Page 7 of Marrying My Brother's Best Friend

“You sure about that?” Trevor asks as he reaches into his pocket for his key. He hands them over and chuckles as I press the pad of my finger on the button to unlock his car.

The car’s beep draws my attention. I turn to spot the black Ford truck parked on the other side of the street and scoff. “Surprising,” I say, then take his hand again to lead the way. “I was expecting a convertible.”

“You think I’d let you drive my baby? And risk you ramming into a fence with it? No way…You have a terrible sense of direction.”

He’s laughing as he speaks and I can’t help but chuckle too because Trevor isn’t wrong. “That was a long time ago. I’ve learned to drive.”

“And how many cars did you ruin while at it?” He teases again as I open the front passenger seat’s door for him.

Trevor’s teasing laugh stays as I get in the driver’s seat and key the engine to a start. “Better hold on for your dear life,” I threaten jokingly as I bounce onto the road.

Chapter 4

Trevor

We spend over an hour at the hospital’s outpatient wing as a nurse attends to me in a private room. Gracie is pacing as she watches them apply a burn ointment to my thigh. I keep staring at her, admiring every expression on her face while my heart does a speedy dive and threatens to burst out of my ribcage.

Gracie’s obvious worry for me is touching. It makes me melt inside and soothes me. I crave feeling her hand over mine again.

“He’ll be fine,” the nurse says to her once she’s done. “It’s a good thing you poured cool water over the spot first, Mrs. Hawkins. That’s always the perfect first aid for a burn.”

Gracie flushes instantly. “We’re not..."

“Thank you,” I interrupt, knowing she’s about to correct the nurse. I smile when Gracie glares at me before she rolls her eyes. “I’ll keep applying the ointment.”

The nurse smiles at me and is about to leave the room when she turns around again and takes a notepad out of her pocket. “Do you mind signing this for me? My son loves you!”

“Sure.” I scribble my signature over the notepad she hands me, and then she takes out her phone and hands it to Gracie for a picture.

Gracie takes the shot, and once we’re alone, she sighs and asks with a lovely crimson flush on her cheeks. “Why would you let her think we’re married?”

“Who cares what she thinks?” I reply cheerily, then rise to my feet and gently lower my scalded leg. “No one knows we were here, anyway. Besides, a little role-play wouldn’t hurt, you know?”

My teasing doesn’t make her laugh, but I muffle a chuckle when she reddens further.

Gracie’s still frowning when I extend a hand to her, wanting to hold her close. “Do you mind?”

She looks at me, and I let my eyes linger over hers for a moment before my lips quirk with a smile.

She takes my hand, and we head out of the room together. I link our fingers before Gracie can object and we make it out of the clinic’s building when I notice two girls behind us with their phones out and poised for a video.

I’ve been in the spotlight long enough to notice when I’m being watched or followed. It’s also easy to spot a real paparazzi or some hopeless fan from amongst the crowd. They are definitely not paparazzi.

The first thought that occurs to me is protecting Gracie’s face as she glances to my side and asks, “Do you mind if we make a quick stop? I was supposed to pick up coffee supplies today from the beach market, and first order of books in six months.”

“I don’t mind at all,” I say with a smile, holding onto her eyes for as long as she stares into mine. I’m so sorry, Gracie, I think as I stop myself from shielding her view from the girls videoing us.

“Wait here. Let me bring the car closer.” When Gracie hurries away from me, I take a closer look at the girls I spotted earlier and realize they are still murmuring to each other in an excited chatter.

My phone starts buzzing right then, and I check to see that it’s a call from my manager, Zane.

“What’s the progress, man?” Zane asks as soon as I pick up the call. “You’ve been gone three days and you’ve got nothing?”

Zane’s pressure stems from the club’s pressure to have me work on my public image before the start of the NBA season.

“Not yet, but I might have something for you,” I say to him, conscious of my fans making a video of me as Gracie pulls up in front of me and honks once. “I can’t give you all the details right now. I’m still trying to get her on my side, but there might be a way to speed it up.”

“What way?” Zane queries. “We need something soon, Hawkins. I told you…If you don’t gain popularity amongst the fans in no time and change the narrative, the club will shut you out. They don’t mind paying the penalty for terminating your contract. You know that.

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