Dating My Brother's Best Friend

by Kate Swain

  “They sound desperate,” I murmured. “That seems good.”

  It would certainly work to my advantage. I wasn’t an accountant, but I had experience in bookkeeping, from when I helped my aunt Stella at her shop. I could certainly handle the phone and MS Office, and, for what it was worth, I had credits for the first two years of Social Work.

  I wish I’d finished.

  I bit my lip. I would never stop feeling bad about that, but I couldn’t afford to continue at the university after my second year. I was twenty-one when I left, and now at twenty-four and without a home, it seemed too hard to take up my studies again. That was another reason why I wanted a job: not only did I need money for my own place, but I also wanted to save so that in a few years I could finish my degree. I put the newspaper down with a sigh.

  It’s worth thinking about.

  If they were really that desperate, I thought with a sad smile, then they might take me.

  I sighed. I really ought to be more cheerful. After all, I’d escaped Luke Lowry, mom’s creepy friend, and I was living here. That was much better than two months ago! And I’d managed to do that alone. With some help from Tanya, of course.

  I was sure I could find a job.

  I lay down again, my eyelids drooping with weariness, thinking about the job at the bike shop.

  I stirred awake, feeling the softness of the pillow under my head and the warmth of a soft blanket. “Amelia?” somebody called, making my eyes open wearily. “Amelia? Are you awake?”

  “What?” I groaned, sitting up. I was surprised it was morning already. The bright light flooding in through the curtains suggested it would be a good day. I rubbed my eyes and started making up my bed.

  “Good morning,” Tanya said cheerily from over at the stove. “Coffee, anyone?”

  I gave her a look. “What a question.”

  She laughed, and I heard the clink and rattle of the coffee mugs as she set them out. Coffee was something Tanya was passionate about. Tanya was, now that I thought about it, passionate about everything. It was the thing I loved most about her.

  “Hey, girl!” she said, pouring a cup of coffee and bringing it over to the table. I had hastily pulled on jeans and a blouse, my tousled hair hanging down to my shoulders, unbound. “You look stressed.”

  “Not really,” I said. I reached for the coffee, taking a sip. The bitter taste woke me. I blinked, feeling my brain slowly get into action. “Just thinking.”

  I had woken up with the newspaper beside me. I was sure now that I wanted to apply. The address was nearby, in the industrial part of the city. I could get a bus there. I was still making plans when Tanya’s voice interrupted me.

  “What’s up?” she said. “Are you okay? I just asked if you want fried egg.”

  “Oh!” I shook my head. I hadn’t heard her. “I mean, yes. Please.”

  She stared at me. “What’s up?” she asked. I heard her open the bottle of oil, the slight gulp of the pouring of it, and then the click as she put it back. She turned around to face me. “You seem stressed. I haven’t seen you like this in ages. I hope you’re not pissed off at me?”

  “Tanya!” I shook my head, laughing, even though I did have a lot on my mind. “Why would I be? You’ve been so nice to me.”

  “I just cleared some space in my living room. It’s nothing,” Tanya said gently.

  The notification pings on Facebook bothered me as I glanced down. I knew who it was: Luke Lowry. He kept pestering me. I was scared of his unwillingness to leave me alone, but I didn’t know what to do. And it wasn’t him so much that was on my mind. I kept on thinking about the job possibility, and I didn’t let my mind stray to him and how frightened he made me.

  “If it’s that job you’re thinking about,” Tanya said, surprising me with her insightfulness, “maybe Tex could help? He said he knows the place. He could take you there or something.”

  “That’s really nice,” I said warmly. “But I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “Amelia, sweetie… don’t be silly. You’re my friend. It’s what friends do. And not only that—you’re a sweet, wonderful woman. I’d have to be a monster not to help you. Anyone would.”

  “Thanks, girlfriend.” I swallowed hard. My voice was raw. I was deeply moved by her statement. Maybe she was right, I thought, as she started frying the eggs. I went to tidy up the mess from preparing the coffee. Maybe I should think more highly of myself. If she could see good in me, then I could, too.

  And maybe it was time to take the plunge and apply for that job. I should start to believe in myself. After all, bike-shop owners couldn’t be that scary, could they?

  2

  Carter

  It was very hard not to hit somebody sometimes. I knew I shouldn’t, but at that moment, I wanted to hit him. I looked down at the desk and breathed slow, steady breaths.

  My one chat with a therapist—which had been a few days after my discharge from the army—had taught me that it was better to slow down before you did something spontaneous. Straight out of Anger Management 101. But it was still hard.

  “What the hell is all this mess?” I shouted quite loudly, but nobody took any notice. I didn’t expect anybody to. After all, only my brothers—Matthew and Mark—were in the shop, and they never took me seriously anyway.

  “Shit.”

  I looked down at the desk. The notepapers with our header, “Brand’s Bike Shop—the best bike shop,” were scattered over everything, including the month’s calendar, an incomprehensible schedule, and loose receipts. It was chaos.

  How am I supposed to work when I don’t know what’s supposed to happen when?

  I felt my hands ball into fists.

