My Brother's Best Friend - A Second Chance Romance (San Bravado Billionaire's Club Book 8)

by Layla Valentine

  “How is Jackson doing?” he asks instead, contrary to what I’m expecting.

  “I didn’t think you’d care,” I reply coldly, and he looks hurt.

  “Mel, of course I care,” he defends himself. “Regardless of what happened, I still consider Jackson the best friend I’ve ever had.”

  That’s touching, and my heart skips a beat. For the past few years, I’ve been able to more or less push Tyler from my thoughts every time my mind drifted to our nights together, and I’ve done that by reminding myself how poorly he treated my brother. Hearing him sound concerned—almost remorseful—for what happened makes me soften my tone a bit.

  “Jackson is…okay,” I admit. I know that my brother wouldn’t want me to say anything to Tyler to imply that he’s been hurt by his actions, but I can’t help it—I’m transparent, unable to keep my feelings from my facial expression.

  “Mel,” he presses, “is something wrong?”

  “It’s not that anything’s wrong, per se,” I begin. “He’s just…I’ve been worried about him.”

  Tyler leans in and puts one hand over mine, stroking my wrist soothingly. “Why?” he asks softly.

  As much as I don’t want to open up to Tyler, I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about this, and it’s been weighing heavily on my mind.

  “Having to watch his dream business take off without him has been hard for him,” I explain. I can see the guilt in Tyler’s deep brown eyes, but he doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t take his hand off mine. “He’s been sort of…passionless, lately.”

  Tyler closes his eyes briefly, as if in pain. “That’s terrible,” he says, looking into my eyes so pointedly that it sends a chill down my spine. “Life without passion is meaningless.”

  I realize, momentarily, that Jackson might not want me to be telling Tyler these things. He’s a proud man, even if he’s not doing exactly what he wants in life right now, and I don’t want Tyler to know anything that Jackson wouldn’t reveal himself. I don’t want to allow Tyler to believe that he’s important enough to ruin my brother’s life.

  “But he’s been doing great lately,” I lie, backpedaling some of what I’ve just said. “He’s working in management at one of the biggest cellphone companies in the world.”

  I decide that it’s not important that he’s working branch management, and barely making more than minimum wage.

  “Oh.” Tyler blinks, looking surprised. “That’s great. I’m glad he’s doing well.”

  Rather than risk getting too deep in my lie, I try changing the subject.

  “I have to admit that it’s nice to see you again,” I offer. I leave out the details. I don’t say how horrible it’s been not seeing him, how much I’ve missed him, how often I’ve thought of him, how he’s ruined every relationship I’ve ever tried to have because no other men could compare to him.

  It’s nice to see him. That’s true, and it’s all he needs to know. I don’t tell him that the moment that I was sure it was him standing in my gym today has been the best moment in the past five years. Nor do I tell him that all the feelings I’ve been trying to force down have rushed back to the surface, like I’ve been held under the water for years and now, finally, am allowed to surface. I can breathe again.

  The fact that I gave up hope he’d ever come back so long ago only makes the fact that I’m now sitting across from him—holding his hand, our feet entangled under the table like high school lovers—all the sweeter. Even better, he’s been thinking of me too; at least enough to come to my gym the day after seeing my name in the paper.

  Maybe he’s been going as crazy as I have been for the past five years.

  All I know is that I’ve finally got Tyler Cross back in my life, and that this time, I don’t want to let him go.

  Chapter 13

  Tyler

  The hour goes by in a blur as we talk about everything, from how our careers have progressed to tiny, seemingly meaningless details. Catching up on so much, so many years, makes me hyper-aware of how much time has passed. And yet, we easily fall back into our old banter, laughing and teasing as if we hadn’t spent more than a day apart.

  Mel laughs at one of my corny gym jokes and takes a sip of her iced tea, subtly trying to glance at her watch without me noticing.

  “I hate to say it,” she says, “but I’ve got to get back to work.”

