Chapter One

 

The raucous bachelorette party marching across the lobby made Brooke Buras grin. That’s how you do Sin City—surrounded by your besties, clutching champagne bottles, cracking jokes, and ready to indulge in Las Vegas’ infamous vices.

Total #FriendGoals.

Sadly, her friends were in Baltimore. She, on the other hand, was stuck between her parents on the Stratosphere Hotel’s stiff couch waiting for her Air Force brother and his about-to-pop fiancée. Today’s wedding prep agenda included more errands, dropping off centerpieces and bathroom baskets at the venue then rushing back to the hotel to get ready for the rehearsal.

“I sure hope Helena didn’t do anything like that.” Mom nodded toward the bachelorettes climbing into their party van. “This whole wedding’s been so rushed, but I suppose it can’t be helped. How’re you feeling about the music? Are you ready?”

“A hundred percent.”

She wasn’t totally lying. She could play Canon in D and the Bridal March on her violin with her eyes closed, but she hadn’t nailed the recessional piece she’d selected to surprise CJ and Helena.

“Good. If the wedding can’t be perfect, at least your music will be.” Mom patted her knee. “When you get married, hon, promise me you’ll do it in the church?”

She choked on a laugh. Marriage? Uh, nope. Among her solo practice sessions, symphony rehearsals, and performances, her career allowed maybe eight spare minutes a day. For her to say, “I do,” Mr. Right would need to stroll into her living room and refuse to leave.

Her schedule would tighten further if the prestigious Chesapeake Symphony Orchestra in Washington, DC invited her to audition for their violin vacancy. She’d applied the day before flying here. If she won the spot, then goodbye spare eight minutes. According to the application, the CSO’s rehearsal schedule was more intense than her current situation, plus they booked international tours.

Not that she’d confide any of this to her parents. All of it would cause unnecessary drama, and there was no sense poking the mama bear the day before her firstborn’s wedding. Instead, she said what every child says when she’s been asked to make a fairy tale promise to her mother:

“Sure, Mom.”

Mom beamed, and tension banded around Brooke’s forehead. She loved her parents, but concentrated time with them drained her, especially since she’d switched into dutiful daughter mode since they picked her up at 4:45 a.m. to drive to Baltimore-Washington International Airport. With Mom and Dad hovering like drones, opportunities to blow off steam were limited.

Three days, she reminded herself.

She’d keep it together until Sunday then hop a flight home and unclench with her roommates. Zara, Grier, and Melinda would feed her ice cream and booze and laugh at her insane wedding stories. Well, they would if they were home. Their careers and boyfriend situations had shifted into high gear over these past few months, and a group hang wasn’t a sure bet.

Case in point, last week, they hadn’t scraped together a night to celebrate her big quarter-life birthday. Brooke dragged her bottom lip through her teeth. They’d promised to take her out next week, but who knew if that would happen? Mom and Dad flat-out hadn’t remembered, but she gave them a pass because of the wedding and the baby.

“There they are.” Dad yanked his earbuds loose and elbowed her. “Grab a bag, Brookie?”

Outside, CJ hopped from his jeep and jogged around to the passenger side to help a ripe Helena onto the sidewalk.

Mom sucked her teeth. “He still has that deathtrap? Helena can hardly climb into it. You know, her OB is this close to putting her on bed rest. And a baby shouldn’t ride in a vehicle without a hard roof.”

“I’ll talk to him, Lise.” Dad sighed.

Brooke attempted to heft a heavy shopping bag and it ripped around the handles. “Sheesh, what’s in here? Bricks?”

“Bathroom baskets,” Mom said.

“Do they contain spare toilets?” She belted her arms around the bottom, like she was carrying loose laundry, and followed her parents outside.

An SUV made of black metal and testosterone glided to the curb behind CJ’s jeep. Its driver, a scruffy dark blond with thick stubble, loped toward the sidewalk. Wearing a black T-shirt stretched over his rounded shoulders, faded jeans, and brown leather work boots, he was effortless, masculine-cool.

He stopped next to CJ and Helena and raised a hand in greeting. After a few seconds, he shifted his stance and caught her gaze. Whoa. His intense blue eyes must be on loan from Superman. A thrill shot from her belly straight through her fingertips, like when she hit a perfect note in a tricky composition.

“Morning, you two.” Mom said. Next, she greeted the new guy. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Mom,” CJ said. “This is Luke Warren.”

Brooke crushed the bag to her chest. Luke? CJ had said his best man was an intense intelligence analyst he’d met at work, and during the past two years, they’d become comic book, movie, and gaming buddies. Nothing in that description prepared her for a rugged superhero lookalike who made her body hum.

