by Elsa Nickle
She quickly whispered into his ear. “My name is Laurel, and I’m on a bad date.” She leaned away from him and gave him the most familiar, heartwarming smile she could muster, hoping against hope that he would understand and play along. If he didn’t, she would end up looking and feeling like an enormous fool. And she would still have her sticky date to deal with. Laurel tried to convey as much urgency with her eyes as possible.
The stranger raised his eyebrows and glanced at the café door just as Rusty walked out, hands deep in his pockets, eyes narrowed. The tall stranger seemed to debate for a fraction of a second before turning to Laurel and giving her a big grin. “Laurel! What are you doing here?”
Relief, cool and sweet, spiked through her, but she wasn’t out of the woods yet. “I was on a date with Rusty here when I saw you through the window. Which is so crazy, because I was just about to call you.”
The stranger’s gaze bounced from Laurel to her shady date. “Oh yeah?”
Laurel stayed by her fake brother’s side. “Absolutely. I knew from your text earlier today that you were going to go bar-hopping tonight.”
“Yes. And here I am.” He scratched his cheek and shifted his weight. “Did you guys want to come along?”
Laurel rushed to clarify. “No! No, actually I spilled some hot coffee on myself, and I thought I should go home to clean up and get a bandage or something. Rusty thought I might need an escort to the house, but I told him that my stepbrother was downtown already and that you would absolutely help me out.” She smiled at the stranger a little longer than was probably normal.
He smiled back. “Absolutely.” It was like a liar’s code word.
The co-conspirators turned to Rusty. His face was still skeptical as he sauntered a little closer. “Stepbrother, huh?”
“Yep. This is Clint.”
The new stranger stuck out his hand. “Yep, I’m Clint. Nice to meet you.” The lie sounded smooth enough.
Rusty glared at the extended hand for a second, then shook it roughly. “Sure.”
Laurel did her best to pretend things weren’t weird. “Clint, this is Rusty. I just met him for the first time tonight.” Her tall rescuer squeezed Rusty’s hand hard before letting go.
Laurel stood tall next to the man she had named Clint, trying to project some confidence. She stole another glance at her fake stepbrother, allowing herself to really process what she saw this time. He was way taller than Rusty—over six feet—and he looked like he had some muscles hiding under his button-down shirt. This was good news for deterring her dumb date, but it was somehow more embarrassing to be helped in a lie by someone this handsome. Mr. Hollywood had blue eyes, straight toffee-blonde hair that was almost brown, and really did look like he could make money off his looks. With Laurel’s coffee-stained, cheap-o shirt, paint-splattered bag, and obvious desperation, she felt small and silly in comparison. Maybe that was why Rusty wasn’t buying the lie so easily—Laurel didn’t seem like she could possibly be related to Young Eastwood’s body double, even by marriage.
She tried to speak with more dignity than she felt. “Anyway, Clint will see me home. Thanks so much for the coffee.”
Rusty took a step toward the supposed siblings, his lips a tight, thin line.
The good-looking stranger put his arm around Laurel’s shoulders and inclined his head at Rusty. “Catch you later. Let’s go, Laurel.”
They turned around and walked together a few steps before Rusty sputtered behind them. “But I drove two hours to get here!”
Mr. Hollywood stopped and turned to fix Rusty with a look Laurel couldn’t quite see. But Rusty’s reaction was unmistakable—first defiant, then deflated. He turned the opposite direction and muttered, “Fine. I’ll go find a bar.” He sauntered down the street and around the corner, out of sight.
The helpful stranger beside Laurel now turned to her, but dropped the brother act by taking a step away. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I am now.” Laurel hitched the fraying strap of her bag more firmly on her shoulder. Her breath felt blocked in her chest. “Thanks for helping me out.”
The guy nodded. “You’re welcome, miss.” There was an awkward pause where neither of them knew where to look. The man cleared his throat. “Did you really get burned by your coffee?”
