He was serious.
“Maybe they called us here because Dean needs a kidney?” he asked.
“He doesn’t need a kidney.” Although, Velma would probably give him one if needed. She had a remarkably hard time telling him no. “They’re probably just…” Say it out loud, Velma. She sighed. “Just moving in together.”
“Nah. They wouldn’t have dragged me here for that. Maybe their big news is they’re gonna try to hook us up.”
“You and me?” Velma pointed the knife at Brek, then back to herself.
Of all the options, that one was the most reasonable. And, yet, totally unreasonable. No way would Claire pair the two of them together.
“You said you don’t have a guy.” Brek’s tone turned serious.
Her body irrationally responded to his apparent interest with tingles.
“No.” Of course she didn’t have a guy.
She’d had lots of first dates lately.
“I get the feeling you need some help loosening up. Enjoy some time away from your five-year-husband-seeking plan. There’s a club downtown with a great band playing later. We should go.” Brek’s gaze raked over her.
His pointed interest was actually…nice. Still, there was no way she would go clubbing later. Brek wasn’t her type. Not only because of the tattoos or the extreme need for a licensed barber or his ripped jeans. No, it was more the general sense of unease he stirred within her. Also, it was Sunday. What kind of a club was open on a Sunday night? Definitely not one she should visit.
“You stressed about the dinner?” he asked.
“No,” she lied through her teeth.
“You’re stressed about the dinner,” he declared. “I get that, but there’s nothing to worry about.”
For a half second, she believed there was nothing to worry about. Truth was, there was always something to worry about. Starting with her clothes. She needed to change into something that wasn’t yoga pants before her sister arrived in what would undoubtedly be a perfect sundress.
“I’m only in town for a few days anyway,” he continued. “We’ll get through the part where Claire and Dean do the awkward you-two-should-get-to-know-each-other schtick. We’ll eat and then we’ll send them on their way. You don’t want to go to a club? That’s fine. I’ll stick around. What do you say, Velma?”
The way he said her name felt like silk against her skin. Silk was so much nicer than velvet.
She tried to tug off her apron, but her hair was stuck in the tie at the back of her neck. Crud. Another tug. Her hair was really stuck. “You want to go clubbing on a Sunday night?”
“Absolutely.” He nodded to where her hair was caught. “Need some help?”
“Yes, please.” She pressed her eyes closed.
He looped a finger under the little bow tying the apron at the back of her neck. His calloused fingertip traced the ribbon along her shoulder to the collar of her sweater, unraveling the knot of hair and sending little shivers along his path of exploration.
Maybe she could get away to the club for a little while. It wasn’t like she had better things to do. “Where is this cl—”
“Hey, Velvet.” Her sister, Claire, shoved open the front door. “Hi, Brek. You made it. Dean’s so excited you’re here.”
“Did you lose him?” Brek squeezed Velma’s shoulder.
A hit of sizzle deep in her belly echoed the motion of his touch.
“He’s parking the car.” Claire closed the door and sauntered to the kitchen with her svelte build and Audrey Hepburn grace. “Okay, I know I’ve made you wait. But…” Claire bit at the light-pink lipstick on her bottom lip. “Surprise!” She held out her fingers with a little jazz hand motion.
An engagement ring perched on the fourth finger of Claire’s left hand.
Velma’s heart skidded to her toes. She blinked hard. No, it couldn’t be.
A ring.
A wedding.
Satin and lace, champagne toasts and flower girls.
This wasn’t a puppy. And it was so much more than an apartment.
Velma reached for Claire’s hand, her throat constricting. “Oh my gosh.”
“I know, right?” Claire squeezed Velma’s fingers. “I had to tell you in person.”
“Oh. My. Gosh.” Velma said again, this time more slowly. She looked straight into Claire’s eyes and saw it—excitement and love for Dean. Happiness. Velma glued a grin onto her face. Her sister was happy. That was all that mattered. “Claire. It’s perfect.”
“I’m gonna go find Dean.” Brek caught Velma’s gaze and winked. “Now that the cat’s out of the bag.”
