Dating His Brother: Forbidden Affair (Heartstring Dating Agency Book 5)

by Lauren Wood

  The cashier in front of me was going painfully slow as she took my money, bagged up my stuff, and handed over my receipt. She was distracted by the Heartstring live stream blaring from her laptop. I tapped a pen impatiently on the counter, resisting the overwhelming urge to tell her to hurry it up.

  She closed up the bag, darting her eyes from the laptop back to me with a smirk. “Have you been following Isabella’s Heartstring saga?”

  I hung my head and laughed a little. “Yes, actually. In a way.”

  “Who do you think she’ll pick?” the woman asked me.

  Finally, as she posed the question, she slid my bag and receipt across the counter. “Oh, I think everyone will be very surprised with who she picks. Keep watching,” I winked.

  Just before I could take off for the door, the owner of the shop came in from the back. He quickly assessed the bag in my hand, then the empty spot left in the case.

  “Rachel!” he barked. “Where’s that piece at? What did you do!? I know there’s no way Dawson could have afforded it.”

  She pointed to a painting in the corner. A portrait. “This guy has met the Isabella Landson. That’s a portrait of her! That he did! It’ll be worth a fortune. We worked out a trade.”

  The guy hesitated for a moment, looking between her and the painting, then nodded to me—a signal that I was free to go, bag in hand.

  I took off out into the busy streets and flagged down the first taxi I could. The city was particularly busy and frantic that day, most people in a tizzy over the Heartstring event. Just getting a cab took nearly fifteen minutes. But I was finally able to land one and hopped in to fire off instructions for my destination to the driver.

  Just my luck. We were still sixteen blocks from where I needed to be and the streets were grid-locked. The screen in the backseat broadcasted the Heartstring Bachelorette finale, reminding me how little time I had left.

  “Sorry, pal,” the driver offered. “We’re going to be here awhile. It’s at a standstill for the next mile or so.”

  I raked my hands through my hair and sank back against the seat with an anxious sigh. I knew my plan may not even work. But Isabella was the one. I had to try.

  I was unwilling to let something like traffic ruin my life. I told the driver to stop the meter and threw him some cash before jumping out and taking off down the street. I was sweaty and coughing from exertion by the time I reached the doors of the studio. There was a huge crowd outside, and even though the event was well underway—a whole crowd was still trying to get in.

  I pushed my way towards the front doors, trying to spot some sort of sign of hope that I could find a way inside. I was left at the mercy of the security guards barricading the entrance.

  “Back up, sir,” he ordered. “No one can get in without a ticket, and everyone who has a ticket is already inside. Which means you’re out of luck.”

  “Please, I know how this sounds. But I know Isabella Landson—the woman in there. And she is about to make the biggest mistake of her life. I have to stop her.”

  “Yeah, right. Okay,” she laughed sarcastically. “I’m sure some chump like you knows her. I can’t help you. If it was that important, I guess you should have bought a ticket.”

  I cursed under my breath, getting pushed around in the collective sway of the crowd around the doors. Then it hit me.

  “Hey, do you like art?” I asked the security guy. He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. But he didn’t exactly say no. I bobbed my head to the side, motioning for him to follow me to discuss negotiations more privately.

  I struck a deal with him as quickly as possible, which still took far too long. He was supposed to come by my studio and put in an order for a big portrait of him and his family, on the house. And in exchange, he let me in one of the private side entrances, only after patting me down to make sure I wasn’t some crazed shooter or bomber.

  I burst through the studio, navigating my way to the auditorium where they were filming. I lingered near the back as the CEO of Heartstring, Lucas Meadows, finished his introduction.

  “That’s why we were so committed to finding true love for Isabella Landson,” he told the crowd. “And we’ve all been surprised with the results and the response. Ms. Landson will no doubt be the first of many bachelors and bachelorettes that we take through the Heartstring journey to love, while you lovely viewers cheer them on every step of the way. But, for today, we have one very important reason for gathering. And that is for Isabella Landson to reveal to us which of the ten lucky bachelors is in fact the love of her life.”

  Everyone cheered and applauded as Lucas finished his spiel and invited Isabella out onto the stage. I paced the back of the room, waiting for the right moment. My heart leaped at the sight of Izzy, but she looked terrified and upset—even though she was trying her best to hold it together for the crowd.

  “Thank you, everyone,” she said softly into the mic. The whole room grew quiet to hear her fragile voice speak. I may have been the only one who could see her obvious indecision and heart ache.

  I zoned out as Lucas asked her a string of questions to draw out the suspense. Izzy laughed and played along the best she could. Then the moment came for her to announce her chosen bachelor to the world. A rolling drum track played and a big bright spotlight narrowed in on her behind the podium.

  But while everyone waited anxiously for her to speak the name of her true love, Isabella froze like a deer in headlights, seemingly unable to give them what they wanted. This was my chance to save her.

  “Isabella Landson!” I called out from the back as I approached the stage.

  She startled and tried to shield her eyes from the bright lights to see who was calling for her. The audience erupted in a chorus of murmurs and whispers.

