by BJ Harvey
“Hey!” Mia says, leaning over and whacking Noah on the arm. “I object to that. We’re giving you a niece.”
“I apologize,” he says, grinning at Mia. “They’re giving me a niece to spoil as much as they ruin, I mean, spoil my son.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses to Mr. and Mrs. Taylor Version Two. To Matt and Mia,” Zander says, lifting his beer bottle up in the air.
“To Matt and Mia,” we all say, and I lift my glass in the air before dropping it down to my mouth and downing the champagne in one gulp.
“Whoa, what’s the rush?” Zach muses, and I turn to face him.
“Nothing,” I reply, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “It’s just been a long day and I’m thirsty. Parched even. I’m just going to go get another drink. Do you need another one?” I babble, my whole speech sounding like a dictation tape played at triple speed.
His ice blue eyes dance with amusement, and my cheeks heat up as mortification sinks in. Dorky Dani strikes again. Maybe that should be the name of a Star Wars parody film; I bet it would make millions, just from people watching my complete and utter humiliation in front of the man I’ve wanted to kiss, touch, and do other stuff with since I was fourteen years old and knew what all the other stuff was.
“I wouldn’t want you keeling over from dehydration. Let me escort you to where the liquid sustenance you seek is kept.” He’s teasing me, and damn if it doesn’t make him even hotter.
I scowl at him, which just makes his smile grow wider, his one dimple making an overdue appearance, and if I thought I was warm and gooey before, that look ruins me for all other men. No word of a lie. Henry Cavill could walk up to me right now and pledge a life of love, fidelity, and superhero orgasms, and I’d happily say, ‘No thank you, sir. I’m happy as I am.’
Knowing I need to escape Zach’s magnetic vortex in order to load up the alcohol level in my blood supply to try and find my own dorky ineptitude socially acceptable. “That’s okay, you don’t need to come with me. I’m perfectly capable of pouring vodka straight into my mouth from the bottle.”
He shakes his head at me but his grin lets me know it’s because he finds me funny rather than idiotic—which would be a far more apt description of my behavior right now. “Off you go then, Grasshopper. Go forth and imbibe.”
“I think I will,” I say haughtily before spinning on my heels and striding away from him, not missing the responding chuckle I leave in my wake.
Two hours later, the only people left at the impromptu party are Matt, Mia, their best friends Nat, Jase, Zander, Kate, Noah, Zoe and Zach, and me. Having indulged in a few drinks, I’m definitely feeling more socially uninhibited. At first we said it was to celebrate having a new brother-in-law, but three shots in, it turned into a requirement to drink on Mia and—having announced it an hour ago—the newly pregnant Zoe’s behalf.
The ever-present Zach—even if just in my thoughts—has watched me all night, and when I haven’t caught him looking at me, I’ve been busy eye-fucking him as if my life, and spank bank deposits, depended on it.
To distract myself from pouring yet another shot, I pull my phone from my hidden dress pocket—best invention ever—and pull up my roommate Abi’s name.
Danika: Hey Abi babbi, banana wana, ding dong, abbbbbbbiiiii.
Abi: How drunk are you and how many more drinks will it take for you to jump the firefighter?
Danika: I’m not drunk. Maybe halfway there but feeling suitably free and easy.
Abi: Easy enough to jump his hose and slide on down?
Danika: Not THAT easy.
Abi: Keep drinking, luv. You’ll get there.
Needing some space to clear my head of these entirely inappropriate thoughts, I stand up and make my way through the kitchen, remembering to turn right at the door before the living area, and walk down the short hallway to the guest bath on the left.
After doing what a girl’s gotta do, I check my makeup in the mirror, and when I’ve reapplied my lipstick and smoothed my fingers under my eyes to clear any mascara residue, I pull out my phone and call a cab. I need to make a dignified exit before my hormones take over and I find the opportunity to embarrass myself in front of Zach.
Walking back into the kitchen, I find everyone standing there getting ready to leave.
