by Nikki Chase
My brother does know me. But that’s not all I have to say.
“I am, and I can,” I say. “But Dean, nothing would’ve happened between Brock and me if it didn’t mean anything. Brock and I, we care about each other. We really have something here.”
Dean groans. A storm rages in his eyes. “That’s the worst thing you can say, Nina.”
“I don’t think you understand. We just click. We’re like puzzle pieces fitting together. He makes me so happy.”
“Which means he’s going to make you miserable when he walks away.” Dean’s tone is angry, but concern is etched into his features.
“Look, I get that you’re worried. But what makes you think he’s going to do that?”
“Jesus, Nina. It was cute when you were a teenager and you had crush on him, but now it’s just wrong. You’re old enough to know better.”
“Why can’t you even entertain the idea that this might actually work out?” I ask, anger spreading heat across my chest.
“Because I know Brock, okay?” Dean raises his voice. The waiter, who’s back to bring us our food, is so startled he almost drops a plate. My brother gives the waiter an apologetic look and waits for him to leave our table. In a calmer tone, Dean says, “I know exactly what Brock’s like, and I know exactly what you’re like. He’s only going to hurt you.”
“You don’t know that. You could be wrong.”
“I could say the same thing about you, little sister. You were wrong about Peter. What makes you think you couldn’t be wrong this time?”
I pick up my fork and stab a piece of ravioli, avoiding Dean’s gaze. I hate that he’s bringing Peter up when we’re supposed to be talking about Brock.
“Sorry,” Dean says softly, sensing the change in my mood. He places a gentle hand on my cheek. “I just don’t want to see my little sister get hurt.”
“I don’t think Brock is going to hurt me.”
Dean takes a deep breath. “I know that’s what you really believe, Nina. But this is what Brock does. This is what Brock has been doing for years. He sleeps with any woman he finds attractive, he makes them fall head over heels for him, and then he leaves.”
“I know. You told me. But I don’t think he’s going to do that to me.” I rest my fork on the plate. I don’t feel like eating.
“I didn’t think he was going to do anything to you,” Dean says. “You’re my little sister, and I thought that would’ve been enough to stop him from trying anything with you. But apparently not.”
“See? You’ve been wrong before.”
“Yeah,” he admits. “And I really hope I’m wrong now, but that’s not likely.”
“Whatever you think it’s like between Brock and me, you’re wrong,” I tell him. “We make each other happy, Dean. I can tell he really cares about me.”
“I hope you’re right, Nina. I really hope you are. But I know Brock, and I want you to be careful. You’re a big girl now, and I can’t make you leave him if that’s not what you want to do . . .” Dean pauses, raising an eyebrow and giving me an expectant look, probably hoping I’ll suddenly change my mind.
I shake my head. “I’m not going to leave him.”
Dean lets out a big sigh. “I know Brock better than you do, Nina. I like the guy. I really do. And I can see why girls flock to him. He’s a great guy, but—”
“Can’t you just stop there? Just . . . Brock’s a great guy. That’s it. And you’re happy for us,” I suggest.
“I can’t. If this were to have happened, I don’t know, five years ago, I would’ve been happy for you. He would’ve made great boyfriend material then—for anyone. He was great to his ex, and he treated her really well. But she changed him.”
“Rosa,” I blurt out.
“You know about her?” Dean sounds surprised.
“He told me.” I leave out the part about how I actually saw her at her own wedding, when I went, not just as any guest but as Brock’s fiancée.
“He doesn’t like to talk about her,” Dean says.
“See? He’s not trying to hide anything from me.”
“Well, that girl really did a number on him,” Dean continues. “Brock told me himself he didn’t think he was capable trusting another woman. The way he reacted when he heard about Rosa getting married, I was sure he was still hung up on her.”
“It’s been a long time since then, Dean. Things change.”
“I hope you’re right.” Dean gives me a weak smile. “But you know what I always say. When someone tells you who they really are, listen.”
I nod.
“I’ve seen Brock go from one girl to the next, oblivious to the destruction he leaves in his path,” Dean says. “I don’t want you to be one of those girls.”
“I won’t be,” I say with confidence.
The way Brock and I are together, the way our conversation just flows, the way we make each other laugh . . . I’m sure we have a real connection, a rare one, the kind most people never even experience in their entire lifetime.
“I really hope you’re right, little sister,” Dean says. “But you should be careful. And if I were you, I’d start looking for another job. In any case, it’s not a good idea to work with someone you’re dating.”
“You have a point,” I agree. It’s probably not the most professional thing in the world to sneak into supply closets at work with my boss. I should take my job more seriously and keep my personal life separate.
“Of course I do,” Dean says, grinning. “Now eat your pasta. It’s getting cold.”
Brock
I manage to hold off on contacting Nina until the end of the day. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to because after a week of basically being with her 24/7, it’s like a part of me is missing, not having her around.
But still, despite checking my phone every twenty minutes and watching the clock on my office wall slowly inch its way around, I don’t text her until I get out of the office.
I wonder how she and Dean are getting along.