  “Carter? Hey! Carter! You in there?” somebody shouted from the workshop outside.

  I swore under my breath. “Mark? What the hell is going on out there?”

  “I’m Matthew. Would you please not do that? It’s undermining.”

  I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. My younger brothers were identical twins. Yes, they did sound similar when they spoke. And I understood that they hated it when people got them confused—admittedly it happened less now that they were twenty-eight.

  “Sorry, Matthew. I’m stressed.”

  “I can hear that.” Matthew appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just don’t know whose repair order we should work on next. How much I was paid this week or even last month. Or who called. What the hell are we going to do about it, eh?”

  I gestured at the front office, the desk, the telephone. It was a real mess. People had just been writing receipts when the work was done and throwing them on the desk. Nobody had filed anything for months. I understood it—when you’re working on engines all day and juggling customers, you don’t have time to file things. Or answer calls. Or do ledgers.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  Matthew shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the boss.”

  That was the other problem. At thirty-nine, I was the boss of Brand’s Bike Shop. It was a position that I still reluctantly filled, even though I’d been doing it since our parents passed away when I was twenty-two. Life and circumstance had thrust me into this position of custodian of the family shop.

  “Okay,” I said softly. One thing I had learned after seventeen years was that, if people saw you as in charge, you had to act like you knew what you were doing and make a plan, even when you had no idea what the next step was. “We’ve put out an advertisement for the job of secretary. So far, we haven’t got any applicants. Until we get a secretary, we’re just going to have to be more organized, okay? Receipts go in here.” I picked a book up off the desk. I had no idea what it was, but now it was for storing our receipts. “The schedule is here.” I threw down one of the stray pages. “And whoever’s closest answers the phone and writes details in here.” I picked up a pad of paper that was half-buried on the desk. “That work for you?”

  Matthew raised his shoulders in a shrug. “
Sounds good, bro.”

  I sighed. “Good. Now, how’s that fix coming along?” A customer had brought in an old Harley badly in need of care.

  Matthew grinned. “It’s going, all right. It’s really going. Mark already installed the new shocks and it rides as smooth as glass.”

  Carter sighed appreciatively.

  “Okay,” I shrugged. “Sounds great.”

  “I have to go and get the paint job done. You know how it is. Mark keeps hiding my gas-mask, though.” He chuckled. “I think I should give him a beating.”

  “Is that a challenge?” I heard my other brother yell.

  Matthew laughed. “No. Trust me. I value my life.”

  I heard them both laughing as Matthew went back to work. It made me smile despite my annoyance. The love my brothers felt for one another was something precious and rare, and it served as a reminder that it was possible for that kind of human connection to exist.

  I wonder about myself.

  I had never had much luck with love—not in the romantic sense. The love I had from and for my family made up for that somewhat. I had to admit, though, that I hadn’t made much of an effort to find romantic love over the years. Ever since Sloane had walked out, I had tended to avoid relationships. I didn’t want to get that close to anyone and feel that kind of pain again.

  I knew it was silly, but I hadn’t found the nerve to get back into those waters. Like everything else I didn’t want to do, I had a habit of putting that off too.

  “I’d do it eventually.” I told myself.

  I paused, hearing a giggle from the yard. That, I thought, was Matthew’s daughter. My niece. Matthew’s family had been one reason for starting up the bike shop again. It was something we were all well-placed to do, and my little brother needed a job now that he was a single parent.

  I sighed and made myself turn back to the immediate problem, which was tidying the desk. I kept to the rules I’d just invented now—receipts in the book, schedule on the top left side of the desk, calls logged on the pad of paper. Seeing the chaos made me mad. I was just finishing when I heard the door open.

  “What?” I barked.

  “Hello?”

  I stared.

  There, in the doorway, looking at me with big chestnut eyes, was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She had long blonde hair, a soft face, and a curvy figure—wide hips and a narrow waist. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  “Hi.”

  Of all the responses I could make, that was clearly not the smartest one. But at that moment, I could barely make myself speak. I was lost.

  Come on, Carter! The girl’s the same age as your brothers. There’s no way she’d be interested in you.

  We rarely had women come to the shop. And none looked like her. But she was clearly here with a purpose even though she looked scared.

  I cleared my throat. “Um… can I help you?”

  “Yes… I came for the job announcement in the paper. You were looking for a receptionist.”

  “Oh.”

  Again, my brain walked out on me right at the moment when I needed it. I made myself focus.

  I had not had somebody like her in mind when I placed the advertisement. Really, I hadn’t thought very much about the sort of person I wanted. Somebody older would be nice—sensible, mature, responsible. Somebody stable, too; somebody who wasn’t about to run off and leave me in a ditch. And somebody who wasn’t a distraction. Was that too much to ask for?

  I didn’t know what to say.

  The phone rang. I wanted a diversion desperately, so I grabbed it. I cleared my throat.

  “Hello? Brand’s Bike Shop. Carter Brand.”

  “Hi! How’s it going?”

  I felt my indrawn breath exhale. It was Tex, one of my favorite customers. And one of our most regular customers. He was always coming by for help with his custom-built BMW. We all liked him—he was one of us, a real biker. I cleared my throat. Talking to him was easier by far than dealing with our job candidate.

