Undesired: A Best Friend’s Brother Romance

by Sullivan, Piper

  Undesired

  A Best Friend’s Brother Romance

  Piper Sullivan

  Copyright © 2019 by Piper Sullivan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Also by Piper Sullivan

  Mr. Justice: A Second Chance Romance

  Mr. Medic: A Roommate Hero Romance

  Mr. Cop: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

  Mr. Savior: A Roommate Hero Romance

  Accidentally Hitched: An Accidental Marriage Romance

  Accidentally Wed: An Accidental Marriage Romance

  Accidentally Bound: An Accidental Marriage Romance

  Accidentally Wifed: An Accidental Marriage Romance

  His Takeover: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Boardroom Games Book 1)

  Sinful Takeover: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Boardroom Games Book 2)

  Naughty Takeover: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Boardroom Games 3)

  Cowboy's Fake Fiancée: A Single Dad & A Virgin Romance

  Cowboy's Barmaid: A Small Town Military Romance

  Let's Pretend : A Fake Fiancée Romance

  I’ll Pretend : A Fake Fiancée Romance

  Boxsets & Collections

  Small Town Misters: A Small Town Protectors Boxset

  Daddies & Nannies: A Contemporary Romance Boxset

  Cowboys & Bosses: A Contemporary Romance Boxset

  Kiss Me, Love Me: An Alpha Male Romance Boxset

  Accidentally On Purpose:An Accidental Marriage Boxset

  Contents

  1. Hope

  2. Will

  3. Hope

  4. Will

  5. Hope

  6. Will

  7. Hope

  8. Will

  9. Hope

  10. Will

  11. Hope

  12. Will

  13. Hope

  14. Will

  15. Hope

  16. Will

  17. Hope

  18. Will

  19. Hope

  20. Will

  21. Hope

  22. Will

  23. Hope

  24. Will

  25. Hope

  26. Will

  27. Hope

  28. Will

  29. Hope

  30. Will

  31. Hope

  Preview: Mr. Justice

  1. Walker

  2. Audrey

  About the Author

  Also by Piper Sullivan

  Hope

  That rat bastard.

  Actually, he wasn’t a rat bastard—that in itself was part of the problem. My life would be a lot easier and my heart a hell of a lot safer if Will Landon was a rat bastard. But he wasn’t. There were a lot of words I could use to describe Will. “Gorgeous for his own damn good” and “a decent catch for a night or two,” for example. But he was a player, a womanizer, a bad long-term bet.

  A threat to any woman dumb enough to give him her heart.

  Basically, me.

  Will was never satisfied with one woman when he could have twenty. I knew that. I’d seen it time and again for at least the past decade, and yet on the night of Spring Fling, I let him lure me into his seductive web. Hell, I went willingly and promised myself no regrets. And I had none.

  Not then, anyway.

  He showed up one Friday with dinner and we ended up in bed. On the second Friday, I waited with bated breath and he showed up with a sexy smile and the promise of more good times. During the third week, we ended up in bed, in the shower, on the floor, and even on my kitchen table. I thought I saw a glimmer of love in his eyes. By the fourth week, I was hooked and more in love with him than ever. In hindsight, maybe it was the insatiable way he took me and brought me to pleasure time and time again, or maybe it was that lingering girlhood love that never really went away. Sadly, it was probably a combination of both.

  I had thought—hoped—he was falling too.

  Until tonight.

  Until he walked into Trivia Night with a six-foot-tall brunette with smoldering blue eyes. Then it became all too clear to me, and my friends, if the sympathetic looks they sent my way were any indication. They all thought it was just another fling he was tossing in my face. It was much, much worse than that.

  “Are you okay?” Maxine looked at me with more concern than I was comfortable with and I nodded.

  “Yep. Another beer, please?” Buddy gave me his special version of side eye, waiting for me to back down. I cocked a brow until he began to pour. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t go doin’ something you regret, Hope.” He gave me his best “I know best” stare and my shoulders sank. How pathetic was I that even grouchy old Buddy knew about my crush?

  “Too late for all that, Buddy. But thanks for the beer and keep’em coming, will ya?” He shook his head, probably more disappointed than disgusted with me, but to his credit, he kept the beers coming and by the time the night was over, I felt significantly less pain than I had earlier.

  “See you guys later.” I slurred my words and swayed just a little, but I’d walked to the bar, so I ignored all the concerned and sympathetic looks and pushed out into the cool Texas night air.

  I was done crushing on a man who would never see me as anything more than a convenient lay. The girl next door who never left Tulip, who never fulfilled her potential. Who never amounted to anything. I hated that that was undoubtedly how Will saw me, if he ever thought about me at all.

  “Who cares?” My words came out as crooked as my path home but even in my drunken haze, I knew what I had to do. Forgetting Will Landon was step one. Forget him and move on with my life. It was past time to focus on what I wanted my future to look like, starting with my lingerie designs. Like working less hours at the diner and spending more time with Big Mama. Anything but obsessing over Will and trying to get him to see me. He never would and I had to learn to be all right with that.

  Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I felt … nothing. Blah. Boring blandness. Short blonde hair that was too long to be considered a pixie cut anymore but too short to do anything with. Plain blonde hair that wasn’t golden or platinum. Just plain and boring. Non-distinct.

  Easy to forget.

  “I need a change.” I needed a life overhaul, starting with my appearance. Tomorrow was my day off, which meant it was the perfect day to start my new life. “But first, one last beer.” I needed the haziness of another drink so I wouldn’t think of him as I drifted off to sleep. I couldn’t allow myself to think of his soft, gentle kisses or the hungry insistent ones, the way my body felt when he lavished it with pleasure. None of it would be allowed—not tonight.

  The doorbell sounded and I froze halfway down the hall, knowing instinctively who it was. And what he wanted. I had a choice: I could walk back down the hall and let Will in, continuing on the same path I’d been on for a month—okay, for years—where nothing would change; or I could stay where I was until he took a hint and went home, and maybe called his backup booty.

  Shit, was I his backup booty?

  That question was a big dang clue. And a bigger problem. I turned my back to the ringing door and, with a beer in one hand and the other death-gripping the bannister, I walked away. I went down the dim hall, slipped under the covers, and listened to an entrepreneur podcast until I fell asleep.

/>   I did not dream about a pair of sleepy, sexy gray eyes.

  Will

  Big Mama’s Diner had a new waitress and she was hot as shit. At least from the back she was: soft feminine curves stacked onto a petite frame, a tiny waist, and the best part of all, the bright pink hair she rocked. That was a woman who liked to have a good time. A woman who wouldn’t let something messy and unreliable like feelings get in the way of a few orgasms. A woman who would answer the goddamn door.

  “Are you even listening, man?”

  I blinked and looked around the table where a few guys had gotten together for an early breakfast. And to complain about Janey, Nina, and the whole Hometown Heroes disaster. Why I’d ever agreed to this, I was still trying to figure out. “Mostly?”

  Jase, a firefighter, rolled his eyes and sat back, arms folded. Annoyed. “Never mind. They’re gonna do what they want and I’m not next anyway.”

  I glared at one of my oldest friends and he didn’t look even a little bit worried. Dick. “I’m not worried and you shouldn’t be either. It’s a few photos and some community service. No different than when we got caught painting that barn.”

  Walker snorted beside me and I sent him a glare of his own. “You call it painting but the sheriff called it tagging. Graffiti. Property destruction.”

  “Blah, blah. We had to whitewash every damn business in town.” But that had been the year I’d hit my growth spurt and that damn job helped with the muscles. And the ladies.

  The pink-haired hottie unfolded her tiny frame from the older couple near the door, stretched her back, and turned. “Shit.” It was Hope. Sweet little Hope had gotten a sexy new haircut. And she was coming this way.

  “Morning, guys. What can I get for ya?” She wore the same smile she always wore and aimed it at Walker, then Jase, and then Nate, skipping me altogether. What the hell?

  “Good morning, Hope.”

  “Hey,” she said blandly, still not looking my way and I wondered what in the hell I could have possibly done to piss her off. “So, are y’all ready to order?”

  “I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger omelet,” Jase offered with a flirtatious grin. “Fries on the side, please.”

  “Ketchup or barbecue?”

  “Yes?”

  She laughed easily and the sound was somehow sweet and sexy. “Okay. Next?” Walker ordered an egg white omelet with fruit.

  Nate took his sweet damn time. “I’d like the brisket breakfast, Hope.” He looked up and winked, making her blush. My hands clenched into fists at my side.

  “Will?” she asked, voice flat. Where was the woman who always had a happy, excited smile for me? The one who was like a little puppy desperate for attention?

  “I’ll have the steak and eggs.” She jotted something quick on her pad and looked around the table just in case anything else was needed.

  “I’ll be back with your drinks in a min—”

  “What did you do to your hair?”

  Hope blinked a few times like she was trying to figure out my words, then her green gaze narrowed. “It’s called a cut and a dye job. Problem?”

  “It’s different.” Like that was a better explanation.

  “I think it’s hot, Hope.” Jase flashed another wink. If he did it again, I was sure I’d end up knocking out one of my oldest friends. Over a girl. One who wasn’t even mine.

  “Thank you, Jase.” She didn’t even bother to look at me before she left the table. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. I couldn’t wait until Friday so I could make it up to her. Show her how hot I thought her new hair was.

  What was up with her? Hope being happy to see me, to talk to me and let me flirt with her a little, was one of things I could always count on—like the sun rising, the ebb and flow of the tides, and the busybodies in town knowing your business before you do. Today she was being weird. No, not just weird; she was being distant. And I needed to know why.

