How to Date Your Brother's Best Friend Read online

  "I don't understand," she said.

  "Nick and I were pulling in and saw you turning down the other end of the street in your car. I commented on why you were driving your car and not your bike," Zander said, shifting the box. "Listen, can I explain inside? This thing is heavy. And I have a few more in the car."

  She looked out the window and saw his car full of boxes. Reluctantly she stepped aside to let him in. "Where do you want it?"

  Thinking he was making another sexual innuendo, she whipped her head around with a scowl. He caught her expression and said, "I meant the box. But it seems someone has her mind in the gutter."

  She gestured to the other ones in the corner of the room, ignoring his observation. "There is fine for now. I'll move them to the garage later."

  "I might as well put them in there now while I'm here. Save you the trouble," he said. His eyes flicked to her laptop on the kitchen counter.

  Where his picture shone from the screen. Shit!

  CHAPTER SIX

  Had he recognized it? She moved between him and the laptop hopefully blocking his view. "Sure. Garage is fine. I'll open it for you. Follow me," she said. She flipped the laptop closed on the way by. When she glanced back to see if he was following, he smiled. He totally recognized the picture. Dammit!

  "You have a really nice house," he said. "Pretty fancy for a bartender."

  "You know I have a trust fund, Zander. I try not to use it, but I wanted a place of my own where Peabody and I could feel secure," she said sighing. She hated talking about money.

  "Is Peabody your boyfriend?" he asked.

  She snorted. "He's my cat."

  "Oh," he laughed softly.

  "Why are you so obsessed with my love life?" she asked flicking on the light in the garage.

  She held the door open as he stepped through with the box. He put it down in the corner she indicated before answering.

  "Just curious. I want to know what my little Lizard has been up to in the last few years. I only get snippets of information from Nick," he said.

  She smirked at him. "So, you ask about me, huh?" Then she turned away horrified by her flirty tone. She needed to turn off the bartender in her. She didn't want any tips from Zander.

  And now she was thinking about his penis. Great.

  "If it comes up in conversation," he said following her to the garage door. She pressed the button to open it.

  "If what comes up?" she asked, still thinking about his penis and forgetting the conversation.

  "You," he said slowly.

  "Right. What about you? Any boyfriends?" she asked.

  He gave her a look. "Not that there's anything wrong with it, but I prefer women. And there isn't one in my life right now."

  "Surprising. When I get snippets of your life from Nick or Zay they brag about your conquests like they're their own," she said.

  "Yeah, well. Don't believe everything you hear," he said. He ducked under the door. She followed him to his car to help him unload.

  "What were you doing when I rudely interrupted you?" he asked.

  "Not much. I stopped by the donation center on the way home, so you weren't far behind me," she said evasively. Not a lie. But no way would she ever admit she googled him. Although, he probably already figured that out if he recognized the picture on her screen.

  "Thanks for bringing this stuff over," she said to change the subject. "I guess Nick gave you my address?"

  "Yup. I pass you on my way back to Xavier's, so I offered to bring it by. Save you the trip."

  "Well, thanks. I hate driving my car when the weather is so nice," she said gesturing to her motorcycle.

  "I remember," he said.

  "Do you still ride?" she asked as she followed him back to his car for another trip. How many boxes did she say she'd keep?

  "Not in a while. I sold my bike when I moved for my new job. Nowhere to store it. I definitely miss it, though," he said.

  When they finished unloading, he stood awkwardly in the garage. She got the sense he didn't want to leave. Compared to his exciting life in Atlanta, sitting alone at Xavier's had to be boring.

  "Do you want some water?" she asked.

  "That'd be great," he said. "And a tour of your place."

  She laughed. "What you see is what you get, really. It's a typical single-family home." She ushered him back into the open plan kitchen and living room. Peabody, used to only Lizzie being in the house, sauntered into the kitchen. He took one look at Zander, hissed, and hightailed it back out of the room.

  "Whoa! Hey there fat cat!" Zander laughed.

