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“Don’t do anything stupid, Nick. Brandt Dreams will be fine. You’ll be fine. Yes, you were a fuck up once. Now you’re the man who runs this company with me, started your own spin-off, and personally interviewed nannies for our driver. Hell, you wouldn’t even hire anyone without a teaching license.”
“I’ve been spending a lot of time with Reese,” I admit.
“I know. It’s okay.”
“It’s just—”
There’s a long silence.
“Is that what you’re worried about? That she’ll believe those bullshitters? Everyone has a history. My broken engagement before Paige—”
“No. It’s more—this is my mess. My sins. My karma hitting back. I can’t let her get dragged down with me. The night Carmen ambushed us at that gala...I’d never seen Reese more hurt.” I swallow bitterly, pushing the memory down my throat. “She doesn’t want to be in the limelight, and I don’t blame her. She especially doesn’t want to wind up trending on social media over half-baked scandals.”
Ward gives me a stern look, clearing his throat. “That wasn’t a fake date, was it?”
“Huh? Nah, that shit was phony as a three-dollar bill,” I say quickly.
He smiles this terrible grin. “Whatever. I have a meeting, but you need to keep your phone on. Don’t give yourself a heart attack before it blows over, little brother.”
He starts for the door, the trademark teal-blue tie he always wears to important meetings swinging.
“I’m thirty-one. I think you can drop the ‘little.’ I’m just your brother at this point.”
He looks at me over his shoulder and squints.
“Like hell. You’ll always be my little bro.”
* * *
Are you busy tonight? Reese texts.
I glance at the interior design on my laptop and the client specs beside me, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not too busy if she needs me.
What’s up? I send back.
Reese: Will is demanding to see Millie. I told him I’d meet him at Sweeter Grind. It’s a coffee shop Paige takes me to sometimes. If you’re busy, it’s cool, though.
Nick: I said I’d be there. I add a flexing arm emoji, a reminder I’m her muscle.
Reese: LOL. Okay, I’ll pick you up soon.
Nick: No. Get Millie’s booster seat. I’m picking you up for once.
Reese: Like...a date?
Nick: I can think of better dates that don’t involve your niece’s asshole dad, but if you want...
Reese: Ha ha I was joking. Chill.
“Chill?” I whisper to myself.
Damn her. It’s not even possible with this woman.
Later, when I arrive at her place, Reese and Millie are waiting outside. Reese has the car seat in one hand and she’s holding Millie’s wrist with her other.
I park and climb out to help her get the booster seat and the kid in.
“Whoa. You brought the sizzle tonight,” she whispers, her big blue eyes in awe.
It’s fifty-something degrees tonight, so that isn’t a reference to the weather.
I’d like to be flattered, thinking she’s talking about me, but her eyes are glued to my Maserati.
She hands me the car seat without making eye contact.
“How have I never seen this before?” She steps closer to the car and pulls back the top panel of her gloves, exposing her fingertips. She strokes the car like an unruly tiger. “It’s so beautiful. Straight from a dream. I used to read so many car magazines when I started driving.”
She gives me a bashful smile.
“Vroom! Vroom!” Millie chirps as she settles into the seat I’ve buckled down.
“Tell me about it, little lady,” I whisper.
I wish Reese would touch me like my ride. If I got her under me, I could do a whole lot better than a vibrating engine and the seduction of a leather seat.
I’d give her the ride of her fucking life, tight turns and churning pistons, straight down the winding road to madness.
“Vrooooom!” Millie squeals again, slapping her chubby arms.
I look down at her and smile. “Soon, munchkin. We all like car rides.”
Yeah. Her old man better have a damn good reason for not being around all this time.
How could anyone leave this kid? I shut the door.
Reese still stands beside the hood. She’s now holding one glove in her covered hand and has a bare hand flat against the hood.
“Do you need a minute alone together?” I ask, deadpan.
“You have to let me sit in the driver’s seat sometime.” She straightens up and looks me in the eye.
“No, ma’am. It’s a date, remember? I’m driving.”
“You’re terrible.” She smacks my chest playfully and laughs. “Even I could think of hotter dates that don’t involve my niece or her dad.”
“So can I, but I’ll take what I can get.”
“I’d kill to drive this. No apologies if you wind up in the trunk,” she jokes, those soft blue eyes sparkling like starlight.
“Maybe on the way home,” I tell her.
“Fine, be that way.” She crosses her arms and slides into the front seat, but even her mock irritation fades the second she’s in the car, marveling at the interior.