  “Losing your touch?” Walker, my best friend, sounded amused.

  I flipped him off and he laughed. As talk turned back to the upcoming Hometown Heroes event, I tuned out and let my gaze find Hope again. We had fun when we were together and unlike a lot of women, Hope didn’t push for more. She didn’t ask me to share my every waking thought with her. Hell, she was damn near perfect—well, except the stars in her eyes when she looked at me. And the fact that she had happily ever after written all over her. But she was a hellcat in the bedroom and that made her irresistible to a guy like me, in search of nothing but fun. No strings, no promises, no guarantees. Just a few hours of pleasure.

  Nothing more.

  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” The table erupted in laughter, but I couldn’t focus, not when Derek the ER doc, who the women in town thought walked on water, flirted with Hope. And she flirted back, smiling and putting her hand on his shoulder when we both knew my own shoulder was bigger and stronger. But how little Hope cared about my shoulders—and the rest of me, really—was evident in the way she batted her eyelashes as she handed him a few bags.

  “And this is for the nurses,” she said with a giggle as she handed him another bag. “Have a good shift, doc.”

  He rolled his eyes good naturedly and said something that made them both smile. I wished I could hear it as much as I was glad that I couldn’t. Hope could flirt with whoever she wanted, same as me.

  I didn’t have any claims on her but right now none of that mattered. “I gotta go,” I told the guys and left a few bills to cover the food that hadn’t even arrived yet. It didn’t matter. None of it did. I had to get the hell out of the diner and the hell away from Hope.

  Hope

  Pretty Feathers was the newest boutique to open in Tulip, selling women’s clothing, lingerie, and shoes. No one knew much about the dark-haired owner except that she was gorgeous, bubbly, and a genuine southern belle. And that she sold beautiful items we’d normally have to drive into the city to find. All of that made her shop the perfect place to start my new life, or rather my new career. Even if it ended up as my new side hustle, that’d be enough for me.

  Now, I just needed to go inside and talk to the owner. All I had to do was pull open the door and step inside with my designs . But something stopped me from taking that next step. Maybe it was fear of failure or maybe it was just that Pretty Feathers was a bar too high. The clothing all looked high end, just shy of designer labels. A place too far out of reach for a beginner designer. “You know, I find it easier to shop from the inside of the store.”

  I looked up at the sound of the honeyed voice with the southern lilt more exaggerated than my own, then smiled at the beautiful brunette. She had almond-shaped eyes that were a swirling mix of green and gold and brown, and filled with laughter. Her long dark hair fell around delicate shoulders in bouncy, touchable waves that looked like they were done at an upscale salon. “That is certainly one way to do it.”

  Her eyes sparkled with mischief and she held out a hand. “Mikki Russo. Nice to meetcha.”

  “Hope Kelley. Your shop is gorgeous.”

  She quirked a dark brow at me and pushed the door open, holding it that way until I stepped into the cool, air-conditioned space. “Looks even better from this angle, I find. Then again, my mama says I’m terribly biased.” Her smile was friendly and open and my nerves started to fade. “Are you lookin’ for something specific, Hope?”

  “Yes. And no.”

  Mikki let out a soft laugh. “Clear as mud. Perfect. Let’s start with something simple. What’s in the bag?”

  The bag? Oh, right. “Um, the thing is, you see …” I didn’t know how to even start this conversation which didn’t bode well for my future as a designer and businesswoman. “Why did you open up this boutique?”

  If the question surprised Mikki, she didn’t show it. She shrugged out of the red cardigan she wore over her red-and-white polka dot dress that hugged her pinup curves. “I love fashion and clothes and shopping, and I wanted to work in the fashion industry. But—” she
leaned in with a conspiratorial grin, “I have no skills beyond selectin’ things and puttin’ them together.”

  Relief passed through me at her honest answer and I knew I could do this. Had to if I wanted my life to be different. “I’m a designer and I’m just getting started again—long story,” I added, rushing to get to the important part. “I’m not sure where to start or how to do this, but I have some designs and I was hoping you could take a look and maybe let me know if … it sucks?”

  Mikki laughed and held her hand out for the bag. “You want me, a complete stranger, to judge your future career path? That’s brave, honey.”

  “Stupid, you mean. You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” I put my hand out for the bag but Mikki was already walking to the counter.

  “Too late for that now, sugar. I’ve got your fabric in my clutches now!”

  Panic rose up in me and I had to fight the urge to run out of the shop, leaving my designs and my dreams behind. Instead, I took a few deep breaths and stepped back from the main counter, putting distance between me, Mikki, and my designs. “I’ll, uh, have a look around.” That was better than watching her every expression, trying to figure out what she thought of my designs.

  “There’s a new rack of summer dresses by the clearance rack. Check out the yellow dress. It’d be killer with your hair.” Mikki didn’t even look up from my designs—either a very good or a very bad sign.