Her BFF's Brother Page 4

  I ease myself into his room gently. He’s passed out naked on the big bed, face down, ass up in the air like a well-tattooed Thanksgiving turkey. Half-completed song lyrics litter the room among the wine and scotch bottles. I can’t help but chuckle at the odd position. The more money and talent you have, the more eccentric you are.

  “Unnngh, Reed, is that you?”

  Brash startles me, his voice sounding more like a death rattle than a rockstar.

  “Yeah, Brash. It’s me. You need something?”

  “Yeah, a bloody new brain. Christ, My head feels like someone split it in half with an axe.”

  I chuckle as I slip into the room and draw the curtains closed, cutting off the cursed sunlight.

  “There, I've vanquished the mighty sun. You’re safe now.” I can’t keep the amusement out of my voice. Brash is utterly ridiculous.

  “Thank you. You’re a good man, Reed. That’s your problem, you know. You’re too good.”

  I frown at Brash as he straightens himself out onto the bed, flipping over onto his back like a boneless turtle.

  “I’m too good?” I ask, amusement still clinging to my voice.

  “Yeah. I seen the way you look at that girl. The sewer, seweress, the stew — the flight attendant.”

  “You’re still drunk, Brash. Go back to sleep.” I mutter under my breath.

  He rolls over, fumbling for me, grasping my arm.

  “No, it’s true. I don’t know a lot, man, but I know love. Heartbreak. It’s wha’ makes me such a good musician, innit? I know pain, man. I seen it all over your face. You got it bad for that girl.”

  Brash’s sentiment is sweet, but his breath is rank. I recoil away, pulling myself from his grasp. Something on his hands is sticky, and I have no desire to get any more on myself.

  “I’ll have Rob bring some water and aspirin around, alright? I think we’re in the clear at this point, so you can get out and get some fresh air. That sound good?”

  Brash groans, doubling over on his side, curling up into the fetal position.

  “Nothing sounds good. I’m dying, Baker.”

  I chuckle, easing myself out of the room with the same care that I entered it with.

  Rob’s room is on the other side of the hotel. I take my time strolling over there, checking all of the various angles, investigating, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Most of the time I can get a feeling for when things are going to go wrong. A sixth sense about danger.

  Right now, though, all of my senses are hogtied by Rori Stewert. I can’t tell if her scent is just clinging to my skin even after two showers or if I’m only imagining it in a bit of wish fulfillment, but I smell her strawberries and cream loveliness everywhere I go. I keep expecting to turn a corner and find her, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

  Fast asleep and hopefully having forgotten last night.

  I don’t bother with any niceties with Brash’s manager. Just my fist pounding on the door, beating it like a drum. There’s a muffled thump from the other side, a pregnant pause, and then Rob slides the door open an inch before it catches on the chain.

  “Baker? It’s bloody seven in the morning, what —”

  “Brash is up and needs looking after. He’s got a monster hangover. I’d grab a gallon of water, a bucket, and a pair of rubber gloves if I were you.”

  Rob’s lip curls in disgust. “You’re the help. You clean it up.”

  Wrong time to push me, weasel.

  I put one hand on the door and give it a shove. The flimsy chain snaps beneath the force, and Rob goes tumbling back to land on his ass.

  “Listen here, shitstain,” I growl, towering over Rob. “I work for Brash. Not you. My only job is to keep him safe. It’s your job to keep him happy. So get out there and do. Your. Job.”

  I grab him by the back of his shirt collar and toss him out into the hallway. Rob goes sprawling, a pile of sweaty flesh that congeals on the floor right at the feet of the last person I want to see.

  Rori Stewert.

  “That’s quite the wakeup call, Baker.” Her eyes are still as gorgeous as they were last night, but now there’s a sharp edge to them.

  I shrug, not willing to let her bait me in front of a crowd.

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go get some breakfast. I worked up quite the appetite last night.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Really? I thought you got a big enough bite.”

  So much for that.

  My eyes dart down to her neck, where her flowing crimson locks are covering what I know to be a killer hickey.