  But half way down the aisle, halfway to Izzy, Jack stepped directly into my path—crossing his arms and glaring at me.

  “I thought I told you what would happen if you came near her again,” he growled.

  I nodded. “You did. But I don’t care. Because I’m in love with your sister. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to win her back and make her happy. That’s what you’re worried about, right? Her happiness? Isn’t that what all of this is for?”

  “Of course, but Dawson…”

  “Jack, please,” I begged. “We can talk more later. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I’d even take my family’s money if that’s what you need from me. Just please let me go to Izzy. Look at her. She needs me.”

  He turned around and we both studied the obviously distraught look on her face. It was enough to make Jack step aside to let me go. But just as soon as he moved out of my way, Richard bounded up from the bachelor’s section and got in my face.

  “He may let you get away with this,” he fumed. “But I’m not going to. I’m going to kick your ass, Daws.”

  Jack waved to the security guards in the back of the room to come and take Richard out. A woman in the crowd noticed and shouted, “Hey! Richard Hayes is being escorted out by security!”

  Lucas stammered into the mic, unsure how to explain all the excitement to the crowd. While the chatter in the audience grew louder and more frantic.

  All I cared about was that I was free to get up to the stage, to Isabella.

  “Dawson,” she whispered into the mic. “What are you doing here?”

  I stopped at the edge of the stage, staring up at her in the bright lights. “I think you know what I’m doing here, Izzy. Look at us. It’s just like Romeo and Juliet and the balcony all over again.”

  “I told you I didn’t want to see you anymore,” she said, unamused. But her voice was cracking with emotion.

  “I know what you said. And I know what has been said about me,” I defended. “But I think you know it’s not true. Admit it, Izzy. You got scared and you were looking for any way out you could find. Well, I hate to break it to you sweetheart. I’m not going to let you off the hook so easily.”

  She shook her head. “I…I…ca
n’t. I have…to…”

  I cut her off, dropping to one knee. I pulled out the ring I had traded her portrait for. The whole audience gasped as I held it up to her.

  “Isabella, you’re supposed to be telling everyone which bachelor you picked. I’ll move out of the way and let you do that if that’s what you want. But first, I need you and everyone else to know that you’re the one I pick. I want you to marry me, Izzy. Remember how happy you said you were with me? Let’s make a life out of that. It can be like that every day and every night.”

  She looked breathless and teary-eyed for a moment while the audience swooned. But then Izzy did something unexpected. She sucked in all emotion and turned tense and angry.

  “Well, Dawson,” she said sternly. “You did say you would move out of the way and let me tell everyone which bachelor I pick. Do that now, please.”

  I felt my heart split in two. My head dropped as I slowly climbed back onto my feet. A few guards approached from the back and began to escort me down the aisle.

  “I have decided which bachelor I choose,” Izzy declared into the mic, watching me be carried away. “I choose…that man right there. Dawson Hayes.”

  The guards stopped and turned in shock. I spun on my heels with a baffled expression. Isabella stood there on stage, looking like an angel, smiling and laughing.

  “Are you going to get up here and give me that ring, or what?” she teased.

  I took off running for the stage, seamlessly leaping up onto it. I immediately dropped down to one knee in front of her again and held out the ring.

  “You mean it?” I asked, full of hope.

  “Don’t give me a chance to change my mind,” she quipped. “But yes. I mean it. I’m not going to be your sugar mama, though.”

  I showered her hands and arms with a string of kisses. “If I have you, we can live in a box for all I care.”

  “Dawson Hayes!” She stomped her foot. “I’m not going to live in a box!”

  I stood to face her, kissing her deeply. I lifted her into the air, her legs wrapping around my waist without breaking the kiss. The audience broke into applause as I carried her off the stage.

  “Take me somewhere without cameras.” She smiled against my lips.

  “Actually, I thought letting the cameras stick around would be a great way for me to make some money to support us,” I joked.

  She playfully smacked my shoulder before his lips melted back into mine. I walked away with her in my arms, both of us whispering how much we loved each other with every step.

  Epilogue

  My happy place. A beautiful, sunny Saturday afternoon in the studio with all the windows open, music blaring, my bare foot pressing up and down on the pottery wheel. My arms covered up to my elbows in wet clay as I shaped the pot on the wheel to perfection.

  Once it was finished, I slid a wire under the base and moved the vessel to a board to dry. The owner of the ceramics shop, Robbie, took the finished piece from my hands and put it with the others.

  “Beautiful, Izzy,” he beamed. “You’re becoming a real pro. Should I throw on another hunk of clay onto the wheel for you?”

  I glanced up to the clock on the wall. “Not today, Robbie. It’s our dinner party tonight. You’ll be there later, right?”

  He nodded as I walked over to the sink to wash up. “As soon as I close up here. I wouldn’t miss it. Save some of your delicious dinner for me.”

  “Will do,” I smiled.

  He looked out the wide open doors, wiping some sweat from his brow. “That summer heat is setting in. Will you and Dawson be heading up to the Hamptons for the summer?”

