The Wrong Brother (a perfect for you novel Book 1)

by Amanda Siegrist

  Jaxson leaned in closer. “I meant Gabby, dumbass. Go to her.” His expression softened with pain. “One of us should at least end the night happy.”

  “And if she slams the door in my face?”

  Because Dane saw it as a possibility. The look of heartache and hurt in her eyes this morning couldn’t be forgotten.

  “Then I got a nice bottle of whiskey at home that I don’t mind sharing.”

  Well, Dane preferred Gabriella over whiskey. But at least he had something to fall back on if she pushed him away once again.

  Gabby unlocked her apartment door and slammed it.

  Whoops!

  She slammed it a bit too hard. Mrs. Stenson might come to check on her like she had the one time she dropped her crockpot, and it made the loudest noise imaginable. Not to mention, it broke into pieces. It had made her sad she had to buy a new one because that one had worked like a charm. Sure, she had to use a specific outlet to get it to work, the machine was a finicky one. The dial was stuck on low, so no matter what meal she wanted to cook, she had to adjust the time to a low setting. It didn’t matter. She had loved the crockpot, and the new one didn’t cook the same with all its fancy features.

  She waited for a beat or two. When no knock sounded on the door with concern from her elderly neighbor who liked to worry about everyone on their floor, she flipped the lock and headed for the kitchen.

  She had two choices.

  Drink herself into oblivion.

  Or try calling Dane one more time.

  She had called him before she left her apartment.

  No answer.

  His office had been devoid of him except for his slimy brother. Before she caught a cab to his apartment, she tried calling him again.

  No answer.

  When she arrived at his apartment, she knew before she even unlocked the door, he wasn’t inside. Despite the ache that stretched across her heart, she tried calling him again.

  No answer.

  Her eyes glided to her wine rack. Then her eyes trailed to her purse hanging loosely in her hand where her phone was hidden inside.

  Decisions, decisions.

  She didn’t want to end the night without clearing the air between her and Dane. It didn’t feel right. That age-old saying “don’t go to bed mad” rang true to her right now. It wasn’t something she thought about before.

  But could she handle another ringing rejection with him not answering his phone?

  She’d cried enough last night. She didn’t know if her body could handle any more tears.

  And it’d be nice to thank Dane while she apologized for her behavior. Because her mind had been more focused on him rather than the shooting she had been involved in. She was thankful for that. She didn’t like to see that man’s soulless eyes staring back at her—no life in them. No hatred. Nothing but emptiness. Because she had killed him.

  She eyed the wine rack again.

  Getting drunk didn’t sound appealing, even though it would help erase painful memories. But only for the night. She didn’t want it for just one night.

  She wanted Dane. She wanted his warm arms around her, soothing her. Comforting her. He made the painful memories not seem as bad. As close to her.

  She dumped the contents of her purse onto the counter, too lazy to dig for her phone. It slid out and stopped a few inches from landing off the counter.

  She’d try calling him one more time. If he didn’t answer, then…then…

  Then she didn’t know what to do. Or what to think.

  Grabbing her phone, she dialed before she chickened out because she didn’t want to hear only ringing once again.

  When the first ring echoed in her ear, she tensed. Another went by with no low timbre voice answering. By the third ring, her heart swelled with disappointment. He was still ignoring her.

  Making her way out of the kitchen with the phone clutched to her ear, hoping against hope he’d answer before the last ring, she paused in her living room.

  A soft tone echoed down her hallway at the same time another ring sang in her ear. She started down the hallway toward her bedroom.

  One ring in her ear.

  One muted tone down the hallway.

  At the same time.

  His voicemail popped up. She ended the call without leaving a message as she entered her bedroom.

  Dane lay sprawled on her bed, almost in the middle, but slightly more on his side than hers. He was snoring, and his phone sat on the nightstand he always used.

  Glancing at the clock that read it was a little past eight o’clock, then at Dane, she blinked a few times, confused.

  He was here. In her apartment. In her bed. Asleep.

  She set her phone down next to his, then ran a hand across his forehead. He barely stirred. When she leaned closer, the strong odor of alcohol wafted her way.

  No wonder he was snoring—something she hadn’t heard from him before—the man was drunk.

  They had shared drinks together. But they had never gotten wasted before. If he was already passed out this early in the evening, he must’ve had quite a bit.

  And instead of going home, he came to her.

  A sweet smile spread across her face as she started to undress down to only panties. Grabbing a light tank top from the top of her dresser, she put it on and then crawled under the covers on her side of the bed. It took a bit of finagling with the unconscious—ridiculously adorable—man to get under the covers with her. She decided trying to wrestle his shirt off would be too much of a struggle. He had already taken off his pants, so she didn’t have to worry about that.

  She snuggled closer, and to her surprise, he wrapped his arms around her as a low contented sigh escaped from his lips. Although he didn’t wake up, it’s as if he instinctively needed to hold her.

  Then his light snores continued.

  She chuckled and kissed his forehead.

  “I love you, Dane,” she whispered against his forehead.

  Then she fell asleep with him, hoping everything was as perfect as this moment in the morning.