  When I look back up, her eyes are lasered into mine, and a wicked smile crawls across her face.

  “Not at all. Not even close. What can I say, Baker? I’ve got a ferocious appetite.”

  With that, she saunters past, heels clacking, hips swaying with every step. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to grab her as she walks past and drag her back to my room.

  Rob leans up, craning his neck to watch her go. I don’t blame him, but it still pisses me off.

  I put a foot on his chest, pushing him down.

  “Not a word, Rob,” I growl. He just smiles up at me weakly.

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  Chapter 10

  Rori

  Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to flight 909. Taking you on a flight all around the world. — Steve Aoki, Turbulence

  I manage to wait until I turn the corner before putting a steadying hand on the wall.

  It should be illegal for a man to be that sexy. Just the sight of Reed’s smile was enough to give me flashbacks, have me reliving the feeling of his teeth at my neck. A flashback that left my knees weak, my body thrumming, already on the verge of the biggest orgasm of my life. All without even touching me.

  But I’ll be damned if I’ll give him the satisfaction.

  The dining room of the hotel Brash chose is just as extravagant as the rest of the place. Open to the sky, the courtyard has a shimmering fountain peacefully burbling away, adding a quiet calmness to the stillness of the early morning.

  It’s a quiet that is completely at war with my inner turmoil.

  Guilt and arousal warred within me all night, kept me tossing and turning. I touched myself until I soaked the sheets, and it still wasn’t enough to salve the ache between my thighs. If anything, it only made it worse.

  But every time I tried to stop, a wave of arousal would flood me as my shoulder ached. Reed bit me hard enough that I’m pretty sure I can request a copy of his dental records at this point. It’s a constant pulse just beneath my skin, beating in time with the need between my legs. Try as I might to cover the mark he’d left on me with even the thickest layer of makeup or my very best concealer, it refused to budge. Worse than a scarlet letter. It’s a purple hickey.

  And every time I move enough to pull against it, I feel the butterflies take wing in my stomach.

  It wasn’t all an act, though. I might not want to let Reed see me sweat, but I am starving. An entire sleepless night spent with my body crashing from one unsatisfying climax to the next left me ravenous and in need of a dozen cups of coffee.

  This early, there are only a few other people in the hotel dining room. An elderly couple sharing a single roll and two cups of tea. A lone businessman, his suit and tie both too tight.

  And me, a girl in Buenos Aires without a job to do and without a partner to do things with.

  My phone buzzes. My heart leaps in my throat, pulse quickening at the feeling. I dig it out quickly, fingers trembling as I unlock it.

  Hi! Reed told me you two ended up in the same place? What are the odds! You two should catch up.

  I let my head sink forehead, hitting the table with a thud.

  As if everything about this trip weren’t cursed enough. I can feel Beth’s relentless optimism through her text.

  “Ah, table. The breakfast of champions.”

  I peek up from my facedown position, eyeing the owner of the voice. A member of t
he hotel staff is standing at my side, her dark hair piled up in a bun. I smile up at her weakly.

  “I need your biggest cup of coffee and one of everything that I can smell coming in from that kitchen,” I say as I pillow my head back under my arms.

  “Ah, boy troubles?” She murmurs in the soft sing-song accent I’ve come to identify with the local dialect. I grin up at her sheepishly as the woman scribbles something on the notepad she’s carrying. She has a wide, warm smile, punctuated by the two deepest dimples I’ve ever seen.

  “Is it that obvious?” I mumble.

  “Drowning your sorrows in carbs after a sleepless night?” She shrugs. “Constantly fiddling with your phone? The way your face lights up when it goes off, then falls to pieces? Si, it’s pretty obvious.”

  Apparently, heartache for breakfast knows no cultural boundaries. Good to know.

  “Yeah,” I nod. “Old crush, come back from the dead. He’s staying here, and I keep running into him.”

  She makes a face and clucks her tongue.

