My Brother's Bad Best Friend Read online

  “I know,” I say, smiling to cover how nervous I am. My heart’s racing and he’s coming closer, and I don’t know what I want to do, run or throw myself at him.

  I don’t have to choose as I run up against a counter behind me, the plant rattling slightly, its leaves brushing against the back of my neck. Jonas reaches out suddenly and I tip my face up toward him, expecting his lips, but instead he reaches past me and steadies the plant, keeping it from tipping over.

  “Shit,” I say, moving aside. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” he says, making sure the plant’s steady before letting it go. “Not like we don’t have more.”

  “I know. I just, didn’t see it, I guess.” I laugh nervously as he turns toward me, steps closer, and pulls me against his body.

  This time, his lips come for mine, and I don’t move away. I kiss him back as his hands find my hips, my whole body flooding with emotion, my heart hammering fast in lockstep with my heaving chest. I kiss him hard and deep, his tongue against mine, his lips soft and his beard slightly scratchy against my smooth skin. I let out a little moan and I’m so embarrassed by it that I want to die, but it doesn’t slow him down, not at all.

  After another half second, though, he pulls away, eyes on fire. “We shouldn’t,” he says.

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  “Really. Fuck, we really shouldn’t.”

  “My brother wouldn’t like it,” I guess.

  He nods, letting go of my hips and stepping away like he’s tearing off a bandage. “He’s gone far enough, I just…” He trails off.

  “Yeah, I get it.” I wrap my arms across my chest, I think to keep my heart from spilling out onto the floor.

  “You can start in the café with Lane tomorrow,” he says, turning away from me. “I’ll see you later.”

  Without another word, and without looking back, he leaves the room. I stand there among the plants, feeling like a moron, my lips still buzzing with his taste.

  9

  Jonas

  I lock myself in my office and go over spreadsheet after spreadsheet of pricing data, filling out paperwork, and basically doing any boring-ass accounting stuff that needs doing.

  It’s my version of taking a goddamn cold shower, and it barely works.

  I just couldn’t help myself. Seeing her like that, so fucking gorgeous and hurt and alone, I needed to touch her. And once I touched her, I needed to kiss her, and once I kissed her…

  Fucking hell. My dick’s hard for half the day as I fantasize what I could have had back there. I keep myself shut in, itching to get out in the shop and do something other than this horribly boring paper garbage, but I know that would be a mistake. I need to quarantine myself until these fucking feelings go away.

  I shouldn’t be obsessing about Lizzie like this. I know it’s a bad look, considering how deep in trouble her brother’s getting and how vulnerable she is right now. I absolutely don’t want to take advantage of this fucking girl but god damn, every time I’m around her I just keep thinking about her lips wrapped around my cock, her eyes locked on mine, her pussy gaping and dripping wet for me…

  I grunt and grip my pen in my hands. I duck my head and double down, losing myself in all the annoying minutiae that comes with running a coffee shop and a weed dispensary.

  Hours pass like that. I drift between daydreaming about having Lizzie’s body the way I so desperately crave and doing as much busywork as I possibly can. As five rolls around, I realize that I’m actually running out of shit to do, so naturally I boot up my computer and browse Reddit.

  It’s like torture, trying to keep my mind off Lizzie, and I don’t know why I’m dragging myself through this when she so clearly wants me. I’ve given a lot to her brother already, and it’s not entirely unreasonable of him to want me to leave her alone, at least right now. After what she’s been through, with the accident and her dead boyfriend, and her shithead stepfather hitting her in the face, I can’t imagine she needs another asshole man in her life trying to fuck things up for her.

  And that’s what I am. I know it, always have known it. I don’t date, and the only time I ever tried ended in fucking disaster. It wasn’t cheating or something dramatic that lead to me breaking up with my ex, but pure, plain boredom, the kind that comes when you get to know someone way too well.

  I’ll do it again, and I know it. I’ll get bored of the next girl that I let inside, but I can’t let that girl be Lizzie. It isn’t fair to her and it’s not fair to her brother. I have to be better, resist her, stay fucking strong.