“The best man!” Mom wrapped her arms around him. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, hon.”

Brooke buried her face to hide a giggle. Based on Luke’s ramrod-straight stance, he must not be accustomed to surprise affection from strangers. He’d better get used to it this weekend. Lisa Buras was a hugger.

“Let him go, Mom. You’re scaring him. Hi, I’m CJ’s sister.” She shifted the bag to shake his hand, but the paper protested and the weak side split. Mini deodorant sticks, breath mints, gum, tampons, and pads cascaded to the ground.

Oh, God. There were so…many…pads!

She doubled over with laughter. “Mom, what are these for? Are you expecting The Shining?”

Her mother scowled, snatched an overturned basket, and hurled runaway toiletries into it. “Don’t just stand there, Brooke. Help me.”

“Hang on,” Luke said. “I’ve got a bag in my truck.”

He reappeared a moment later with a reusable grocery bag and knelt next to her.

“Bet you’ve never done this before,” she said, and dropped scattered goods in the bag.

“It’s a first.” He scooped up an armful of pads. “This is…a lot of sanitary supplies.”

“And there are only sixty people coming to this wedding. Half of them are men.”

After she caught the last pack of gum, she and Luke straightened. Wow, he was super-handsome. A warm desert breeze caressed her hair. She stared deep into his eyes and opened her mouth to say something clever and flirty.

“I’ll take the bag.” Dad shoved his beefy hand between them. “Good to meet you, Luke. I’m CJ’s dad. Call me Scott. I hear CJ recruited you to help today?”

“He did.” Luke rocked on his heels and shifted his attention back to her. “You’re name’s Brooke, right?”

“That’s me.” She couldn’t pass up the perfect chance to touch him. Stepping toward him and away from her family, she extended her hand.

As Luke’s palm glided against hers, the world hushed. This crackling energy had whooshed over her only one other time. Three years ago, when her parents had slipped her graduation/twenty-second birthday/Christmas present—a Holstein Bench Strad 1715—into her eager hands, and she’d known she and the violin were made for each other.

So, what did it mean that it happened with this guy?

“CJ hasn’t told me much about you,” she said.

Dad left to pop the bag into the back of CJ’s jeep.

“Likewise.” Luke lowered his voice and leaned into her space. “But he did say you’re a handful.”

CJ’s best man was a player, eh? This twist was problematic because players were her catnip.

“Incorrect.” She batted her eyelashes. “I’m two hands full.”

A crooked grin spread on Luke’s face, and she let his hand go.

In a hot minute, her weekend had become way more fun.

~ * ~

Luke’s weekend had gotten way more complicated.

He backed away to regroup. Between the street traffic and his bad ear, listening to CJ and Helena organize the logistics for today was impossible. Instead, he surveyed CJ’s family.

Scott, Lisa, and Brooke.

Before they’d touched down, Luke gathered intel on them including names, ages, and potentially sensitive topics to avoid. Nothing sketchy, just details to help smooth out the weekend. He’d even inspected the family photo on the wall at CJ’s house, figuring it’d be easier to pick them up at an airport or whatever if he recognized them, except he’d never asked when the photo’d been taken. Rookie mistake—the picture contained stale data.

Scott, age 57, matched the family portrait. Tall guy, Luke’s height, and muscled underneath the layer of evidence that he enjoyed food. Scott’s full, mostly gray beard was an attention-getter, and he owned a pair of angled eyebrows to match.

Basically, he was CJ in twenty-five years.

Lisa, age 56, matched the picture, too. Medium height, medium build, intelligent eyes, and a crucifix necklace. Different hairstyle, but the same blonde shade from the photo.

But CJ’s sister?

Brooke, age 25, did not match.

The woman standing next to him, siphoning his attention, bore little resemblance to the kid in the photo. He’d expected a taller version of the teenager sporting braces and an Eeyore hoodie, but that’s not who showed up. Today’s Brooke owned an easy laugh, wavy brown hair, big brown eyes sparkling with mischief, and an orange sundress with flimsy straps knotted at her shoulders. One simple tug—

Stop it, he told himself.

She was CJ’s little sister, and off-limits. The prickling of his skin when she came near didn’t matter. At work, that sensation signaled he’d picked up on the thread of a secret. Except Brooke wasn’t a plan or a plot to foil. The safest, surest way to nip this reaction in the bud would be to distance himself from her for the next few days.

“Luke,” Helena said. “Brooke and I will ride with you.”

“Wait, what?” he asked.