  I sigh, nodding. I’d gladly cancel the rest of the day—hell, the rest of the month—if it meant that we could continue our conversation for just a bit longer, but she’s got time-sensitive appointments, and really, so do I. I call the waiter over and give him my credit card, not even looking at the bill.

  Mel follows me out to my car when we’ve finished paying, but the pace we take is slow, almost reluctant. Instead of unlocking the door, I lean against the hood of my car and pat the spot next to me. Mel looks hesitant to lean against my car, so I take her hand and pull her against my side until she relaxes a bit. Our hands are pressed against the hood of the car, and I inch mine toward hers until I find it, grasping it in my fingers loosely just to have some contact with her.

  “Avoiding work?” she asks teasingly, but I don’t take the bait.

  I look at her seriously, with no hint of joking in my face. “No,” I say, “I just want to get the most out of every moment I have with you before I have to drive you back.”

  I want to keep her this time, and not just for a night. I want to hold on to her and make sure she doesn’t get away again. My solemn reply throws her off, and her cheeks flush adorably red.

  “Oh,” she breathes. “It’s been nice to see you, too.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, rubbing her hand slowly. “I was a bit worried you still hated me.”

  I feel her fingers stiffen under mine. “I’ve been trying to,” she admits.

  “What’s stopping you?”

  Mel rolls her eyes and laughs. “You,” she says. A pleasant silence rests between us, and she looks up at the clear sky, closing her eyes. “It’s a gorgeous day outside,” she says, but I don’t want to talk about the weather—especially if we’ve only got a few more minutes before I have to drop her off at work again and say goodbye.

  “Mel,” I start, waiting for her to look at me.

  “Tyler,” she replies.

  “You know I’m a powerful man,” I say. “It’s no secret that I’ve been successful at everything I’ve ever attempted, and that’s not by luck or by happy mistake.”

  She makes a slightly confused face, nodding. “Uh, yeah,” she says. “You’re great…why are you reminding me?”

  “Because,” I reply, “I want you to know that I’m very deliberate in everything I do, and I never make the same mistake twice.”

  I pause, which makes her squirm a little.

  “Is this a business seminar?” she asks. “I appreciate the…advice? I guess, but—”

  My hand shoots out to grab her wrist before she can walk away to the other side of the car.

  “The biggest mistake I’ve ever made was letting you slip out of my life,” I confess, “and now that you’re here again, I’m not going to repeat that mistake. Come work for me.”

  Mel freezes. “What?” she stammers, clearly shocked. “What do you mean, come work for you? I’m already doing my dream job, and—”

  “Your gym is a nameless little venue,” I say. “Your clients are loyal to you, not your gym. You could do what you do anywhere, and I think you should come work at VirtuGym.”

  She sets her jaw, not breaking eye contact, so I don’t break it, either.

  “What can you offer me that Shape Up can’t?” she asks. She’s negotiating, I know, waiting to see just how much I’ll sweeten the deal. It makes me want her even more.

  “You’ll have the freedom to work at any VirtuGym in the world,” I say. “It’ll open you up to clients everywhere; plus, you can travel.”

  “I’m not interested in leaving San Bravado,” she rejects, “or my brother.”

  I’m prepared for th
at answer.

  “Whatever you’re making now, I can double it. And you’ll get a sizable bonus for every new client you sign up, which shouldn’t be difficult, since I know that yours will follow if you move.”

  Now, she nods. That’s not something she can dispute, but I still don’t know if it’s enough.

  “What else?” she asks.

  “Me,” I say, stepping closer to stand square in front of her.

  Mel’s breath audibly catches in her throat.

  “I don’t think Jackson would be happy about it,” she says.

  I knew that would be the biggest stumbling block, and for the first time in my life, I’m not sure that I’ll be able to charm her worries away from her, to get the deal that I want.

  “Tell me you’ll think about it,” I say. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  Mel nods. “I’ll think about it.”