  “Poor thing. Tell you what, we’ve got some crepe suzette that’s for the staff only. What the cooks make for themselves and us. It’s way better than anything we serve. You want to come in the back and have some?”

  “Absolutely,” I beam up at her.

  She extends her hand, hauling me up to my feet with a surprisingly strong pull.

  “I’m Maria, by the way.”

  “Rori,” I link my arm in hers. The day might be looking up. “Lead the way, please, Maria.”

  As we flee into the back of the kitchen, I catch a glimpse of Reed walking in. I want to stop, to turn around and rush into his arms.

  But then I think of Beth, and how she’s always had my back. How she once started a food fight to disguise the fact that I’d spilled an entire tray of lunch on myself. How she’d held my hand when I’d been sick, taught me to drive when nobody else would. How she’d been the shoulder for me to cry on when my mom had died.

  There’s no way I can do anything to hurt her. Last night I lost sight of that, but today… today, I’ll be keeping my distance from Reed Baker and his sexy smile.

  One more night, and then I never have to see him again.

  So I let Maria drag me into the back without catching Reed’s eye. I see him scanning the tables, looking for me. I can’t make out his expression from here, but his body language is as tense as mine must be.

  Good. If one of us is going to be sleepless and unsatisfied, we both should be.

  The crepes are even better than Maria hyped them up to be, buttery smooth and with just the right amount of kick from the orange. The rest of the staff are sympathetic and friendly, clapping me on the back and welcoming me into their midst. But even the decadent sweetness of the sugar and the warmth of fresh friendship doesn’t ease the ache in my shoulder.

  Or the one in my heart.

  Chapter 11

  Reed

  We got a 747 coming down in the night. There’s no power, there’s no runway lights. — Saxon, 747

  The afternoon sun trickles into Brash’s room through the open balcony door. The breeze off of the blue waters of the Beagle Channel blows the curtains back, bringing with it the scent of sun, salt, and sea.

  “What do you mean, he’s gone?” I ask through clenched teeth.

  Rob shrugs. Wrapped in a decadent hotel robe, he looks like he just strolled out of the hotel pool or— more likely— the massive tiled shower in Brash’s suite.

  “I mean that when I brought back his lunch, he wasn’t here.” Rob gestures around, emphasizing the emptiness of the room. “I waited an hour, he never showed up. Tried to call, no answer. That’s when I figured I’d let you know. You know, since this is your job and all.”

  He grins smugly, the bastard.

  “Alright,” I sigh. This day is getting worse by the passing hour. “I’m going to go looking for him. Since if he gets kidnapped or murdered by a crazed stalker, you’re out of a meal ticket, I suggest you help.”

  Rob pales at that, the consequences of a missing megastar finally seeming to dawn on him.

  “I’ll check with everyone else, see if they’ve seen him.” He tightens the robe, hustling out of the room in quick-waddle.

  I palm my face, dry washing it. This is the last thing I need today. A missing client is the cherry of misery on top of the agony sundae that this trip has become.

  The curtains framing Brash’s balcony billow forlornly in the lazy afternoon breeze blowing in. Just beyond the table on the stone patio, a small wrought-iron gate stands against the blue marble of the sky.

  On a whim, I headed up the stairs to the top of the resort. It isn’t overly tall — all of the resorts here were once sprawling haciendas. They had more than enough space without being more than three stories tall. The end result is nothing like the sprawling, chrome, and concrete hotels back home. Everything about Buenos Aires has the air of a modern city built on old-world charm.

  Still, three stories is more than a decent drop. Especially off the sheer side, straight onto the rocks of the ocean below. There’s a railing that goes around the top of the roof at the steepest point, but it’s flimsy and easily climbed over.

  Which is exactly where I find Brash.

  The tattoos on his arms are clearly visible through the crisp white of his shirt as he stands with his arms outstretched, wind blowing in his hair.

  I intentionally scuff my shoe as I walk towards him, not wanting to spook him. Brash turns as I approach and gives me a big grin. It’s the same one he flashes every time the cameras are around. It’s quick, practiced. Perfect. Empty.

