returned. I was pushing it as it was, and they already hated that I’d chosen Landon’s internship over the one in Dallas.
Growing up, I’d loved how protective Matt had been when it came to me. I’d loved that when kids picked on me in the second grade, Matt was there to stand up for me. In high school, after I went to homecoming with a football player, and he’d bragged to all of his friends about sleeping with me—which wasn’t even true—Matt had been there. When the guy had showed up to school a few days later with a black eye, I didn’t have to ask him where he’d gotten it. I knew.
Just as I knew why Matt warned me away from Landon. My brother was just doing what he’d always done—looking out for his sister.
And I couldn’t blame him. Even I knew that Landon was bad news.
But something had shifted since yesterday. Landon wasn’t treating me like I was his flavor of the week. First he’d taken me on a real date, and then last night, when we’d slept together, it had felt different. More meaningful.
It would take Matt time to see that maybe, just maybe, he had pegged it wrong. Time to come around to the idea of Landon and I.
Together.
I headed downstairs, searching for my phone. Hoping that it hadn’t blown up with calls and texts after we’d fallen asleep.
I was halfway to the kitchen when the doorbell rang. I hesitated, glancing at the clock over the mantle. Who the hell would ring the doorbell before 7AM?
Dread hit me like a freight train.
It had to be Matt. He knew I was here, and he probably thought he could just retrieve me like some twelve-year-old kid sister. I headed down the hall, crossing over the intricate inlay in the hardwood surrounding the foyer, and yanked open Landon’s enormous front door.
Except it wasn’t Matt.
The woman standing on the front porch was stunning, with dark wavy hair that tumbled down her shoulders, curling gently at the ends. With olive skin and stunning green eyes, she looked like she came from the catwalks of Milan. Yet… I knew, too, that she came from money. Her Burberry jacket, simple silk skirt, and understated black heels screamed an elegance that didn’t need to be flashy.
Her eyebrow raised as she glanced over me, in my denim mini and Landon’s crimson button-down, too big to be mine. I couldn’t quite read her expression, but it was something between amusement and contempt.
“I’m looking or Landon Hill,” she said, as if I was his secretary. Her voice was laced with disdain, like I was a bug beneath her shoe.
“And you are?” I asked.
She smirked, reaching out a hand. But it was her left hand, and instead of moving to shake mine, she turned her hand palm down, showing off the huge diamond sparkling on her finger.
“I’m Landon’s wife.”
The End of Book 2
Part III
Filthy Dirty by Paige North
(Second Chance With My Brother’s Best Friend, Book Three)
Chapter 1
I couldn’t stop staring at the giant rock on her finger, like some kind of homing beacon. It wasn’t until she pulled her hand away, crossing her arms and leveling an intense stare at me that I realized I hadn’t moved since she’d announced herself as Landon’s wife.
Her words ran on a loop in my head, so at odds with everything I’d felt about Landon last night. Everything I’d thought about Landon, and how he’d been acting so affectionate.
So not married.
“Uh… just a second.” And then I slammed the door in her face. I didn’t care if it was unbelievably rude, I couldn’t seem to react with anything but panic. For good measure, I twisted the deadbolt. In response, she hit the doorbell, and the melodic chimes filled the lower level of the house.
The problem momentarily solved—or at least out of sight—I took the stairs two by two, my emotions battling for space.
Betrayal and fury won out. I burst into his room just as he was stepping out of the bathroom, his hair dripping wet, a towel around his bare shoulders and a pair of boxers slung low on his hips. The breath whooshed out of my lungs as I skidded to a stop.
He froze, halfway between the bathroom and his dresser, taking in my murderous expression.
“I knew I couldn’t trust you,” I said.
He picked up the towel, scrubbing across his dripping hair. His moves were too casual, too relaxed. Everything was falling apart and he just stood there. “I don’t know