  "He's got a lot of fur," she said defensively. "And he's an excellent judge of character, so what does that say about you?"

  She opened the fridge and tossed him a bottle of water. "Thanks." He leaned back on the countertop to take a sip as he surveyed the room. She took the opportunity to survey him. His broad frame made her kitchen feel tiny. He caught her staring and held her gaze, just like he did the other night. The kitchen started to feel downright claustrophobic. She took a drink of her own water to cool herself down.

  "How 'bout a tour," she said breaking eye contact and moving passed him. "This is the kitchen. Attached to the living room."

  "Very nice open floor plan. I like it," he said. "Great selling point."

  "Oh right. I forgot you were in real estate. Is that what you're doing here for your job? Scoping out the market?"

  "Something like that. My firm is looking to expand and possibly open up an office here," he said.

  "I'm sure Zay would love for you to move back," she said moving towards the stairs. He followed a little too closely behind her.

  "I'm not moving back. My life is in Atlanta. But since I know the area, they sent me as a scout," he explained.

  "Well, my house isn't for sale. I love it here," she said. "This is a four bedroom. The Mistress bedroom is at the end of the hall."

  "Mistress bedroom?" he asked.

  She stopped to turn and face him. "I don't have a Master, so it's the Mistress."

  He smiled broadly. "Clever. I'll have to remember that for female clients." He brushed by her, purposefully to her estimation, rubbing against her chest with his arm. "How many bathrooms?"

  "Two and a half," she answered. Had she cleaned up her room? Did she want him seeing her personal space? She steered him into the hall bath. "I have an en-suite attached to my bedroom. There is this full one for the other three bedrooms. And then a half bath downstairs."

  He stepped in to open the shower curtain and otherwise be a nosy ass. She snuck down the hall and shut her bedroom door. She didn't want any images of Zander in her bedroom. She had a hard enough time sleeping since he'd been back. In fact, last night she had an especially yummy dream about...

  "Not gonna let me see the Mistress suite, huh?" Zander said behind her. Close behind her. She jumped and banged her elbow on the door frame as she turned around.

  "Ow," she said rubbing the spot. He drew her arm into his and gently rubbed her elbow with one hand. His other hand held her palm.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," he said looking down at her. Without her standard clunky boots on, he towered over her, broad shouldered and invading her space. She was acutely aware of his fingers moving over her skin. Her arm hair stood on end as if electrified.

  "Please stop," she whispered.

  "Stop what?" he asked smirking now running his thumb along her palm as well.

  "It's fine. Doesn't hurt any longer," she said, but didn't move a muscle. He still didn't stop.

  "What's behind the door, Lizard?" he asked.

  "None of your business, Drake," she answered. She slowly wrested her arm out of his embrace. He let her. "Excuse me," she said. He thankfully stepped aside.

  "Welp. That's it. You've seen the whole place," she said moving back down the hallway towards the stairs. She didn't hear his footsteps behind her. When she turned to look, her bedroom door stood open.

  "Zee!" she shrieked and ran back
down the hall. Too late. He stood turning a slow circle in the middle of her room.

  "This is nice. More feminine than I would have guessed for you," he said with his signature half-smirk.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked defensively.

  "I don't know. I just expected more leather or bike parts or heavy metal posters or something," he said.

  "Posters? Please tell me you, as an almost 30-something, don't still have posters in your bedroom," she chided.

  "Of course not. I have a very modern minimalist style," he said. "Is this the en-suite bathroom?" he asked pointing.

  "Yes. Typical bathroom. No need to look in there," she called, but he walked over any way. She tried to grab his arm, but he easily maneuvered out of her grasp.

  Of course, the first drawer he opened held her small stash of condoms. He lifted one, and his eyebrow, at her.

  She shrugged. "I'm an adult. Boys are unreliable."

  "Seems like you should try men instead."

  "I would if I could find one," she shot back standing with hands on hips. "Now, if you're done invading my private, personal space, you can go now."

