From the workout.
At least that’s what I try to tell myself. But as I row, my mind starts to wander. Her leg muscles contract and I imagine what they’d look like wrapped around me. The bounce of her tits, the flex of her ass, even the sweat trailing down her back, make me think of sex. My dick takes notice, and suddenly my own workout becomes very uncomfortable.
This isn’t working.
I’m going to give myself the worst case of blue balls just sitting here watching her move. I let go of the bar, and it smacks hard against the metal post. Brenna whips her head around, startled, and misses a step. At the speed she’s running, that slight error is catastrophic. Within a blink of an eye, she drops, and the belt pushes her right off the treadmill. She slams into the wall with enough force to rattle the mirrors.
“Son of a bitch!” I’m on my feet and rushing to where she’s crumpled on the floor. “Are you hurt?”
Brenna drops her head between her legs and starts gasping for breath. At this point, I’m panicked. “Brenna? Talk to me. Are you hurt?” I ask, pushing locks of sweaty black hair out of her face. Her eyes are shiny with tears. “Fuck. Don’t move. I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No. Don’t,” she manages to get out between breaths. “I’ll be okay.”
And that’s when I realize she isn’t crying; she’s laughing.
“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” I ask, a little worried. Is hysterical laughing a sign of a concussion?
“I didn’t think this day could get any worse,” she says, wiping away the tears. “You must think I’m a crazy woman.”
She lets out a groan of pain as she tries to stand up and wobbles. I can see where this is heading. I scoop her off her feet and sit us both down on the floor.
“What—”
“Give yourself a second,” I say with her sitting on my lap. “Let’s make sure you’re not hurt.”
She lets out a deep breath and nods. Now that she’s not trying to do something stupid like stand, I should slide her off my lap. But I don’t. It feels so fucking good to hold her in my arms.
The heat of her body is intense, and my dick kindly reminds me of all the filthy thoughts I’d just had about her. I take a deep breath and pull my gaze away from her ripe lips before I do something reckless.
I focus instead on making sure she’s uninjured. There’s blood on her arm, and I suppress the urge to swear. This is my fault. I should have made sure she knew I was in the room.
“I’m fine. You don’t need to interrupt your workout to look after me,” she says.
“Your arm’s bleeding,” I say. “Let me take care of that.”
She sighs and holds out her arm for me to inspect. I pull a towel out of my bag and clean the sweat and blood of her arm. Luckily, it’s just a minor friction burn. I grab a water bottle and rinse the wound, then hand her the rest.
“Drink the rest,” I order. “You’re probably dehydrated.”
Again, she complies without argument, taking the bottle and settling back into my arms. Every attempt to help her so far has been rebuffed, but now, suddenly, she doesn’t bat an eye at my demands. Maybe, I should be concerned about head trauma.
“If you hit your head, you shouldn’t be alone,” I say, checking for blood around her hairline. “Do you have someone that can stay over? A boyfriend, maybe? I can help you back to your apartment.”
She blinks and looks up at me, those clear blue eyes furrow with concern. “What am I doing? I’m sorry. You don’t need to worry about me. You probably want to get back to your workout. Or go to bed. It’s got to be past midnight by now.”
She tries to scramble out of my lap, but I hold tight. “I’m worried about you.”
“Oh,” she says, her pink lips forming a perfect circle. “I’m not used to having someone worry about me.”
Fuck, I want to kiss her. I want to taste those lips, bite and suck on them until she’s moaning with need instead of pain. I want to feel her firm thighs flex around my hips as I sink into her.
I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and let my fingers trail down her jaw. “Have dinner with me tomorrow?”
Her frown returns and I’m positive she’s about to turn me down, but then Brenna surprises me once again.
“I’d like that,” she says a little breathy. “As long as it’s early,” she adds. “Landon has band practice until eight.”
I barely resist pumping a fist in the air. “I can make that work,” I say. I have a meeting at four, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to reschedule. It’s unlikely I’ll get another opportunity like this. “Why don’t I pick you up at five thirty?”
She stands up and grabs her phone off the floor. The color is finally returning to her face, and her blue eyes look a little brighter.
“I guess I don’t need to give you directions,” she says and hands back the water bottle. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I don’t want her to leave. But as I watch her walk always, I have to admit, the view is nice. “Until tomorrow.”
Chapter Eight
TYLER
The next morning I’m in a foul mood. I could blame it on my lack of sleep, business stress, or even the cold, wet walk I took with Luther this morning. But I know the source of my ire is the unexpected visit from Brenna last night.
Unexpected, my ass. I’ve been bracing myself for weeks. But between my busy work schedule and all the arrangements she’d had to make after the accident, we haven’t run into each other. I’m not even sure she’s left the apartment in the past month. Not that I’ve been keeping tabs.
Even with the knowledge that I was going to have to face her eventually, I wasn’t fully prepared for the force of my emotions. Sure, I was angry at first. But as I sat in bed last night, the anger passed and curiosity and desire took hold.