Now that her bad date was gone, Laurel was beginning to see how crazy this situation was. It probably wasn’t every day this nice man had to pretend to be a stranger’s brother. She felt a deep, full-body flush coming. “Uh, yeah. I really did spill hot coffee on myself. But the burn’s not too bad.”
The ridiculously handsome stranger squinted at her stained shirt. “You should put some aloe on it when you get home, if you have any.” His brow pinched, and his voice took on a more professional-sounding tone. “If it hurts take some Ibuprofen, and if any blisters form, make sure you don’t break them.”
“Sure, I—okay.” Was this guy a doctor? If he was … oh the irony. A sniff of laughter escaped Laurel’s nose, and she raised a hand to cover first her mouth and then her eyes. Her other hand came up to help cover more of her face. The movements were practically involuntary, reactionary, and with every passing second, she felt more unstable-looking. Maybe she could explain. “Listen, I’m sorry I dragged you into this. It probably would have been fine without you having to pretend like you were my brother. I just dug myself into a hole and—”
“No, miss. No need to—”
“I’ll probably lay off the online dating for a while. I mean, I should, right?”
He glanced down the street to where Rusty had been, and back at Laurel. “It’s not my place to pry.”
“Anyway, you probably have a family to get back to, and I don’t want to keep you from the rest of your evening, so—I’m just parked right over there on the street, and I’m good now.” Laurel stumbled toward her car. “Thanks for being outside.” Thanks for being outside? What was she even saying?
He took a step in her direction. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She dug in her bag for the car keys. Technically, her mom’s car keys. The keys for a tan, peeling Ford from the 90s. One more thing to be embarrassed about. “Oh, I’m fine. Thanks again, really. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”
He shrugged, still keeping his distance. “You didn’t ruin my night. I was just on my way to meet some guys I haven’t seen in a while. And I was early, or at least I was half an hour ago, so I thought I’d look around and see what’s changed downtown in the last five years or so.” He tipped his head toward the coffee shop. “That bathtub place is new.”
Laurel was still digging in her purse, barely able to look his way. Why did she have to be so awkward right now? She sighed as her hand closed over the car keys. One thing seemed clear—this good-looking guy was an out-of-towner. At least she would never have to see him again. He was really cute and all, and he might even be the star of her dreams for a few weeks, but running into him again would be more than a little uncomfortable. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” She waved to him as she scurried to her car.
“Be safe!”
She didn’t look back as she got in the old Ford and started the engine. Mercifully, the car came to life on the first try. Laurel didn’t need her frayed nerves to deal with anything else—and she knew another glance at the hot, concerned stranger wouldn’t help her mental state.
She did steal a glance in her rearview mirror as she drove away. The helpful man was watching her car, but she was too far away to see if his expression was of concern, confusion, or something else entirely. She rounded the corner, driving toward home, nerves still stretched tight. Two blocks from the coffee shop, Laurel groaned as she realized she had one more reason to be mortified—she hadn’t even asked “Clint” his real name. Now she’d never know who saved her. As long as he remembered Laurel, he would think she was an insensitive, stranger-dating, coffee-spilling loser. With a lame car.
What a terrible evening.
And now that it was all over,
she took back her earlier judgement. This definitely was Laurel’s worst first date, ever.
Chapter Two
Ethan Wyle watched the woman pull onto the road, giving her one last wave goodbye as she drove off. Bisbee, Arizona was the last place Ethan had wanted to be. Even so, he was glad he had been there at that exact moment. As a vet, he’d been called on dozens of times to save a scared or trapped animal. But this was his first damsel in distress.
He was glad he could help, especially with the way that creep eyed her up and down like a piece of candy. The guy was practically drooling. Ethan had felt so protective of her. He could finally sympathize with that Doberman who nearly bit his hand off last month—sometimes a little anger was justified.
Ethan’s only regret was that he hadn’t noticed the woman earlier. Normally, those big brown eyes and blonde curls would’ve drawn his attention, even in a crowd. But he’d been so focused on getting to his brother’s stupid bachelor party that the woman practically had to tackle him before he realized she needed help. Not that he’d done much. Her own quick wits saved her. He was just the prop. The encounter was brief and strange, and yet it made him do something he rarely did anymore, smile.