  Except I’m not strong. I’m very, very weak.

  Eventually the sounds of the shop slowly dwindle. I check the time and it’s a bit after nine. I figure it’s probably safe now, so I head out to the main café to find Lane wiping down the tables and closing up the shop.

  “How’s it going?” I ask her, heading behind the register to count the drawer.

  “Good,” she says, spraying another table and wiping it off. “I had some help today.”

  I pause. I act like it’s no big deal as I keep counting out the cash, but I’m barely keeping track. “How was she?” I ask.

  “She’s sweet,” Lane says, watching me carefully. Fucking Lane, knows me way too well. I know she can see through this charade. I should’ve fired her a while ago and hired someone a little stupider. “Picked up on everything pretty fast.”

  “Good. Think she’d be worth hiring?”

  Lane snorts. “Jesus, Jonas.”

  I stop counting and look at her. “What?”

  “You’re like a lovesick little puppy dog. Next you’re going to ask if she talked about you.”

  I glare at her. “It’s not like that.”

  “Yeah, it is,” she says in this sickly sweet singsong voice, spraying another table. “You like this girl. I guess I can’t blame you, she’s got that whole ‘sexy wounded bird’ thing going on.”

  “Sexy wounded bird?” I grin a little bit. “Is that a thing?”

  “Sure, it’s absolutely a thing. I mean, she’s hot and all, but you’ve had hotter, so it’s not just that.”

  I go to argue but she’s right. I’ve been with a lot of women, and maybe some of them were theoretically more attractive than Lizzie in a conventional sense, but pure body shape and face symmetry isn’t all that matters, not by a long shot.

  “So it’s gotta be her vibe,” Lane continues. “She seems both fierce and shy, which is totally weird, so I figure she’s probably a little damaged. Frankly, Jonas, I never saw you as the type to try and fix a girl.”

  “I’m not trying to fix anything.”

  She shrugs. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Look, it’s not my business.”

  “You’re right, it’s not,” I say to her, going back to the register. She laughs sweetly and cleans off the rest of the counters as I finish up my task, trying not to get pissed off.

  The shitty part is, Lane is absolutely correct. It isn’t just Lizzie’s insanely attractive body that’s drawing me toward her, it’s the whole package. It’s the way she laughs, the way she gets pissed off, the way she has layers and layers of sediment built up inside of her, making her someone worth digging down deep into. She’s fucking interesting, and I want to get to know her.

  When did I become such a pussy?

  I finish up with the register and help Lane clean up behind the counter. It takes us maybe fifteen minutes to get the shop closed. She grabs her stuff, hanging her apron up in the back as I walk her to the door.

  “Thanks for the help,” she says as she steps outside.

  “No problem.” I lean up against the door, holding it open. “You’re here all day again tomorrow?”

  She nods. “You just pay me so well, I can’t stay away.” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm.

  “Asshole. Here.” I reach into my pocket and produce a little box, tossing it over to her.

  She slides it open with a little grin. “Okay, well, the perks aren’t bad.” She slips a joint from the box
and puts it between her lips.

  “Don’t tell the others,” I warn. I have a strict policy of not letting my employees get free shit, especially no free weed. I frequently break that rule for Lane considering she’s my best employee and a friend.

  “I’m not that dumb. I just enjoy the bonuses when I can get them.”

  “And listen, be nice to Lizzie, okay? I think… I think she needs it.”

  Lane nods a little. “Yeah, you’re right about that.” She goes to leave but hesitates. “Is she the reason you’re sleeping in the grow room, by the way?”

  I flinch a little. “How’d you know?”

  “People talk.” She raises an eyebrow. “I think you can probably go home if you want to.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Just keep your dick to yourself. For once.” She pulls a lighter from her pocket and sparks the joint, taking a long hit. She passes it over and I take it, breathing in gratefully before handing it back.

  “Great advice,” I say, releasing the smoke from my lungs. “Next you’ll tell a shark not to be a dick.”