  “I’m fine. How’re you?”

  “Great. Listen… a friend of my friend is going to be coming around soon to apply for a job. Do you think you could consider her seriously?”

  I paused.

  “When will she be coming?”

  “I don’t know,” he said after a pause. “Today? Tomorrow? Anyhow, her name’s Amelia. I just thought I’d mention it.”

  “Okay. Great.” I felt my breath catch in my throat again. “Um… is she a pretty blonde thing?”

  Tex chuckled. “I think so, yeah.”

  “Quite young?”

  “Yeah. I guess. About Tanya’s age. Bit younger.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. I looked up. Two eyes like sheet-metal were boring into me. Gone was the gentle sweetness—this woman had the look of somebody ready to kill. I looked away.

  “She’s a good girl,” Tex said. “I’m sure she’ll do the job.”

  “She has experience?” I asked. “She seems really young.”

  “Sure she does,” Tex said gently. “Just think about it.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  I hung up.

  I looked back at her. She glared at me.

  “You know I’m not deaf?”

  I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to fight with her, but there was something so enticing about having her attention, even if it was hostile attention. I tried not to grin.

  “I suppose so.”

  She stiffened. “Are you always this rude?”

  I felt that hit home. She was right—I was being rude, and I really, truly didn’t want to be on her bad side. I straightened my back. “No… sorry. I didn’t mean to be.”

  She softened a little. “Well, then,” she said. “In that case, it would be nice if you didn’t talk about me when I’m here.” She shot me a glare.

  “Sorry,” I said again. I meant it. I felt really dumb.

  We looked at each other. Her brown eyes softened a bit. I felt my heart uncrimp.

  “So?” she asked.

  “Um… what?” I asked. I felt awkward. Here I was, alone in an office as the boss of the place with the most stunning woman I ever saw in my life before, and all I could think to say was coming out in single syllables with no meaning.

  “Are you going to interview me or something?” she asked.

  I sighed and cleared my throat. “Okay,” I said. “Want to sit down?” I felt at an utter loss of words.

  She looked at me as if I’d slapped her. But she pulled out a chair anyway and perched herself on the edge of it. I tried to tear my eyes away from her gorgeous legs. I wanted her so badly it actually hurt.

  Pull yourself together! You’re supposed to be in charge here.

  I cleared my throat and put on a more serious face. What would she think of me if I looked soft?

  “Do you have any office experience?”

  I put my hands under my chin, trying to look remote and cold.

  “I did some book-keeping once. For my aunt. Five years ago.” Her voice was defiant.

  “Oh.”

  I felt my brain getting away from me again. I was staring at her gorgeous face, which held a mix of anger and vulnerability. Neither emotion made her any less than beautiful. I couldn’t think straight, but I could tell that she was probably not as experienced as we would have chosen. I really needed somebody who knew what they were doing more than that.

  “Can you use MS Word?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

  “Okay.” I breathed out slowly. “You can keep things in order? I mean… you have organizational skills?” Man, what was I saying? I could feel the interview slipping away from me. All I could think about when she was sitting there was the massive response I was having in my loins and how much I wanted to kiss her. I was sure I was making an utter fool of myself.

  She looked at me blandly. “Of course I can.”

  “You have a good manner with people?”

  She raised a brow. “You think you
would know what that was?”

  I grinned. I didn’t know what to say to that. This felt like a battle to me. “Point taken,” I said.

  We looked at each other. She caught my gaze and held it. I was surprised when she smiled. The expression tugged at my heart, and I felt as if the whole world got brighter.

  “Okay,” I said after recovering somewhat. “Are you sure you’d want to be a receptionist?”

  “Try me,” she shot back.

  I smiled. She was so quick! I was enjoying this more than I imagined. “I mean,” I elaborated, “that being a receptionist can be demanding. And you might have to work long hours.”

  I was fishing there, and I knew it. If she was in a relationship, she might be reluctant to work late. If it was going to be an issue, it should be discussed now.

  She smiled. “I’m fine with that. You pay hourly, right?”

  I nodded. “We do.”

  There was another pause. I looked at her and wished from the depths of me that I could offer her the job, but I really felt that we needed somebody with more experience than her.

  “Okay,” I said again. “Well, then. In that case, if you could give me your number? Then, when I know more, I’ll get back to you.”

  She gave me a look. I knew she was too smart for me. She knew my inquiry about her details was just a way for me to not have to tell her she wasn’t who we were looking for in a direct way.

  “Fine,” she said. She looked at me.

  “Um, what?” I asked. Man, what had I done now? I felt like I was the one taking some harrowing interview and she was the boss. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant feeling—not for someone who was expected to be in control permanently.

  “How can I give my details when I have nothing to write with?” she asked.

  “Um… yeah!” I blinked. “Here,” I added, passing her the pad of paper I’d placed near the phone. As she wrote down her name and phone number in neat handwriting, I realized I’d already messed up my own organization system, just by handing her the pad of paper. She handed back the paper. I so badly needed a receptionist around here.