Even with the complete makeover, I’m still just as attracted to her now as I was before. There’s a deep connection between us that time couldn’t break. My body still wants her, but my brain can’t get past the fact she left me once already. Am I really the idiot that keeps going back for more?
“You should consider getting a dog walker,” Dean says when I get back to the apartment.
“You like swimming. I like my morning walks,” I say as Luther shakes, splattering water all over the entry. Even on mornings like this one, I like the quiet solitude of walking my dog.
I peel off my soaked sweater, leaving it in a sodden pile on the floor, and seek out a cup of coffee.
“So you’re not even curious about the meeting last night?” Dean asks as he refills his cup.
The warmth of the mug seeps into my cold fingers. My mood improves slightly, and I lean back against the counter. “I figured it went well, or you would have bitched about it,” I say only half listening.
“We got a decent deal on the property, but not what I was pushing for,” Dean says and pulls a thick folder from his bag. “I know for a fact we paid three times what Lash Equity bought it for.”
“That was four years ago. No one would have lived in that part of town. Now, after renovations, we’ll be able to sell the units for four hundred thousand, easy. God bless gentrification.” I take a long drag of my coffee and sigh. “Leo always had a good eye for investments.”
“I know you’re right, but I was still kind of hoping marriage would soften them up a bit. The two of them were bad enough, now that Rose is in the mix it’s worse than ever. If possible, I think their wife is more aggressive.”
I laugh, shaking my head. I can’t believe our business associates are involved in a crazy polyamorous relationship. “So how’s that triad thing working out for them?” I ask, a little curious. I mean, I’ve tried the whole threesome thing before, but nothing past a night. I can’t even imagine how they’re making it work long term. “I’d heard the rumors about them, but I figured it was just something they did for fun. But marriage? That’s a bit permanent.”
Dean shrugs. “I guess it’s working for them. They have a
daughter. They all seem to be happy. And I do mean everyone. I saw Asher smile at his wife.”
“Really? I didn’t think that man was capable of any other emotion outside of scowls and frowns.”
“Kind of like you,” he says, kicking my foot. “What was up last night?”
I don’t know what to tell him. I’m still not sure what I’m going to do about Brenna. Dean was away at college when we were together, and he didn’t know her. Hell, he didn’t even know me. We were both grown when our parents got married, and it wasn’t until dad started his treatment that we really got to know each other. But now he’s not only my step-brother, he’s also one of my best friends.
Screw it. I’m going around in circles. Maybe Dean will have some solid advice.
I set my mug down and cross my arms. “Brenna came up last night looking for Landon,” I start. “It brought back a lot of old memories. I don’t know if you remember, but things weren’t great between Dad and me when he married your mom.”
Dean sighed and nodded his head slightly. “No, I remember. Mom used to call me all the time asking for advice. I didn’t know what to tell her. She was really trying to reach you. I’m glad you finally gave her a chance.”
“Me, too. I like Lynda, and she’s good to Dad. But back then, not so much.” I scrub my hand over my face, feeling exhausted—as if the memories themselves are taxing. “Brenna’s mom had recently remarried after her dad died. It wasn’t just that. Her mom cheated while her dad was sick and Brenna was pissed. You might say we had a lot in common, and like a lot of teens, bonded over a mutual hate of our parents.”
“That explains a lot,” Dean says, perking up. “I thought there was something off about her last night. God, she was just as upset as you were.”
I frown, not following his logic. “You saw her last night? Did she come back up to talk?”
“Nah, she was down in the gym. But man, there was something off.” Dean rubs the back of his neck and quirks up an eyebrow. “Is there still anything going on between the two of you?”
“No,” I say, a little too quickly. “She’s been gone for over eight years.”
“I asked her out. We have a date tonight.” Dean’s frown deepens. “If you want me to back off—”
“No,” I interrupt. “That was a million years ago. We’re both different people now. Go on the date. Have fun. I’m fine with it.”
The gentleman doth protest too much. I’m so not fine with it. What if she’s into Dean? What if she’s using him to get back at me? What if he fucks her? I want to smash my fist into the wall—or Dean’s face. Instead, I dump the rest of my coffee out in the sink and collect my wet sweater.
“Are you sure?” he asks again.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. If she wants to go out with my brother, fine. I’m an adult. I can deal. “I’m going to be swamped now that the deal’s closed. The permits and work crews. I’m not sure I’ll be home for dinner.” I make a show of glancing at the clock, even though I don’t see the time. “Speaking of work, we should head out. Come on, Luther.”
Chapter Nine
BRENNA
I don’t know what I was thinking last night when agreeing to go out with Dean, but here I am in an upscale steakhouse, sitting across from my neighbor, trying to keep a panic attack at bay. The hushed murmur of polite conversation reminds me too much of a funeral parlor, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I order a white wine, but what I really want is a couple of shots of tequila to help soothe my nerves.
I like Dean. I like him a lot. But I’m not sure what I’m doing with him. I glance over the menu at my date, and he smiles back. My stomach does a flip, and I attempt a flirty smile. But that doesn’t feel right, so I try for a seductive wink. I’m pretty sure I’ve missed the mark when Dean cocks an eyebrow in confusion. My cheeks heat and I hide my face in the menu.
