Top Secret

by Sarina Bowen

  Oh shit. What if Jako came upstairs last night to find me, or something, and heard Keaton’s strangled moans as I fucked him senseless in the shower?

  My brain goes into damage-control mode. Just because he heard two dudes banging doesn’t mean those dudes had to be me and Keaton. Maybe I can pretend I had some random guy over? Maybe—

  “You have a brother named Joe, right?”

  I blink.

  I did not expect him to say that. And once he does, my next thought is, Holy shit.

  “Yeah,” I say slowly. “Why?”

  “He was just here.”

  My spine straightens. “Here?” I echo.

  “Yeah.” Jako stands up and jams his hands in his pockets. “He said he needed to talk to you. I told him you were out for a run, and he said he needed to leave a note for you in your room.”

  “Did you let him?” I can hear the panic in my voice. “Please say no.”

  “Well, I asked him to show me some ID. And he did. So I told him where your room was and he went upstairs.”

  Without another word, I run past Jako and take the stairs two at a time. What did you steal, Joe?

  Jako is right behind me. “Dude, I’m so sorry. It seemed a little off, but he’s your brother. He looks a lot like you. But I didn’t even know you had a brother.”

  My tone is stiffer than my spine. “Yeah, there’s a reason for that.”

  At the top of the stairs, I see that my door is standing open. That’s not surprising, since Joe learned to pick a lock before he learned to shave, and the locks on our rooms aren’t exactly deadbolts.

  I reach over and try Keaton’s door. It’s locked, and I heave my first sigh of relief.

  If Joe steals from me, it’s not the end of the world. Besides, I’m so broke there’s barely any money in my room.

  Or was. Sure enough, the bottom drawer of my desk is ajar. That’s where I keep my coffee can. When I yank open the drawer, the can is empty.

  “Shit,” Jako says. “I’m so sorry.”

  But seriously, I’m mostly relieved. “Dude, this isn’t on you. And it doesn’t matter so much anyway. I only had a hundred bucks in there. How long was he out of your sight?”

  “Three minutes, tops.”

  “All right,” I say, giving him a smile. “Coulda been worse. Let’s not worry about it.”

  “Maybe we should tell the other guys not to let him in?” Jako suggests, worrying his hair with his fingertips.

  “I guess we’d better do that. Next meeting,” I agree. I can’t wait to hear what Judd has to say about that. The only saving grace is that Keaton wasn’t home when Joe showed up. I don’t want my felon brother anywhere near my fuck buddy.

  Come on now.

  The disapproving voice brings a sliver of guilt. Okay, that was harsh. Keaton is more than a fuck buddy. We’re friends.

  Come on now, the voice chides again.

  Fuck off, I tell it.

  “Thanks for the heads up, man.” I clap Jako on the shoulder.

  “Of course. Poker later?”

  “Maybe. I need to shower and proofread an assignment, but I’ll be free later tonight.”

  It’s really weird to have no plans. For the first time in forever, I actually have the entire weekend off. It’s a much-needed break. And with finals coming up, I can get ahead of my coursework so I’m not racing to write papers at the last minute.

  “Cool,” Jako says. Then he disappears down the stairs, and I disappear into the shower. The sweat from my run slides down the drain, but no amount of scalding-hot water can wash away the layer of grimy disgust evoked by my brother’s visit.

  No, not a “visit.” A theft.

  I close my eyes under the harsh spray. My disgust dissolves into shame. Can’t scour that off my skin, either. Is it any wonder I don’t trust anybody? My own brother just stole from me. My mother is a leech.

  Why the fuck does Keaton want to date me, anyway? What’s wrong with him?

  Speaking of the devil, he’s sitting on my bed when I walk in after my shower. “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey.” I head for the dresser and fish out a pair of briefs. “What’s up?”

  “Everything okay? You look tense.”

  “Nah, I’m good.” I don’t mention Joe. I know I shouldn’t wait until the next frat meeting to tell Keaton about it, but… A sigh lodges in my chest. I don’t want to see Keaton’s eyes soften with sympathy. I don’t want him to try to talk to me about it.

  “Great,” he says. “Now get dressed. Let’s take that drive.”