“We’ll take you home, Squirt,” Zander says, holding Kate’s hand as he walks up to me.
“I’ve already called a cab, and I live twenty minutes in the other direction. You guys get home to Rose. I’ll be fine.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You sure?” he asks.
“I’ll share a cab with her,” Zach says from behind me, and Zander’s head jerks up.
“Thanks, Coops,” he replies, at the same time as I say, “No!” rather emphatically.
I may be tipsy, but I’m still coherent enough to know what I’m saying and doing—albeit a little more liberally than I otherwise would. I still know my defense system against my own awkwardness is low and being in close proximity to Zach ‘Oh my God he’s hot’ Cooper will short circuit my brain.
On the other hand, alone with Zach in the back of a cab . . . alone. I’ve never had time alone with Zach. Never in the seven years I’ve known him. First, obviously because I was fourteen and he was twenty-three, and he lived with my brother four hours away from where I was. Then even when I moved back to Chicago a year ago, with all the social gatherings my brother’s group of friends have and me being the ‘adopted’ sister to all of them, there’s still not been any time alone.
“Dani, are you okay?” Kate asks, breaking me out of my fantastical stupor.
Shit. How do I explain zoning out this time? I blink then look at my sister-in-law. “Sorry, was running some code through my head.”
Both Zander and Kate grin and shake their heads, Zander hooking his arm out and pulling me forward until my head hits his chest. I register Zach chuckling behind me but I’m too lost in the warmth of my brother’s hug.
See, the thing is, I love my brother; he’s been the standout male role model in my life since I was three years old. In fact, he’s the only male familial figure in my life since I don’t remember my dad at all.
I lift my head and kiss my brother’s cheek. “Stop being a dork,” I say, stepping away.
“Says the woman doing code in her head after a few drinks?” he retorts, and Zach laughs again. That laugh does entirely inappropriate things to me, especially when standing in a room of close friends and family members.
I may have all the respect in the world for Zan, but it doesn’t stop me freaking out while simultaneously jumping for joy at the thought of spending a twenty minute cab ride with the man who has inspired most of the self-induced orgasms in my adult life so far.
Distance has never worked. Denial hasn’t either. Nothing has ever dimmed the way I feel—and have always felt—whenever I’m around him.
Having a crush on your brother’s best friend is a well-known cliché, and I’m not the only one of my sisters to have swooned over one of Zander’s buddies. When Zander was in his senior year, Zoe brazenly asked Nelson Whitley—one of his basketball buddies—to the Turnabout dance. Unfortunately for her, he went to Zander to get his blessing, and the aftermath was not pretty. I’m talking about black eyes for Nelson and suspension from the state championship for Zander.
Turning my head, I bite my lip to stop my gasp at the closeness of Zach to my body. In fact, all night he’s hovered in my periphery.
When it comes to being in the same room as him, I always know where he is in proximity to me. It’s like I have a tracking app coded specifically for him and him alone. I school my reaction to hide the thrill coursing through me the moment his hand touches the bare skin of my exposed back. Thank God for whoever designed this dress.
“You okay with me hitching a ride?” he asks, his voice low and his mouth by my ear. Hey vagina, take a picture. It’ll last longer. There’s no way his actions could mean anything like what I want the
m to mean. He’s being a responsible adult, seeing his best friend’s little sister to her door late at night after a few drinks. That’s all it is.
Taking a moment to rally, I move forward then sideways to free from myself from Zach’s dangerous force field, one that has the power to make me act like a horny drunken idiot and hump his leg—or other things. “Not going to complain about splitting the cost,” I say with a fake nonchalant shrug. Zach smiles brightly, a knowing smile that says he either thinks I’m full of shit or else he knows I’m full of shit and is seeing everything I’m trying—read: failing miserably—to hide.
“Won’t cost you a thing since I never let a woman pay,” he adds, and I can’t deny my heart skips more than a few beats at hearing that.
