by R. R. Banks
“Shoot. But make it quick.”
“Do you like her? Do you want to be with her?”
“I'd – like to at least explore it,” I say. “But, that's not my decision to make.”
“Maybe not, but you can show her that you want to be with her,” he says. “Show her that you the two of you can be good together. Pursue her, little brother. Don't let a rare opportunity like this pass you by. Finding a person we connect with on that level is a rare thing.”
I pull the car to a stop in the circular driveway in front of the porch. I still can't get over the changes in my brother. He sounds like an entirely different person. He no longer seems like the uptight, dickish corporate overlord I've always known him to be. He actually sounds like he’s experiencing real feelings – the previously emotionless robot come to life.
Shit. Talk about disconcerting. Between Sasha and Chris, I almost feel like I'm going crazy.
“When did you turn all love guru on me, big brother?”
He grins. “Like I said, a good woman will give you an entirely new perspective,” he says and opens up the door of the SUV but looks back at me. “Don't worry, I won’t say anything to Mom or Neal – I'll back you up. I'm telling you though, try to make things work with Sasha. Pursue her. If you don't, I think you're really going to regret it.”
Christopher climbs out of the SUV and grabs his bag from the back and heads for the door. I sit behind the wheel a moment longer, processing not only the drastic change in my brother, but everything he just said. I’m not sure what to make of it all just yet, but he's given me a lot to think about.
As I get out of the car and start toward the house, my cell phone rings. Slipping it out of my pocket, I glance at the caller ID and see a number I don't recognize. The area code though, tells me it's local. I connect the call and press the phone to my ear.
“Miles Churchill,” I answer.
There's a long pause on the other line and I'm about to hang up, thinking it was just another spam caller, when her voice stops me.
“Miles, it's me. It's Sasha,” she says slowly and hesitantly.
“Hey,” I reply. “I didn't expect to hear from you.”
Her laugh is quiet and rueful. “Yeah,” she says. “Listen, I need a favor.”
“Another one?” I tease her.
“Y – yeah, please,” she says. “I could really use your help.”
“Anything,” I reply. “What is it?”
“Can you meet me somewhere to talk?”
“Sure, when?”
“Is now okay?”
I look up at the house for a moment, Christopher's words echoing in my ears once more. In that moment, I realize that he's right. That if I want this woman, I'm need to chase after her. I'm going to show her that she wants to be with me.
“Yeah,” I say. “Now's a good time for me.”
She sighs and the relief in her voice is palpable. I wonder what's going on.
“I'll text you the name of the place and the address,” she says.
“Great. I'll see you soon.”
I disconnect the call and shoot Christopher a quick text, letting him know where I'm going and what I'm doing. A moment later, my phone chimes with an incoming text from him. “Good luck with your little criminal,” it reads.
It's been less than a year since I saw Christopher last and I still can't get over how much he's changed in that short amount of time. He seems more… human. I like it. I climb behind the wheel of the SUV and fire up the engine again.
As I pull through the gates and back out onto the road, I realize there is a nervous flutter in my stomach. I’m nervous. I can’t believe it, but I’m actually fucking nervous about meeting Sasha.
That’s a first.
Chapter Fourteen
I sit at the table in the coffee house, my throat dry and my stomach in knots. This is the last thing I want to be doing. Seeing Miles again wasn't my plan, but Sarah and Mom have basically forced my hand here. The only way to get them off my back at this point is to let them meet my “boyfriend.”
The only other option is to let the clock run out. I fly out of here two days after Thanksgiving, but I know that my family will make those few days torturous if I don’t submit to their demands – as well as every single other day that follows after that.
I can already imagine the incessant phone calls and text messages from my mother badgering me about the man in my life. Not to mention the mocking calls and texts from my sister.
I can suck it up and deal with it for just one night, right?
Miles comes through the front doors and my breath catches in my throat. He really is a gorgeous man. As I look at him, memories of what we did in his car flash back into my mind, and my cheeks burn with heat. I try to stuff it all down and remove those thoughts from my head, but it’s too late. My heart thunder in my chest as I remember how good Miles Churchill made me feel.
By the time he grabs his coffee and sits down across from me, I've managed to get myself back under control. He gives me a warm smile though, and all of those feelings rise up once more, whirling around inside of me. Damn this man. Why does he have this effect on me?
“I have to be honest, I was surprised to get your call,” he says. “The way you bolted out of the car last night made me think I wasn't ever going to hear from you again.”
I look down at my mug of coffee, unable to meet his eyes. That had been my original intent, but I can't tell him that.
“Yeah, that wasn't my finest moment,” I say. “I don't usually do things like that.”
“Like what? Steal somebody's identity? Or ghost someone after having amazing, mind-blowing sex in a car outside of your childhood home?”
My cheeks are burning so hot, it feels like my face is going to burst into flames. I don’t even want to imagine the shade of red my face must be. He's not wrong – the sex really was mind-blowing. But I'm not going to tell him that either. The last thing I need to do is feed his ego. The man already has enough of that to fill this entire coffee house.