  I’m really not in the mood. “Can it wait? I need to proof my paper.”

  He tips his head. “The one that isn’t due for two weeks?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “But nothing.” With a cocky grin, he gets to his feet. “Let’s go. You promised.”

  I stare at his muscular back as he saunters out of the room. I swear, nothing fazes this man. I can glower and glare at him all day long, and he won’t bat an eye. My brooding doesn’t bother him. My refusal to talk about my feelings doesn’t test his patience. He’s rock steady, and I don’t get it.

  Doesn’t he realize he’s wasting his time?

  And yet, despite my reluctance to lower my guard around him, I find myself sliding into the passenger seat of Keaton’s BMW twenty minutes later. Nobody ever said I was smart.

  “We’re going out to dinner,” he says as he pulls away from the curb. “I’m kidnapping you, because I want a steak.”

  A knee-jerk spike of anger makes me lean back against the leather upholstery and close my eyes. Miraculously, I don’t say anything rude. In fact, I don’t say anything at all. I take a deep breath. “You’re a good friend, Keaton.” He knows I’m having a financial crisis. He’s managed not to offer me money, either. Which I really appreciate.

  He’s smart enough not to say anything more.

  I take another deep breath. “So where are we going—Outback? Longhorn?” I ask, naming the only two steakhouses near Darby.

  “Yeah,” is his response, which tells me nothing. Hopefully we’re going to Longhorn. The prime rib there is to die for.

  A light drizzle falls onto the windshield as Keaton leaves campus and steers onto the highway. The Bluetooth kicks in, and a moment later, a familiar voice blasts out of the car speakers.

  I look over with a wry grin. “Are we seriously listening to Beyoncé right now?”

  He grins back, turning the volume down. “Annika shared a playlist with me on Spotify. Queen B is her number one.”

  My stomach does a hot twist. For fuck’s sake. The tug of jealousy is completely unwelcome. What do I care if Keaton is still best buds with his ex-girlfriend?

  I shift my gaze from his face to his hands, watching as he taps his long fingers on the steering wheel. He’s got such sexy hands. And a sexy face. Sexy body.

  I’m so busy checking him out that it takes several minutes before I realize we’re still on the highway. Getting from campus to either restaurant doesn’t require this much travel.

  My forehead creases. “Where are we going?”

  He winks. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “Yes,” I say irritably. “I would like to know. Are we heading to Hartford?”

  “Nope.”

  My annoyance increases. Something about his satisfied expression is rubbing me the wrong way. “Then, where?” I demand.

  Keaton casts a devious grin in my direction. “That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

  Carried Away

  Keaton

  This might have been a bad idea, I decide an hour later. Luke’s expression as he studies our hotel suite in Stonington isn’t as…encouraging as I’d hoped. A muscle ticks in his jaw when his gaze settles on the massive four-poster bed in the center of the room. Then he turns to me and sighs.

  “How much is this costing you?”

  I know I’ve overstepped a boundary by surprising him with a weekend away. But it seems he’s not worrie
d about the intimacy of taking a trip so much as the cost of it. So that’s good news.

  “Honestly, not much,” I assure him. “It’s nowhere near high season yet.”

  “Fine, then let me pay for half,” he says immediately.

  “No way. This is my birthday gift to you.”

  Silence ensues.

  Luke stares at me for so long I start to feel uncomfortable. I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans and bite my lip uneasily. “Jako and Ahmad talked to the party-planning committee about organizing something for next weekend,” I say when Luke doesn’t speak. “So I asked what was going on next weekend, and Jako said it was your birthday.”

  Luke still doesn’t answer.

  “So I thought, hey, he’s got this weekend off, so maybe I’ll surprise him with an early birthday thing,” I finish lamely.

  The discomfort I’m feeling is nothing compared to the intensified version of it I see in Luke Bailey’s eyes.

  Hoo boy, this was a bad idea, all right. I didn’t expect him to jump up and down with joy, but I didn’t think he’d be this put off by my efforts.

  “You planned a weekend away to celebrate my birthday,” he murmurs.

  I gulp. “Yeah.”

