My Best Friend's Brother

by Candy Gray

  And I realized I wanted to say yes.

  Shit. I was starting to like Mason. I sat back in my chair, studying his eyes as a smile crossed his face. I couldn’t get him off my mind because I liked him. He was pervading my dreams because I wanted him there. He was in my thoughts throughout the day because I wished he was there.

  Fuck. I’d gotten myself into the exact situation we were trying to avoid.

  There’s no pressure. No requirement for emotions. Just sex, fun, and food.

  It was the perfect deal, and I was screwing it up. It was a deal any woman would scream for when it came to Mason Baker. I got his talents, his wallet, and his body wrapped around my little finger. All I had to do was call him and I could have him or whatever he wanted to gift me with whenever I wanted.

  And here I was, fucking it up with my emotions.

  “Sarah? Are you all right?” he asked.

  As long as I didn’t say anything about it, we could keep going like this. He didn’t have to know, right? And maybe this was just a fluke. Maybe I was nervous about tomorrow night with Emma. After all, we were supposed to act like we were acquaintances. That was enough to stir up anyone’s emotions.

  Yes, that was what this was. And all I had to do was keep my fucking mouth shut on the matter.

  “Seriously, if you come back with me, I’ll just end up falling asleep on you. I’m more tired than I thought.”

  “And that’s fine. If you don’t want me there, say so. If you do, say so. That’s all you have to do in this arrangement,” he said.

  There it was. Arrangement. That’s all this was. Just an arrangement.

  “Then, I wouldn’t mind the company,” I said. “I finally get to test out what kind of pillow you are.”

  “And I promise, if I leave, I’ll tell you,” he said, winking.

  “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

  “Before we leave, however, we should talk about how we’re going to handle tomorrow night,” he said.

  “Oh. Yes. Yes, we really do. I’ll already be with Emma. You’ll be the one meeting up with us,” I said.

  “When I address you, I’ll probably use your whole name. Since that’s how people you’re first meeting usually address you.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “Because new people always address me by my first and last name because that’s how it’s said in the media. It’ll sell the part.”

  “Gotcha. All right. We’ve got to keep to the lighter topics of conversation. The weather. Your work. The interview. Anything deeper than that, and Emma will get suspicious,” I said.

  “Got it. Most of my attention should be on Emma anyway. Since I’m technically making up something to her.”

  “Good. That’s less shit we have to sell,” I said.

  “Plan made?” he asked.

  “Plan made. Let’s get back to my place. I’m whipped.”

  Mason paid our tab without a second thought before he helped me out of my chair. He kept his hand in mine as we strolled through the restaurant, and I just had to trust that he knew what he was doing. He walked me to my car and opened my door for me, pausing as I looked up at him. My mind was so clouded with exhaustion, and he looked so beautiful with the blazing sun as his backdrop, and before I knew it, our lips were moving closer and closer together.

  Then, a repeated clicking sound came from the bushes of the restaurant.

  Just before Mason’s lips could hit mine, my head turned toward the restaurant. I saw a man wiggling around, trying to unhook himself from the branches of the bushes he’d ducked behind. Mason followed my line of sight as his hand dropped from my chin, and we both took off after him as he ran from us.

  Mason lunged out in front of me and grabbed his arm, whipping him around as his camera went crashing to the ground. I picked it up and toggled through his photos, seeing shots of us sitting and eating. Sitting and laughing. Sitting and enjoying one another while Mason’s foot was crawling up my skin.

  Then there were the pictures of Mason and I so close to kissing out in the parking lot.

  “You were in the fucking restaurant?” I asked.

  “Give me that camera,” he said.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Mason said.

  “You know this restaurant is off-limits to paparazzi, right?” I asked.

  “I wasn’t refused service,” he said, grinning.

  “By the looks of the angles on these pictures, I’d say you didn’t ask for it. You were sitting at the bar when you took these, were you not?”

  “Whatever you two do on your own time out in public is for us to photograph. Not our fault you can’t handle it.”

  “I’m not sure where you get off talking to us like that, but let me be clear,” Mason said. “Sarah’s going to delete those pictures, and I’m going to take one of your cards.”

  He reached into the man’s breast pocket and pulled out a card with his name and office number on it.

  “Then, I’m going to make your life a living nightmare. One call to your boss letting him know where you were and what you were doing will end your career,” Mason said.

  “If you delete those pictures, you won’t have proof,” the man said.

  “It’s us against your word. The biggest rising tech mogul in the country and the single biggest female influence in the state of Texas. You want to risk that on some low-life photography career?” I asked.

