Page 50 of The Wrong Brother

The idea lifts my mood, even if only slightly. But then reality sinks in. I’d need a car. And while I could figure out the way there, getting back? That’s another story. The buses would be a nightmare, and renting a car feels daunting. The solution hits me as quickly as the anxiety: I’ll need Zack’s car.

It’s not just an excuse to talk to him. Okay, maybe it is. But I genuinely need it. And if I don’t want to spend another day moping in this room, I have to muster the courage to ask.

After a few minutes of further thought, I decide. Getting up I hurry over to the wardrobe and start getting dressed.

A little while later, I stand in front of the mirror, tugging the hem of my sundress nervously. It’s light and flowy, perfect for a day trip, though the slight chill in the air has me draping a soft sweater over my shoulders. I adjust the fabric around my neck, hoping it looks effortless rather than planned. My heart pounds as I step into the foyer and head to his door.

Knock, knock.

The sound is too loud in the quiet space, and I nearly bolt right then. But before I can second-guess myself, the door swings open, and there he is.

Zack stands in the doorway, shirtless, with only a pair of slacks hanging low on his hips. His hair is slightly messy, and there’s a faint crease on his forehead like he’s been deep in thought…or maybe stress. His presence is overwhelming, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

“Jenny,” he says, his voice low and smooth but tinged with surprise. His gray eyes sweep over me briefly before his expression shifts to something unreadable. Then I notice hisphone in his hand and realize he must have been in the middle of a call.

“I—” I start, but my words catch in my throat. Damn it. Why does he always have this effect on me? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just?—”

He holds up a hand, silencing me as he steps back inside, motioning for me to follow. I do, hesitantly, my nerves buzzing. He resumes his call, his voice low as he speaks in clipped, professional tones. I glance around his room, trying to distract myself. Papers are strewn across the desk, and his laptop screen glows with spreadsheets or emails…something that looks far too important for my intrusion.

As he paces to the desk, the scene feels almost cinematic. The warm light filtering through the window catches the angles of his face, the defined muscles of his back, the way his hand runs through his hair as he concentrates. He’s beautiful. Effortlessly, painfully beautiful. And I hate how much I want him.

I linger by the door, unsure what to do. Should I sit? Leave? He glances at me once, his gaze flickering briefly over my face before returning to his call. The weight of his presence is stifling, and yet I can’t tear my eyes away. There’s something mesmerizing about the way he moves, the way he commands the space around him without even trying.

Finally, he ends the call, setting the phone down on the desk with a soft thud. He looks at me, his brow lifting slightly. “What’s up?” he asks, his tone casual, but there’s a faint edge of curiosity beneath it.

I clear my throat, trying to gather my thoughts. “I, um… I wanted to ask you something.”

His gaze sharpens, and he leans back against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go on.”

“I was thinking of taking a day trip,” I blurt out, my words tumbling over each other. “To see some ruins, maybe visit avillage or two. But I need a car, and I don’t… I mean, I don’t want to get lost on the buses, so I thought—” I pause, flustered, my cheeks burning. “Could I borrow yours?”

I feel bad asking now that I’m staring straight him. I can very clearly see the stress etched on his face and the faint shadows under his eyes betraying just how much he’s carrying. He looks exhausted, like he’s been shouldering the weight of the world and refusing to let anyone share it. And I don’t want to just announce my plans for the day and bounce out the door so selfishly.

“Also..” I add. “I mean if you’re not too busy maybe we could go together. You’ve been working so hard, and I thought—” I pause, feeling my cheeks heat up again. “Maybe it’d be good for you. For both of us.”

“Today is your day off right?” he asks and I nod in response.

“Yeah.”

He leans back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that makes my heart race. The silence stretches, and I find myself needing to grab onto something but finding nothing but air.

Finally, he responds. His lips curve into a small, almost reluctant smile, and he lets out a quiet sigh. “Alright,” he says, standing up and setting his phone down. “I’ll get dressed and meet you downstairs at the reception.”

Relief floods through me, mingled with something deeper, something warmer. As he moves to the side of the room, I find myself watching him again, just before I ultimately turn around and take my leave, my heart pounding at the thought of the day ahead. Whatever happens, I know one thing for certain…this day trip just got a whole lot more interesting.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

ZACH

The car I rented for the day is a vintage convertible…a cherry-red Alfa Romeo Spider. It’s not the most practical choice for a day of exploring ruins and villages, but practicality wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I booked it. Something about the car felt… right. Maybe it was the idea of driving through the countryside with the top down, the sun warm on our skin, and the wind tangling our thoughts into knots we couldn’t ignore.

Jenny stands by the curb when I pull up to the hotel entrance, her sundress fluttering faintly in the breeze. She looks hesitant, almost shy, but when she sees the car, her face lights up. That smile…damn, that smile could power a city.

“Wow,” she says, trailing her fingers along the polished red hood as she circles to the passenger side. “This is… unexpected.”

“Good unexpected or bad?” I ask as I step out to open her door. The old-fashioned gesture earns me a raised eyebrow, but she slips into the seat without a word.

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