“Sorry, man.” CJ cleared his throat and raised his voice. “You and Brooke and Helena are going to the dry cleaners, shoe store, and licensing office. Mom and Dad and I are hitting the liquor store, chocolate shop, and then running everything to The Oasis. If we divide and conquer, there’ll be plenty of time for everyone to get ready for the rehearsal dinner tonight.”

“Can we add a stop at a lingerie store?” Brooke asked.

He flushed, unable to stop his imagination. This afternoon would not be easy.

Helena tapped her phone screen. “Done.”

“We better all get going.” CJ kissed Helena goodbye and helped her into Luke’s passenger seat. To Luke, he said, “Take care of my girls, dude.”

“Will do.” He opened the door for Brooke and tried to ignore the flash of her upper thigh as she climbed inside. After closing her door, he situated himself behind the wheel.

“Thanks for driving.” Helena twisted toward Brooke in the back seat. “CJ wanted to give you a break today. He said you normally last a day with them before climbing the walls.”

Brooke’s laugh tickled Luke’s ears. “He knows me well.”

“Where to first?” he asked.

“Dry cleaners,” Helena said. “The one on Losee Road, near your apartment.”

“So, Luke…” Brooke leaned forward between the front seats, and a pleasant fruity scent wafted from her. “CJ said you guys work together, and you like nerd stuff, but that’s it. Tell me more about you.”

Hmph. He gathered information, analyzed it, and reported out on it, but sharing his personal history? Not in his wheelhouse. His training was to deflect personal questions.

“If you want to get to know someone, how about Helena?”

“We Skype all the time, so we’re good, right Helena?”

“Absolutely,” she said, staring down at her To Do list on her phone.

Brooke’s face was intimately close to his as she said, “It doesn’t have to be anything deep and dark. Like, where’re you from?”

“Everywhere. I’ve moved around a lot.”

She clapped a palm to her forehead. “Come on, that tells me nothing. Where’d you grow up?”

“Oh, I know this one,” Helena said. “West Virginia, right?”

He nodded.

“That explains the slight accent,” Brooke said.

Only sharp ears could catch the Appalachian hiding in his pronunciations. Living around the country for the past decade had mostly diluted his twang to generic American.

“What part? My parents used to take us camping in Shannondale.”

“Tiny town called Wardensville.”

His skin itched. This was the most he’d revealed in introductory casual conversation in years. Even with CJ, he’d dribbled his personal info in the context of long, winding philosophical debates about the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

“College?”

“Virginia Tech.”

“Any brothers or sisters?” she asked.

“No,” he answered. Not anymore.

Helena cleared her throat. “Hey, Luke, the dry cleaners are up ahead.”

As Luke entered the parking lot, Helena thrust the ticket and cash toward Brooke. “Could you run in and pick it up? You’ll be faster than me.”

“Sure. Back in a second.” She took the money and slipped from the truck. Her enormous purse covered her ass. Good. He shouldn’t be staring at her ass anyway.

“Sorry,” Helena said. “I know you don’t like to talk about your family.”

“Thanks, but it’s okay.” He poked the top of the window frame. “She’s just making conversation.”

“True, but CJ said she’s relentless when she’s interested in a subject. It’s why she’s successful with violin, but on the flip side, she doesn’t let up. She’s unstoppable.”

“Like the Juggernaut.”

“The what?”

CJ would’ve gotten the reference to the X-Men villain. Shared fandoms were like secret codes, and they allowed him to convey volumes of meaning with a single quote. Sometimes he forgot Helena wasn’t familiar with the deeper cuts in comic books.

“Comic book character.” He waved his hand. “Never mind. You were about to drop some wisdom on me, right?”

Dr. Helena Benitez wasn’t always nice, but she was always kind, and he’d take her advice all day long. Her life as an emergency department doctor meant she cut through bullshit fast, and while she’d come into his life through CJ, she’d become a good friend to Luke as well.

“Share whatever you’re comfortable with, but don’t stonewall her. Though, I’m not sure there’s much you can do to stop her interest.”

The dry cleaners’ door opened, and Brooke sauntered through it with the bundle clothes sleeved in clear plastic. A stiff wind plastered Brooke’s dress to her body, highlighting her curves, and Luke shifted his gaze back inside the car.

He disagreed with Helena. Icing Brooke’s interest would be easy. Girls usually preferred a bad boy, so he’d be polite, boring, and distant. Managing his attraction would be harder, but the looming threat of CJ punching him in the junk helped

He could do this. Three days, and they’d ship back to Baltimore.

Piece of cake.