Page 7 of Be My Bride

I don’t tell him the truth.

That Shar assigned this photo to his number.

That she insisted I keep it because it was ‘cute’.

That I didn’t realize I was in love with her until it was too late.

For most of my life, Shar and I were friends. Just friends.

Most people didn’t believe that. Hell, Brett didn’t buy that—he was always pulling me aside and giving me stern lectures. Warning me not to mess with his baby sister. To keep it in my pants. But that wasn’t the reason I stayed platonic with Shar.

I’ve known her since pre-school. She was just… a part of my life. Not as a sister, exactly. But not as a girl either. I enjoyed spending time with her, but I didn’t want to screw her.

If—at any point in our friendship—I’d had that desire, I would have pushed her against a wall, kissed her till her knees buckled and whispered take off your skirt and spread your legs for me. Let me rock your world tonight.

I don’t dance around the bush. I don’t B.S. I don’t play games.

When I see something I like, I take it.

Except, in this case, I didn’t realize what I wanted until she was on her death bed, worrying about her brother and her mother and anyone but her own freaking self.

It wasn’t the right time.

It was never the right time.

And then she was gone.

And she took my heart with her.

“Hansley?” Brett’s voice charges through the phone. “You there?”

Damn. I completely zoned out. “Say that again?”

Brett pauses. If he were here, his sharp grey eyes would be blazing into me, scanning every inch of my expression for cracks in the armor.

I’m glad he’s in London tonight. He and Shar were always too freaking good at reading me.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Got dumped by your flavor of the month?”

I groan. “Brett, come on. No one says that anymore.”

He laughs.

“And secondly,” I grab my coffee and wrap my fingers around the handle, “you know I don’t get dumped.”

I don’t do relationships.

Hook-ups? Yes.

Casual flings? Hell yeah.

My current distraction—a leggy blonde named Svena—blew up my phone last night with plenty of pictures. Her explicit messages had me demanding she come over immediately.

When we were finished, she politely saw her way to the door without me asking.

Svena is my kind of woman. Too bad last night was round two.

I have a strict rule of conduct. Hooking up with a girl once or twice in a row is fine. But three times and they’ll start getting ideas. Expecting things that I can’t give them. A relationship. Commitment. A freaking wedding ring.

---