Page 48 of Hat Trick Holidate

Deep breath. Wait for it. Give him time.

“He was a little over a year older than me and…”

Suddenly, I hear a car door slam. “Hold that thought.” I race over to the window and see my brother’s car. “Crap. Oh shit. Roman’s here.” That’s when I remember that it’s Bryce’s car in my driveway, not mine.

“Okay.” He situates himself on his elbow. “We’re adults.”

“You have to hide. Get up. Hide,” I whisper-shout.

Bryce sits up with his arms hanging off his knees. “Are you serious?”

A knock sounds at my door.

“Please. I’m your nanny.”

“You’re more than…”

“Please,” I beg. “Thank God you needed a condom and picked up your clothes.” I throw his pants, underwear, and shirt to him. That’s when I realize Bryce didn’t bring his shoes up.

He grabs his clothes, gets out of bed, and jerks his pants through each leg. Meanwhile, I throw on a pair of pajamas with Bryce’s gaze swallowing me whole. My panties are wet in an instant. What this man does to me.

“Here.” I push him into my small walk-in closet, and he chuckles, but it sounds a little like disbelief. I gallop down the stairs, hoping I can get Roman to leave.

The knock on my door gets louder. “Open the damn door,” Roman shouts.

It’s early in the morning, but I’m sure my neighbors are early birds in their seventies. I grab the cold knob and swing the door open. “Shh. My neighbors are old.”

“Then they can’t hear me.”

He walks past me into the den. Luckily, I kicked Bryce’s dress shoes under the couch. Hopefully my brother can’t tell that I’ve been thoroughly satisfied.

“Why is Wynward’s car here?” he asks, accusations lacing his tone.

Fuck. I didn’t have time to think this through. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Hell yeah.”

I mumble under my breath, “Great.” I pop a pod into the Keurig. “What’s in the bag?”

“Your favorites. Chocolate-drizzled croissants and pecan braids.” Roman sets the bag on the counter as I get out two small plates. “Now, are you going to tell me why in the hell Bryce Wynward’s car is here? I thought you had a date last night.”

I peek at my brother over my shoulder, and the gears are clicking in his mind. “My car wouldn’t start, so he let me drive his car home. He had mine taken to the shop.”

I hate lying to my brother, but he can’t know about Bryce and me. Not from eight years ago and not now. It would be a never-ending stream of questions and derogatory comments like:

How stupid are you?

He’s a player.

Are you insane?

Did you learn anything from Grant?

Roman’s chin lifts like it does when he’s pondering. “Hmm. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I had to get ready for my date.”

“How was it? Did the app pair you with your soul mate?” he jokes.

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