Page 9 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Brother’s Best Friend

I tighten my grip on the week. “Can you stop the attitude for one minute?”

Her head snaps in my direction, her scowl deepening. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

That does it.

I steer onto the shoulder and hit the brakes harder than necessary. The back tires skid through the gravel before the truck comes to a stop. Lynn grabs the Jesus handle with one hand and braces the other on the dash.

“What the hell, Brian?” she yells. “Are you trying to kill us?”

“No, damn it.” I throw the truck into park and turn toward her. “You called me, remember?”

“By accident.” She tilts her head. “You were an inconveniently wrong number.”

“Unbelievable.” I shake my head. “Then what the hell do you want from me, Lynn?”

“I want you to stop acting like I’m your problem to fix.” She practically throws the words in my face. “When I want your help, I’ll ask for it. You’re not my family, and you’re not the—

“I know, I know. Not the boss of you,” I say, frustration gurgling in my throat. “Have it your way.”

I reach across the cab, sliding my hand across her lap and yank the door handle. The door cracks open. “If you want me to leave you out here so damn bad, then there’s the door. Have at it.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I hope like hell she doesn’t call my bluff. The seconds seem like minutes, waiting for her to shove the door open and prove she’d rather stand on an empty highway in the dark than spend another five minutes with me. Maybe this is what it’s always going to be like between us. Fighting and bickering. Me pushing and her pushing back even harder. Maybe she hates me, and I’m the stubborn bastard who refuses to see it.

Then I look at her. Really see her. Every little line around her eyes, the faint creases worry has left between her eyebrows, and the slightest quiver at the corner of her mouth. She flinches when my gaze meets hers.

And my stomach drops.

Shit.

I scared her.

The realization makes me sick, and I retreat a few inches, but not so far that I can’t beg her to stay if she decides to go.

Her gaze drops from my eyes to my mouth, and every thought in my head stops. I know what I want that look to mean. Hell, I’ve imagined it enough times. Lynn looking at me and seeing potential rather than a pain in the ass. Wanting me for one damn second the way I want her.

Her tongue slips across her bottom lip, and heat punches low in my gut. She draws a slow breath and reaches for the door handle. Reality comes rushing back as she grabs it and slams the door shut.

She settles back against the seat and folds her hands in her lap, a sudden calm washing over her features. “Thank you for coming to get me. Please take me to Briar’s house. She’s expecting me.”

All the fight leaves my body.

I ease back behind the wheel, a little dazed at how quickly everything changed. “You sure you don’t want me to drop you at Logan’s.”

“I’ve had enough humiliation for one night.” Her voice is quiet—so controlled that I’m not sure I prefer it over her yelling at me. “I don’t need another lecture.”

She turns toward the passenger window, smaller in a way, like she’s shrunk herself. I watch her for a second before putting the truck in drive. Nothing about tonight sits right with me. Neither does knowing I’m the one who put that look on her face and sucked the fight out of her.

I pull back onto the highway and keep my eyes on the road. “I’ll touch base with Logan tomorrow and make arrangements to get your car.”

She turns her head and looks at me, some of the fire returning to her eyes, but not enough to keep the fight alive. “Don’t bother. I’ll figure it out like I always do.”

That’s what I’m afraid of. She always figures something out, then packs another bag and keeps running.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lynn

“Don’t do that.” Brian clutches the steering wheel, his voice rising to fill the cab.