Mom gasps again. “Cohen! That is no way to speak to your brother, especially in a church!”

  I walk over to Mom and place an arm around her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry, Mom. It’s my fault. Things got a little sappy and out of hand. In order to keep our manhood, a little rough housing was necessary. But we’re all good. Right, guys?”

  Cohen grumbles, but I see his underlying smile.

  Knox comes forward and gives Mom a kiss on the cheek. “We’ve never been better, Mom.”

  She eyes us warily. Then she beams even as she shakes her head. “It’s a wonder the three of you found such patient women,” she quips.

  Knox and I exchange glances then burst out laughing.

  It’s a fucking wonder indeed, and I know what he’s thinking. We wouldn’t change it for the world.

  AS WE line up at the altar, waiting for the wedding to start, I can’t help but turn towards the front pew, where the groom’s family is seated, but I only have eyes for her. Ariana is sandwiched between Mom and Andi, and when she catches me staring, her face breaks out into the most beautiful smile, causing a weird flutter in my heart. She looks gorgeous, and the memory of when she first walked out of the bedroom this afternoon causes my dick to stir to life. I can’t see it now, but I can still picture the open back on her sexy, lacy dress. The neckline of her dress is scooped, showing off only the slightest hint of cleavage. I imagine myself taking it off her at the end of the night and have to force myself to look up before I end up in an embarrassing situation in at the front of the church.

  She must notice it because she gives me a saucy wink, and I return her smile, not taking my eyes off her until the music begins. As the bridesmaids walk down the aisle, I barely register any of them, too busy watching Knox’s fingers drum on his leg as he impatiently waits for his bride to arrive. The music changes as Chris, a friend of theirs, begins to play John Legend’s “All of Me” on the piano. When the doors open, Knox’s eyes are transfixed on the sight of Charlie and her father, Wade, standing there. A huge smile is on her face, and Knox stills. As she makes her way down the aisle to him, I see him swallow hard, and even though his jaw his set tight, I see the glimmer in his eyes.

  I flick my gaze to Ari, who has tears in her eyes, and for a split second, I wonder what it would be like if I were in Knox’s place and she were the one walking towards me, wearing white, on her way to pledge her love and life to me.

  This wedding shit is completely fucking with my brain.

  It continues to do so as the minister performs the wedding ceremony, because with each step, I’m wishing this were me. I want to be the one saying I do. I want to be sliding a ring on to Ariana’s finger, declaring it a symbol of my undying love and faith. I want to say my vows, speaking direct
ly from my fucking heart to tell her just how much she means to me.

  And when the minister declares them Mr. and Mrs. Wellington, giving Knox permission to kiss his bride? That is what I want more than anything. And instead of scaring the fucking shit out of me like it should, it does the opposite. It gives me the confidence I need to admit the truth to myself.

  When I glance over and see Ariana’s soft expression focused on me and not the happy couple, realization hits me like a giant bolt of lightning. I know this thing between us is the real deal, and I can’t deny it any longer.

  I am completely and irrevocably in love with her. Heart-crushing, all-consuming, can’t-live-without-her in love. All this time, I’ve thought I owned her when the opposite is true. She owns me. And she always will.

  Temporary is no longer enough. It will never be enough. I was fooling myself thinking it would be.

  No, Ariana Covington is my forever, and I want forever to start as soon as possible.

  I CAN’T stop the anxiousness from rising as I take my place on the front pew between Amelia and Andi. My leg bounces up and down, and as I look around at all the unfamiliar faces of friends and family, I feel somewhat out of place. Yet, at the same time, I’ve never felt like I’ve belonged more. My eyes are fixated on Branson as he stands next to Knox at the altar, and butterflies form in my stomach every time he looks my way—which, unnervingly, is about every other minute, almost as if there’s a gravitational pull between us, not allowing either us of to break contact for long. He keeps sneaking peeks at me and we share small smiles. A blush creeps up on my neck as he adjusts his tie and gives me a knowing, wicked grin.