  He slid his eyes slowly from the soaking tub to the glass encased shower then over to her. His eyes traveled down her body and a steady heat followed his gaze. She'd never been so thoroughly mentally undressed before. She threw up her hands and sighed. Then turned and pretty much fled from the room before he saw how red her neck and face were.

  "Lizzie, wait," she heard him call behind her. She didn't stop until she cornered herself downstairs in the kitchen. The cool tile floor against her bare feet helped to ground her and cool her libido.

  "Do you want a water for the ride back to Xavier's?" she asked pointedly.

  "Kicking me out?" he asked. She nodded. "Look, Lizzie. I'm sorry. You're just so damn adorable when you're flustered. I just wanted to get a rise out of you."

  "Congrats. Mission accomplished. I so appreciate being uncomfortable in my own private space," she said flatly.

  "I didn't think of it that way. Again, I'm sorry. Really," he said. "You have a really nice place. I'm proud of you."

  She snorted. "Proud? I used Mommy and Daddy's money to buy this place," she reminded him.

  "Yeah, but you could have gone so much more ostentatious. If I had your money, it would be hard for me not to spend it on all the fanciest, most up-to-date stuff. I think I'd be more like Nick. You should see the properties he's been sending me to review. They're ridiculous and enviable. You always were the smart one," he said.

  "Thanks. I'll be sure to tell Nick you said that," she teased.

  "Oh, I tell him all the time what a dumbass he is," he said chuckling.

  They just stood staring at each other for a few awkward minutes as the conversation lagged. Finally, Zander said, "I think I will take a water to go if you're still offering."

  "Sure," she said. She turned to grab him one out of the fridge. She tossed it to him and then followed him to the door. "Thanks for bringing the boxes."

  "No problem. I'll see you on Thursday for the bonfire, right?" he asked.

  "I'll be there."

  "I look forward to it," he said. Part of her wanted to watch him from the doorway; a bigger part didn't want him to have the satisfaction. So, she shut the door, but peeked through the curtains to watch him gracefully slide into the passenger seat of his rental car and pull out of her driveway.

  Great, now she'd have images of Zander Drake in her bedroom holding a condom. She could kiss sleeping good-bye.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Zander smirked as he saw the curtain move on the window beside the door. So, she watched him drive away after all. He should leave her alone but teasing her was so much fun. He didn't lie about that earlier. She blushed so easily, then shook her wild curls to cover her ears.

  Plus, he could hardly help himself. When she answered the door in short shorts and loose almost threadbare t-shirt, he had an almost violent physical reaction. Luckily, he'd been holding a box, or he may have been tempted to haul her against him, consequences be damned. To top it off, he'd glanced down at her bare feet and saw her perfectly polished pink toenails. Such a surprise on his tomboy Lizzie. He'd never had a foot fetish, but her slender pair might just turn him.

  Going into her bedroom and bathroom, which seemed like a great idea at the time, quickly proved a mistake. Now, he couldn't stop imagining her in the glass enclosed shower. Steam rising up around her. Water dripping down her breasts. Hands running over her naked body.

  His hands, preferably.

  He turned on the A/C. On high. It seemed especially hot in here.

  His phone buzzed beside him. The Bluetooth picked it up and a mechanical voice said, "Text from Tiffany. You can't run forever."

  He rolled his eyes. Stalker much? Especially stalkery with the flat voice of the in-car system. He might actually have to move out of Atlanta to get away from this crazy bitch. He'd told Lizzie he wasn't considering moving here, but if Tiffany didn't get the hint—or him explicitly telling her it was over—then he might actually consider it.

  He'd been in situations like this before, but the girls usually gave up after a few days of unreturned calls or texts. He only spoke with a handful of exes. And then only after running into them years later when they had a new boyfriend or husband.

  Once again, he thought about his life. If he literally had to move out of Atlanta because of a crazy chick, then something needed to be reevaluated. He couldn't just move every time a break-up went bad. Could he?

  "Text from Tiffany. We are perfect together. You'll see," the car voice said again.

  "No, I won't," he said out loud in a sing-song voice.

