Page 3 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

“It is. Obviously.”

“End of an era,” he sighs. He swivels himself around and crouches down on one knee.

“Hannah, I am deeply sorry for hurting you and acting the way I have. I guess I’m just really insensitive.”

He shrugs, looking down at the clay tile floor.

“And hell, I guess I am a little jealous of you. You’re so good with numbers,” he looks up at me and grips my hand, sending an electric jolt through my body that I ignore as he continues, “And all I’m good at is, well, toning my body – and helping others tone theirs, of course.”

He looks up at me from under his ridiculously long eyelashes. I tap my toes, and gesture for him to continue.

“But that’s no excuse, and I know that. At the end of the day, I really, really need your help. Will you do me the honor of helping me, even though I don’t deserve it? Please…Hannah?”

I glance over at Tyler, who shrugs from the floor. Good natured Tyler, who never seems to see the bad in anyone, even Chris. I peel my hand out of his.

“Sure.” I curl my lip and sit back down behind my desk. “But not for free. You can afford me and I’m not letting you off cheap.”

I wave my hand at the seat he had been sitting in earlier and pull out a notebook, a file of contracts, and a calculator. “So, Mr. Stephens, let’s talk money.”

Chapter Two

Christopher

Tyler stands up, awkwardly forcing Lucy out of his lap by scooping her up and swirling her around on the tile. “Well, that’s my cue.”

I grin, watching him walk around Hannah’s desk to kiss her forehead. I’ve always found it hilarious how differently they feel about money.

Tyler can’t talk about money at all. He finds it deeply uncomfortable. I pray for his future wife.

Hannah looks up at him sternly and jokes, “We’ll get to your finances next.”

“Sorry I couldn’t get you that discount, Chris,” Tyler tells me, dropping his hand on my shoulder thickly, “but also, if you think about it, it’s really your own fault.”

“I know.” I try to look properly wounded, then wrap my hand around his wrist and draw him down like I’m going to kiss him.

He dodges me expertly and heads for the door. “All right, all right, cut it out.”

In the doorway, Tyler points at Hannah, who points back. For a moment, they look like a scene out of ET.

“Good luck,” is all he says before disappearing out the door.

“Good luck,” she says confidently. “Psh. We don’t need luck. We got this. So tell me about your vision for your business, Chris.”

She tucks the end of her pen in her mouth, pulling down her bottom lip, while she cocks her head at me, her green eyes large and unblinking. I haven’t seen her since a couple of years ago when I attended a Jackson family Christmas party.

She seemed less confident then, hunched and quiet, but now behind her own desk of her own business she’s definitely come into her own.

I can feel my short tighten slightly when her tongue peeks out as she taps her pen while waiting for my answer.

“Sure, well, you know, I own a chain of fitness centers around LA and I am thinking of expanding further. I’m just not sure I can afford it and need expert advice.”

“OK. I think Tyler has mentioned that from time to time. I think he said that he sometimes refers his post-surgical patients to you for physical therapy while they recuperate.” she tells me, looking down at her notebook and writing something down.

I blink at her. “Yes, that’s true. And, on occasion, I refer clients who have ortho complaints to Tyler so he can check them out medically and determine whether they need surgical intervention.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, that sounds familiar, but I’m not too clear on the details.”

Ever since I made theForbes ‘30 under 30’…God, that was 6 years ago…there seems to be a woman lurking around every corner, usually acting as if she doesn’t know who I am – until she eventually slips up and reveals that she recognizes me from the article.

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