Page 8 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Brother’s Best Friend

His angry voice instantly makes the hairs on my neck stand up. “Don’t yell at me. I don’t need your help.”

My heart starts pounding all over again. Of course he’s on his way. My brother’s best friend has some kind of supernatural power that alerts him when everything in my life goes wrong. It’s like he gets the Batman signal in time to witness every stupid mistake I make. The fact that he always manages to see me at my worst only makes the hot knot of embarrassment in my stomach twist tighter.

“Don’t bother,” I tell him. “The police are here, and I have someone else to call. I’m hanging up now.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me,” he growls into the phone, his irritation as obvious as mine.

I hang up, and a jolt of satisfaction curls up my spine. Take that buttinsky.

I barely have time to lower the phone before headlights sweep across the windshield. A pickup slows and pulls to the shoulder in front of me. It jolts when it’s slammed into park, still rocking when the driver’s door flies open and Brian jumps out of the cab.

I seethe as he strides toward me with that easy swagger of his, like he owns the highway and everything else in his path. His T-shirt stretches tight across his broad shoulders, rolled up to highlight his muscular arms. He probably thinks he’s God’s gift to women.

He reaches my car, yanks open the door, and looks at me with that infuriating scowl of his. Dark, hooded eyes, almost menacing with the lack of light. But he doesn’t scare me. Not one bit.

“Pop the trunk and go sit in the truck.”

Before I can tell him exactly what I think of that order, he turns and heads toward the patrol car.

Heat floods my cheeks as I watch him walk away, his tight jeans hugging his firm ass. My fingers curl into fists as I glare at his retreating back. There’s no way in hell he’s going to leave me here, no matter how much I fight him.

I grab the trunk lever and yank it. “Because apparently I can’t go one day without Brian popping up and seeing me at my worst,” I mutter.

Damn him.

CHAPTER SIX

Brian

The patrol car pulls onto the highway, lights going dark as it disappears down the road. I head back to Lynn’s car and grab what she’s got crammed into the trunk. It isn’t much, but not because she’s a light traveler. I’ve seen her pack multiple bags for a day trip with girlfriends.

This is different. Two ratty boxes with scuffed corners and a duffel that’s seen better days.

Her car isn’t in much better shape. Bald tires, faded paint, and enough dirt on it that I’m surprised the damn thing made it this far. By the looks of it, she’s had about enough of life on the road too.

I haul the boxes out, slam the trunk, and toss her stuff into the bed of the truck. By the time I climb inside the cab, she’s sitting as stiff as a board in the passenger seat, arms crossed, lips pressed together.

I know that look. She’s chomping at the bit to rip me a new one for showing up and ordering her around. I’m probably breathing too damn loud too.

Not this time.

Damn it, I’ve been patient. I’ve stood back and watched her bounce from one thing to another, while she figures out what she wants without sticking my nose where she swears it doesn’t belong. I’ve watched her leave, come back, and been there more times than I can count when one of her plans blows up in her face.

And every time I hear the same damn thing. I’m just like Logan, and not the boss of her.

Bossing her around isn’t what I want.

I want her to look at me and see me. Not her brother. Not the asshole who pulls her butt out of the fire when things go haywire.

Me. The man who knows she’s capable of more than she gives herself credit for, if she’d just stop running long enough to figure it out. I’ve waited longer than she’ll ever know for her to finally stay in one damn place long to see me as more than someone trying to impede her path.

I grip the steering wheel and turn the key in the ignition. I know what Lynn needs, even if she fights me every step of the way. She’s got to make a choice, one way or another.

I pull onto the highway. The truck fills the silence, but not the impatience growing in my gut. I glance at Lynn, but she’s staring straight ahead, glaring into the night. I’m still trying to figure out what I can say that won’t start another argument when she beats me to it.

“You didn’t have to throw my stuff around like that.” She cuts her eyes toward me. “I have valuables, you know.”

She’s hell bent on picking a fight with me.