  Dejected, but trying not to show it, I unlock the car doors and drive her back to Shape Up, getting her back just before her lunch hour is over. The car ride is more awkward, more forced, now that the mood has changed so dramatically. We don’t say much, but the ride isn’t long.

  “Thanks for lunch, Tyler,” Mel says before she gets out of the car.

  I force a smile. “My pleasure. It was great to see you.”

  “You too,” she tells me. “I, uh, have your number.”

  She doesn’t ask if I’ve still got hers, but of course I do. I thought so many times over the years about deleting it. That would have been the smart thing to do, but I could never bring myself to actually press the button. I can’t quite believe that she’s kept mine, too.

  I watch Mel until she disappears through the doors of the gym, part of me hoping that she’ll turn around and run back to my car, pound on the window and tell me that of course she wants to come work for me, wants to be back in my life once more.

  She doesn’t do that, though. I guess the rift I created between her and me hasn’t just been sealed with time.

  I can’t help but dread the thought that perhaps she still hates me, after all these years, and that she’ll come to me in a few days and tell me she can’t forgive me. Have I made a huge mistake by showing back up in her life unannounced?

  Chapter 14

  Mel

  The afternoon after my lunch with Tyler passes slowly. I’m only half focused, unable to give my full attention to my clients as my mind continuously wanders back to Tyler’s offer. Finally, after several more hours of sessions, I finish my last appointment and pack up my bag.

  Normally, I’d stop at the grocery store and pick up some fresh produce for dinner, but today, I just decide to cheat and pick up some Chinese takeout on the way home. I push through the door of my apartment with my food in one hand and my gym bag in the other, then lock it behind me.

  Immediately after getting settled in, I check my phone yet again. Still no messages. It shouldn’t disappoint me, but it does, just slightly. The offer Tyler made me after our lunch replays in my head, and I will away the part of me that wants to accept it. I should hate him, right? Everything in me wants to never forgive him, to be able to take his offer and throw it back in his face and break his heart for what he did to Jackson.

  But I can’t do it. Each time I pull up his contact and type out a message declining the deal, I delete it before I build up the nerve to send it.

  As much as I hate to admit it, the primary feeling brought up by seeing Tyler again is desire. I wanted to kiss him, to pounce on him, to take him right then and there in his car. I feel ashamed of that desire, but I can’t quite make myself ignore it.

  I can only stomach a few bites of dinner; suddenly I’m not very hungry. I put the leftovers in a container and decide to turn in early. I’ve got to be up with the sun tomorrow, anyway, and I know I’m going to have a hard time falling asleep. I want to try and get at least a few good hours in so I’m not completely exhausted.

  Sleep brings dreams of Tyler Cross. I toss and turn for a long time before I finally do fall asleep, and once I’m there, it’s only a light doze. In my dreams, Tyler is kissing me, running his hands up and down my thighs the same way he did on the last night I spent with him. He’s on top of me and all over me and—

  I wake up with a gasp, blinking harshly against the light of my phone as I unlock it to turn off my alarm. Reluctantly, I swing my legs over the side of my bed, standing tiredly. My sleep wasn’t satisfying for a lot of reasons, and I’m still tired. If there were a chance that I could fall back into that dream once more if I just went back to sleep, I would gladly call in sick to work. But, since there isn’t, I hop into the shower instead. I turn the water on cold, hoping to cool myself off from the residual heat of the dream, and quickly shower, shave, and wash my hair.

  Work is torturous. I’m pressed up against the bodies of toned, attractive, successful men, in positions that most women would consider themselves lucky to hold just for a moment. In the middle of it, all I can think of is how much I wish that I were holding Tyler this way. No matter how hot these guys are, none of them hold a candle to what I have to admit is the best connection of my life.

  After only three hours of work, I use my lunch break to call Tyler’s office, and a young man answers the phone.

  “This is VirtuGym on Main Street; how can we help you reach your personal fitness goals today?” he greets cheerily.

  “Oh, um,” I stammer, “I’m not looking for a membership or anything,” I start. “I’m calling to speak to Tyler Cross. Is he in his office?”