“Either,” I say. “I'm really not that kind of a person.”
He smiles. “I don't think you are,” he says softly. “I'm just giving you grief.”
I finally look up at him and see the light from the windows sparkling in his eyes, making the emerald green tones even more vibrant. I could lose myself in those eyes of his.
I shake my head and clear my throat, trying to break whatever spell he has on me. It doesn't work, but I need to power through this. I can't afford to let myself get so wrapped up in him that I can't think straight.
“So, how are things going at home?” he asks.
I shrug. “About how I figured they would,” I reply. “My sister was giving me shit the literal second I walked through the front door.”
He chuckles. “She waited up for you? How cute.”
I nod, a wry smile upon my lips. “Yeah, she's under the impression that she's my mother or something,” I say. “Like I need another one.”
“Speaking of, how are things going with your mom so far?”
I shrug again – which seems to be my default setting when talking about my family. “She's trying,” I say. “I can't say she's not. It just seems too like it’s little, too late.”
“At least she's trying,” he offers.
I let out an exasperated breath. “Yeah, I guess she is.”
“Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to meet her halfway.”
I look up at him and hold back the biting reply on my lips. He doesn't know what it was like for me growing up. He can't possibly relate to what I went through as a child and teenager. There's a piece of me that really resents him for acting like he can and giving me unwarranted advice on subjects he really knows nothing about.
It wouldn't be fair for me to lash out at him, though. Especially since I know he's not the source of my anger. It's my mom. And my sister. Taking it out on Miles would accomplish nothing – other than making me feel better for about ten minutes.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say. “Which, strangely enough, is kind of why I wanted to talk to you.”
“I'm all ears,” he says.
“I know asking you for a favor takes some real balls after all I did –”
He chuckles. “Well, if there's one thing I've learned about you, it's that you have no shortage of those.”
I can't stop the grin from stretching my face. “Yeah, I guess not,” I say. “But I may have made the mistake of telling my mother I have a boyfriend, and I may have made them believe it was you – and now she's demanding to meet you.”
“And I take it you don't actually have a boyfriend for them to meet,” he says.
“No and making it worse is that my sister saw me getting out of your truck last night and now it's this whole thing,” I say. “She's been relentless.”
He smiles wide, then takes a long sip of his espresso. I have a feeling he already knows what I'm going to ask – Miles is, after all, a sharp, intuitive person. But he's letting me play this out on my own. Probably because he wants to hear me say the words myself.
I sigh and steel my nerves. This is my mess and I need to clean it up myself. If that means begging for help from Miles, so be it. I'll do whatever it takes to get my mom off my back. Especially if it means shutting my sister up and making her look bad as well. Walking into the house with a guy as gorgeous and impressive as Miles would certainly accomplish that on both fronts. It would leave Sarah speechless. Which would be awesome.
And then, once the holidays are over and I can go back to my normal, everyday life, at some point, Miles and I will “break up,” and I won't have to worry about any of this ever again.
“I could really use your help, Miles,” I say. “I screwed up and I need to get out from under this mess.”
“What do you need?” he asks. “Need a place to crash for a few days?”
I shake my head. “No, I need you to be my date.”
His smile is so warm and genuine that it nearly steals my breath away. It's hard for me to remember that we’re only meeting now because I need his help and that nothing is ever going to come of this – or us – after this. Once this is done, I’m never going to see him again – regardless of how I feel about him.
“Your date, huh? I like the sound of that,” he says.
“I just have to get through a dinner tonight with my mom and sister,” I explain. “I need for you to pretend to be my boyfriend for a few hours. Just long enough to satisfy their curiosity and get them out of my hair.”
“So, you're asking me to dinner at your place?”
“My mom's place, technically,” I say. “But, yes. I need you to come over, have dinner, charm them, and be my boyfriend.”
“I've always enjoyed a sexy bit of role play,” he says suggestively.
“It's not like that, Miles,” I say, the knots in my belly now constricting even tighter than before. “It's just an act. For a few hours.”
I see a shadow of something cross across his face – disappointment, maybe? No, it can't be. Why would he be disappointed? A man like Miles, with his looks and his wealth, could have any woman he chooses. Practically all he has to do is snap his fingers and he'd be knee deep in panties.
I've been thinking a lot about him and why he seems so interested in me and the only reasons I’ve come up with paint a pretty bleak picture. Not that I move in the same social circles as he does, obviously, but I’ve known my fair share of wealthy guys. They were arrogant. Spoiled. Sometimes, I can see that same entitled type of personality in Miles.
Even worse, I saw the way those guys treated the girls they dated, and it turned me off forever. I have no doubt that he has a crush on me right now, but it will fade quickly enough. I have nothing to offer him. I'm not rich. I'm not successful. And I’m certainly no model in the looks department. I'm average at best.
It could be because I'm the complete opposite of the type of woman he’s usually with. I come from the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak. I'm not Shadow Pines material or anything close. Whatever it is, I'm sure that the novelty of it all will wear off quickly and he'll move on to his next conquest.