I have no idea what I’m doing.
I haven’t dated. Not seriously. Liv tried to set me up a dozen times, but not a one got farther than drinks. I’ve spent the last eight years comparing every man I met to Tyler. Over time, I built him up in my mind as this perfect guy. No one really had a chance.
But the funny thing about reality is that it’s never as good as your fantasy version. Now that I know Tyler doesn’t have feelings for me—hasn’t for years—there’s nothing holding me back. I’m twenty-six years old. I’ve already missed out on most of my prime dating years. If Liv was here, she’d tell me that it’s time I let go of the past and live in the moment.
“So what did you do before you moved back home?” Dean asks, breaking our awkward silence.
Nerves flood my system like a swarm of butterflies. I can do this. It’s just small talk.
“I work in internet security. I have my own company,” I say, relaxing a bit. “The nice thing is, I can work anywhere. My partner has been keeping up with the day-to-day business for now, but once things settle down, I’ll start taking on more clients.”
“Internet security? What does that mean? Do you help people when they have viruses?”
“I work with big companies mainly. We check for vulnerabilities in their websites and internal networks,” I explain. “I’ve got a great team of hackers that simulate an attack and try to steal data or take control of servers.”
“You’re a hacker?” He asks, leaning forward. “Your mother was a socialite and your step-dad a neurologist. How’d you get involved with the dark underground of the internet?”
“Dark underground?” I laugh, nearly choking on my wine. “You watch too much TV. Most hackers aren’t criminals. It was just something I picked up over the years. When my dad was sick, I didn’t get out much. I used to sit in his room with my laptop chatting on forums. I met people and learned things. Then after he died…” I let out a deep breath and take another drink. “I wasn’t exactly great company. I spent a lot of time online. I discovered I had a knack for getting into places I wasn’t supposed to be, so I made a career out of it.”
We spend the next fifteen minutes talking about my job and my company. When the waiter interrupts us with our meals, I realize we’d been talking about me this entire time. Small talk was never my strong suit.
“What about you?” I ask. “Why law school?”
“My mom says I was born a lawyer.” He smiles, and his eyes soften when he mentions his mom. “I used to debate her on everything. I guess I was a natural.”
“Are you still close to her?” I ask. Since my own relationship with my own mother was strained, I love hearing about other people’s families.
“Growing up, it was the two of us against the world. We used to look out for each other.”
“Used to?” Of all people, I should realize that life isn’t a guarantee. I feel like I’ve failed at small talk. “I’m sorry, is she gone?”
“Not in the way you think. She has a house down in St. Thomas. I visit when I can and, of course, help with mom’s charities.”
Relieved that I didn’t misstep with the family questions, I decide to stick with questions about work. “Do charities need a real estate lawyer that often?” I ask.
“Every now and then, but I mainly handle contracts and the occasional bachelor auction.”
I can just see Dean going out with an older socialite to raise money for some charity. I’m sure he would be just as attentive and polite as he is with me.
“So how long have you work for Hart Properties?” I ask, unable to resist.
His playful smile falters, and he furrows his brow. “You do know who I am, right?” he asks.
“Is this a trick question?” Now it’s my turn to get a funny look. “I’ll play along. Who are you?”
“I’m Robert Hart’s son.”
“No, you’re not,” I say, confused and a bit uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation. “Robert’s son is Tyler. And your last name is Preston.”
“I’m his step-son,” he says and then adds as if I’m slow, “I’m Tyler’s step-brother
.”
I feel like someone kicked the chair out from under me and I’m falling. I grip the table to stop the room from spinning. "You can’t be,” I say and search my memory for any record of Tyler’s step-brother. I try to recall a name, a photo, anything. “Oh, my God, you are. You’re the step-brother? The brother in college? Not that you're in college now. You’re a lawyer. And living here now. I didn’t know. We never met. How was I supposed to know that you moved in? I mean, you and Tyler didn't really get along."
"We didn't know each other back then,” he says. “We're actually really close now. We share the penthouse and run Hart Properties together."
"Of course, you do,” I say, my mouth going completely dry. I grab my wine glass and drink the contents in one swallow. “Roommates. Because that makes complete sense. Why wouldn't you be best friends?"
"Tyler said you stopped by last night. He told me you used to date,” Dean said, carefully. “If you’re worried about what he thinks, don’t be. We talked about it, and he’s fine with us going out. Are you?"
“Yes. I mean, if he’s okay with it, then why wouldn’t I be?” I say with forced levity. “We dated ages ago. So long ago I can hardly remember.” Sweat is forming on my brow, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. Of all the guys in the word. The air is thick, and I need some space. I stand up abruptly and grab my purse. "I've got to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."
“Brenna,” he calls out to me, but I don’t stop. I make a beeline for the bathroom and dial Liv as soon as the door closes.
"I need you to break into the Black Diamond Steak House's security system and set off the fire alarm," I say as soon as she picks up.
"I take it the date is not going well?"
Brothers Next Door Page 4