If I know Dean—and I do—he’s probably regaling her with tales of my past conquests, trying to warn her off me. Telling her I’m a womanizer and a serial dater. I wouldn’t expect anything less of him, and to be honest, I guess I can’t blame him.
If he was dating my little sister . . . well, actually I wouldn’t really mind. He’s so dependable and sensible, you couldn’t really ask for more from someone dating your sister.
And sure, maybe I haven’t always been dependable and sensible, in my personal relationships at least, since Rosa screwed me over.
But I also haven’t felt this way about anyone since she broke my heart. What I feel for Nina is real, and if Dean screws it up for me, I don’t know what I’ll do.
All these thoughts and more race through my mind as I endure the drudgery of the work day, finally pulling my phone out as soon as I get home.
How’s it going? Has Dean managed to warn you off me yet?
She replies a minute or two later, and I yank my phone out of my pocket. It’s like I’m a teenager again, dating for the first time. It’s ridiculous.
Hey, Brock. He’s feeling weird about us being together. I’m trying to set him straight, but you know what he’s like. Stubborn as a damn mule. Might take some work.
I sigh and massage my temples.
Yeah, I know what he’s like. You want me to talk to him?
She replies almost immediately.
No, it’ll only make things worse. Leave him to me, I know how to handle him. It’ll just take some time for him to come around to this. I guess it didn’t really help with him seeing us practically doing it on your desk. He’s my brother. I know how to get him wrapped around my little finger. :)
I hope she’s right. Dean can be fucking tenacious when he wants to be. And I get the feeling that, when it comes to his little sister, he’s not about to back down that easily.
Yeah, he probably thinks I’m an asshole for sleeping with his sweet, innocent little sister. If only he
knew the truth ;)
I smile, wondering how Nina’s going to react. I hope my little text reminds her of what we were doing just before Dean interrupted us, how she was moaning on my desk and begging me for more . . .
My phone beeps.
I’ve got to go. I’ve been hiding from him in this bathroom for too long already to text you, he’s probably getting suspicious. I’ll update you tomorrow at the office. Probably better if we don’t stay together tonight.
I put the phone down with a sigh, hoping it doesn’t ring until Nina gets back in touch in the morning. I don’t want to deal with any work calls this evening—my mind’s not in it. I’m barely managing to keep on top of my workload as it is without this new distraction.
I just hope Dean doesn’t completely lose it because I could really do without losing one of my oldest and best friends over this. As long as he calms the fuck down and realizes that his little sister is old enough to make her own decisions, things will work out.
But with Dean, there’s no guarantee of that.
I spend a weirdly somber evening at home.
I used to love spending the evening at home alone. Being able to eat what I like, watch whatever I like on TV, and just have some peace and quiet? Bliss.
But things are different now. I miss Nina’s laugh, her cheesy wisecracks, the warmth of her body next to mine. We just . . . fit together, like it was always meant to be this way.
I wander through my dark, empty house, deep in thought, pondering my next move. I try and watch some TV, but my thoughts drift, always back to her.
Does she feel the same way? Or is this just a fun little thing for her?
I don’t think it is, but if there’s one thing Rosa taught me, it’s to never completely let my guard down. You think you know someone until you realize you never did at all.
I eventually decide to go to bed, hoping that I can at least get some sleep. I manage to fall into a fitful sleep, but I’m woken around 3am by a new text.
I blearily grab my phone, blinking as the harsh light illuminates my face.
Is it Nina, texting me because she can’t sleep either? Maybe she misses me as much as I miss her.
My initial excitement turns to anger as I see who the new text is from.
It’s Rosa, yet again.
Why haven’t you texted me back, Brock? I’m a member of your family now, remember? It’s not polite to ignore your relatives.
“Fuck off,” I say to the screen. “Jesus Christ . . .”
I have no idea what her game is, but it’s not going to wash with me. I’ve had enough of Rosa’s mind games for one lifetime, and there is no way I’m getting sucked back into all of that bullshit.
The next morning, I decide it’s better to focus all this anxious energy on work, instead of sitting at home stewing on it all.
But when I arrive at work, Nina’s waiting for me outside my office. Just catching sight of her makes my heart beat a little faster and butterflies flutter in my belly. I resist the urge to pull her into an embrace and kiss her, mindful of everyone else in the office.
“Wow, you’re early today,” I say. “I’m impressed.”
She nods, playing the consummate professional, but I can see the smile dancing in her eyes.
“I thought I’d get a head start on all that filing,” she says with a little laugh. “Seeing as we didn’t finish it yesterday.”
I glance around, seeing if anyone’s listening to us. Every head appears to be down, working, but that’s no guarantee nobody’s listening. In fact, I’m certain they are. Gossip and offices go together like cheese and wine.
“I appreciate that,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “Let’s go take a look at what we still need to get done.”
She follows me into my office. When I finally get the door closed behind us and the blinds drawn, I let out a sigh of relief and pull her into my arms.
“Fuck, it’s stifling having to keep this hidden from everyone,” I say with a sigh. “When can we let them know?”
