Page 17 of Hook Up

“Don’t be,” I snicker. “I’m thrilled. It’s been hell for months.”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea.”

“What’s that?”

“You can be Greer’s plus one.”

I sit up with a start at his words, gripping the phone like a vise. “What?”

“My sister, Greer.”

“I know who your sister is, Greg.” Does he seriously think I’ve forgotten Gigi?

“You used to have the hots for her, remember? I get it, because she’s beautiful, even if she’s still a pain in the ass.”

I damn near choke as I spit out the next question. “What about her husband and kids?”

Greg snorts into the phone. “She’s never been married. No kids.”

“She was dating that doctor.”

“Was. He screwed her over pretty bad, but that was years ago. She’s totally over it, now.”

My mind reels at Greg’s words. Gigi is single. I’m single.

Despite the events of the last thirty minutes, a giant grin crosses my face. “Gigi is single.” I don’t mean to say the words aloud, but Greg chuckles when he hears them.

“Don’t tell me you still have a thing for my sister.”

“No,” I lie, forcing a laugh. “Not at all.”

“Fucking liar. I can’t wait to see you.”

“You, too. It’s been too long. I have something I want to talk to you about in Vegas. A job, if you’re interested.”

“Always up for hearing about new opportunities. I’ll see you soon.”

Clicking off the call, I fall back on the mattress, running a hand over my beard. Greer Hammond is single.

Not for long.

The thought pops into my brain, my smile widening at the idea.

This time, I won’t let her get away.

This time, Greer Hammond is mine.

A thud reverberates from down the hall. Time to check on Mandi’s progress with packing. If the banging outside the door is anything to go on, she’s none too happy with the turn of events.

Too damn bad, Mandi. Too damn bad.

Chapter 3

Greer

Istare at the half-empty suitcase, seriously questioning my brother’s decision to marry in Vegas. How the hell does one even pack for this type of event? Bridesmaid dress, bikini, crotchless panties?

Okay, I don’t own any of the latter, but that doesn’t make this task any easier. With a groan, I toss in another bathing suit. Who doesn’t bring a load of swimwear to the middle of the desert?

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