  “Care to join me as I contemplate the despair of life?” Brash asks. Sunglasses hide his eyes from me. He sounds sad. Lonelier than I’ve heard him in all the time I’ve worked for him.

  After a moment, I shrug.

  “Sure.”

  Clearly not expecting my casual acceptance, Brash has to scoot over as I swing first one leg and then the other over the railing, joining him on the ledge.

  “You’re the expert, Baker. You think this drop would kill a man?” He asks. Nerves tinge his expressive rockstar voice, but I don’t acknowledge them.

  I lean out further, one hand gripping the rail. I rub my chin with the other, making a show of contemplating the distance.

  “Maybe. Falls are tricky. I’ve seen men go from twice this height and get up like nothing happened. Saw a guy trip on a rock and break his own neck once too. I wouldn’t chance it, though.”

  Brash nods once, licks his lips. He says a lot in his silence, more than he has to.

  I nod. “Life can be a bit of a bitch, huh?”

  Brash blows out a breath.

  “Got what I always wanted. Fame. Fortune. Girls, booze, an outrageous amount of illegal narcotics.” He sounds like he can’t believe he’s actually complaining about his life. “But it all feels hollow, you know? I was laying there in that bed, alone for the first time in a long time, wondering, I don’t know— what’s the point of it all, if I don’t have anyone to share it with?”

  I give him a half-smile.

  “You’ve got Rob.”

  Brash rolls his eyes, snorting at me.

  “Rob’s an alright bloke, mate, but he’s not a partner. Not someone I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

  I chuckle. “A hopeless romantic rockstar, huh? There’s a new one.”

  Brash joins my laugh, then looks out over the ocean.

  “So, is this is? Do we jump? Maybe I just never go back inside?” He doesn’t sound like he means it anymore. More like he’s looking for a reason to motivate him to climb back over the railing.

  “I don’t know,” I shrug again. “Staying here doesn’t sound so bad. I’m looking at the same problem you’ve got, only without the fame and fortune to go with it. Hell, I’ve actually met someone, but it can’t work. Now that I think about it, I might actually be worse off than you are.”

  I make a show of loosening my tie.

&nb
sp; “Woah, woah mate.” Brash hold’s out a steadying hand. “Take it easy. Let’s talk this out. That bird from the plane, right? She’s great. Nice girl, that one. But why can’t it work out? She taken, or does she prefer tacos to hotdogs?”

  I can’t help but laugh at Brash’s antics.

  “I’ve been in love with Rori for six years.” It’s liberating to say the words out loud for the first time in my life. “But I’m her best friend’s brother. It would crush my sister if we did something.”

  Brash lowers himself to a sitting position on the ledge, leaning up against one pole of the railing. He seems to think over my words for a long minute. When he tugs off his sunglasses, there are a million emotions clouded behind his eyes. It feels good to see him animated again.

  “Well, how do you know? You ever ask her?” He finally asks.

  I mirror him, sliding down to let my leg dangle down off the ledge of the building.

  “No. But isn’t it understood? That’s not something you do. Don’t shit where you eat, right?”

  Brash shakes his head, palming his face. It’s the same look of exasperation I get when I deal with most of my clients, so I understand all too well.

  “That’s work, man. Don’t hook up at work. Which, I might add, you seem to be pursuing anyway.” he wags a finger at me, but I hold up both hands placatingly.

  “How the hell was I supposed to know the fucking love of my life would be on your plane?”

  “You can’t run forever, man,” Brash shrugs. “That’s love. It’s a big bad wolf. Eventually, it catches up to us, no matter how fast or how hard we run, and then —” He slams his hands shut. “ — it eats us all up.”

  “So what? You saying I’m fucked no matter what, so I might as well give it a shot?”

  Brash grins. This time it’s a genuine smile.

  “At least have some fun before you punch your ticket out of here. Come on. We’ve got to get this sorted out. I’ve got an idea, but it’s going to take a lot of work.”