One Night Stand-In (Boyfriend Material #3) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,5

for my fucking kid brother.”

“The truth comes out,” he says with a knowing stare. “This isn’t about me. Or her. This isn’t even about your utter disdain for people who dare to break your rules of coffee shop decorum.” Reid takes a beat and points at me. “This is about Rowan and the text exchange you grumbled about more than an hour ago.”

I groan from the black depths of my soul. “I love that kid, but seriously. What the hell am I going to do with him?”

“Well, he is an adult.”

“He’s twenty-five going on eight,” I say, as evidenced by his messages this morning.

“You could say no,” Reid offers.

My shoulders sag as I briefly consider that tempting possibility.

But there is no no.

I can’t say no to the knucklehead, even though I want to.

Lord knows how desperately I want to, especially as I pick up my phone and reread his texts from an hour ago.

Rowan: Hey!

Rowan: How the hell are you?

Rowan: Is business good?

Rowan: Are you still kicking ass as New York’s top graphic designer?

Rowan: I bet you’ve won ten more awards since the last time we spoke. Nabbed twenty more clients. Wiped the floor with the competition.

Rowan: Because you, my big bro, are a rock star.

Did he think I couldn’t read between the lines? When Rowan goes into full fluffer mode, he’s going in for the big favor.

And that’s what he asked for. I grit my teeth as I read the next text, the very note that ignited my fine mood.

Rowan: So, listen. I need you to do me a solid. Our landlord is a total drama llama. I swear, he’s just jelly that Luna and I are landing some stellar gigs. And he threw out all our stuff because of what went down the last night we were in town. But seriously, what’s the biggie? We are a fiery couple, and sometimes we have tiffs.

Lucas: You and Luna have tiffs like Mike Tyson has tiffs.

Rowan: Please. I never bit her ear off.

Lucas: Not yet.

Rowan: Anyway, we’re here in Athens (and we are madly in love still!), but we’re about to go dark for, like, eight days because of this Mediterranean cruise. (Which is fully booked! And I can’t wait to croon my heart out with my girl all night long on the club level! Love Birds indeed!) So . . . if you can help your little bro out and get my stuff, that would be awesome. I owe you big-time, and I love you, man.

Lucas: What do you need?

Rowan: Just a couple things. I need my guitars for this auction coming up for the children’s hospital, and my clothes, obvs, and my collection of Star Wars T-shirts, which are my good luck charm, and since I don’t have them, that’s obviously why Luna and I were fighting.

Lucas: That’s more than a couple things, Rowan.

Rowan: I know, I know! But please be my Obi-Wan. You’re my only hope.

Lucas: Fine. But because of the Star Wars T-shirts. That I understand. Well, not the Star Wars obsession, but the T-shirt one. Where do I get your stuff from? Your place? I assume the key still works?

Rowan: Well, that’s the funny thing . . .

I set the phone down and take a fueling drink of my coffee. I need another hit of caffeine before I reread his last text. Because I don’t have time for a scavenger hunt. Not when I have clients breathing down my neck, not with the design competition in sight. Nabbing the top prize with a killer presentation would be huge for our firm, and I don’t need a single distraction.

I meet Reid’s I told you so gaze, feeling sheepish as I gesture to the string of texts. “Look, I can’t say no to Rowan.” I wince. “Not least because I already said yes.”

He shakes his head. “You always say yes to him. Like that time you had to proof his history paper. He was a senior in college.”

“He’s bad with grammar!”

“So is nearly everyone. But hey, you can take up that cause too. Be a grammar cop.”

I shoot him a sharp look. “No one, not even I, has time for that.”

Reid leans back in his chair and strokes his chin. “Or what about last year when he performed in Colorado? Remember how he called you and said, ‘Dude, my hands are so dry I can’t play my guitar’?”

“Yes,” I mutter, knowing what’s coming next.

“You told him to go to the store and get hand lotion, and he