by Mia Madison
My Best Friend’s Brother
A Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Romance
Mia Madison
Contents
1. Lanie
2. Lanie
3. Lanie
4. Parker
5. Lanie
6. Lanie
7. Parker
8. Lanie
9. Lanie
10. Parker
11. Lanie
12. Lanie
13. Parker
14. Lanie
15. Lanie
16. Parker
17. Lanie
18. Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright © 2018 by Mia Madison
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, locations, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Lanie
“Lanie, wake up.”
Claire’s voice sounded as if it was coming from a long way away. Keeping my eyes shut, I ignored her, trying to recapture the dream I’d been having. It had been a good one. I’d been happy, and excited about… something. Something that had made my pulse speed up though I couldn’t quite remember why.
“Come on, it’s time to go.”
“Mph. Five more minutes,” I said drowsily. “My class doesn’t start until nine.”
Bits and pieces of the dream flitted through my brain. There had been someone standing next to me. And there’d been some kind of enticing scent filling my nostrils. I couldn’t remember ever dreaming about a specific smell before, but it had been a delicious one. Kind of… outdoorsy. Like the way it smells outside after the rain stops and the sun comes out. Maybe if I just kept my eyes closed, I’d drift back into the dream.
My best friend laughed. “That’s the last time I’m letting you take a sleeping pill. We’re not in college anymore—we graduated, remember? That’s what this trip is all about.”
“Mmkay.” Claire and I had roomed together all four years of college. She—wait a minute. What trip? Squirming, I wiggled my hand out from underneath the blanket and encountered a hard, smooth surface. Like the armrest of a chair.
Or an airline seat.
My eyes flew open. Our trip! All around me, people were unfastening their seatbelts as the plane rolled gently toward the terminal. Leaning across Claire, I looked outside, but all I saw were more planes, not the mountains I was expecting. Turning back to my best friend, I squinted at her. “Are we really…?”
“Yep,” she said, her smile infectious. “Welcome to Zurich, the capital of Switzerland.”
Switzerland! Ever since I was a child, when someone had asked that old get-to-know-you-question about do you prefer the beach or the mountains, I’d answer mountains. Every single time. And now I’d just landed among them.
A few minutes later, my excitement had mostly overpowered the brain fog left from the sleeping pill. Claire was right, I was never going to try one of those again. It had only been an over-the-counter one, but I was going to throw out the pack as soon as I got to the hotel.
“Did you have a nice flight, Lanie?”
Mrs. Grant, Claire’s mom, looked as fresh as if we’d just begun the seven-hour flight. Her shoulder-length brown hair was perfect, every strand in its place. I ran a hand across my forehead, pushing my hair out of my eyes. I was pretty sure I didn’t look as good as she did at the moment. “It went quicker than I thought,” I said truthfully.
Though I wouldn’t have minded the flight taking a little longer if it would’ve meant having more of that amazing dream. What had it been about again? The details were fading fast, but I remembered feeling warm. And safe. And happy.
Well, I should be happy. The Grants were footing the bill for the entire trip as a graduation present. They’d been kind enough to let Claire invite me. It was the trip of a lifetime… but somehow I knew that’s not what the dream had been about.
Mr. Grant squeezed past his wife and into the aisle. “Do you girls need any help with your bags?”
“No, thank you,” I said politely, trying to remember which overhead bin my carryon was in.
“We’re good, Dad.” Claire already had her bag and was several rows in front of me.
Standing on my tiptoes, I finally spotted my dark blue backpack. It had been pushed to the back of the overhead compartment and was currently blocked by a black suitcase with wheels that looked much too big to fit up there.
When no one stepped up to claim the bigger bag, I reached up and tried to push it out of the way to get mine, but every time I shoved it to the side, it slid back. Frustrated, I jumped up but couldn’t manage to snag my bag.
Then warmth flooded me as someone moved next to me. A tan forearm appeared above me, reaching over the suitcase and easily scooping up my bag.
The tall man held the bag to his chest, looking down at me. “This is yours, right, Squeak?”
I opened my mouth to say yes. And to tell Parker Grant, Claire’s older brother, not to call me Squeak. But instead, the words that tumbled out were: “You were in my dream.” The sudden warmth in my abdomen made realize my dream hadn’t been entirely PG-rated.
He continued to stare down at me, only now one eyebrow was cocked and an amused smirk played at his lips. My face flushed—it was probably getting as red as my hair.
I could feel my blush spread as I tore my eyes away from his piercing green ones. Taking the bag, I said, “Yes, it’s mine.” It took all my concentration to make my voice steady instead of high-pitched and squeaky. That happened sometimes when I was nervous, and it was why he’d started using that as one of several nicknames he called me. “Thank you.”
After a moment, I risked looking up again. He was still grinning. Like his stepmother, he looked alert and refreshed. And, as usual, hot as hell. His hair was a little longer than it had been when he was in the army. And he had a thin layer of stubble lining his jaw, but he looked amazing.
