Page 56 of Borrowing My Bestie's Brothers

“So, are we taking my car or yours?” I asked oh-so casually.

“Oh my god…” Jamie hissed. “Oh my god.” She spun around, eyes wide, all traces of pain gone, and that’s what I’d wanted all along. “Is this…? Did you…?”

“It’s mine.” I fished out the keys and then held them out. “But you could drive if you like?”

“I can?” Jamie stared and then snatched the keys from my grip, as if terrified I’d rescind my offer.

Never.

Not when she stroked her hand down the panel, nor when she opened it up, cooing over the custom leather upholstery before sliding into the driver’s seat. She pushed the keys into the ignition and started it, the sound of a big, rumbly V8 engine echoing through the street.

“Some guys bring girls flowers,” Millie said with a shake of her head. “You bring her some petrol-guzzling beast.” Then her eyes locked with mine. “But don’t stuff this up. Don’t push too hard and don’t try to rush her. Jamie’s gun shy most of the time, but now?—”

“I know.” I stared back. “I’ve known for a while. You can’t work with someone for that many years and not know, but…” When I poked my sister in the shoulder, she knocked my hand away. “You need to butt right out.”

“I’m just looking out for?—”

“Look out for yourself.” Millie always stood up to me, but what was cute when she was five was just annoying now. “I was trying to do things on Jamie’s timeline when you got involved.”

“Because you guys were taking sooo long,” Millie complained, right as Jamie revved the engine.

I moved closer, ready to throw myself into the passenger seat if my girl decided to go racing down the street.

“As long as it takes.” I made clear in my stare that I’d accept no further argument from Millie. “I’ve got the rest of my life to help her see I’m the right man for her, and if that’s how long she needs, I’ll make that happen.”

“Ready?” Jamie asked me, a real grin of pleasure on her face as I got in the passenger side.

“Born ready, babe.”

She threw the car in gear and then pressed down on the accelerator, peeling out of the car park with a squeal.

Where was that girl now? I thought when we arrived. She was sitting there, peering through the windscreen at the cafe. It wasn’t whether or not they could cook good, crispy bacon that had her hesitating. I just sat there, a silent witness to her internal struggle, until she noticed. Her eyes found mine, and that flush of shame I saw way too often coloured her cheeks.

“I guess we better go inside.”

“We don’t have to.” Where had that come from? I wondered, but as soon as I said the words, I knew them to be true. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“But Mum?—”

“Keep your phone turned off,” I said. “I’ll turn the work one off. We can piss off out of here and go down to the local race track.” I went down there sometimes, giving the car its head as I tore around the strip at speeds I would never dare reach on the road. “I’ve got a spare helmet and suit.”

She stared at me, really staring, longing in her eyes, but then she shook her head.

“I need to go in or I’ll never hear the end of this, but…” She pulled the keys out of the car and handed them over. “Maybe after? It’ll be like the promise of dessert after a gross meal.”

“Like tuna mornay?” I asked.

“God, yeah, like tuna mornay.”

At that I was out of the car, opening her door for her and then offering my arm. She smiled at that but took it, and so we walked into the cafe. We didn’t need to be shown to a table, Jamie’s mother instantly recognisable. The same light-brown hair was streaked with grey, but fashionably shaped into a razor sharp bob that always had us cringing when a woman entered the garage with that kind of hairstyle. While they weren’t always high maintenance, enough were for us to be wary.

“Jamie!” she hissed, jerking to her feet, then looking around before marching up to us, her face turning red, but her heels almost screeched on the tiles when she came to an abrupt stop. She looked up at me and then smiled, all sweetness and light. “Oh, you brought Brock! Lovely to meet you. I’m Majorie and this is Arthur, Jamie’s father.”

A big, older man with sunburnt skin looked up from his paper, blinking myopically before smiling when he saw Jamie.

“Hello, love!”

I watched his daughter soften, going rushing over to her father for a big hug, the affection genuine.

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