  “What else did you plan? What exactly are we doing this weekend, along with boning on that huge bed.” He gestures vaguely to the California king.

  I meet his eyes. “Tonight we’re having steaks at the hotel restaurant. Tomorrow afternoon we’re going to a craft beer festival in Mystic.”

  He nods slowly. “Okay. And?”

  He knows me well. “Uh, Sam Smith is playing at Mohegan Sun. I got us tickets,” I mumble. The seats are front row, center. But I don’t mention that. He’d probably do the math, figure out the ticket prices, and have a nervous breakdown.

  Luke lets out an uneven breath. “Hayworth,” he says roughly. “I…”

  I swallow again. “You what?”

  He hesitates. “I…” He’s visibly swallowing now, too. “I got to hit the head. I’ll be right back.”

  To my dismay, he makes a beeline for the private bath and firmly shuts the door. I sit down at the edge of the bed and run a hand through my hair. Shit. I feel like such an idiot. As Annika can attest, I tend to get carried away when it comes to special occasions. I mean, I arranged a threesome for her birthday, for fuck’s sake. And for her birthday last year, I took her to Paris.

  Money has never been a factor for me. My trust fund is enormous. I don’t dip into it often, but when I do, I don’t hold back.

  But Bailey isn’t Annika. Annika grew up as wealthy as I did. Bailey did not.

  I’m such a fool. Of course he’s freaked out by all this.

  When the bathroom door opens, I half expect an outraged Luke to stomp toward me and demand to be taken back to Darby.

  Instead, I find myself gazing at a stricken Luke whose dark eyes are slightly rimmed with red.

  “Hayworth,” he starts. Then he stops. “Keaton.”

  I remain seated. “You okay?” I ask cautiously.

  He gives a slow shake of his head.

  Fuck. I open my mouth, armed with an apology, but he cuts me off with a strangled groan.

  “I want to be pissed off at you. I really do. Because this is so fucking extra. One dinner would’ve been a sufficient birthday present. Actually, way more than sufficient. But dinner and two nights at this fancy hotel and a beer festival and a concert? Are you out of your mind?”

  Once again, I open my mouth to tell him that all Hayworths like to party. It’s just in our blood. Our annual beach barbecue is legendary.

  But once again, he speaks first. “I’m not pissed,” he says helplessly. “I’m not pissed, because do you realize that the last time anybody remembered my birthday, let alone celebrated it, was back in high school?”

  I frown. “Not even your family?”

  Luke laughs bitterly. “Especially them. The last time my mother wished me a happy birthday was when I turned sixteen.” He shakes his head a few times. “I can’t believe you did this.”

  “But you’re not pissed,” I hedge.

  “Not much. I’m fucking touched, okay? Even if I want to punch you for making me feel this way—hey! Wipe that grin off your face! This isn’t funny.”

  I press my lips together to fight my amusement. “No, it’s kinda funny.”

  Bailey’s trademark scowl twists his sexy mouth. I notice his fists are clenched to his sides, and more laughter bubbles in my throat. I want to tease him about this, or maybe just assure him that it’s okay to feel moved, that he’s allowed to accept this gift, but I don’t want to push him any more than I already have.

  So I hop off the mattress and give his ass a little smack. “All right, you done bitching? Because I’m hungry for steak.”

  Dinner is great. The company is even better. Bailey and I somehow down two bottles of wine, so we’re tipsy for most of our meals. The waitress knows it, and teases us about our growing intoxication. And by the time I sign the receipt slip with our room number, I’m rocking a semi, because for me, drunk = horny.

  Ergo, I have my tongue in Luke’s mouth before he can even close the door to the suite.

  “You are the most sex-starved person I’ve ever met,” he mutters against my greedy mouth.

  “You love it,” I mumble back. I’m already clawing at his clothes.

  He squeezes my ass and guides me backward toward the bed. Then I’m flat on my back and he’s on top of me, and we’re making out hardcore. His fingers fumble with my zipper, yanking it down as his tongue fills my mouth and robs me of sanity.

  But through the haze of lust, I register the persistent chime of my cell phone. I’d left it in the room when we were at dinner, and it isn’t on silent or vibrate.

