Page 4 of My Best Friend's Sister

T W O

- Quinn -

I was disappointed when James told me about his contract abroad. Not that I admitted that to him. Expressing private feelings wasn’t really my thing.

Besides, he was obviously thrilled, so what could I do except insist it would be a great opportunity and wish him good luck? Regrettably, however, the high road made my neck hot, so I also added that I hoped he liked sloppy seconds because I was going to blow through every woman in the windy city while he was gone. God knows why. I guess I thought it would make me feel better.

Not that we shared women. We weren’t those guys who compared notes and talked about women’s sexual quirks over Pabst. The way Amber’s thin lips never quite covered her teeth and the way Claudine would stick a finger in your ass if you weren’t paying attention. That type of behavior was so tacky it didn’t bear thinking about. And I’m not just talking about Amber and Claudine.

Another unwritten rule was that sisters were off-limits, which, as an only child, I couldn’t help but take personally. Not that James ever looked my way when he reminded Pete and Tanner to keep their wandering eyes to themselves. Guess he trusted me.

Too bad I didn’t trust me.

That’s why I never said more than two words to his little sister. Because if I allowed myself three, I was afraid of what I might say, what I might reveal.

Fortunately, after years of my dad telling me to “suck it up” and “show no weakness,” being cold came naturally to me. It was great for business, too. And poker. I didn’t have any tells, and that was the way I liked it. People knew what I told them and nothing more, which meant the ball was always in my court.

Except, of course, when my best wingman fucked off on me. Not that I begrudged James the opportunity to chase English pussy and drink ale for six months, but he was the only down-to-earth person I saw day in and day out. And that worried me because I was afraid if I never saw anyone but the egomaniacal agents and athletes I worked with, I might become an even bigger asshole than I already was.

“Why the long face?” James asked, slapping me on the back as he came to grab another beer from the fridge.

“Thought your flight was today and just realized you’re still here.”

The smile lines around his eyes deepened. “You’re going to miss me.”

“Think you’re confusing me with Alicia.”

He scrunched his nose, giving away the fact that he felt a little guilty about what a nice party she’d thrown him. Even her cocktail dress was trying too hard amidst a sea of dark-washed denim. Poor girl had been trying to turn their casual hookups into something more for almost a year and still couldn’t see that it was in vain.

He didn’t love her and was never going to. He wasn’t a dick about it. It’s not like he led her on or made empty promises he had no intention of keeping. But he also never turned down a guys’ night to take her out or went out of his way to spend time with her outside the group. Why did women do this to themselves? If a guy was a dead end, going around the cul-de-sac a few more times wasn’t going to change anything. Move on. Have some fucking self-respect.

“She outdid herself a bit, didn’t she?”

I stared at him. “There’s a helium machine in her entryway closet.”

His eyes scanned the balloon arches over the kitchen doorways. They were impressive, but they were nothing compared to the Union Jack print ones in her spacious sitting room that spelled out his name. “What were you doing in her hall closet?”

“Hanging my coat,” I said, biting my tongue before adding that any coat that could be thrown in a haphazard coat pile probably wasn’t worth owning.

“At least she didn’t blow them up herself,” he said, his face twisting with regret. “That would be worse.”

“Saving her energy for you no doubt. Bet the one she gives you for the road will be a good one.” I raised my eyebrows and tilted my Peroni against my lips.

“You can’t break up with someone you’re not going out with.”

“Don’t feel you have to explain yourself to me,” I said. “I’m not here to judge.”

“What are you here to do?” he asked, cocking his head my way.

“See you off in style,” I said, clinking my bottle against his. “While scouting out potential guests for the orgies I plan to host while you’re away.”

A scoff escaped his mouth as his little sister peeked her head through the open doorway. Her face lit up when she saw him, and I only registered how buzzed he was when he shouted her name too loud and threw his hands up in an enthusiastic V.

He gave her a big hug, and my jaw clenched as he squeezed her tighter and lifted her slight frame off the ground.

When he lowered her back to the floor, her hands smoothed down the fabric of her flower-print dress, which had a flirty ruffle at the bottom that I wished I could tear off so it would be a few inches shorter. Her doe eyes met mine as she tucked a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear.

“Hey Maddy.”

A shy smile pulled at her lips. “I knew you were going to say that.”

I didn’t even want to blink when she was in the room. “Did you?”

“Of course,” she said as James went to grab a Smirnoff Ice for her. “That’s all you ever say.”

“What would you like me to say?” I asked, holding her gaze. That you look beautiful tonight? That if you weren’t my best friend’s little sister, I’d give you a lot more than words? That every time I see you, I’m convinced Helen of Troy must’ve really existed because I would cross an ocean and fight in a war just to see you smile, just to see you yawn? That the night I held your hair back when you visited James at school was the most I’ve ever laughed with a woman? That I wished you remembered that? That I wished you knew how hard I fell for you when you insisted on going back to the party having forgotten you’d used your thong to tie your hair back? That you’re my fucking dream girl?

She shrugged and broke our gaze, accepting her tipple of choice from James with a smile. “Thanks,” she said, clinking her bottle against his before raising it in my direction.

I lifted mine in response, keeping my distance like a lion attempting to make a lamb feel at ease. “To James.”

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