Page 9 of Accidental Baby For My Brother’s Best Friend

Gemma

Locke Kincaid has never been the most normal person I know. He often confuses me, especially because for the past two years, he’s largely ignored me or been actively argumentative. There are always moments, though, where he acts normal, as if we’re colleagues or friends instead of…whatever we are. Acquaintances? Unfriendly coworkers?

For example, a couple times after a good show he would buy me a shot or give me a compliment on how I’d handled something, and I would be baffled by it for a few days, until he went back to the way he had always been: argumentative and negative.

I figure that’s just how he is, the old man of the group, grumpy and jaded. Sometimes, though, something else seems to shine through, and I wonder what happened in his past to make him the way he is now. I’ll see him laughing with Jackson or jamming out with Axel during practice or giving advice to Samuel and he seems almost jovial, the complete opposite of the man I had always thought he was.

Since I announced the tour, those moments seem to be happening more and more.

I’m standing outside the elevator with Jackson and Samuel while Axel and Locke sign for their rooms, waiting for the elevator to come down from the top floor, and remembering the way Locke apologized to me in the parking lot.

Had Locke Kincaid ever apologized to me before?

“Definitely not,” I mutter, and I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until Jackson calls my name. I blink and look over at him and he’s looking at me as if I’ve grown a second head.

“What?”

“You’re super spaced out right now, did you take a Xanax for the trip?”

“Of course I didn’t!” I snap, and it comes out harsher than I’d intended.

“Watch the attitude,” Jackson warns, and I instantly snap my mouth closed. Then my brother sighs. “Sorry, kiddo. It’s just that I know you have that prescription and you used to take one before flights when we were younger. I shouldn’t have asked. You’re not a little girl anymore, you can handle yourself.”

“No, it’s okay. Ididhave an attitude.” I laugh a little when he cracks a smile. “I’m just tired; I couldn’t sleep on the bus.”

“Because Axel was talking your ear off?” Jackson asks dryly, raising an eyebrow, and I shake my head.

“Don’t start. I can handle Axel.”

Jackson hums in the back of his throat and I know that’s a subject that I shouldn’t broach right now, especially with emotions running high before our first tour concert.

Samuel shifts, bumping his luggage so that it falls over and then cursing, then apologizing for cursing.

I smile at him, his clumsiness cutting the tension in the air.

I’m thankful when the elevator door beeps and opens, and even more thankful when Jackson lets the doors shut as Axel and Locke come running toward the elevators.

I giggle at Locke’s annoyed expression and Axel slowly raising his middle finger up at Jackson, who just stands there grinning at them as the doors close.

“You snooze, you lose,” Jackson says simply, and I dissolve into laughter again as my brother watches me curiously.

“Tired,” I explain again, and Jackson nods, seeming to take that at face value. After all, I’d always been the type of person to get a bit delirious with lack of sleep, laughing at every little thing and losing motor function as if I’m tipsy, and it’s been almost 30 hours since I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep.

I’m not being fully honest with my older brother, though, and I’m too tired to deny that even to myself. I feel strange, as if things are changing in a big way.

Despite the way Locke had looked at me the other night in that club bathroom, I’m under no illusions that he’s interested in me in that way. He just likes to shake me up, and he’d done that in spades.

In spades,I think to myself, and manage to choke back another laugh at the pun.

“Youreallyhave to catch a nap before the show,” Jackson says, and I nod enthusiastically, keeping my mouth shut to keep the giggles at bay.

I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep, but as soon as Jackson rolls my luggage inside, I plop down on the bed. I start to drift off before he even leaves. The last thing I hear is the door closing softly behind him.

* * *

There’s a knock at the door and it jolts me out of sleep. I rush to the door but it seems like I’m moving slow, my limbs heavy. I have no idea what time it is, but somehow, I don’t care. I’m not worried about getting to the venue or about whether or not the guys have woken up to their alarms, or anxious about what might happen the rest of the tour.

As I swing open the door, I feel a smile spreading across my face and heat low in my abdomen. It’s familiar, after all it’s not the first time I’ve felt something like lust, but the face of the man standing outside my door is blurred. He’s tall, I can see that, but most men are taller than me since I’m not much taller than average. Well built, but that doesn’t give me any clues, either. I squint and step forward and the second I do, the man’s arms go around my waist, locking at my lower back to pull me close to him and I let out a little gasp.

“Gemma,” he says, his voice low, and his face slowly comes into focus as I look up at him. Locke Kincaid’s deep brown eyes have something almost feral in them as his face gets closer to mine, and then he stops and opens his mouth as if to tell me something terribly important.

Instead of words, a loud, annoying beep comes out of his mouth, over and over, and I open my eyes, grabbing instinctively for my phone which has vibrated off the side table and onto the floor.

As I root around for it under the bed, my heart is racing just like it was in my dream. As soon as I get the alarm turned off, I sit up in bed and cup my face in my hands, my cheeks hot to the touch.

“What thefuck?” I say out loud, blinking.

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