Read Up in Flames (Crash and Burn, Book Two) (A Military Romance) for Free Online Page A

isn’t my business,” she interrupts in a brisk tone. “I was just being nosy. I’m sure you have your reasons.” Lauren moves the swing back, breaking the moment between us, then reaches down and grabs for the bottle. “Anyway, you’re here now, and that’s good. I’ve missed our friendship. I’m glad we’re able to resume being friends again.”
    I don’t miss the two deliberate references to friends in her statement. Okay then. Message received, Lauren. My stinging pride forces me to lift my chin and smooth the emotion from my face.
    She unscrews the top and drinks, then thrusts it at me, one brow raised in challenge. There’s no hint of the vulnerability or emotion that was there just a minute ago.
    What the fuck just happened? There’s a wall between us now. Frustration tightens my chest. I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Lauren can’t handle the truth, to echo an old movie quote. If I tell her I wasn’t ready to come home and see her, she’ll be so offended and hurt it might create a massive wedge between us.
    But she can tell I’m keeping things from her, and that just created a wedge too.
    I stand and brush the sand off my knees.
    “I’m tired of swinging,” she declares, and moves to the merry-go-round. “Let’s spin so fast we throw up.” Her voice is light, her mood shifting like a storm. I can barely keep up.
    I follow Lauren to the multicolored metal disc and force myself to sound just as jovial. “Hang on,” I tell her when she situates herself against one of the handrails. Then I spin as hard as I can and hop on, trying to ignore the bittersweet pinch in my heart at the genuine peal of laughter she tosses into the night.

Five

Lauren
    I sink neck-deep into the steaming bathtub, releasing the heavy sigh that’s been sitting in my chest for days now. My hair is piled in a messy bun on top of my head. The glass of cucumber ice water on the side table has condensation running down the side. I was tempted to have wine, but I need to get into the office early tomorrow morning to catch up on work.
    For some strange reason, I’ve been distracted.
    I snort and close my eyes, breathing the steam in. The source of my distraction isn’t strange at all, and has been on my mind almost constantly. I can’t focus on my designs the way I should. Poor Emme has been picking up the slack like a champ, reminding me of appointments, making sure I contact clients with appropriate invoices, and the like. I should tell Dane she needs a raise.
    I try to get my brain into a Zen state. Breathe in the dampness of the bathwater’s fragrant air, breathe out thoughts of Cole. But I can’t stop thinking about Saturday night at the playground a few nights ago. When I slipped and asked him a question that’s been plaguing me for a while now.
    Normally I wouldn’t feel guilty about that kind of thing. We’re friends, after all, and we usually never hold back on each other. But that question, when I asked it, wasn’t just about being friends. It was about me trying to sort out more of his feelings toward me, when they started, despite my head screaming to not think about him as anything other than my bestie.
    If he’s wanted me for a while now, why wouldn’t he have come right home after the army? Why did he wait until he came back to Boston to confess these feelings and make a move? And how do I proceed with him when I know my sister wants him too?
    It was hard to keep myself in the friend zone that night, but I did, though it kind of killed me to do so. He was cupping my face with such gentleness I wanted to yell, to kiss him, to run away, to hurl myself into his arms. I almost told him about Christina’s feelings for him so he’d know why I’ve been so hot and cold lately, but that might not be my secret to tell.
    Has he guessed that she likes him? Maybe I should tell him, if only to give him a heads-up. It’s what friends would do, right? When did I become such an indecisive mess—well, more