“Wait, you knew about this?” Velma asked.
“Hell yeah, I knew.” Brek opened the door. “Didn’t want to ruin Claire’s surprise, though.”
“So you asked me out instead?” Velma asked.
Claire scrunched up her forehead. “Brek asked you out? Like on a date?”
“Oh look, it’s Dean.” Brek feigned innocence as he held the door wide. “I’m officially saved by the groom.”
“She finally told her?” Dean strode inside and glanced to where Velma stood in a swirling vortex of time.
“Uh-huh.” Claire nodded, her eyes misted over.
A suit. Dean wore a tailored suit complete with shined cap-toed shoes and gold cuff links. Each black hair on his head lay precisely where it should. He was absolute perfection.
Velma swallowed the heaviness in her throat and tried to pretend it was from excitement for her sister.
“Well, then—hey, sis.” Dean strutted toward Velma and wrapped her in a hug. “Claire made me keep my mouth shut for a whole week.”
Velma’s insides did a little flutter that was totally unacceptable. Time moved at the speed of a sloth. Like watching a car accident happen in real time, when everything went slow and then fast again all at once. “You’ve been engaged for a week and didn’t say anything?”
They’d sat through a load of sales meetings. Two client lunches where he’d driven them both to the restaurant. He’d never given any indication he’d freaking proposed to her sister. They’d discussed retirement plans and supplemental income sources. He hadn’t mentioned anything that would’ve even whispered of proposal news.
“Believe me, it was hard keeping my mouth shut. Can you believe you’re going to be my little sister?” His breath brushed against the top of her head.
“Uh…nope,” Velma said through gritted teeth.
“It’s great, isn’t it?” Dean leaned back and scanned her face.
Her knees went weak, like a cheesy movie heroine.
“It is great. Totally. Great. I’m so excited.” Velma stepped away from him, refusing to show anything but happiness for her sister’s sake. Any feelings from now on would be purely of the appropriate sisterly kind.
Claire and Dean were engaged.
Yup, Velma’s Mr. Right was going to marry her sister.
Chapter Two
Countdown to Claire & Dean’s Wedding: 8 Weeks
Those gray eyes had fucked with Brek’s sanity from the parking lot all the way to the kitchen. Brek liked Velma. Aside from being stacked, she was funny. And sexy. And she smelled fruity. Strawberries. Definitely strawberries.
“Dinner’s amazing,” Dean announced. “Velma, you outdid yourself.”
“I’m glad you like it.” She glanced up from the untouched plate in front of her and flashed Dean the most plastic smile Brek had ever seen. Given his work with celebrities, he had seen some damn good fake smiles.
Velma’s flinch had been nearly imperceptible when Claire had announced her engagement. No one else likely caught it. But Brek clocked her reaction, and it didn’t align with Velma’s insistence that she was excited for her sister. Ever since she’d escaped to her room to change, she’d gone distant. Concern stirred deep in his gut.
“She can cook, that’s for sure.” Brek reached for another roll.
“Thanks.” She glanced from Dean to Brek.
Her
cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, and his dick responded immediately.
“Velma, how goes your house hunting?” Dean nodded to Velma.
“You’re moving?” Claire asked from where she was refilling her wineglass in the kitchen. “I thought you loved this place?”
“Not moving.” Velma dabbed at her lips with a cloth napkin.
Brek stared at her lips too long. She had nice lips. Full lips. Lips any man would fantasize about. He’d had to shove his hands in his pockets earlier so he wouldn’t be tempted to trace his thumb along her plump bottom lip.
“I’m just looking into ways to supplement my income long term,” she went on. “Real estate investments make a lot of sense. I added them to my five-year life plan.”
Five-year what-a-what?
“I’m telling you.” Dean was apparently oblivious to her lips and their power. “Rent out your spare room. You’ve got a real estate investment opportunity right here.”
“She doesn’t do roommates, hon. Never has. I think the whole sharing Mom’s belly with me did her in.” Claire returned to the table. “Brek, did you tell Dean you hit on my sister?”