The women he dated in Santa Barbara were so focused on fashion and money and makeup, which was fine, but he never had the time or inclination to dig below the surface. Mostly because he wasn’t sure there was anything below the surface. But this woman, with that sharp mind and flustered smile, made him want to find the time. Too bad he wasn’t going to be in town long. Their brief interaction felt like a splash of sunshine during a rain storm.
Speaking of storm clouds … Ethan turned around with a sigh, steeling himself for the rest of the night. Why did his brother have to plan his bachelor party right when Ethan was waiting on the lease for his new clinic? He couldn’t even claim to be too busy to attend, especially when his business partner practically pushed him out the door. It’s like the fates were combining against him—and these particular fates had an affinity for torture.
Ethan straightened his shoulders and headed west toward The Social Club. He walked down a small alley between two old brick buildings and then turned onto Main Street. He instantly spotted the bright yellow building with steps that led down to a cherry red door. A bar? Out of all the places they could have gone to celebrate Landon’s last few days as a bachelor, they chose a bar? He already missed the café at the corner near his place in Santa Barbara. Ethan briefly closed his eyes and shook his head before taking a deep breath in. Opening his eyes, he reached out and pulled the door open.
“The prodigal son returns!” a deep voice boomed, followed by a round of chuckles.
The nearly empty room was too dim for Ethan to see who said it, but that didn’t matter. Clearly the whole town thought he’d abandoned his brothers after his parents’ deaths. He might as well get used to being called out, since he was going to be here for a month.
Ethan plastered a smile on his face and ignored the scent of whiskey and stale peanuts as he made his way to the high-top table at the back.
Though a country song played from a jukebox in the corner, everyone at the table was quiet. Landon and Dillon were both sitting down. Landon held a pink drink, garnished with a flower of some kind, that looked severely out of place with his cowboy hat and dirt-covered boots, while Dillon, his tie loose, had a beer on the table in front of him.
Jax walked over from the bar, arms outstretched to greet Ethan, a bottle in one hand. “So, how’s the vet business going?”
Before Ethan could even answer, Jax continued with a forced cheeriness to his voice. “Hey, I got a question for you.” He put his arm around Ethan. “What do you call a vet who’s really good at poker?”
Ethan barely opened his mouth to say he didn’t know, when Jax said, “An ace of spays. Ha! Get it?” Jax slapped Ethan’s back and looked around as the brothers groaned.
Dillon rolled his eyes. “Leave it to the dad of the group to make a joke like that.”
“C’mon, I don’t care who you are, that’s funny.”
Ethan couldn’t quite remember if Jax was always this outgoing or if he was putting on a show in order to break the tension that was thicker than three-day-old nacho cheese. Or maybe he was just drunk.
That thought surprised him, since none of the brothers drank much since their parents were killed by a drunk driver. Maybe they’d all changed. Or perhaps awkward bachelor parties were the exception.
Ethan sat down on one of the stools while Jax leaned on the table next to him.
Ethan glanced at all his brothers. “Was Preston upset he couldn’t come?”
“Why do you think I chose a bar? I needed a free babysitter.” Jaxon winked and took a sip from the bottle.
Ethan almost felt sorry for him. The poor guy was trying so hard to make everything feel normal. Casual.
“You had time to find an actual sitter,” Landon replied. “Kitty’s sister planned every detail months ago. She’s packed more events into the next week than a church packs people on Easter Sunday.”
“Ah, so that’s why this whole shindig is a week before the big day?” Ethan said. “I was wondering about that.”
“Yeah. They were all so excited I just went with it. Besides, what do I need with a bachelor party? I’m not really into all that. All I care about is having the family together.” Landon stared into his cup while Dillon gave a small cough.
The silence stretched thin.
Ethan had tried to envision his homecoming for years but had never quite been able to picture it. Would they be happy? Mad? Would they all stand and shake his hand, congratulate him on not only becoming a vet, but opening a clinic?