  I took to deleting his photos before I opened up his camera and took out the SIM card. He groaned and bellyached, but all Mason did was hold him still. I deleted them from the immediate roll before I deleted them from the internal memory, then I threw the SIM card onto the ground and crunched it with my heel.

  “You’re going to pay for that, you selfish bitch,” he said.

  “Here,” Mason said as he let the man go. “Go get yourself another one.”

  Mason tossed a fifty-dollar bill at the man before he took my hand and escorted me back to my car. I was shaking. Visibly shaking. The manager was running around the building, trying to chase down the man we were just talking with as I leaned up against my car. I felt angry. Angry that someone actually thought our lives were tailor-made for them to photograph, but mostly I felt relieved.

  Relieve that we’d caught him before he published anything.

  But as I looked up at Mason, I could tell he wasn’t quite so relieved. His shoulders were rolled back, and his lips were curled in. His eyes had a far-off look in them, and when I tried to wrap my hand around his, he pulled it away.

  It was almost like he was mad that I had to delete those photos.

  “You know we couldn’t have let those get out,” I said. “We did the right thing.”

  “Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “Just … yeah. A bit more excitement than I was expecting.”

  “You still want to come back to my place?” I asked.

  “Probably not the best idea after something like that,” he said.

  Even though I could hear the stability in his voice, he still wasn’t looking down at me.

  “Are you mad that I had to delete the photos?” I asked.

  I didn’t know what I was expecting. He needed to say he wasn’t. This was the agreement from the beginning. One of the stipulations was that the paparazzi couldn’t see us doing what we were doing. It would be bad publicity for myself as well as my show, and it wouldn’t look good on him as he tried to rehabilitate his image with the scandals that followed him into his first year of success.

  But when he answered, the last thing I expected to feel was disappointment.

  “No. I’m not mad at all. Let me know when you get home, okay?”

  I watched him get into his car and drive off. I kept my eyes on his red car, and he buzzed down the road, zipping in and out of traffic like he always did. The manager came up to me and was trying to apologize, saying the staff would crack down on managing the bar and that the bartender who allowed him to sit there and take pictures had been relieved of his job.

&
nbsp; I didn’t care, however. The only thing I was focused on was the disappointment I was feeling.

  Why was I disappointed in his answer?

  Chapter 22

  Mason

  I’d finally gotten a text from Emma letting me know where I needed to meet her for tonight. I watched the news like a hawk all last night to see if any of those pictures had somehow seen the light of day. But, with no news talk and no urgent phone call from Tony, it looked like Sarah and I were out of the woods.

  I just wasn’t sure how I felt about that yet.

  I dressed in my nicest pinstriped suit and headed to the restaurant where Emma wanted us to meet. It was some barbecue pit with a full bar and outdoor patio seating. The hostess walked me through the building and up to the rooftop dining they offered, and right away, I was impressed. I would never have expected a barbecue joint to have rooftop dining, and they even had a decent view of the city.

  “Mason! Over here.”

  I turned toward Emma’s voice as a mass of white-blond hair came bouncing in my direction. She threw her arms around me, and I hugged her back as I tried to hide the shock zipping around in my system. Why was she so happy to see me after I’d blown her off? Dodged her phone calls?

  I felt as if I understood less and less about women every single day.

  “I’m glad you made it. Thank you,” she said as she stood in front of me.

  “It’s the very least I can do,” I said, smiling.

  “Come on. I want you to meet my best friend.”

  My heart hammered in my ears as my eyes caught Sarah’s. She had a small smile on her face like she didn’t even know who she was looking at. We got over to the table, and Emma sat me down beside her, which meant I’d have to stare at Sarah’s beautiful fucking face all night and not say a word to her about anything substantial.

  Great.

  “Sarah Williams. We meet again.”

  “Hello there, Mason Baker. Did you watch your own interview?” she asked.

  “Of course. I was lovely as always. And you weren’t so bad yourself,” I said, winking.

  “Seriously, Mason? Are you already hitting on my friend?” Emma asked.

  “Well, she is a very beautiful friend,” I said.

  Her gaze hardened for a split second while Emma was giggling at me.

  This was going to be much easier than I originally thought.

  “Well, it’s nice to come across you again. Had I known you were my best friend’s brother, I would’ve talked with you a bit more after the show.”

  “I’m sure you would’ve,” I said.

  “I am so excited the two of you are meeting. Formally, at least. Meeting on a show isn’t really meeting. You don’t get to know someone that way.”

  “No, you don’t,” I said, smirking.

  The way Sarah wiggled around in her seat was amusing to me. I was going to have a splendid time at this dinner, even if Sarah was secretly wanting to kill me the entire time.

  “You’re both just so important to me. Really,” Emma said as she grabbed our hands. “I’m glad my two favorite people are finally meeting.”

