Page 112 of Secret Baby for My Brother's Best Friends

I stare into his eyes, waiting to see the same mirth, the laughter, after he succeeded in tricking me. But he's not laughing. He lowers me to the ground slowly. I stare into his eyes, unable to believe what I'm seeing in their depths.

That subtle glow, but there's also a hint of nervousness. He can't tell what I'm going to say in return. This wasn't some joke planned in advance, but something said in the heat of the moment.

"What?" he smiles. "Not going to say it?"

"I...." I don't even know what to say. Do I love him?

Yes.

The answer comes to me as though it should have been obvious. As though I should already know.

It's not a big, dramatic realization as I would expect, but a quiet acknowledgment, an anchoring for all the confusing emotions I've had towards him and the rest of the men.

It's love.

I love them.

But I can't love them. I shouldn't love them. Loving them would ruin everything.

Jake waits patiently, not trying to force the words out of my mouth.

He pushes my hair behind my ears and leans down, brushing the tips.

"I think I love you, Chelsea," he whispers, and my heart skips a beat. "I've never been in love before, but I think this is it."

No. Don't tell me that. This already makes it hard enough.

When his lips finally touch mine, I'm captured in a cocoon of sweetness that confirms it. My biggest fear. I do love him.

The rustling of grass and what sounds like a giggle interrupt the embrace.

We jerk away, and I blush deeply as I notice the two older women standing in their garden beside us watching.

"Oh, don't stop on our account," the white-haired one says. "We were very much enjoying the show."

My face turns hot as Jake chuckles.

"How's it going, Gertrude?"

"Can't complain. My arthritis has been better after that ointment you gave me."

"That's awesome. I'll tell my buddy to ship some more. He's in Cambodia right now and can get it pretty cheap from there."

"Ah, you're a gem."

They have this entire conversation while I'm hiding my face in his chest, out of sheer embarrassment. Especially when the other woman asks, "And who is this?"

"This is Chelsea," Jake says, and his tone softens just a tad when he says my name in a way that makes my heart melt.

"Is she different from the one we saw last time? I'm not wearing my glasses."

The statement is like ice water to the face. It reminds me of who Jake is, his past, and my brother's warning.

I shouldn't hold it against him. Hell, I have a past, too. But I can't help wondering how many women he's told these same words to, and how many he's held like this.

God, you're pathetic. I'm the one sleeping with three men here. There's absolutely nothing for me to complain about.

But I pull back from his body, anyway, crossing my arms over my chest reflexively.