“I, umm, hope you had a good flight,” I said lamely.
“Not my favorite way to pass the time, but it got us here.” He gestured over my shoulder. I turned to see that the people in front of me were making their way toward the exit by the cockpit. Hastily, I turned and headed down the aisle.
Parker’s deep, rich voice reached my ears as I walked. “I hope it was a good dream.”
An image from the dream suddenly filled my head. Parker’s strong arms surrounding me, holding me close. His long fingers in my hair. The intensity of his green eyes as he lowered his head to mine.
Blushing even more, I hurried toward the exit.
But one thing was certain. It sure as hell had been a good dream.
Lanie
The inside of the airport was gleaming and pristine as we made our way to customs. Before I’d fallen asleep on the plane, I’d been worried. What if they’d made the chip wrong on my brand new passport? What if they didn’t let me into the country?
But once I got to the counter, my main concern was making sure Parker, who was right behind me, didn’t see my absolutely horrible passport photo.
Fortunately, he didn’t, and the customs officer flipped briefly through my passport, stamped it, and I was officially in Switzerland. I hadn’t seen a mountain yet or eaten any chocolate, but still, it was exciting. My first trip out of the United States!
Claire seemed to share my enthusiasm. She was practically jumping up
and down as we loaded our belongings onto luggage carts. “I can’t believe we’re finally here. This is going to be such a great trip. Once we lose these guys, I mean.” She said that last part in a loud whisper, and her parents laughed.
Parker threw his arm around her neck, pulling her close. “You know you can’t live without me.” His well-muscled forearm covered half her face, but I could see she was smiling. Though he was ten years older than her, Claire worshiped her older brother. So did I—but in a slightly different way.
I watched them as they goofed around, Claire pretending she couldn’t get loose from his grasp. It was rare to see Parker in a joking mood, especially around Mr. and Mrs. Grant. Parker was Mr. Grant’s son, the product of an accidental pregnancy with a woman he’d dated in law school. Parker had lived with his mom until he hit his teens. When she remarried and moved away—showing little signs of wanting her son to accompany her and her new husband, he came to live with Claire and her parents. It hadn’t been an easy transition.
“Come on, folks, let’s get this show on the road.” Mr. Grant led the way out of the airport. I followed Claire, pushing a luggage cart in front of me, eager to see some scenery. But the exit opened up to a covered roadway. I looked up and down the street, but all I could see were buildings on either side.
There were taxis there, but the Grants ignored them, crossing the road and heading toward a large building directly across from us. When we neared the entryway, Parker directed his cart off to the side where several people were standing around, smoking. When his father turned to him, he waved him off, saying he’d wait out here. Mr. Grant frowned at him but continued toward the buildings.
I wasn’t sure what we were doing or why, but I was disappointed that Parker was already finding reasons to ditch us. Disappointed and jealous… especially when a woman with spikey jet black hair and a nose ring offered him a cigarette… and a warm smile.
Watching him light it up, my face burned as much as the end of his cigarette did. The woman laughed at something he was said while they both puffed away in harmony. Parker was a grown man. An extremely attractive man. I knew he could get any woman he wanted—I just didn’t get a chance to see that side of him very often. Whenever he’d shown up to visit Claire and me in college, he’d been in big brother mode.
“Lanie, come on!”
Claire was waiting outside the automatic glass doors, and I pushed my cart ahead of me, hurrying to catch up. It was loud inside. And crowded.
Panting, I pulled my cart up next to where Claire had stopped near an escalator. “There’s a shopping mall right across from the airport?”
“It’s a train station. See the arrivals and departure boards? But yeah, this level is just stores.”
There were a lot of them. A bookstore was nearby, an electronics store, and a food court complete with a McDonald’s. And farther on down were some bigger stores. “Where did your parents go?” Their luggage carts were parked next to Claire’s.
“Upstairs to get the rail passes. I’m going to find a restroom. Will you watch the luggage?”
I started to answer, but she’d already left, weaving in and out of the crowds like a pro. How did she know which way to go? What if she got lost and needed to ask someone for help? I’d heard that most people in Switzerland spoke English, but still. Claire looked so confident as she dashed out of sight.
A bit nervously, I pushed all the luggage carts further back, trying to keep them out of people’s way. I wished Mr. and Mrs. Grant would come back. Or Parker.
But after a few minutes, Claire returned. “Okay, your turn.”
“I don’t need to go to the restroom.”
Claire laughed. “I didn’t mean that, what am I, your mom? I meant go wander a bit. Stretch your legs. We were sitting for so long. Or,” she said with a grin, “I was sitting. You looked like you were passed out for most of the flight. Go walk it off.”
Shaking my head but smiling a little, I spontaneously gave her a hug. I had no idea what I’d be doing right now if Claire and I hadn’t met all those years ago and become best friends, but I was glad I didn’t have to find out. “This is going to be the best trip ever.”