“Nope.” Never in his life had a button-up sweater turned him on before, but on Velma it seemed to short-circuit his brain cells. He was a moth to her flame or some shit. Times like this made him happy he wasn’t sticking around Denver. A girl like Velma could easily get under his skin. He didn’t need that. Didn’t have time for that. He had a band to manage and a life that didn’t involve five-year plans.
“He didn’t hit on me, Claire. He offered to take me to a club.”
“You’re already moving in on Velma?” Dean’s eyes turned to slits as he glared at Brek. “You’re fast. Faster than that time with Chelsea. And that was freaky fast. I feel compelled to tell you she’s my family now—which means, don’t jerk her around.”
Dean was a crack-up when he got protective, but Brek didn’t particularly want to discuss his former hookups at the dinner table. His mother had instilled some manners in him, after all. He cleared his throat. “Velma, was I jerking you around?”
“Um, maybe?” She fidgeted with her fork, spearing a heap of lettuce with the tines. “With the whole bit about Claire being pregnant and Dean needing a kidney and all.”
Claire dropped her spoon with a clank. “You told her I’m pregnant?”
“You told her I need a kidney?” Dean smacked Brek’s shoulder. “Dude. Not cool.”
In his defense, he’d been trying to distract her from being so uptight.
“How’s the wedding planning coming along?” Brek made a solid attempt at changing the subject.
“I hired your sister to be our wedding planner.” Claire sat taller.
Operation Change the Subject worked—for now, at least.
Dean mouthed, “Not finished with you,” in his direction.
“She wasn’t even taking on new clients”—Claire turned to Velma—“because she’s about to have a baby. But she took us on. Isn’t that great?”
“You already hired a wedding planner?” Velma’s expression dropped, but she caught herself quickly. “Do Mom and Dad know you’re engaged?”
“I asked your dad before I popped the question. They’ve known for a while.” Dean looked at Claire like a man ready to hand over his dick for all eternity.
Claire glanced back at Dean like she was a woman ready to accept his dick for all eternity. “Dean swore them to secrecy. I told them we’d talk to you tonight.”
“Oh. Right. Of course you talked to them first. That makes sense.”
The way Velma said the words meant she didn’t believe it made sense at all.
“It’s all so exciting.” Velma tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear, revealing a single pearl earring.
Brek didn’t realize women still wore pearls. It was…retro. Different. Classy. “Aspen’s the best. She’ll take care of you.”
His sister threw good parties. He’d give her that.
“Do you have any idea when the big day will be?” Velma asked.
“First Saturday in August. It’s fast, but we don’t want to wait. And Brek’s sister is amazing. She says she can make it happen.” Claire picked at the carrots in her salad. “Which brings me to the other reason we wanted you two here.”
Shit. A quickie wedding. If Claire were really pregnant, he’d have shoved his foot firmly in his trap.
“We’d like to ask you two to stand up with us.” Dean reached for Claire’s hand. “It would mean a lot to us both.”
Thank fuck. Not pregnant. But, shit, they wanted him in the wedding. He didn’t do weddings. All that pretentiousness? No. The thought gave him the shakes. His little trip through Denver was a fast visit to see his family, say hey to his friends, and party with his buddy to celebrate his engagement. The visit was not meant to be a prelude to being forced to return and stand in front of a crowd dressed like a penguin.
“Velvet, I’d love it if you’d be my maid of honor.” Claire’s eyes danced with excitement. “Just like we talked about when we were kids.”
Velma’s lips parted. She opened her mouth and closed it. Pinched her lips together and opened them again.
Yeah, that’s about how he felt about the whole thing.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she finally said.
Not the answer he’d been thinking.
“But what about Heather?” Velma asked.
“I’ll ask her to be a bridesmaid. You’re my sister. I want you right next to me.”
“Brek, you know the drill. I could ask Jase or Eli to be my best man, but they’d find a way to weasel out of it. Besides, Jase’ll handle the flowers and Eli’s going to have to deal with the catering.” Dean leaned back against his chair and held up his beer glass. “What do you say?”