  “Ugh, let me shut that off,” I groan against Luke’s lips. “It’s gonna annoy me.”

  “Hurry,” he growls, then rolls onto his back and rubs his erection through his pants.

  Grinning, I dive off the bed toward the desk. I plan on switching the phone to silent mode, but the notifications on the lock screen catch my eye. Two missed calls from my father. Which normally I’d just ignore. But he also sent a text after his calls weren’t answered, and what I read before the notification cuts off is enough to trigger my internal alarm.

  Dad: I assume congratulations are in order! I just saw the hotel charges on your…[read more]

  I glance at the bed, where Luke is totally eye-fucking me. “Hey, sorry, I need to read this message.”

  Luke flicks up an eyebrow. “Something important?”

  “I’m not sure. Right now it’s just confusing.” I unlock the home screen to scan the rest of Dad’s text.

  When I’m done, I’m fuming so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if Luke commented on the steam rolling out of my ears.

  Dad: I assume congratulations are in order! I just saw the hotel charges on your credit statement, and your mother points out that it must mean you and Annika are back on track. We are both thrilled to hear it, son!

  No need to phone me back tonight. I assume you and Annika are busy enjoying your weekend away. But we have to speak when you return. There’s also a credit card charge for an application fee for a summer program? That had better not interfere with the finance internship you promised to do. Call me tomorrow.

  “Everything okay?” Luke calls.

  I realize I’ve just been standing here like a marble statue, glowering at my phone.

  “No,” I retort. “It’s not.” I turn and march to the bed, where I drop the iPhone in Luke’s hand. “Can you believe this man?”

  Luke skims the message. His eyebrows shoot up again, and he gives me an incredulous look. “He checks your credit card statements?”

  “Yup.” I can barely get that one syllable out, my throat is so tight with anger. “The card is connected to my trust account, and Dad has access to that. I’m used to him checking up on what I’m spending money on, but this…this is bullshit.” I blow out a har
sh breath. “What the fuck is wrong with him? He’s breathing down my neck, for one. And I never promised to do that internship. So he’s just perusing my credit card on a Friday night, connecting the dots on my life?”

  “It’s certainly intrusive,” Luke agrees.

  “Shit, and knowing him he’ll reach out to Annika, too. And she’s dating somebody else. She’ll probably be humiliated.”

  “Oh come on, he wouldn’t really do that, would he?”

  I drop my ass back on the bed. I scrub my face with my hands, moaning in aggravation. “That is absolutely something he would do, and has done. I mean, we’re talking about the man who sent gift cards to every single member of his son’s fraternity to win votes. I can’t deal with this anymore, Bailey. He’s my father, and I love him, but holy fuck do I need him to just leave me alone.”

  “Then tell him.”

  With a wry smile, I lift my head. “Really. You want me to tell my father to leave me alone. Solid plan.”

  Luke sits up too, coming up behind me on his knees. To my shock, he curls his fingers over my shoulders and begins kneading my tense flesh. “Christ, you’re stiff as a board. Breathe, Hayworth.”

  I breathe, but it does nothing to diffuse the hostility I’m feeling. “I can’t stand it anymore,” I repeat.

  “Then tell him,” Luke repeats.

  Laughter sputters out. “Stop saying that.”

  “No.” He massages a knot of tension between my shoulder blades. His hands are strong, rough. They feel like heaven. “Because that’s exactly what you need to do—tell him how you feel.”

  “I have,” I protest. “He doesn’t listen.”

  “Then make him listen.” Luke’s thumbs continue working on that stubborn knot. “As someone who’s quite skilled at dealing with toxic parents, I promise you, the only way to save your sanity is to set clear boundaries. I could’ve continued living at home after Joe got out of prison—it would’ve been hella cheaper and saved me so much stress. But my mental wellbeing was more important. I made it clear to my mother that I wasn’t going to be dragged down by her or Joe any longer. Yeah, I throw money her way sometimes, but that’s only because I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing her heat is shut off. But I’m trying hard not to enable her bad behavior anymore, and I definitely don’t tolerate the narcissistic bullshit she tries to manipulate me with.”