“Damn right it is. Now get going. My parents should be back in a few and then we’ll catch a cab to the hotel.”
Still smiling a little, I set off, clutching my purse tightly against my side. This was an adventure. So what if I’d never traveled abroad before? I’d always wanted to, and this was my big chance.
The first store I checked out was a bookstore. There wasn’t much in English, but it was still fun to look around. I bypassed a jewelry store and a what looked to be a little convenience stand. And then I saw it… a small kiosk selling pretzels the approximate size of a dinner plate.
Suddenly, I was famished. I’d slept through all of the meal services on the plane, and my stomach rumbled. Moving closer, I examined the pretzels in the little window below the counter. They looked amazing, each one a light golden brown with an assortment of toppings. The woman behind the counter said something, presumably in German. When I looked at her blankly, she switched to English.
“Can I help you?”
“They look so good; I don’t know which one to get.”
The woman smiled. Then she pointed at one on the end with seeds on it. “This is my favorite. It has… what’s the English word? Oh yes. Papaya.”
I squinted at the pretzel she was pointing to. The little green seeds didn’t look like papaya to me. “I think you mean pepitas. Or you can just say pumpkin seeds.”
“Yes. Thank you. My English is no good. Do you want one?”
“Yes, please. I’ll try the pumpkin seed.”
She took a warm one from a case behind her. “Anything to drink?”
“Do you have any soda?” Some caffeine was probably in order to fully wake me up.
The woman nodded and handed me the pretzels and a can of something called Coca-Cola Light. “That’ll be seven fifty.”
It was a little difficult trying to dig into my purse while holding the world’s biggest pretzel, but I managed to pull out a twenty.
I handed it to her, but she didn't take it. “I'm sorry,” she said, “But I can only accept Swiss Francs.”
Of course. How stupid of me. I'd exchanged some money before I left the United States, but I’d put the sealed envelope of bills in a zippered compartment of my purse for safe-keeping. There was no way I’d be able to get to it quickly. But my wallet contained a small handful of coins the bank had given me. After much fumbling, I pulled out a coin that was worth two francs. That was a good start. But the next coin was only half a franc. I gave an apologetic smile to the woman behind the counter, and wished I had thought of this before.
The next coin I dug out was only worth ten cents. This was going to take forever, and there was a line forming behind me. In desperation, I was about to ask if I could use a credit card, but then someone slapped a yellow note with the number ten on it on the counter in front of me. Turning, I looked up into Parker's piercing green eyes.
For a moment, I was transfixed, staring at his tan face, strong jawline, and dark, wavy hair. After a long moment, I realized I should say something. “You didn't have to do that.”
“Yes, I did. You were about to drop your pretzel as you rifled through your purse, and that would truly be a waste.”
The vendor gave Parker his change, and he led me away from the counter, holding my soda so that I could zip up my purse.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Oh. Let me pay you back.”
Parker stilled my arm with his as I attempted to reach into my purse again. “It’s on me,” he said. “Consider it a graduation present. Or perhaps I should say, a graduation pretzel.”
His touch made me freeze, intent only on his warm hand on my forearm. But then I looked up at him. “You graduated, too.” After ten years in the army, Parker had returned to the US and used the GI tuition assistance benefit to
get a degree in business. Claire had told me privately that her dad, who had wanted Parker to go into law as he had, would’ve been happy to pay for his enrollment in a private college, but Parker had chosen to go to a state school. It was still weird to think that he’d been getting his degree at the same time Claire and I did since he was ten years older. Well, eleven years older than me, since I was a year younger than Claire.
“It’s not the same,” Parker said.
“Why?”
“Well, for one thing, I didn’t graduate in the top five of my class, Ms. Genius.”
Predictably, I blushed. That was another one of Parker’s nicknames for me—ever since I skipped a grade in middle school. I’d been thrilled because it meant I’d be moving into Claire’s class, but ever since then, he’d sometimes teased me about being a genius—which was almost as embarrassing as when he called me Squeak.
“It’s a graduation pretzel. That means we both should have some,” I insisted.
“Okay, but you first. I want to see how you handle a pretzel the size of your head.”
I laughed and took a small bite, conscious of him watching me. But then the soft bread melted in my mouth and I forgot everything else, savoring the taste. “It’s incredible,” I said. “Your turn.”
He handed me my soda and took the pretzel, taking a huge bite from the other side. He chewed for a moment and then grinned. “That is really good. I used to get these in Germany.”
“You were in Germany?”
“A time or two during my years in the service. There are a lot of army bases there.” He took another bite. “A lot of the pubs sold pretzels like these. They’re better with beer.” He glanced at my can of soda.
I offered it to him but he shook his head.
“They didn’t have beer at the kiosk,” I told him, trying to keep the conversation going. I was a bit on the shy side, but being around Parker always made me more tongue-tied than usual.
“Too bad. Next time, we’ll get one with a beer.”