  Peace. And a feeling of rightness in his arms.

  17

  Dane groaned, shoving a hand over his eyes as the sun streamed through the window. The warm body snuggled against him shifted.

  Gabriella.

  Oh, damn.

  Well, she hadn’t kicked him out of her bed last night, so that was a plus. Although his memory was shaky, he couldn’t quite remember climbing into her bed. He vaguely remembered leaving the bar with Jaxson’s arm around his shoulder. He sort of recalled shuffling Gabby’s key between his fingers and getting the door unlocked after multiple attempts. It was embarrassing even to think about it. His memory kind of came to him as he closed her door and stumbled to her room. His shoes came off. His pants next. He even pulled out his phone. Probably to call Gabby to find out where she was.

  Then nothing but blackness. He obviously had passed out.

  Oh, he was never drinking that much again.

  His heart started to pound in tune with the hammering going on inside his head. He had no idea what to say to Gabriella. Why he showed up drunk and passed out sprawled across her bed.

  Maybe he could lay here all day pretending to be asleep, and he could avoid all talk. Except he couldn’t. It was his mother’s birthday. He still needed to buy her a present and mentally prepare himself to see his father and brother.

  She shifted again, moving closer. One leg even stretched across his.

  He lowered his hand and nearly groaned again. This time in agony from the gorgeous sight in front of him.

  The covers were half off her, exposing her lithe, luscious backside that he wanted to cup with his hands and then position her over the top of him. He could snap her black panties off with little effort and then plunge deep inside.

  God, how badly he wanted—needed—to be inside her. To be as close as humanly possible. To know he hadn’t completely screwed everything up with her.

  He couldn’t resist.
His hand glided down her back and smoothed over her ass before tickling lightly down her leg.

  She trembled at his touch. He felt her smile against his chest.

  Well, that had to be a good sign. Perhaps she wasn’t totally mad at him still.

  Her eyes opened. She blinked a few times to remove the sleep.

  “Good morning.” He figured starting with small talk would be best.

  Of course, an apology might be better. Except he wasn’t that sorry for speaking to Mia the way he had.

  When she didn’t say anything right away, he feared that’s what she was waiting for. An apology he couldn’t give.

  He wouldn’t lie to her. And saying sorry would be a complete lie.

  Then she sighed, brushed a hand across his unshaved cheek, and deepened her smile. “Morning. You snore. It was quite adorable.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Oh, mister, you probably woke up Mrs. Stenson two doors down.”

  His mouth opened in shock. There was no way he snored that loud. Or at all. He did not snore.

  “Well, you drool,” he countered.

  Then they both burst out laughing. As soon as the laughter died down, an icky tension filled the space. A tension he knew would linger until they talked about it.

  “I’m sorry for showing up…drunk.” There was no other way to put it.

  Her hand slid down his chest. “About that…why were you drinking?”

  “Honestly? I blame Jaxson. I was content with my club sodas.”

  She jerked and lifted her head. “You were with Jaxson yesterday. I looked everywhere for you, and that is the last place I would’ve thought to look.”

  Pure happiness settled in his chest. She had looked for him. That had to mean something good in his favor.

  “You looked for me?”

  She lightly slapped his chest. “I even called you, you big dummy. You never answered.”

  “I’m sorry.” He kissed her forehead—a small gesture to show how sorry he was. “I ignored all calls after my brother wouldn’t stop calling. I had enough.”

  “Why was he calling so much?”

  He glanced away, not wanting to venture into that conversation. Right now didn’t seem like the best time to ask her to join him at his parents tonight. Although, yesterday didn’t seem like a good time either. Nor the night before that. Would there ever be a good time?

  “Dane…” she whispered as she cupped his cheek and forced him to turn his head back in her direction. “I overreacted yesterday. I never should’ve asked you to leave. I hope you’re not still mad at me for what I did, going undercover at your work. I am sorry, but I’m not sorry I met you.”

  He grasped the back of her head and kissed her. Hard. He couldn’t stand to hear the torment in her voice.

  He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. God, she probably didn’t want to kiss him when he had terrible alcohol breath. Yet, she hadn’t shoved him away when he locked lips with her, nor was she pushing him away now.

  “I’m not mad. It’s in the past. I was only…” He swallowed and strengthened his grip on the back of her head. “I was trying to protect you from more tears.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  He placed another kiss upon her lips—this time, light and tender.

  “So…you and Jaxson. A night on the town, huh?” She giggled as she rested her head back on his chest as he laid back down to his pillow.

  “It wasn’t planned if that’s what you’re asking. I had every intention of heading to the office when I left here and found myself at The Corner Bar instead. Aptly named, by the way. They have delicious breakfast burritos, too.” He grinned, pulling her closer when she chuckled.

  “I’ll have to ask Rick to make me one.”

  “Who’s Rick?” She couldn’t be talking about Brick. Because he had even called him Brick and he didn’t say a word.

  “He’s the owner of the bar. Big brawny dude with tattoos up and down his arms.”

  Sounded like Brick.

