Page 56 of Falling For My Best Friend's Brother

He met my eyes. I saw him clench and unclench his fists, as if they were itching to touch me. After a second, his lips set in a straight line. “Go easy, alright?”

I nodded, thankful that the moment had passed. I did not have a response to Lindsay’s comment, and I prayed she would forget what she even asked.

In hindsight, it was too much to hope for. Apparently, not only was she a witch, but she was also an observant one because she suddenly paused, looked me up and down, her brows furrowing.

“Isn’t that Knox’s T-shirt? Why are you wearing it?”

Fucking… Fuck.

The entire room went silent. A pin could have dropped, and it would have rung volumes. The tension in the atmosphere was so thick that you could’ve cut it with a freaking machete.

I glanced down at my body, silently cursing myself for being so careless. I was used to wearing Knox’s clothes after sex. No wonder some of my clothes were now missing—they were sitting pretty in his room. It hadn’t even occurred to me to stop and think. I’d been so desperate to get out of his room that my hands grabbed the first thing I saw—one of Knox’s old T-shirts.

My eyes shot up at Knox’s. His neck was sucked in like he was holding a deep breath, and his eyes had become frantic. I knew what he was thinking, that this was it. Lindsay would find out about us and all hell would let loose.

Fear gripped me. I balled my fists to keep them from trembling, searching for something to say, but I was coming up with zilch. I was too fucking tense to think straight.

“Uh… I must've left it in the washing machine. Jesus. I’ve… uh… been looking everywhere for that shirt. I can’t believe you had it all this time,” Knox said, his eye movements controlled as his gaze darted between me and his sister.

I frowned, wondering why he was making me out to be a thief. Even if it was a cover-up.

So I said, “Yes. I mean, I think so.” I tried to chuckle, but it came out shaky. “It smelled so nice that I couldn’t bring myself to return it by the time I figured out that it wasn’t mine. I actually thought it was yours, Lin.”

Lindsay laughed, and I couldn’t tell if it was strained or not. “How could you have thought that? I’m a size six.”

I shrugged my shoulders, spreading my arms out helplessly. “I think we’ve already established that I’m clumsy as hell.”

“I think so too.” She giggled. “Besides, I know how much you love clothes. I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” She directed the last statement at Knox, who only nodded curtly before turning and walking away.

Shit. That was a close one.

Heaving out a sigh, I took a long moment to catch my breath. This thing with Knox was getting harder with each day that passed. How long could we keep up the pretense? As I grabbed my mug and scurried back to my room, I wondered what the next hurdle would be.

Chapter twenty

Knox

“Congratulations, Mr. Coleman,” said James Greer, one of Cornerstone Corp’s directors. His tone was just this side of gruff but edged with respect.

I saw a flicker of approval pass between him and the others seated at the long mahogany table. It was the same flicker I’d seen when I delivered my last pitch—an hour of relentless strategy and future projections with no room for error.

“We’re excited to see what you can do with this project,” Greer said.

Next to me, Sean pressed his lips together to keep from grinning. Stacy cared little for decorum; her lips were already stretched in a wide smile.

“Excited and impressed,” Dean Bishop added from across the long rectangular table, his tone carrying more warmth than I’d expected. I’d been prepared for stoic professionalism from him, but his expression—pride, I realized—felt like a stamp of approval I didn’t know I needed.

I nodded, keeping my expression controlled even as my pulse thundered. “Thank you for the opportunity. It’s an honor. You won’t regret this.”

Dean chuckled, getting to his feet and buttoning his suit jacket. “I sure hope not.”

Formalities concluded with a few more exchanges of gratitude and handshakes, some details about contracts and next steps, and then it was over.

As we walked out of the glass-paneled conference room and down the sleek halls of Cornerstone’s corporate headquarters, my feet felt like they were floating on air.

“Fuck, this is huge.” Sean muttered breathlessly, as if his lungs were threatening to shut down. “I can’t believe it. Oh, my God.”

I couldn’t believe it either when the email for a final pitch came in two days ago. I’d stared at my MacBook for what seemed like hours, both from shock and fear. Sure, Dean had said he would reach out to me, but to have it actually materialize? It was crazy. Crazy enough that we’d spent the entire day yesterday planning our pitch, looking for loopholes and trying to make sure everything was perfect.

---