  “No,” I told him. “No need to. We have everything we need right here at home. Besides, I doubt any pottery studio they have there compares to yours. And what would I do without my weekends buried in clay?”

  After rinsing the clay muck from my hands and arms, and everywhere else it managed to splatter, I slid my feet into my flip-flops and grabbed my big woven purse. My long skirt flowed in the breeze as I walked out, my jewelry jingling as I went down the street.

  I stopped by the market on my way home, picking out produce and fresh bread from all the local farmers. The little town we moved to just outside the city was small enough that everyone knew each other. The cashier complimented me on my earrings, and when I told her I made them myself, I offered to give her a pair for free.

  “You and your husband are so generous.” She smiled in thanks. “The town really has become something special ever since he came along and started donating all that money to the community.”

  I gathered my bags and started the walk home. I loved the long winding, scenic roads. Everything was spaced out enough that it felt like the country, but everything was still close enough that it was easy to get everywhere by foot.

  Our little cottage was nestled at the end of a long dirt road. There were wide open fields of green grass and beautiful gardens all around. I never knew I could enjoy nature so much, but Dawson was right. It really was so inspiring. And now that I had so many creative endeavors, I had learned to really appreciate that kind of thing.

  One of my favorite new hobbies was cooking, and apparently I was pretty good at it. I went into the kitchen as soon as I got home and started working on dinner for that evening—pot roast with my special vegetable medley recipe.

  In the middle of preparing the food, I felt two strong arms wrap around me from behind. Dawson’s warm body pressed into mine as he buried his face in my hair and nuzzled against my neck, kissing it up and down.

  “It smells delicious,” he murmured with a smile.

  “Thank you. How’s it going in there today?” I tilted my head towards his adjoining painting studio.

  “I’ve started a new landscape. A sunset,” he replied. “Inspired by you, of course.”

  The house was small, but had such a perfect layout so that everything still felt so wide and open. We often kept all the doors and windows open when the weather was nice. The whole place filled up with glorious fresh air and the sounds of the wind chimes singing from the wrap-around porch.

  Jack did ask Dawson to give in and take his share of his family’s money. It didn’t matter how much money I had of my own. He was stuck in this idea that Dawson needed to prove he wasn’t just trying to freeload off of me. Dawson would have done anything to have me and prove how genuine his love was. So, he took the money. Between the two of us, we bought the house and set aside a modest amount we needed to live off of. The rest went to charities, art foundations, and the local community centers of the town we now lived in.

  I did make one exception to our new lifestyle though, setting aside a hefty sum for shopping and to travel back into the city for fashion shows and galas from time to time. I may have changed a lot, but there were some parts of the old Isabella that weren’t going anywhere.

  Just as the sun was starting to set, I went out onto the back patio and started setting our table for the party. Dawson had built a long farmhouse style table low to the ground, and I had picked out big plush pillows to line up on either side for seating. The center was lined up with big fresh bouquets of flowers and everything was glowing in the light of string edison bulbs dangling overhead.

  As I arranged the colorful plates and silverware, Dawson came out and leaned against one of the posts, watching me closely. “You ever miss your mansion?” he asked after a while.

  “No,” I grinned, admiring the beautiful setting we had made together. “Do you ever miss your little studio?”

  “Sometimes,” he shrugged. “But all this fresh air makes up for it.” He walked over to pull me in for a kiss. “And having the most beautiful woman in the world around all the time really sells me on this place too.”

  As our lips pressed together, his tongue parted my lips, rolling through my mouth. I moaned with the buzz of desire which he always managed to spark in me so easily. He backed me up to the table until my thighs pressed against the edge. I was seconds away from sliding onto
it to sit, spreading my legs around him so his roaming hands could find their way up my skirt.

  But we were interrupted by a knock on the front door and someone calling out to us from the porch.

  “Sorry,” I whispered against his lips. “It seems our guests are starting to arrive. Can we pick up on this later?”

  “You don’t even have to ask,” he chuckled, nibbling along my collarbone—down to the dip of my cleavage. “I’ll save you for dessert.”

  I reluctantly pulled away to go to the front door where Veronica, Miranda, and Kate were waiting. I greeted them with big hugs and showed them into the kitchen. They were chattering endlessly about how impressed they were with the property and the house.

  I uncorked a bottle of wine and filled a glass for each of us. “I’d like to propose a toast,” I announced. “To real friends who stick around through all of life’s changes and surprises.”

  Veronica lifted her glass with a big smile. “And to our Izzy, who turned out to be the most surprising woman of us all. Who would have thought you’d flourish out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  “I can see why, though,” Miranda added. “Have you got a good look at Dawson?” She glanced out the window to where he was sitting outside. “Mmm-mmm. Delicious. He’s absolutely mouth-watering.”

  I blushed a little, wondering if they would have felt the same if they didn’t know he was a secret millionaire. It didn’t seem to matter to them how he spent the money, just so long as he had it. Our friends thought our lifestyle was quirky and interesting, but it wasn’t something they wanted for themselves. They were happy carrying on the way we all used to. I didn’t judge them for it. They still liked to visit, and we seemed exotic to them now.