“Besides, he’s the only man I trust to take you home and only take you home,” Zander says, jolting my heart back to its normal rhythm again with that wet blanket comment.
If there was ever any chance of getting Zach to see me as something other than Zander’s baby sister, my brother just successfully stabbed it and twisted the knife in to make sure it was a done deal. I slide my eyes to Zach. His brow furrows before he quickly clears his expression with a shake of his head. “Absolutely,” he says.
“What about me?” Matt asks, his arm around Mia’s waist as they join the group standing in the entranceway. “I’m trustworthy and I’m family now.” He smiles down at his wife, who giggles. Mia, once the toughest nut to crack out of all of us, is all mushy now. I kind of dig it.
Zander’s eyes dart to Mia then back to Matt. “Considering Mia would have your balls for breakfast if you even looked at another woman for more than a second, I think you’re now on my approved list.”
“Zander,” Mia says with a laugh, Kate soon joining her. “You can be nice to him now.”
“What? I’ve only got one single sister left.” he says, lifting his hand up to ruffle my hair. “At least I can fine tune my background checks with any guy close to her.”
“You better be joking,” I hiss.
My brother smirks and winks at me. “You’d never know if I did anyway, Squirt.”
Never have I been more grateful for the sound of a car horn coming from outside.
“Guess that’s my ride,” I say cheerfully, leaning in to give Zander a kiss on the cheek before doing the same with Kate.
“Come over for dinner next week. Rose has been asking when she can play games with you again.” My niece, Rose, is three going on twelve with the mind of a toddler genius. Thankfully, I’m her favorite aunt and since I’ve been back in Chicago, she’s been a constant source of entertainment for me.
“Will do,” I reply. “I’ll call you during the week when I know my schedule.” I turn to face Mia, dropping my hand to her stomach for a sneaky pregnant belly rub. “Enjoy your new house and new husband,” I say with a wink.
“Oh don’t you worry, she will,” Matt butts in.
“On that note . . .” Zander walks out of the room taking Kate with him.
“Bye everyone,” she calls out and once again, Zach’s hand is on my back pushing forward for me to follow them.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Meems. You can give me all the dirty details.”
“You’re dreaming, Dani,” she replies.
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you if she doesn’t,” Matt says, shortly followed by the sound of a smack, then, “Ow. Spousal abuse! Zander, you’re a cop. Arrest her!”
But I’m too distracted by everything that is Zach Cooper to even come up with a retort. Instead, I focus on figuring out how the hell I’m going to get through the next twenty minutes in the back of a cab with the man I want to kiss, lick, bite, fuck, and love without doing any of those exact things.
I’m a masochist. I must be. Why I offered to share a cab with Danika Roberts, I do not know.
It was a snap decision—a subconscious one—where I stopped thinking rationally and gave in to the need to make sure she got home safely.
I don’t know where the need came from, but she’s so young, so impressionable, and on the flip side, so damn enigmatic and wise beyond her years. Never have I met a more fascinating and ambitious woman than her. She’s funny, adorably geeky, and one of the most intelligent and interesting women I’ve ever met.
She’s loving, caring, and would do anything for the people close to her. She’s the type of woman I’d work myself into the ground for, and spend every day for the rest of my life knowing I was punching well above my weight but not giving a flying fuck if the whole world knew it. The type of woman for whom I’d give up everything I owned to call her mine.
Fuck, she’s nine years younger than I am and worse still, my best friend’s baby sister. For the past twelve months that she’s been living in Chicago, and therefore a more permanent fixture in our group of friends, she has fascinated me. The more I get to know her, the more I want to know her.
I’ve been able to resist the temptation of Dani with a vow to myself that I would never—ever—overstep that unspoken barbed wire fence and even contemplate making a move. Not only would Zander kill me, he’d drag it out and make it painful by castrating me with a rusty bread knife first. Maximum pain for the ultimate betrayal.
