Never Marry Your Brother's Best Friend (Never Say Never, #1)

“Fine. I’ll meet you at Fairy Tales, then.” I can already taste the coffee and sandwiches, and most importantly, smell the books in my greedy little hands.

“Seriously?” he scoffs. “I’ll buy dinner anywhere you’d like, and you want to go to a cheap café you eat at once a week?”

I smile an evil smile as I reveal my plan. “I’m going to add a significant stack of art hardcovers to that dinner bill you’re footing.”

“Deal. I’ll see you there at seven,” Zack answers too easily. “Bye, Sis.”

I look down at the phone in my hand, noting apprehensively that Zack has already hung up. He’s up to something, clearly. But I’m getting books I could never afford out of the deal, so it can’t be too bad of an arrangement. It’s only dinner, right?

I go back to page sixteen after setting an alarm to remind me to stop working to get to Fairy Tales on time.





“Shoot, shoot, shoot.” My alarm went off, but I only had a tiny bit left so I kept working, and now I’m late. Not that Zack will be surprised that I got lost in my art again. He’s used to my ‘five minutes’ being more like thirty. Or more.

I swing the door open and run smack into a guy carrying a huge paper bag of books. “Oops, sorry,” I tell him, already ducking inside and away from the guy’s scowl as I push my glasses back into position. The smell of books rushes through my nose and straight into my blood. I feel . . . at home here.

In the café, Zack is sitting at a table in the middle of all the action, staring at his phone. A definite change from my usual hidey-hole in the corner where no one interrupts my reading and quiet dinners, but I’m not going to ask him to move because he’d totally give me a hard time about it. Leaning against the chair across from him, I drawl out, “What’s so important that you’re willing to come here to see me?”

Unbothered, Zack looks up with a smile. “Have a seat.”

He kicks the chair out next to him, but I see the flash of disappointment on his face when he takes me in. My baggy overalls, tank top, and Converse aren’t exactly Zack’s style. In contrast, his hair is styled perfectly, his glasses spotless, his button-up shirt tucked in, and though the rest of him is beneath the table, I know he’s wearing slacks and dress shoes. The quintessential businessman to my creative artist. For siblings, we couldn’t be more different.

“Let me order first.” I hold out my hand for his card, which he hands over wordlessly. My brother is nothing if not predictable, and an agreeable Zack doesn’t bode well.

I spin and head to the counter. “Hey, Lydia. How’re you?”

Lydia is here most weeks when I come, and we’ve gotten to be friendly, which mostly means she talks and I listen. Lately, she’s been telling me about the guy in her economics class she’s crushing on. After hearing the tea, I order one of my own. “Chai tea latte and a Greek salad, please.” I swipe Zack’s card, but as Lydia hands me the receipt, she gasps.

“Who’s that?”

Without looking, I answer, “My brother.”

“No, I recognized him. I mean . . . him.” She purses her lips, indicating the table behind me, and I glance back.

“What the—” I gasp, spinning back around so he doesn’t see me staring.

Him is my brother’s best friend and business partner, Carter Harrington, who’s sitting at the table with Zack. Carter looks like a model in an Armani photo shoot wearing a black suit, blue shirt, and dark blue power tie. Even from here, his blue eyes pop, his tan looks island-vacation fresh, and his jaw is sharp and square.

“Don’t get excited,” I warn Lydia. “Carter’s the devil in disguise.” When she leans forward eagerly, I know it’s my turn to return the gossip. “He’s my brother’s best friend, richer than God, handsome and knows it, bossy because he assumes he knows best, and an all-around annoyance. And he’s not supposed to be here.”

Lydia raises one brow as she leans around me to peer at Carter and Zack. “Well, I for one don’t mind that he showed up uninvited. Especially when your negatives are rich, handsome, and bossy.” She ticks the traits off on her fingers, adding, “Girl, that’s what I’m looking for in a man. I can teach him everything else he needs to know.”

She forgot annoying, but I don’t argue the point. It doesn’t matter when her eyes are more glazed than a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts. Returning to the table, I throw out a hand to indicate Carter and speak only to Zack. “Is this why you’re bribing me with dinner and books?”

“I can hear you, ya know?” Carter responds. Out of the corner of my eye—because I’m not giving Carter Harrington a moment of my full-eyed attention—I can see that he’s grinning in amusement at my irritation. He probably gets off on it, I think wryly.

I don’t react, keeping hard eyes on Zack. He’s the one who owes me an answer. “Sit down. Please. And yes, this is what I want to talk to you about. I mean, he is.”

Slowly, I lower to the chair with a ‘nope’ already on the tip of my tongue for whatever Zack wants.

“Thank you,” Zack says with a placating nod. “I’ve called you both here tonight to discuss an opportunity,” he starts, sounding like a salesman on late night television. Although, if he starts trying to sell me some ever-sharp knives, I might be buying, because I might have an immediate use for them. “Luna, I found a potential client for Carter, but he needs help. That’s where you come in.”

“I’m not interested.” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to become small and invisible. But I shoot a look of distaste at Carter despite the fact that he’s barely spoken. His mere presence annoys me. Actually, his existence on the planet.

“I’ll pay you,” Carter offers.

Nostrils flaring, I stare at him. As if I want his fucking money.

Zack holds his palms up to slow my impending implosion. Yeah, I implode, not explode like most people. I hate it, but it’s how I’m built. “Not like that. He means he’ll pay you to tutor him.” I flick my eyes to Zack, silently questioning his sanity. “About art.”

Wait. What?

“What?” I echo my own thought.

“Carter is approaching a potential client who is particularly art savvy, a topic he has admittedly minimal knowledge on. Luckily, I know someone who knows more about art than virtually anyone in the world.” He smiles charmingly. “You,” he clarifies as if I didn’t know he was talking about me.

A laugh pops out before I can stop it. “Me? Help Carter?” Unconvinced, I wait for the punchline or a camera crew to pop out and say ‘gotcha!’ When neither is forthcoming, I realize Zack is serious. “No thanks. Like I said, not interested. Lydia,” I call out, “can you make my order to go?”

Lydia, who’s apparently been watching the whole show of Zack’s big reveal, drops surprised eyes to Zack and then to Carter. “Uh, sure.”