EXCERPT 1
My dad calls just as I’m leaving the hotel. He says my mom’s working late and that he’s got an early gig tonight, but we manage to meet up for a quick coffee on my way to the venue.

By the time I reach the club, the crew is in full swing. I glance around, but I don’t see Brooke anywhere.

Lexie and Jonah are onstage, so I throw them a wave and hop up to join them.

“Your sister’s not here yet?” I ask Jonah.

“No, but she texted to say she’s on her way over. Should be here any minute.”

I nod, crouching next to my amp to make sure everything is in order. The gain on my rig was acting up last night, so I pop the knob off to clean the potentiometer, but I keep glancing toward the door every time someone comes inside, hoping it might be Brooke.

I hear the door squeak open once more, and I turn.

And there she is. Standing in the entryway.

“Look who’s here!” Jonah’s voice booms across the club as he climbs off the stage to head straight for her.

God. She looks incredible.

She’s wearing a cherry-red top that’s cut low in the front, and her dark hair is longer than it was last time. Sometimes I forget how much she’s changed. It’s like a part of me is still expecting this cute little kid, but she’s a full-grown woman now. No denying that. And even though I’m not supposed to be paying attention—given she’s Jonah’s little sister and all—I’ll be damned if her breasts aren’t even bigger than they were last time.

“Brooke!” Lexie squeals, running over to greet her as Jonah wraps his sister up in a giant hug, lifting her off the ground.

“Hey, everybody. I made it.” Brooke laughs as Jonah finally sets her down.

She glances in my direction, and those big brown eyes lock right on mine. Suddenly I’m warm all over. Her smile spreads a mile wide, making my heart squeeze, and I shoot her a grin in return.

Jonah helps her out of her coat, and I get in line behind Lexie for a hug, but something on Brooke’s chest catches my eye. It’s a tattoo—a little black vine of ivy winding up between her breasts.

Jesus.

I should not be looking at that.

“Sean.” Brooke’s staring right at me. For a second I’m horrified, thinking she noticed where my gaze was fixated, but she gives me the biggest smile and throws her arms around me.

God, she feels good, all nestled up against me like this. Her sweet vanilla scent surrounds me, generous curves pressing against my body. Without thinking, I let my hand trail down the small of her back.

“Oh…” she says softly, stepping away.

I realize I’m getting hard, and my stomach drops out. Did she feel the bulge in my jeans?

But Brooke just smiles. “Mmm…good hug.”

I shove my hands into my pockets, attempting to conceal any visible evidence of my current physical state. My heart thumps in my chest, my cheeks heating up.

Jesus.

What the hell just happened? I’ve hugged Brooke a hundred times before, and it’s never been—hot—like that.

I take a deep breath, attempting to shake off the giddy sensation in my chest, and shoot her what I hope looks like a normal smile.

She steps away, and I’m careful to keep my gaze up on those beautiful brown eyes.

“Wow, Bee.” I’m shaking my head. “You look so good.” I’m trying to make that sound chill, but it comes out sounding like a come-on.

She takes a step back, giving me a little eyebrow raise. “Seriously?”

“Err—I mean—it’s great to see you.” I run a palm over the back of my neck. Get it together, man. This is Brooke. Generous, hilarious, sharp-as-a-tack Brooke. Not some random girl I’ve got the hots for.

“It’s great to see you too.” She laughs

“Come with me!” Lexie says with a grin, taking Brooke by the hand and leading her toward the back. “I’ll help you set up the merch tables.”

I’m still staring after Brooke, mesmerized by the hypnotic motion of her hips as she walks, when she spins around, her eyes flashing as she catches me staring straight at her ass.

Oh, fuck.

My lungs freeze.

She tips her head to one side, like she’s on to me, and my whole body goes hot.

I can’t breathe.

But her expression softens, and she winks. “I’ll see you later.”

“Mmm. That’s right you will,” I tease before I have time to think better of it.

“What was that?” Jonah’s tone is sharp. I forgot he was standing right behind me.

“Oh, just…uh…joking around.”

He squints at me, frowning a little.

I hold my breath, blinking back at him.

“All right. Do you want a beer before things get rolling?” He turns and walks toward the bar.

“Yeah, thanks, man.” I say, reaching down to adjust myself.

I could use a fucking six-pack.

 

EXCERPT 2
“Knock, knock,” Lexie croons through the curtain, her knuckles rapping at the edge of my bunk. “We’re just about there, if you need to pack up.”

“Thanks.” I slide the curtain to one side and sit up, swinging my legs over the edge as I rub my eyes. I peer through the large bay window at the Chicago skyline shimmering in the sun as we roll along the freeway.

Artie and our backup driver took shifts all night and all through the day to get us here. We usually sleep on the bus when we’re on tour, but since we’re here for several days, the label offered to put us up in a hotel. Anthony opted to stay at his family’s penthouse this week because it’s nearby and empty right now, but the rest of us were happy to accept. We all grew up here, so we could’ve crashed with family or friends, but using the hotel as a home base simplifies things. It gives us some space and privacy to decompress, and it also helps avoid some of the social demands of being back in town. I’m looking forward to having a little privacy and sleeping in a normal-size bed for a change.

I’m still organizing my bunk area as the bus turns down Michigan Avenue. I pick out some clothes for the week and stuff them into my large duffle bag.

We pull up in front of the hotel, and I sling my duffle over my shoulder.

“You kids have a good time, now, all right?” Artie calls back to us. “Be safe.”

“Will do. Thanks for the ride, Artie, and have a great rest of the week!” I lug my bag down the aisle and push open the side door.