Now that the time was finally there, it was worse than he had expected. This bachelor party was more uncomfortable than a bad blind date, and he should know since he’d already helped break up one of those tonight. For a moment, he wished he was back there with that woman and her smile. It was nice to know one person in town didn’t consider him a villain.
“Drink?” Dillon nodded to the bar and all eyes went to Ethan as if waiting for the answer to some sort of riddle.
“Ah, no. I’m good, thanks.”
“Really? Didn’t you come here straight from the airport in Tucson? You must be thirsty.” Dillon lifted his bottle.
“I—” Ethan didn’t know how to answer. One part of him wanted to knock the drinks from their hands, which he knew was insane, while the other didn’t want to seem overly righteous. “I don’t drink.”
A flash of mutual understanding and a certain kind of reverence blanketed the table.
“Don’t worry, Doc. All these here drinks are like Dillon—virgin. We just gave Landon over there a frou-frou Shirly Temple drink to remind him of the good ol’ days.” Jax grinned and gave Landon a wink.
Landon just rolled his eyes. “Shirly was a mistake on so many levels.”
“Ha! A mistake with—”
“No, you know who was a mistake?” Dillon raised his bottle, his finger outstretched and pointed right at Jax. “Heather.”
“Oh, man. Hippie Heather was not a mistake. She was the best kind of distraction.” They all burst out laughing. All of them but Ethan who just sat there with that same fake smile, completely lost.
“What about you, Doc? Got any girls on the side?” Jax pulled up a stool.
Ethan shook his head.
“Come on.” Even though Landon smiled, his gaze was serious. “He’s been married to his work all these years. If he was too busy for family, he must have been too busy for girls.”
Anger simmered in Ethan’s chest but he managed a short, “Yep,” in response. Sure, what Landon said was the truth. For the past ten years, Ethan had spent every waking hour studying or planning or working toward his goal of opening up his own charity clinic. But the way his brother said it, as if chastising Ethan, burned. He turned his head toward the door. Maybe he should just leave. Hippie Heather might not have been a mistake, but this whole party
definitely was.
Right when Ethan thought the night couldn’t get worse, the door to the club opened and in walked Mr. Bad Date from earlier that evening. Perfect. One more person to add to his fan club.
The guy strolled over to a woman sitting alone at the bar. From her expression, it was clear his attention was unwanted.
“Ethan?” Dillon barked, breaking through Ethan’s thoughts.
He turned to see all of his brothers staring at him.
“You okay?” Dillon’s eyebrows were creased together. “Your fists are all clenched like you’re about to go and wallop that guy. Do you know him?”
“You just got here!” Jax replied. “How could you possibly want to fight somebody?”
It took a bit of effort, but Ethan managed to loosen his fists and shook his head. “I’m not looking for a fight.” But if that guy wanted to start one, Ethan wouldn’t mind knocking his crooked front teeth from his greasy mouth. Someone needed to teach that guy some respect.
“Right. And I’m Queen of England. I know the look of a man about to pick a fight.” Jax raised a brow. Ethan was older and in college by the time Jax attended high school, but Jax’s temper always burned a little faster than the rest of the boys. He likely started a good many fights in his day.
Jax cracked his neck and winked. “We can take him.”
We. That word settled over Ethan in an oddly comforting way.
The bartender handed a beer to the guy who then turned and locked eyes with Ethan. The guy tilted his head as if trying to get a read on Ethan, then his mouth drew into a tight line. With casual steps, he sauntered over to where they all sat.
Ethan stood. Was this creep really going to call him out in front of his brothers?
Even though the idiot puffed out his chest, he was still a good five inches shorter, and much thinner, than Ethan. “I knew you were lying back there. Why couldn’t you mind your own business?” He poked Ethan’s chest with the last three words.
It took all Ethan’s control not to deck the guy. The stools behind Ethan scraped against the concrete floor as his brothers got up to flank Ethan. The man’s eyes shifted from brother to brother as his Adam’s apple bobbed in a hard swallow. “Whatever. She’s not worth it.” The man took a few steps backward before he turned and skulked away, rejoining the girl at the bar.