  “Me, too,” Sarah said.

  The three of us ordered, and I told the waiter to put everything on one tab. Emma tried to protest, but I simply told her it was the least I could do. I wanted to show her I was wanting to make this work, and the only way I knew how to do that over dinner was to pick up the tab and make everything about her.

  So, that was the plan.

  “I’d like a better relationship with you,” Emma said as our drinks were sat on the table.

  “And I would too. I just wish you wouldn’t press the whole Mom thing so much,” I said.

  “But she really wants to make up,” Emma said. “She feels terrible about what happened.”

  “And she should. She’s the one who left. You promised me we wouldn’t talk about this,” I said.

  “I promised you I wouldn’t bring it up. All’s fair game when you do,” Emma said, grinning.

  I could see Sarah’s grin on her face out of the corner of my eye. I grabbed my drink and turned back toward her, locking my eyes with hers as I took a sip of my bourbon.

  “I wish you guys would reconcile,” Emma said. “We could all be one big, happy family.”

  “Never going to happen,” I said.

  “But why, Mason? Why are you so resistant to patch things up with Mom?” Emma asked.

  “Emma, why don’t we talk about your and Mason’s relationship, hm?” Sarah asked.

  I threw her a thankful look, but Emma didn’t get the hint.

  “I just want to know. What happened between you and Mom that was so bad?” Emma asked.

  “Look, I’m not here to talk about that. I told you this over the phone. If you want to be real, this is why I keep dodging your calls and our dinners, because this is all you want to harp on. Now, I’m willing to try. For you. Not for Mom. This dinner is for us to get to know one another. For us to establish a relationship, not for us to try and mend the family. That’s not happening, okay?”

  “I just want to be a family,” Emma said lightly.

  “And we can be,” I said as I took her hand. “Let’s just do this for us. Okay? We’re worth it.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “I know I am. I’m going to try harder for you, so long as you realize this isn’t me opening a door to Mom.”

  “Will you at least think about it?” Emma asked.

  “No, Emma.”

  She sighed, and I could tell she was disappointed. Sarah was studying us both closely, and part of me was upset she had to witness that. I didn’t enjoy people getting a first-hand glimpse into my familial life. It was dysfunctional and not at all the portrait I wanted to paint of my life going forward. I wanted to usher in my success with stability and love.

  Not drama and past tensions.

  “Plus, it’s very rude of us to do this in front of your friend,” I said.

  “Oh, I don’t care. I’ve seen your sister naked. Shit happens with us,” Sarah said.

  “You’ve what?” I asked.

  She giggled, a small grin crossing her face. Emma was laughing as our food hit the table, but all I could think about was what she’d just said. Had she seen other women naked? Had she ever touched another naked woman? Oh, was she open to something like that?

  My head was swirling with disgustingly beautiful thoughts while the three of us continued to talk over dinner.

  “So, Sarah Williams—”

  “Just call me Sarah. It’s going to be a mouthful if you address me by my first and last name all the time,” she said.

  “So, Sarah,” I said. “How did you bust out into the talk show world?”

  “I felt talk show television was lacking in substance, so I drew out the bare bones of my talk show plan, walked into a producer’s meeting, interrupted it, and presented them with my plan. Told them I’d foot the bill for the first seven episodes. If the audience liked it, they had to sign me. If the audience didn’t, no harm no foul.”

  “Just like that,” I said.

  “She’s really not kidding,” Emma said. “This woman goes after what she wants.”

  The smirk that donned Sarah’s face after that comment twitched my cock.

  “I could use a woman like that in my life,” I said.

  “You’re not going home with my best friend,” Emma said.

  “Oh, you’re no fun. I got the no fun sister,” I said.

  “Trust me, your sister’s plenty of fun,” Sarah said.

  “Oh, do tell.”

  “Sarah,” Emma said.

  “Oh, come on. You were drunk. People do all sorts of shit when they’re drunk,” Sarah said.

  “What did my lovely sister do drunk, Sarah?” I asked.

  We laughed and drank and ate a ton of food that night. By the time we were finished, we were all lounging back into our chairs and enjoying the nighttime light show of downtown Dallas. We all sat there for a
bit, silent and simply enjoying one another’s company.

  But Sarah soon interrupted the moment with her interjection to go to the restroom.

  I watched her get up and walk away right as Emma’s phone rang. She picked it up and started chattering away, so I tapped her on the shoulder and told her I was going to go to the men’s room. I got up and started for the stairs, taking them two by two as I dodged waiters and skirted the manager of the joint. When no one was looking, I slipped into the women’s restroom and locked the door behind me as Sarah was washing her hands at the sink.