A gust of cold air rushes inside, whipping the door panel from my grip and slamming it against the exterior of the bus.

“Whoa.” I step outside, holding an arm out to brace the door as the other two exit.

“Good old Chicago,” Lexie jokes.

I glance up toward the hotel. The Drake in downtown Chicago is a sight to behold. We’ve stayed here once before, but it still takes my breath away. This place is fancy. Sleek, clean lines of gleaming beige stone. This kind of extravagance is always a shock to my system.

The bellhop places our luggage on a cart, and the doorman holds the door for us, then we cross the smooth carpeted floor to the elegant front desk.

“Three reservations for Garrett Music Industries,” Jonah says to the man behind the counter, then he winks at Lexie.

I glance over to catch her reaction, but she’s staring straight ahead like nothing happened.

Something’s up with those two. But they’re always playing games and finding ways to compete with each other, so who knows what this is about.

My luggage shows up at the room just as I do, and I stretch out on the bed to relax for a minute before hopping in the shower.

The water’s hot and the pressure’s fantastic—about a thousand times better than on the bus. I let it run over my shoulders, easing the tension in my back. My mind is already shifting to Brooke. Seeing her tonight.

Because here’s the thing.

I love Brooke.

Not in a romantic way—at least, it’s never been that way between us. No, I love Brooke in an honest, good, and true kind of way. The way it feels when you realize you would do anything for a person. That you would always be there for them, no matter what.

Brooke’s done that for me too, right from the start. She noticed I was struggling with school and offered to help. When she found out I wanted to start playing bass, she came up with a plan for me to earn enough money doing odd jobs so I could buy one off a friend.

From that very first day my family moved into their house, she was finding thoughtful things to do and making lighthearted jokes to keep the mood up. And it helped. It didn’t feel so awkward being there, living in their home and taking up their space.

She had this sweet, round face full of freckles and thick glasses that made her brown eyes look enormous—almost big enough to match her outsized personality. She was adorable.

But then she grew up.

It was hard not to notice, because once she started to develop, it happened fast. I remember Jonah and I were walking through the halls on the first day of senior year, and I was looking around for any cute new faces on campus. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I spotted a girl with a pair of the most beautiful breasts I’d ever seen in my life.

I leaned toward Jonah, whispering, “Check it out, nine o’clock,” and angling a thumb at the hottie with the body that just wouldn’t quit.

“What the fuck, man?” Jonah scowled, his expression suddenly menacing. “Shut the fuck up!”

Imagine my horror when the hot little number turned to face me and I realized I was checking out Jonah’s little sister.

“Holy shit. I didn’t even recognize her with…uh…without her glasses on.”

It was too late. The damage was done.

Brooke was only fourteen, for God’s sake. I felt like a monster, but she smiled so big and came over to hug both of us. It was all I could do not to stare straight at those incredible breasts and wonder what the hell happened over the summer.

Jonah was chilly around me for days after, and I felt like a total ass. I’d never had a friend like Jonah, and I hated that I’d done something to damage our relationship. I had to apologize multiple times, but eventually he seemed to forgive me.

“Seriously, man. Hands off my sister,” he warned, and I nodded.

“For sure, man. I swear to God, I would never lay a hand on her.” I made him that promise, and I meant it.

But toward the middle of senior year, things got…complicated. Brooke and I had been spending a lot of time together at the library while she helped me study for midterms, and one afternoon she had on this short green dress that showed more of her cleavage than I was accustomed to dealing with. Still, I managed to keep my eyes off her chest and up toward her pretty face, for the most part.

She was reading me an excerpt from George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four, but I couldn’t concentrate. There was this shiny gloss she had on, and it made that bottom lip look so juicy and delicious that I couldn’t stop staring at it. Just watching her beautiful mouth as she read was sending this tingle up and down my spine. My jeans felt tight, and I realized she was giving me a serious hard-on.

I cut our study session short and tried to adjust myself without anyone noticing. I booked it out of there so fast she must have wondered what the hell happened. I kicked myself all the way home, because what the fuck was I doing having sexual feelings for Brooke? She was my best friend’s little sister. I felt like the universe was playing some kind of cruel joke on me, putting such a wonderful young person inside that smoking hot body.

And she Just. Kept. Getting. Hotter.

Of course, by the time she was old enough for me to act on my feelings—assuming I would even go there, given she’s a good friend and Jonah’s sister and all, which I wouldn’t—it was clear Brooke was destined for better things than a guy like me. While I was off working odd jobs in construction and trying to get a band started, Brooke was completing the Visual Design program at Carnegie Mellon University on a full merit scholarship.

I never should have responded to her seductive tease on the phone today. She’s always playing around like that, flirting with me, and normally I keep it in check. But I got caught up in the moment, and when she took that sultry tone with me, I went with it. I played along with her sexy little game, because—let’s face it—Brooke is hot as hell, and it feels good to be wanted by her.

It feels way too good.

Which is exactly why I cannot be flirting with her. I don’t ever want to ruin the close friendship we have. Plus, she’s had a crush on me since middle school, and she’s naïve about love. She doesn’t realize I’m the last fucking thing she needs, so I can’t be toying with her emotions like that—getting her hopes up that something might happen between us when I know damn well it would never work.

She dreams of having kids someday, the sooner the better. She’s looking for something serious. Long-term. But I don’t have the kind of career that can support a family, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to repeat my dad’s mistakes—bringing children into an unstable financial situation.

No, if I keep this flirting shit up she’s gonna end up getting hurt, and I’ll only have myself to blame.