  Well, shit. He heard the guy’s name wrong, used it to his face, and he had the kindness not to correct him. He felt like a complete dumbshit.

  “Why do you look like you just threw up that breakfast burrito?” she asked with a tender smile and a smooth brush against his cheek.

  “I thought his name was Brick. I swear even Jaxson called him that.”

  Dane didn’t even care she started laughing at him and his idiocy because anytime she smiled, it filled his heart with joy.

  “Jaxson should know better.”

  “Yeah, well, we were both mending broken hearts and—” And he did not mean for it to come out of his mouth like that.

  Broken hearts?

  Would she see how much he loved her with that simple statement? How much it had gutted him she had asked him to leave?

  “And his mind was preoccupied.” Gabriella sighed. “I wish Mia would’ve never overheard him saying that. She’s content staying friends, and I know that hurts him so much.” Then she removed the frown from her face and grinned. “Continue with your story. I need details.”

  He laughed, but only to loosen more of the tension that appeared when he mentioned Mia. “He found me sitting at the bar and wouldn’t leave. We had a drink, which turned into two, then three, then some shots, and somehow, I found my way here. Because that’s where I wanted to be from the beginning.”

  The most gorgeous smile lit up her face. He wanted to bottle that smile so he’d have it for always. For the days he’d upset her, and she looked at him with nothing more than a frown or stern glare. For the days she came home from work with the pain etched into her irises. For the days…when he might not even have her in his life.

  “Let’s have a better day. We could start by trying breakfast over like we meant to yesterday. Then a trip to see the Statue of Liberty.”

  Gabriella always managed to surprise him. While he’d love to spend the day acting like a tourist and catching in the wonderful sites of the city, he couldn’t.

  She bit her bottom lip and shrugged. “Or not. I suppose you need to get work done since that’s where you were headed yesterday before you got sidetracked by delicious breakfast burritos, bricks, and whatnot.”

  She produced a grin with her lame attempt at laughter. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel bad.

  No.

  His every intention yesterday was to make her feel better. To make her forget about shooting a man.

  “I would love nothing more than to spend the day with you. Except I can’t.”

  Her smile fell into a frown and her eyes shadowed with pain.

  Right now was a prime example of why he wanted her smile bottled for his to release.

  “Unless you don’t mind joining me at my parents for supper. It’s my mother’s birthday.”

  There.

  Done.

  He finally asked.

  “I would love that.”

  The beautiful smile on her face lit up his heart with joy. Filled his soul with contentment. Made him think life was perfect.

  Until he realized he might never see her again once she met his father.

  She squeezed Dane’s hand and attempted to keep a serene smile on her face. A forlorn frown wanted to take its place with ferocity. Because the tension emanating for Dane was almost unbearable. And she had no idea why.

  It started right after they got out of the shower—together. Best shower she had all weekend. But that’s when the phone calls started from his brother. By the third one, Dane shut off his phone.

  Not that she didn’t believe him—because she had—but she didn’t doubt him when he said he stopped looking at his phone when his brother wouldn’t stop bothering him.

  The question she burned to ask was, why? For some strange reason she couldn’t explain, she didn’t dig deeper. She didn’t ask any questions about why he was ignoring his brother. She figured she would, too—the disgusting pig.

  Ugh. She still couldn’t get
his smarmy smile out of her mind and the way he tried to come onto her as if she’d fall for his lame ass charm.

  She should tell Dane about the encounter. Except they barely had time for small talk. There was never a right time to tell him.

  After grabbing a quick breakfast burrito at The Corner Bar—where Dane apologized to Rick for mistakenly calling him Brick, who laughed and said he liked the nickname—they went shopping.

  What an experience.

  Dane did not like shopping.

  Nor did he know what to get his mother for her birthday.

  She suggested flowers. When they first met, their first trip down the elevator to grab a coffee, he had asked her what kind of flowers to get his mother.

  All he said in response was, “Not good enough. We can get flowers, but I need something else, too.”

  They did stop at a floral shop and bought her a bouquet of white lilies. After that, they went from shop to shop, browsing, perusing, and passing on everything. He couldn’t make up his mind.

  When she asked if his mother was particular about her gifts, he eyed her funnily and said, “Of course not. She’ll love whatever I get her.”

  Which further confused her. Why was he having such a hard time picking a gift if she’d love whatever he gave her? Since she didn’t want to add to the tension already vibrating off him in waves, she followed him with a supportive smile on her face.

  They finally found a gift at the most peculiar store that had things from antiques to some very naughty sexual items. The tension switched from icky, I’m-about-to-have-a-mental-breakdown to let’s-get-it-on very quickly. Dane even delivered the most intense kiss in the back of the store surrounded by dildos, whips, and edible delights.

  They didn’t buy any of the items, though. Because as soon as he eyed the perfect present for his mother, the bad tension returned full force.

  From there, they went their separate ways to get ready. He said to dress nice.

  She had no idea what nice meant. Casual nice. Formal nice. Nice nice. Like, nice could mean so many different things. That time, she did ask her question because she didn’t want to dress the wrong way. His parents did have a lot of money. She figured it’d be more on the formal nice side of things.