  Maybe he should have Zay call her to tell her he'd been in a horrendous accident and lost his memory. Of course, then she'd probably want to nurse him back to health.

  God, sex with Tiffany wasn't even good. She made a lot of unnecessary and embarrassing noises and moved around way too much. Everything about her was just over the top dramatic. He should have listened to his gut after their first date and called it quits. But stupid Terry at the office had to make a comment about how lucky Zander was to be with such a well-endowed, sexually liberated woman he ignored his gut and went out with her again. Which eventually turned into several months. Mainly at her insistence.

  The last straw had been at the fundraising gala. She had implied to more than one person they were engaged. People congratulated him all night. He couldn't make a scene there, so he grinned and bared it, but their fight later that night brought an end to their affair.

  He recognized the image on Lizzie's computer as one from the same fundraising gala. He smirked again. She totally digi-stalked him.

  Well, two could play at that game. He'd look her up online when he got back to Zay's.

  "Text from Tiffany. Your office said you were in DC. When will you be back?"

  "Jesus," he shouted and slammed his palm on the steering wheel. Whatever happened to confidentiality? Now the person he came here to avoid knew where to find him! Fabulous! At least DC encompassed many suburbs. She'd be hard-pressed to pick Kensington out on a map.

  "Text from Tiffany. Want me to come keep you company?"

  "Oh, hell no!" he said. He actually contemplated texting her back just to tell her the company made a mistake. He'd actually flown to Oregon or Alaska or Costa Rica. But that would mean engaging her, and he knew better than to poke the tiger. If he contacted her, she would see it as an opening.

  "Text from—"

  "Don't say it," he muttered.

  "Tiffany—"

  "You've got to be kidding me."

  "Picture attached."

  "Oh, Lord," he said. One more text, and he would turn off his phone. Either that or throw it out the window. Please don't let him have to change his goddamn number because of her. What a pain in the ass!

  Why couldn't he find normal girls? Like Lizzie. She was smart, witty, down-to-earth. Not to mention really fucking cute an
d rich. Guys like him didn't get girls like her, though. She ran in a different class of people.

  Ever since high school he'd had to prove himself. A scholarship kid in a school of privileged old money and politician's kids. Good thing he'd been good at sports, or he probably would have been an outcast like most of the other "charity cases," as the tuition kids called them. He'd fought for every inch of his reputation. If he had slipped even once, he'd have been done for at that school. He really wanted to join the speech and debate team at one point—especially because Lizzie joined the team—but that would have been reputation suicide. To even consider dating someone like Lizzie would have been the same result. And so, recognizing this, he created a persona to keep him "alive" at Deerfield Prep.

  And he'd been fighting to stay one step ahead ever since. He worked through college to help him and Xavier pay for what their scholarships didn't cover. Throughout his early 20s, he'd gotten to his job early every day and left last, often to the detriment to his personal life, in order to stay ahead in his career. He schmoozed with his bosses and made deals he wasn't exactly proud of, but at only 29 years old, he'd risen to the top of his company.

  And he was proud of himself. He earned his money. And although his net worth nowhere near rivaled what the Vandevere siblings were worth, he was comfortable. Even if he lost his job, which was highly unlikely unless another real estate crash surprised them, he'd be okay for a few months. Of course, having money like Lizzie and Nick would be awesome. Just to not have to worry about money for once would be a freaking dream come true.

  He'd been so jealous when they were younger. Nick always had the latest gadget, the fastest car, the name brand clothes. They had jet skis and snow skis and cruises to islands and trips to Europe. He got to go home to a two-bedroom apartment and cold pizza—on a good night. His parents did try. They did the best they could to make sure they kept what little they had. And to make sure their boys got the education they never did.

  And he did have Nick's cast-off stuff. Which in his opinion was all perfectly fine and didn't need to be discarded. Nick had a way of giving him stuff without making him feel like a charity case, which he appreciated. In fact, neither Vandevere sibling ever made him feel like he was less because he didn't have money.