So I’ve stayed away. I take extra shifts, make excuses in group settings where I know she’ll be—anything to keep my distance, therefore ensuring I stay breathing and my cock stays attached to my body, which is good, considering how fond I am of it.
Tonight, I knew the moment she walked into the party that I was in trouble. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and my vow became a little—okay a lot—shaky.
Now, in the close confines of the cab’s back seat, I know I was a fucking fool to think I could be so near to her and not be affected. Resistance is futile when you’re less than a foot away from forbidden fruit.
The sound of her breathing, the heat of her body radiating into mine, and fuck! Her smell—all of it drives me insane. My cock thinks it’s fucking Christmas and that Santa’s come early—or I’m about to, one of the two—and no matter how many times I run drills in my head or go through the different chemical fires and how to fight them, nothing is helping.
“How’s work?” I ask, breaking the silence.
Her head jerks back, then hits the glass. “Shit,” she curses, before slowly turning to face me, the dim lights streaming in the windows revealing her pink cheeks. “What?”
I can’t help but grin. She’s so fucking cute. “Work, how’s it going?”
“Oh. It’s good. Really good.” She smiles brightly at me, and it’s like a sucker punch to the gut. Maybe talking wasn’t the best thing to do. “I’m really busy, but I love it. We’re working on a new educational platform for elementary schools but making it not seem like they’re being taught anything by incorporating game play into the learning outcomes. That kind of thing.”
Her eyes are bright, and there’s no mistaking the passion behind them. She genuinely loves what she does and has never hidden the fact that she works hard to do it. Her rambling about the project just proves it.
Zander always boasts about his sisters, but especially Dani. She’s let nothing and no one hold her back from getting what she wants.
“That’s great,” I reply, and again silence stretches between us, this time with our gazes locked. Even in the dark, I don’t miss the confusion in her expression. “Everything else going okay?”
As if realizing she was showing me more than she wanted to, she plasters a smile on her face that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Of course. How about you? Life’s good?” Her voice is light, but the monotonous almost robot-like turn in the conversation affects me more than it should. I let it go, instead trying to focus on filling the time until I can walk her to her door and stop the self-inflicted torture I’m subjecting myself to.
“Life’s good. Work is busy but it always is. Fires don’t sleep and more often than not, neither does the CFD.”
She laughs, and fuck if I don’t feel it.
�
�Dani, I—”
“Why did you offer to see me home?”
“We were going the same way,” I reply, surprised by her question.
She studies me, her eyes roaming my face before sighing. “That’s good. Thank you,” she says softly, looking back to the window once more.
Why can’t I resist the pull I feel whenever I’m around her? This is the reason I’ve tried to stay away. Loyalty to my best friend battles against my need to get to know Danika the woman separate from Dani, Zander’s sister.
She’s no longer the gangly fourteen-year-old girl I met all those years ago. She’s smart, sexy, and utterly intriguing. I’ve always been drawn to women who are focused, driven, and independent.
As an only child to a solo mom, it was always just the two of us. I grew up with a mother who worked herself to the bone in order to ensure I never went without. My mom is fifty years old and still works hard, but now makes sure she’s doesn’t miss out on anything. Every year she goes on a cruise either to the Caribbean or Mexico, and last week she shocked the shit out of me when she advised me she was “doing that internet dating malarkey” and if she met anyone nice, “you’ll have to give them your stamp of approval.”
When the cab slows down, I realize that my time alone with Danika is almost over. Instead of feeling relieved and proud of myself for not doing anything—and therefore earning the wrath of Zander—I’m disappointed that we didn’t talk more, say more, do more.
I’m thirty years old and the woman beside me has turned me into a nervous teenage boy unsure of what to do around the hottest girl in school. Cue high school flashback.
“Zach?” Danika asks, grabbing my attention once more.
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to . . . um . . . come up for a coffee?” She bites her lower lip, and as if taking a life of their own, my eyes immediately drop to her mouth. Fuck!