Maybe I'm making some wild assumptions about Miles and the way he treats people. After all, it's not like I know him all that well. I know he's interested in me, but why? I've seen the way rich guys treat women – like disposable commodities. I'm not interested in that. Even though it would be so easy for me to lose myself and melt into his arms, I need to guard myself – and my heart. I’m not stupid enough
open myself up and get hurt.
All I want from Miles right now is his help to get through dinner tonight.
“I'm sorry, I don't want to be presumptuous or hurt your feelings or anything,” I say, “but what happened last night isn't going to happen again. It was a one-time thing. I think we both got carried away. ”
“No, that's fine,” he says, his voice sounding more subdued. “You're right.”
I nod. “Exactly,” I say. “And I know it's really terrible of me to ask you for a favor like this, but at the end of my rope.”
“No, it's fine,” he says. “I'll do it. I'll be glad to help you out.”
The wave of relief that washes through me is powerful – and also tinged with a slight undercurrent of disappointment. I'm not going to lie, I feel a strong sense of connection with Miles. A bond. It's powerful and it made me lose all reason and logic last night. I gave in to my emotions and just stopped thinking.
I like Miles a lot. He really is an amazing, intelligent, and sinfully handsome man. I just can't afford to get caught up in him. Once this dinner is over tonight, I'll never see or speak to him again. It sucks, but that's just the way it has to be. For my own sanity.
“Thank you, Miles,” I say. “I really appreciate it. A lot.”
He gives me a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and it sends a lance of pain shooting through me.
“You're welcome,” he responds, his voice calm and level.
Chapter Fifteen
“Seriously?” Christopher asks. “You're going to let that deter you?”
“I don't think I have much of a choice here,” I explain. “She's made up her mind. Sasha doesn't want to be with me.”
I'm standing in front of the mirror in my room, trying on ties to go with my dark blue, almost black, suit. Christopher is lounging in the plush chair near the fireplace, one leg draped casually over the arm. I’ll admit, I’m still having trouble adjusting to this new and improved version of Christopher. The more relaxed and casual Chris. It's like the goddamn pod people switched him out on me.
Neither Neal nor my mother had adequately prepared me for the dramatic change in my brother.
The whole thing is weird.
“Do you need your big brother to teach you a few things about women and relationships?”
I laugh. “I think everything you can teach me about women, I could condense down into a shot glass,” I say and hold up a striped tie. “What do you think?”
He shakes his head. “Go with the solid cream-colored one,” he says. “The blue makes the color of the suit pop.”
Turning back to the mirror, I hold up the tie and nod. He's right. Just because she doesn't want to be with me doesn't mean I'm going to make this decision easier on her. I plan on looking my best and being charming as hell. Hopefully she will see the error in her thinking.
A small part of me hopes that once we're both back in L.A., and away from the pressures of family, she'll have a miraculous change of heart.
“I've got to say, little brother, I'm shocked right now,” Christopher says.
“How so?”
“Well one, that you're falling this hard for a woman to begin with,” he says. “What happened to not needing a woman to complete you?”
I chuckle. “I don't need a woman to complete me,” I say. “But sometimes, having some companionship makes the days easier to get through. It seems to be agreeing with you these days, I might add.”
>
He nods. “It is. It feels good,” he says. “I'm just surprised by you. Of the three of us, you've always been the least emotional and sentimental. Honestly, I never thought the day would come when a woman would have you all twisted up into knots.”
“Neither were you,” I say. “And now look at you – you're basically reciting poetry and shit.”
“Hardly. I am just enjoying the company of a beautiful woman who happens to transform my normal ways of thinking and feeling.”
I turn and give him a long, even look. “Really?” I ask. “Transform your normal ways of thinking and feeling? That's some Hallmark shit if I've ever heard it.”
“The other thing that surprises me is that you're giving up so easily,” he says. “That’s just not the Miles Churchill I know.”
“I'm not giving up,” I say as I start to tie my tie. “I'm simply trying to respect her decision.”
“People change their minds all the time,” he says.
I nod. “Yeah, that's true,” I say. “But usually, there's a motivating factor behind it.”
“So, become that motivating factor,” he says. “Give her a reason to change her mind.”
Tightening and straightening my tie, I turn around and look my brother dead in the eye. “You seem oddly invested in this,” I say. “Why are you so worried about whether or not Sasha and I get together?”
“Well, honestly? I've never seen you look this happy before,” he says.
“Come on, that’s total bullshit,” I say and laugh. “That’s some Hallmark shit right there, you damn poet.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? Alice has opened my eyes and my heart.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “This is totally destroying everything I thought I could count on in this life – death, taxes, and my brother always acting like a cold, emotionless robot.”
He laughs, but when he speaks, his tone is serious. “I mean it, Miles. You get this light in your eyes when you talk about her. I've never seen it in you before, which tells me something about this woman is really special. This kind of connection doesn’t come around too often. You can't let her go.”