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3Ethan

I staredat her hand on mine for way too long. It wasn’t just the way her soft skin warmed mine, but how it’d ignited a sensation I hadn’t felt in a long time.

When I’d woken up to find a Post-it note from Evan, reminding me of the time and location of this meeting, I knew I had to shut this whole thing down. I’d clean up yet another one of his messes—the last, I vowed—but not in the way he’d dictated. It was supposed to be quick and easy. Just tell her that I wasn’t Evan, and then explain she deserved a lot better than my brother. He was obviously stupid if he didn’t realize this girl was a catch.

But her mouth was off and running before I could make sure it was her. The more she said, the more I wanted her to talk. As I’d accidentally mumbled, I got why Evan had called her a sexy, redheaded hurricane of energy and brains. One minute she was spouting off advice on how to sell people on brain-vacations, and the next she was talking about the sun and a peanut plant.

The dots connected, my brain taking a few extra seconds in its sloggy state. “Wait. You’re allergic to peanuts? But peanut butter is amazing and pretty much my favorite food ever.”

She scrunched up her forehead. “Yeah. Remember how we couldn’t eat at that Chinese restaurant near the harbor because they use peanuts in a lot of their dishes and eating there might make me go into anaphylactic shock?”

“Right.” I took another gulp of coffee. “The hangover is making my thoughts… not so great.” For example, I’d just said that sentence. The truth was, the hand she still had on mine was messing with me. Along with her energy and the way her mind worked, andholy shit, she was pretty. Her long red waves gleamed in the sunshine, she had these full lips that my lips wanted to explore, and every time she smiled, two dimples popped in her cheeks.

Don’t even get me started about the way she’d moaned when she’d bit into her muffin. I’d neglected my personal life the past year or so as I’d worked to ensure my desired career path, and it’d been a while since… well, since I’d been this close to a girl this hot.

“It’s also making your voice sound a little different, I think. Rougher, maybe?” Her eyes went to the top of my head, and I froze in place, as if moving might make the truth of who I was show up in one of those thought bubbles. “Did you do something different with your hair?”

“Sure,” I said, not because it was a good response but the first thing that popped into my head as a possible answer.

That earned me the smile with dimples. “Are you positive you’re not still drunk?”

I nodded, although at this moment, I felt pretty damn buzzed.

She leaned across the table and pushed her fingers into my hair, and I forgot how to breathe. Tingles erupted as her fingernails dragged over my scalp, and I wanted to grab her wrist, haul her over the tiny table, and kiss the hell out of her. “It looks like it grew a couple of inches in the past few days. How is that even possible?”

“New… hair gel. I mean, it makes it look longer; it’s not Rogaine or some kind of black market product or anything.”

Her laugh danced across my nerve endings and echoed through my chest. “Are you sure you haven’t been searching the black market? Because that would clear up the questions I had about your browser history.”

A flash of panic hit me, even though I was fairly certain I didn’t have anything to feel that guilty for, and of course she was only joking. “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.” I gave in to the urge to touch her and wrapped my hand around her wrist. I resisted hauling her over the table, but just barely.

Her eyes met mine, and then her delicate throat worked a swallow.

“For example, name something you want that’s not easy to find.” Right now, I was thinkinga girl like you, and my thoughts had no business going there.

She tapped the finger of her free hand to her chin, and I could practically see the moment the light bulb went off in her head. “I’ve always wanted a pet unicorn.”

“I’ll have my black market associates make a few calls.”

My heart battered my ribcage as my gaze dipped to her lips, and I was about to do the opposite of breaking up with her on behalf of my brother. “Anyway,” I said, releasing her wrist and wanting to kick my own ass when she slid back into her chair.

It’s for the best.

I didn’t know how to start, and we were already way past me admitting who I was, so evidently I’d be doing this as my brother. Now that the moment of half-truth arrived, I found it harder than expected to tell her that we needed to break up. Especially since if it was up to me, I’d vote for getting to know her better.

Her phone chimed before I could start parting words I didn’t want to say, and she lifted it. “That means we have fifteen minutes to…” She peered into my face like she wanted to find answers to questions she didn’t know how to word, and I got the scrunched-up expression for the third or fourth time today. Clearly she sensed something was off, but couldn’t put her finger on it. “To finalize our road trip plans so we’ll be ready to go bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Gwen nodded to herself, almost as if she needed to agree. With somethingshe’djust said—the woman was a puzzle I wanted to put together, but I doubted I’d ever get all the pieces.

She dug into her laptop bag and pulled out her computer. “I checked out the route options like we talked about and made a list of sights we might want to see. Or we could just make it a straight shot if you want to cut the trip down to a day.”

If it meant spending more time with her, I wanted to see every damn sight from here to… My brain struggled to find it, but I was almost sure it was Pennsylvania.

She swiveled the computer screen toward me and came around the table to stand beside me. My attention snagged on the scoop neckline of her shirt. The dark purple contrasted her pale skin and emphasized her curves. As she leaned over the keyboard, I couldn’t help but notice the way her jeans hugged her ass, and my eyes did a quick sweep of her long legs before coming back to all that amazing hair I wanted to run my fingers through.

“Is your muffin okay?” she asked, eyeing it. “I can grab something else if you’re not feeling it.”

“No, this is great.” I lifted it and forced myself to take a big bite, one that triggered my gag reflex, thanks to the time Mom made me eat blueberry muffins when I had the flu. She’d insisted on seeing if food would make me feel better.