Jase, Brek, Eli, and Dean had all been buddies since high school. Dean was right, Jase and Eli would abso-fuckin’-lutely find a way to weasel out of best-man duties. Except the bachelor party. They’d be all over that.
Brek did the math in his head. Dimefront, the band he managed, would still be on break. Which meant he was about to get trapped into a wedding. “August?”
Dean nodded.
“I can probably swing that.” Brek raised his beer can and touched it to Dean’s glass.
“We’ve been thinking the theme will be ‘Purple Rain.’ Flowers, dresses, everything. Dean wants a beer bar. Craft beer.” Claire got all animated about it. Eyes big. Talkin’ with her hands. “We figured we’d embrace the insanity of a wedding theme and go all in.”
“A ‘Purple Rain’ beer bar?” Velma gave her sister a look like she was crazy.
Again, it was like he and Velma had a mind meld.
“Well, when you put it like that…” Dean met Claire’s eyes, and the two of them had a moment. “Yeah, that’s exactly what we’re going for.”
Brek’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He checked the caller ID, expecting a call from one of his band members needing to be bailed out of jail. Not that it happened often, but often enough. He’d rather go bail out a drummer than think about putting on a tuxedo for Dean’s wedding.
“Give me a sec. It’s Aspen.” He stood and moved to the kitchen, answering the call. “You’ve got Brek.”
“Brek? Are you with Mom?” She sounded off.
“Nope. I’m with Dean. What’s up?” He ducked his head to hear better.
“Don’t freak out,” she said.
Which, of course, cued his internal freak-out.
“I’m at the hospital. Lots of contractions today. It’s too early, so they’re trying to stop the baby from coming. Jacob’s on his way. Can you bring Mom?”
“Which hospital?” he asked, already heading toward the door.
“St. Luke’s.” Her voice cracked a little. “Don’t let Mom panic.”
His mother panicked when her dog ate too much kibble. When Brek didn’t check in every Sunday. When the mailman tripped over his feet on her front step. Yeah, she’d lose he
r ever-loving mind over this.
“I’m on my way.” He snagged his jacket and shoved his phone into the pocket. “Dean, I’ve gotta roll. Aspen’s at the hospital.”
“Holy hell.” Dean stood from the table. “How can I help?”
Brek was already halfway to the door. “Call Ma. Tell her I’m on the way to pick her up.” His mother would pull out her own toenails before she’d get on the back of his Harley. She’d also be in no condition to drive herself once he told her the news. “Tell her to have her car ready.”
Brek had left Velma’s place to pick up his slightly crazed mother and drive her across town to St. Luke’s. She was now pacing the drab antepartum waiting room—that was what it said on the door, anyway. Whatever the hell that meant.
The television remained off. Cell phones silenced. The only sound came from Brek’s foot as he tapped his heel against the polished tile floor. The room’s fluorescent lights did nothing to calm his nerves. He and Ma didn’t speak much. Not with the tension of waiting for news flowing between them like a living, breathing entity. She wasn’t even trying to set him up with the pretty nurse. That said everything.
His sister and her baby had to be okay. All she’d ever wanted was to be a mother. Things hadn’t panned out for her, though. Babies were a dream they’d all thought would never happen for Aspen. Until five months ago.
Jacob, her husband, finally arrived from Aspen’s bedside. “She’s okay,” he assured them with a weak attempt at a smile. “They’ve been able to stop the contractions for now.”
The man looked totally wiped.
“She wants to talk to you.” Jacob nodded to him. “Just you.”
Brek was through the door before Jacob could say more.
The lights were dim in Aspen’s room. An elastic contraption covered her pregnant belly and an IV pierced her hand. Several monitors flashed colored numbers and lines. One of the machines amplified the subtle swish of what had to be the baby’s heartbeat.
He pulled a chair up beside her and collapsed onto it. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she replied. “Thanks for being here.”
Going Down On One Knee (A Mile High Matched Novel Book 1) Page 2
