Page 45 of Don't Stop

I shrugged. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not risking anything.”

“So there’s nothing going on with you and Amanda?” He half rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and one leg over the other. It was his attempt at mirroring me.

I met his stare. “I didn’t say that.”

Phil stammered, opening and closing his mouth. “But you said you’re not mixing anything.”

I shook my head before I stood up from the chair. “No,” I said, turning to make my way out. “I said it wasn’t a risk. They better keep their hands off her.”

I closed the door behind me on the way out, ignoring Phil’s meek attempt at getting me to come back. I had my eyes set on that blond hair.

It wasn’t a risk.

Chapter twenty-eight

Amanda

“Onthefirsttry!” I squealed, setting the corkscrew back on the counter for the third time without getting the bottle opened and adjusting my phone against my shoulder. “An offer on the first try! Can you believe it?”

My best friend giggled on the other end of the line. “Of course I can believe it. I told you from day one I knew you’d be amazing.”

“These clients are intimidating.” I picked the corkscrew back up and stabbed it into the top of the bottle, twisting the key. “They’re like these rich businessmen from Boston that are expanding their restaurants. For guys that own pizzerias, they’re so intense.”

“What if the pizza place is just a cover and they’re like… drug dealers or something that sell really great meth and hide the money behind pepperonis?” Mackenzie cackled, and Bryson groaned in the background. Then there was a small scuffle, and he must have taken the phone and put me on speaker.

“Just be careful. That almost sounds too good to be true,” he warned.

I rolled my eyes, setting my phone on the counter to pull the cork from the bottle before placing it back between my shoulder and ear. “Or maybe I’m just naturally really good at this job.” It wasn’t an impossible idea, but my brother had always been as much of a skeptic as he had been a cheerleader.

“I’m sure you’re amazing at your job.” His voice was gentler when he said it. “I’m just also sure these guys are probably tougher to work with than they seemed on day one, so just… be careful. If you get stuck, you should ask Drake to help.”

I choked on the gulp of wine I took, coughing and sputtering before I regained my composure enough to talk. “Why would I ask Drake?”

“Because he’s a great realtor that works for the same company you do and is assisting on the same account?” Bryson sounded confused by my outburst, and I could hear Mackenzie’s quiet laugh next to him. “Did something happen?”

“There’s nothing happening between me and Drake. Why do you keep bringing him up?” I took another gulp of wine that didn’t erase the discomfort I felt.

Bryson sighed. “Look, I don’t know why you’re being weird about him, and I don’t want to know, but please just… don’t fuck my best friend.” My stomach sank, and my pussy fluttered thinking about each time Drake had been buried between my legs since Bryson and Mackenzie had left for their honeymoon.

“Like you fucked mine?” I spat, suddenly defensive.

“Amanda…” Bryson sounded frustrated, and I could no longer hear Mackenzie in the background.

It had been a sensitive subject for a while after I found out about my best friend and brother dating behind my back, but I had forgiven them. That didn’t mean Bryson could tell me who I was and wasn’t allowed to date—or fuck. Before I could tell him it was none of his business, my phone started to ring.

Phil.

“Relax, Bryson. I gotta go. Enjoy your honeymoon!” I hung up before he could argue and before my best friend could say goodbye, quickly swiping to answer the call from my boss. “Hello?”

“Amanda, hey! It’s Phil.” His voice was equally as frustrating over the phone as it was in person, and I could almost see the trying-too-hard attempt at a sympathetic smile on his face through the phone.

I started to take a drink of the wine, realizing I was on the phone with my boss and setting the glass back on the counter. “What’s going on, Phil?” I asked. Nervous butterflies erupted in my stomach, trying desperately to escape out my throat when he sighed.

“Your offer was beaten,” he said. “Another buyer came in higher. You’ll need to counter.”

I stared longingly at the wine in front of me, wishing I could finish the bottle to erase my nerves. “That’s no problem,” I said with a cheery false confidence. “I’m sure the Moretti brothers will be willing to come in with a higher number. I’ll reach out to them.”

“Atta girl,” Phil said, suddenly sounding more relieved than he had a few minutes earlier. “I’ll let you get on that. Talk tomorrow.” He hung up the phone before I could respond, and I reached for the glass anyway.

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