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TWENTY-THREE

Wyatt

I’m draping a tie around my neck when there’s a knock at my door. No surprise that Maverick is early; he’s been texting me all day, anxious waiting to deflower our secretary. I’m not sure who came up with that term—deflower—but it sure as hell sounds better than tricking our secretary into having sex with us.

Sexual subterfuge.

Virginity duplicity.

Yeah, deflower is good.

I unlock the front door, open it, and immediately turn around to finish tying my tie in the hall mirror. “I’m almost ready. Sit down, have a drink, relax.”

“I’m already relaxed.” Brantley pushes past me, sitting in my recliner with a huff.

I turn, brows nearly in my hairline, watching Brant as he crosses a leg, his foot shaking about a mile a minute. “Yeah, you look very relaxed. Like you’ve had eight shots of espresso.”

“Yeah, well.” He doesn’t finish, just pushes himself up from the chair, stomping to one side of my living room and then the other. “What can I say?”

“What can you say?” I ask slowly, taking a cautious step toward him.

“Fuck if I know.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he grits out, each word coming out strained. “I know what you’re doing.”

I freeze, my hands tugging on the ends of my tie. “What exactly am I doing? Trying to figure out what’s going on with you before you have a breakdown?”

He whips around, his eyes cold. “Don’t play games with me, Wyatt. I know you’re going to meet Kinsley tonight. I know you and our best friend are going to fuck her; I’m not stupid.”

“Oh, well…we, uh…” I shove my hands in my pockets. “I didn’t think you’d want to know. You told us to leave her alone.”

“Yeah, I did.” He unbuttons his suit jacket, tosses it on the couch, his footsteps only getting louder, heavier. “So, why didn’t you?”

I take the recliner and sigh as I run a hand through my hair. “I couldn’t. There’s nothing else I can say. There’s just…there’s something about her. She’s fucking beautiful; you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed her when she’s running around the office in her tight skirts and heels. Okay, maybe you haven’t. But it’s more than that. She’s smart, funny, and she’s the only one who’s been able to put up with all of us.”

“Of course, I notice her.” His voice raises, his arms cut through the air, and for a second he looks pained. “I can’t not notice her. It’s because she puts up with our shit that we need to leave her alone. Once you do this, there’s no going back.”

“I know.”

“What if she’s pissed when she realizes it’s the two of you? What if it’s too much?”

Those are completely valid questions, and I’d be lying if I said they hadn’t been running through my mind all day. There’s a good chance she’s going to see me and Mav and show us the door. But if there’s a tiny sliver of hope that she’ll let us into her perfect, curvy body, I have to take it. I have to.

I tried to be professional, I tried to look the other way, but she’s in my mind, under my skin, and I don’t think I want to get her out.

Maverick feels the same way. But what if…

I lean forward, eying Brantley as he turns, his pacing slowing down a fraction. “Are you mad that we’re going to meet Kinsley or mad that you’re not joining us?”

He stops, stares at me for several seconds, his jaw working back and forth.

His gaze narrows.

He huffs a breath.

He runs a hand along his jaw.

“Fuck you.” He points at me, aggressively I might add, before flinging himself down on my couch. “You’re a dick.”

“Noted. But you didn’t answer my question.”

I know my brother better than anyone, probably better than himself at times. And I know Kinsley—yes, I figured out her name—has him all twisted up. Brantley doesn’t date, not since he found his fiancée between the sheets with a man we thought was our friend. Fuck, he barely meets women in any capacity.

Granted, I don’t date much either, we’re way too busy, but Brant takes it to a whole other level. He’s so closed off, so emotionally unavailable—it’s not healthy.

With a groan, he drops his head in his hands. “Both, probably.”

I lean back, smoothing down my tie. “You can come with us. I know it’s been a while since we’ve shared, but…”

“No.” He shakes his head, gripping the back of his neck with both hands. “It needs to be on her terms.”

“I get that. At least if this whole thing goes south, you’ll still be in her good graces.”

“If I ever was,” he grumbles as he falls back against the couch and stares at my ceiling. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know it needs to be her choice. And while it’s going to drive me absolutely crazy knowing what you and Mav are doing tonight, I can’t go. I hate myself for staying behind, but I think I’ll hate myself more if I’m there.”

I nod, blowing out another deep breath. He’s playing it safe, minimizing the risk. It’s what Brantley does. Fuck, it’s why he’s so good at what he does, but playing it safe can also minimize the rewards.

I’m not sure what I want long term. I have no idea what’s going to happen on Monday, but I know Miss Rhodes will be at that hotel in two hours, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave her to spend the night alone.

“You can start by being nice. Maybe learn how to smile. I hear women like it. It makes you more approachable.”

He gives me the finger, but at least I get a small smile. “Kindly fuck off.”

“Thanks for proving my point.” I laugh, but as I open my mouth to give him some sage brotherly advice, there’s another knock at the door. “Come in.”

This time it is Maverick, dressed in a three piece light gray suit with his hair slicked back. A cream gift bag swings from his fingers as he walks in, and as he sees Brant, he smirks. “Did you change your mind?”

He chuckles, grabbing his jacket, glancing between the two of us. “You both look like you’re going to a board meeting.”

“We look dashing.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

I push up from the recliner, gesturing to Brantley. “He’s interested in her but isn’t going to be joining us tonight.”

Maverick gives Brantley an exasperated look. “No shit. I knew he was interested on day one. Probably before he did.”

“Well, this was fun.” Brant stands and slings his jacket over one shoulder. “I’d wish you luck, but I don’t mean it.”

He smacks my shoulder as he walks by, hesitating for a moment by the front door. He glances back at us, then shakes his head and leaves.

I slip on my jacket, dark blue to match the rest of my suit, and eye the bag at Maverick’s side. “What’s in there?”

He smirks and glances down at the bag as his smile grows. “Some supplies. Figured we could use a thing or two to get the room ready before she checks in.”

“Lube and handcuffs?”

He simply shrugs. “Among other things. But if we’re going to get things ready before our sweet cherry pie gets there, we better get going.”

I toss my head back with a groan. “Please don’t call her that again.”

“Temptress? Foxy? Ginger? Honey fire? Red hot? Firecracker?”

With another groan, I push him toward the door. If he keeps up with the nicknames, there’s a seventy-five percent chance she’s going to boot us out of that room before we get a chance to explain ourselves.