Page 67 of Falling for my Brother's Best Friend

“What is the charity for?”

My lips desperately want to turn up. “It’s for this bar I go to. The waitresses need new tube tops.”

Her nostrils flare until she catches on that I’m joking.

“Remember the trooper who died a few months back? A car hit him while he had a vehicle stopped?”

She nods.

“For his family.”

Her phone dings. We both glance at her purse on the opposite counter.

“That’s a nice thing to do,” she says.

“Like I said, you can think it over and let me know.” I shrug as though it doesn’t affect me either way. It does though.

Her phone dings again.

I point at her purse. “You better get that. Family members to tend to. Fires to put out.”

I run up the stairs before she can give me a quick comeback. After shutting my bedroom door, I turn on my shower, hoping she takes the bait. Not only because having her arms wrapped around me would be the best thing to happen all week, but it’d be good for her. She doesn’t understand how freeing and peaceful it is to take a ride on a motorcycle.

Ten minutes later, I’m wrapping a towel around my waist when there’s a knock on my bedroom door. I could ask her to wait a minute while I get dressed. That would be the right thing to do after we agreed to leave whatever sexual tension was building between us in the past. But I feel as though if I don’t help her along a little bit, she’ll stall out at some point.

I open the door, and Savannah’s eyes zero in on my abs before dipping lower. I guess I was wrong about that. Who knew?

“Get that Cheshire Cat grin off your face. You’re trying to tempt me.” She points at me and I laugh.

“Sorry.” I bite my lower lip, which I know drives her crazy.

“Oh. My. God. I was just about to agree to go with you, but now.” Her hands wave at my body.

I snatch her hand and she tries to pull away. “I’m sorry. It was convenient for me to answer, but you’re right, I knew what I was doing. Just to be fair though, you walking in a sweaty mess in less than a yard of fabric isn’t exactly fair either.”

The apples of her cheeks pinken.

“Come. I promise a good time.” I squeeze her hand.

She slides her palm out of mine and pokes my chest. “No monkey business.”

“Okay.” I hold up my hand. “I promise not to swing from limb to limb and throw poop.”

There go her nostrils again, but she turns on her heels and locks herself in the guest bathroom.

It feels like a small victory, but a victory, nonetheless. I won’t tell her yet that she has to make sure to hold on tight today. I mean, we don’t want to crash.

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