  “Are sharks dicks?”

  “Every single one of them,” I say seriously.

  She laughs and turns away, waving her hand. “Later, Jonas. Be good.”

  “Later.” I watch as she heads over to her car, gets in, and starts the engine. I step back inside the shop, locking the door behind me before walking deeper into the building. I unlock the grow room’s door and wander over to my couch, flopping down on my back, one foot up on the armrest at the other end, my head propped up on the other.

  “Fuck,” I say softly, looking around. This is goddamn depressing, sleeping in this place, and plus, I forgot to bring clean clothes for tomorrow. I’ll have to make a trip back to the apartment no matter what. I can probably avoid seeing Lizzie, but what’s the point? She’s living with me now, and unless I want to stay on this couch in this depressing room for the rest of my life, I better get over it.

  “Fuck,” I say again, groaning. I sit up, staring at the plants, row after row of silent, judging weed. “Y’all don’t know me,” I grumble at them.

  I stand up, shaking my head. “Fuck it,” I grunt. I’m not hiding from my own damn apartment just because I’m afraid I can’t keep my dick to myself. I have self-control, damn it.

  Well, not really, but I can try.

  I grab my shit and head out.

  10

  Lizzie

  I step out of the shower, pausing to wipe the steam from the glass. I look at my face, at the slowly fading bruise around my eye, and I wonder how I got here.

  At least work was decent. I like Lane, she’s funny and helpful and easy to talk to. The customers are okay too, some are kind of douchey and annoying, but mostly I had a good time. I think I could probably do this for a while, maybe even save up enough to get my own place.

  I frown, glancing away. It’s amazing how much I think about myself when my brother’s in trouble.

  I tried calling him when I got home, but there was no answer. I figure he’ll be home late again tonight, and I bet Jonas won’t be back at all. He avoided me for the rest of the day after that kiss, that stupid, amazing, so stupid kiss. I don’t get why I can’t just have a little self-control and keep my hands off him, but apparently I’m pathetic. The first handsome guy to smile at me suddenly sets my heart on fire and now all I want to do is throw myself at him, no matter how much of an asshole he can be.

  I poke at the bruised skin around my eye. “Stupid Lizzie,” I say to my reflection. The girl staring back at me smiles and cocks her head. I sigh as I drop my fingers. Part of me wishes my eye would scar, a deep pink rut down along the side of my face.

  Then maybe I’d have a permanent reminder of what assholes men can be.

  I tighten the towel around my chest and slip out of the bathroom. I shiver a little bit, my long, wet hair dangling down my back as I pad into the living room. I should’ve brought my clothes in with me, but oh, well, the guys aren’t going to be back anytime soon.

  I fish a clean bra and panties from my bag before letting the towel drop to the floor. I slip the panties on and decide against the bra, opting for an old Disneyworld t-shirt instead. As I’m pulling it over my head, I hear a key in the lock. The door swings over just in time as my arms are half tangled in the shirt, my breasts still partially exposed.

  I yank the shirt down, but I can tell by the look on Jonas’s face that I was too slow. “I didn’t think you’d be home,” I say quickly.

  “I’m glad I am.” He’s smiling but his eyes are flashing passion and need, that same look he gave me earlier in the grow room.

  “I don’t have a room,” I say stupidly, like he didn’t already know.

  He smiles and shuts the door behind him. “I get it. Sorry I barged in.”

  “No, I mean, it’s your apartment.”

  He tosses his keys in the dish and heads into the kitchen. I wrap my arms across my chest, the too-small t-shirt tight against my chest, my nipples poking out from the chilly air.

  “You can put some pants on,” he calls out. “I won’t peek.”

  “Oh, okay.” I feel so stupid as I pull a pair of shorts out of my bag and quickly get them on. I consider the bra as well, but it’s too late for that. I mean, whatever, he already got a glimpse of my bare chest. Can’t get any worse from there.

