Velma’s insides did a little flutter that was totally unacceptable. Time moved at the speed of a sloth. Like watching a car accident happen in real time, when everything went slow and then fast again all at once. “You’ve been engaged for a week and didn’t say anything?”
They’d sat through a load of sales meetings. Two client lunches where he’d driven them both to the restaurant. He’d never given any indication he’d freaking proposed to her sister. They’d discussed retirement plans and supplemental income sources. He hadn’t mentioned anything that would’ve even whispered of proposal news.
“Believe me, it was hard keeping my mouth shut. Can you believe you’re going to be my little sister?” His breath brushed against the top of her head.
“Uh…nope,” Velma said through gritted teeth.
“It’s great, isn’t it?” Dean leaned back and scanned her face.
Her knees went weak, like a cheesy movie heroine.
“It is great. Totally. Great. I’m so excited.” Velma stepped away from him, refusing to show anything but happiness for her sister’s sake. Any feelings from now on would be purely of the appropriate sisterly kind.
Claire and Dean were engaged.
Yup, Velma’s Mr. Right was going to marry her sister.
Chapter Two
Countdown to Claire & Dean’s Wedding: 8 Weeks
Those gray eyes had fucked with Brek’s sanity from the parking lot all the way to the kitchen. Brek liked Velma. Aside from being stacked, she was funny. And sexy. And she smelled fruity. Strawberries. Definitely strawberries.
“Dinner’s amazing,” Dean announced. “Velma, you outdid yourself.”
“I’m glad you like it.” She glanced up from the untouched plate in front of her and flashed Dean the most plastic smile Brek had ever seen. Given his work with celebrities, he had seen some damn good fake smiles.
Velma’s flinch had been nearly imperceptible when Claire had announced her engagement. No one else likely caught it. But Brek clocked her reaction, and it didn’t align with Velma’s insistence that she was excited for her sister. Ever since she’d escaped to her room to change, she’d gone distant. Concern stirred deep in his gut.
“She can cook, that’s for sure.” Brek reached for another roll.
“Thanks.” She glanced from Dean to Brek.
Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, and his dick responded immediately.
“Velma, how goes your house hunting?” Dean nodded to Velma.
“You’re moving?” Claire asked from where she was refilling her wineglass in the kitchen. “I thought you loved this place?”
“Not moving.” Velma dabbed at her lips with a cloth napkin.
Brek stared at her lips too long. She had nice lips. Full lips. Lips any man would fantasize about. He’d had to shove his hands in his pockets earlier so he wouldn’t be tempted to trace his thumb along her plump bottom lip.
“I’m just looking into ways to supplement my income long term,” she went on. “Real estate investments make a lot of sense. I added them to my five-year life plan.”
Five-year what-a-what?
“I’m telling you.” Dean was apparently oblivious to her lips and their power. “Rent out your spare room. You’ve got a real estate investment opportunity right here.”
“She doesn’t do roommates, hon. Never has. I think the whole sharing Mom’s belly with me did her in.” Claire returned to the table. “Brek, did you tell Dean you hit on my sister?”
“Nope.” Never in his life had a button-up sweater turned him on before, but on Velma it seemed to short-circuit his brain cells. He was a moth to her flame or some shit. Times like this made him happy he wasn’t sticking around Denver. A girl like Velma could easily get under his skin. He didn’t need that. Didn’t have time for that. He had a band to manage and a life that didn’t involve five-year plans.
“He didn’t hit on me, Claire. He offered to take me to a club.”
“You’re already moving in on Velma?” Dean’s eyes turned to slits as he glared at Brek. “You’re fast. Faster than that time with Chelsea. And that was freaky fast. I feel compelled to tell you she’s my family now—which means, don’t jerk her around.”
Dean was a crack-up when he got protective, but Brek didn’t particularly want to discuss his former hookups at the dinner table. His mother had instilled some manners in him, after all. He cleared his throat. “Velma, was I jerking you around?”