“Not yet,” she says, concern etched on her face. “I’m still the new girl, still getting to know everyone. I could do without the ‘office slut’ stamp.”
“If you say so. But remember that I can fire anyone I like, being the boss and all. If anyone’s saying gross shit like that to you, just tell me.”
“Come on, Brock, don’t be naive. They’re not going to say it to my face, are they? Just to each other, behind my back. Anyway, I’m guessing you want to know how things went with Dean?”
I nod.
“Don’t look so serious,” she laughs. “He hasn’t forbidden me from seeing you or anything like that. He caught a flight back home this morning. He’s agreed to back off a little. It’s not like there’s anything he can actually do to change my mind about how I feel, and I think he realizes that. Maybe he’ll finally start treating me like an adult. Who knows? I wouldn’t say he’s exactly happy about what’s going on, but he’s not going to interfere. I got that much out of him.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, making a mental note to call him up later on, have it out, man to man. At least he’ll be an adult about it.
“Good,” I say. “Because soon, he’ll see that he has nothing to worry about. Forget the past—it’s gone. Done. I would never do anything to hurt you, or jeopardize what we have together. I promise you that, Nina.”
She wraps her arms around me and looks up at me with those beautiful, big eyes of hers. I feel my heart swell.
“I know that, Brock. And Dean told me some more about what happened to you in the past. And you don’t need to worry either. I’m not that kind of person, to play with someone’s heart and feelings. What we have together is real.”
I lean down and kiss her softly and slowly as we melt into each other.
Nina
“Maybe I should do that more often, spend a night away from you,” I say.
“What? But why?” Brock grabs my waist tighter and pulls me closer against his broad, sturdy chest. He smells amazing—I should spray some of his cologne on my pillow if I’m really going to be spending more nights without him.
“You’re extra affectionate tonight. It’s kind of nice.”
Brock chuckles. He leans down as we walk toward the restaurant, pressing his forehead against my temple. When he speaks, his breath caresses my neck, sending tingles straight to my core. “Any time you want my hands on you, all you have to do is say it. Your wish is my command.”
“Hmm . . . My personal genie.” I giggle.
“That’s right. I’d do anything for you.” Brock plants a light kiss on the top of my head.
I can’t help but smile. I’m not one to fall for stupid lines. But coming from Brock, I feel like he means what he says.
Be careful. Dean’s advice echoes in my mind.
I shake my head. No. I trust Brock. He said he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, and I believe him.
“Are you cold?” Brock wraps a strong arm around my shoulders. “We’re almost there. It should be warmer inside.”
“No. Are you kidding me? The weather’s perfect. I was just . . . stretching my neck.”
“You’re perfect,” he says. Before I can tell him how cheesy he’s being, we’re inside the restaurant, and Brock’s telling the maître d' we have a reservation.
As soon as we’re seated, Brock orders some wine then reaches across the table and takes my hand.
“Uh, I’m going to need my hand to flip the pages,” I inform him, gesturing at the fancy menu with the gold lettering on the leather cover.
“But I need it more.” Brock lifts my hand up and kisses my knuckles.
I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs the corners of my lips up. With one hand, I open the menu. “Fine.”
“I spent an entire night wishing you were in bed with me, plus an entire day at the office stopping myself from touching you. How long has that menu waited for you? Obviously, I deserve you more,” he says.
I laugh. “See, as far as
I remember, you kept calling me into your office to touch me and distract me from taking care of all the filing that needed to be done.”
“I’m concerned about your memory,” he says, putting on a worried face. “I didn’t get nearly enough of you.”
“Okay.” I laugh and scan the menu, my hand reaching for the wine glass.
“I’ve got to make sure I get to touch you any time I need to. It’s time to set a wedding date, don’t you think? We’ve been engaged long enough.”
I almost choke on the wine. I cough, my throat burning. “Oh my God, Brock. Don’t do that!”
“What? My parents have been asking.”
“Yeah, your parents also have no idea that we’re not really engaged.”
“Maybe we should be.” Brock cocks me a crooked smile, the kind that makes me wonder if he’s just teasing me. He is. He must be . . . right?
“You’re not going to propose to me while I’m choking on wine,” I say.
“Well, you’re not choking on wine right now . . . so what do you say?”
I laugh nervously, my heart pounding in my chest. I narrow my eyes at Brock. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“I can be,” he answers quickly. “I already have a ring, remember?”
“Yeah. The ring you bought specifically to fool your ex and your entire family into thinking you had a fiancée. It’s a ring of lies.”
Brock smiles. “So what you’re saying is, you want a new ring. Got it.”
I get the distinct feeling that if I were to say, right now, that I’d marry him, Brock would literally grab the arm of the next waiter who walks past and book this restaurant for our wedding venue.
I can’t just decide something like that right now. I’ve barely recovered from having Dean walk in on us.
I clear my throat. “Are you ready to order?”
“Sure.”
So we order our dinner, eat delicious food, drink fancy wine without choking on it, and the conversation flows. We’re flirting and laughing like we normally do. Business as usual.