  I follow him into the kitchen and the way his eyes glance across my breasts makes me think that yes, maybe I should’ve put on that bra after all. I get a thrill knowing he’s looking at my body though.

  It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone. I honestly didn’t know if I’d ever be able to, after the accident, but I know I’m perfectly capable of, you know, feeling that sensation down there. I mean, it’s not like I’m paralyzed or whatever, I just broke my legs. I think I was numb for a while after the accident and couldn’t figure out how to make myself feel again.

  It came back though, gradually. By the time I felt like myself again, desires and all, I’d already lost all my friends, and everyone thought I got Nathan killed. Who wants to sleep with the girl that murdered her boyfriend? That’s what everyone was whispering, or at least what I imagined they were saying.

  Jonas pulls a bottle of wine out from a cabinet and looks at me. “Want some?” he asks, hesitating before he grabs a glass.

  “Sure,” I say.

  He pulls down two glasses, opens the bottle, and pours. He slides me my glass and I take it from him, grateful to have something to do other than think about how pathetically horny I’ve been for the past few months, how I’ve humped pillows, watched porn, and fingered myself into oblivion.

  And how I really, really wish I could do that right now, just to get some freaking relief from all this tension.

  He sips his drink. “How was your first day?”

  “Good,” I say. “Lane was helpful.” I sip the wine, and it’s good, deep and rich. I get a glance at the label, some pinot noir I’ve never heard of before, not that I have much experience drinking.

  We both sip in silence for a second before he grins at me. “Do I need to take my shirt off right now?” he asks suddenly.

  “What?” I ask, almost choking on my wine. I start coughing like a moron and he comes around the counter to rub my back.

  It feels stupidly good. I get up, putting my hands in the air. “I’m fine,” I manage. “Wrong pipe.”

  “Yeah,” he says, grinning. “I hope the thought of seeing me without my shirt on doesn’t make you choke.”

  “It doesn’t,” I say, getting myself under control.

  “So how about it? I take off mine, let you get a look at my tattoos, call it even?”

  “That’s okay,” I say. “Maybe we just don’t talk about it.”

  “I don’t know, that doesn’t seem to be working. I think I’d rather talk.” He sips his wine, eyes roaming my body.

  “It’s not like you saw anything.”

  “Small, pink, perky. Nice and firm. I’m guess
ing you’re at least a C-cup.”

  I blush, regretting that. “Okay, asshole, I get it. You saw my boobs. Grow up.”

  His smirk only gets bigger. “You’re so embarrassed right now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I blurt out. “Wouldn’t you be if I walked in on you changing?”

  “I wouldn’t be ashamed at all,” he says. “Actually, you can do that right now, if you want.”

  “You’re such an ass. And you’re lying.”

  “I don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, little rose.”

  I wince at the nickname. “Quit calling me that. I’m not little.”

  “You’re very little.” He steps closer to me. “At least compared to me.”

  “Everyone’s little compared to you.” I bump up against the back of the couch, surprising myself. I wasn’t even aware of backing up.

  “Parts of you aren’t little, though. Like that show you gave me.” He cocks his head. “Not little at all.”

  I groan. “Don’t be a pig.”

  “That ass. Those hips. Those lips. Just the right size.” He stops in front of me, eyes blazing, and I know what he’s thinking. I know what he wants, and I want it too, so fucking badly.

  But I know he’s not going to do it. Just like last time, he’s going to stop, get me all worked up and run off. I can’t handle that, not again. As he gets closer, this time I reach out and take his wrist, pulling him against me. He grabs my hips, lips so close to mine.

  “This is a mistake,” he says softly.

  “It’s only a mistake if we do something wrong,” I answer, taking his hand, but flipping mine around so that his palm is against the back of my hand. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

  I slowly guide my hand between my legs and he keeps his on top of mine. I let out a stiff, embarrassing little groan as I put my hand between my legs, his larger hand on top of mine. His eyes go wide as I start to rub myself, sending pulses of energy and desire rolling through my body.

  “I’m not doing anything wrong,” he repeats softly.