Page 27 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

They seemed to remember their twentiesas some kind of paradise. Meanwhile, it was the worst decade of mylife so far.

It must have been fun, going tocollege, commiserating with fellow students over important papersand tests. Relishing those last years of relative freedom whileknowing a nice, cushy job awaited.

Of course, if I got the jobat the dispensary back home that I’d applied for, I’d have akush-y job to go backto.

I snickered at my own internal joke,then realized everyone probably thought I was making fun ofthem.

“It’ll happen to you,”Scott warned.

“And you’ll be there to say,‘I told you so,’ I’m sure.” I rolled my eyes. “Although, I’m not sosure I want to look back on this part of my life as being the bestpart of my life.”

No job, no money, living in my parents’guesthouse, none of that screamed “fond memories” at me. But nobodyin the room knew anything about that, apart from Scott and Lauren.At least, I hoped they were the only ones; Scott sure seemed tohave aired our business to his in-laws already.

“Matt, you’re unusuallyquiet tonight,” Scott said, changing the subjectsuddenly.

“Just tired. Late night lastnight.” Matt sat up straighter in the armchair he’d claimed—thoughthe art-fair-jewelry woman had perched on the arm of it, requiringme to rein in the daggers I wanted to shoot from my eyes. Which wasfoolish because I didn’t have or want any kind of claim overhim.

And I knew what was going to happentonight, and it didn’t involve her.

To my surprise, Matt went on. “And Ididn’t want to pick on Charlotte because she’s the youngest personhere. You can all complain as much as you’d like, but we all knowthat our twenties were shittier than our thirties.”

“Money-wise, maybe,”cellphone-belt guy said with a chuckle. “Though maybe not as shittyfor some.”

Matt held up a middlefinger.

“Our forties will be so muchbetter,” the woman with color-coordinated braids said. “At least,that’s what I’m betting on.”

“You go ahead and keepbetting on that,” frat-looking-dude said. “I’m going to call it anight. I’m sure Manda is about done with watching the kids while Iparty.”

“Go be father of the year,”Matt chided him. “Earn that stag night.”

“Oh,donotgetme started on that,” Lauren warned.

So, she knew of Matt’sreputation.

“Come on. Do you thinkScott’s going to do anything to mess this up?” Matt asked, and Ithought he might have sounded a little annoyed. It didn’t seem toregister with anyone else.

“Good point. You wouldn’t bemarrying him if you thought he was that kind of guy,” art-fairagreed, and she reached down to touch Matt’s shoulder.

Why did that bug me so much?

Worse, he caught the expression I musthave let pass over my face too quickly, and he raised aneyebrow.

As with most gatherings, once oneperson called it a night, the rest of them slowly did, as well. Ihung around to help collect plates as everyone stumbledoff.

Everyone except Matt, whojoined me in cleanup long enough to say, “Leave five minutes beforeme. I’ll meet you on the path.”

A chill skated down my spine. He saidgoodnight to Scott and Lauren and strolled out onto the veranda andinto the night.

Art-fair leaned her head toward Laurenas she watched Matt go. I didn’t overhear what was said, butjudging from Lauren’s “Oh, stop it,” and big laugh, it was probablysomething I didn’t want to overhear.

“You don’t have to do that,”Scott said, startling me. He gestured to the red plastic cups I wasstacking for the trash. “There’s housekeeping service.”

“I know there is. But I’mnot a butthole,” I said, sticking my tongue out. “I’ll throw theseaway and then I’ll leave you to whatever it is you’re going to do.”I lowered my voice. “Talk about pottery wheel techniques,maybe?”

He snorted a laugh that told me all Ineeded to know.

The weird thing was, Iwanted to linger. Not because Matt was staying five minutes behind,but because, frankly, I didn’t know what I was going to be walkinginto.

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