  The young man pauses. “He’s in a meeting presently,” he says, “but if you leave your name and number, I’m sure he’ll call you back at his earliest convenience.”

  “Mel Page,” I reply, “and my number is—”

  “Oh!” the man exclaims. “You should’ve said so! Mr. Cross has a meeting available tomorrow morning, if that works for you.”

  I’m caught off guard. I wasn’t expecting to see him in person at all, really, since we’re both so busy. But since it sounds like he’s cleared his schedule for me, I decide that the least I can do is shift an appointment around.

  “Does 8 a.m. work for him?” I ask, trying not to sound as surprised as I feel.

  “Yup!” he says cheerfully. “We’ll see you then, Miss Page!”

  Once I’ve hung up, I let my phone drop down to my side and sigh, leaning heavily against the wall behind me.

  I don’t quite know how to feel about the fact that I’ll be seeing Tyler tomorrow. I’d expected to have more time to think about his offer, but if we’re meeting tomorrow, he’s going to expect an answer.

  I’ve never been one to just wing it and hope that everything works out for the best. I don’t often trust my own intuition, preferring to form a careful, long-thought-out plan about every decision. As I so often am, when dealing with Tyler Cross, I’m left feeling equal parts thrilled and nervous, worried and intrigued.

  I show up outside Tyler’s office at 7:59 the next morning, wearing a blue blouse and a short black shirt. The morning is already fairly warm, promising a hot afternoon, and I smooth my clothes down with one hand before pushing open the door to the original VirtuGym.

  It looks much different during the day. The only other time I’ve seen the building was the night of the grand opening party, when it was filled with decorations and people. In the pink early morning sunlight, it looks much more mundane, more real. The gym interior is also different, filled with equipment like stationary bikes and treadmills. In short, it looks like a gym instead of a club. It looks, I think, like a much nicer version of the gym I work at now.

  “Mr. Cross is in his office,” the secretary says, startling me from my introspection.

  “Oh,” I stammer, shaking my head to clear it. “Thank you. Can I just go on inside?”

  “Sure, he’s waiting for you.” The young man smiles. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

  I take a steadying breath, attempting to calm myself before I walk into Tyler’s of
fice. The dreams I’ve been having about him every time I close my eyes are swimming through my mind. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to say to him. I know, on the one hand, that I shouldn’t accept his offer; it would be an affront to Jackson. On the other hand, something about Tyler makes my knees buckle, and I feel helpless to resist whatever he asks of me.

  I knock on the door and don’t wait for a reply before pushing it open. Tyler is sitting at his desk, typing on his laptop, and looking sexy as ever.

  “Mel,” he greets professionally. “Please, take a seat.”

  The second the door closes behind me, desire sweeps over my body—knowing that it’s just him and me, and that no one else can see. No one else matters. It’s just like those first two secret nights. There are no consequences, no reason not to just lean in and kiss him.

  So, that’s exactly what I do. Tyler is sitting up straight in his chair, prepared for a formal meeting in which we will discuss a job offer and terms and conditions, but that’s not what I want. Right now, I’m going to act on my own selfish lust.

  I step forward, reach across his desk, and pull him toward me by the knot of his tie, kissing him on the lips. I feel him tense for a moment in surprise before he melts into it and begins to kiss me back. He slips his tongue in my mouth, softly but assertively, and I’m suddenly all too aware of how far away from him I am with both of us leaning against separate sides of his desk.

  Tyler seems to realize the same thing, as he pulls away for a moment to swipe the things off his desk. He’s treating me like one of the girls in the movies that I’ve always wanted to be, with the passion that I’ve never thought someone could feel for someone plain like me.

  Before I can think twice about what I’m doing, I crawl up onto his desk so my knees are on the hardwood, leaning down slightly to continue the kiss. I’ve never been taller than a man I’ve kissed, and the power rush is slightly intoxicating. I tear off his suit jacket at the same time that he rips off my blouse. I hear buttons popping off and I don’t care.