“Velma there?” He shoved a hand through his hair.
“Hi, Brek. It’s Heather,” still-not-Claire replied.
“She there?”
“No. I think she’s headed your way.” Shuffling in the background, and he was pretty certain she said, “It’s him” to someone.
He cursed under his breath. “Call me if you see her?”
“Absolutely,” Heather replied.
Another incoming call beeped in his ear. He glanced to the screen. Aspen.
“Yeah,” he said into the phone as he clicked to take Aspen’s call. “You’ve got Brek.”
“Would you explain to me why six of my brides have cancelled for next season?” Panic laced her should’ve-been-staying-calm voice. She wasn’t supposed to be getting status reports, and she sure as hell wasn’t supposed to be getting upset about them. Sophie’s parents had wasted no time bashing Montgomery Events. “The last one cancelled for this season. I only have Claire and Dean’s left.”
“Everything is under control.” He winced as he spoke.
“I don’t believe you.” A note of hysteria tinted the words. “Brek, I needed those weddings.”
Life was so much easier with pill-popping guitar players and their groupies. If he made it out of this mess without having a stroke, he’d forever consider himself a lucky man.
A taxi pulled into the driveway, Velma in the back seat.
“Aspen. Swear to God, I’ll sort this.”
“You swear on your Harley you’ll fix everything?”
“Yeah.” Because if he failed, he’d be selling the thing and everything else he owned to get his sister back on her feet.
He clicked off the phone to head straight toward Velma.
She fumbled with her purse, but he handed the guy a twenty through the window before she even opened her wallet. He snagged the door, opening it wide so she could climb out.
“What’s going on?” He glanced over his shoulder as the yellow taxi backed out of the driveway and turned down the street.
“I’m here to accept your proposal.” She’d gone pale.
“What are you talking about?”
She bit at the side of her lip. “Do you still want to have sex with me?”
Uh. Of course he did. He was a heterosexual male with an abundance of fantasies about her...well, all of her.
This, however, was not a conversation to have in front of his mother’s neighbors.
“Come inside.” He guided her with his palm against the back of her shirt. She was wearing another skirt. This one shorter than her others, midthigh. He stepped behind her into the garage and pressed the black button to close the door.
She drew a quick breath. He helped her sit on the top step heading into the laundry room of the house and then plopped down next to her.
“Well?” she asked. “I mean, if you’ve changed your mind. You don’t have to—”
“I haven’t changed my mind.” He moved his hand to the skin of her thigh and traced his fingertips there.
“Is your mom coming home soon?” She set her purse behind her on the step.
“No, she’s out for the day. Some business thing tonight she’s all wound up about. Won’t see her until she comes up for air when it’s over.” Ma always disappeared before her big functions.
