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

“You bring that piss monster with ya this time?” a grouchy voice says.

I look over to see Bernard, the gardener, holding a spray bottle at the ready like he’s a cowboy in the Wild West who’s going to shoot the bank robber when he runs by. My guess? Nutbuster is his version of the bad guy, and he’d do anything to protect his rosebushes from another round of baptism by dog pee.

“No, not this time,” I answer with a forced smile, waving in greeting.

His lip curls in a snarl and then he squirts the water my way with a jerk of his arm. The spray arcs but doesn’t reach me. I think he truly meant for it to, though, which would’ve gotten my favorite suit wet.

“What the fu—”

Luna squeezes my hand. “Thanks again for taking such good care of Peanut Butter last time we were here, Mr. Bernard. I think he misses you too.”

What? There’s no way that’s what the cantankerous old guy is trying to say. But he grunts once more and then walks away, his head hanging low and scanning left and right, as if he’s inspecting every blade of grass.

I look at Luna in shock, and she shrugs. Whispering, she says, “Everybody likes dogs, even grumpy people.”

Elena opens the door before I get the chance to knock. “Hey, you two! Get on in here!” She’s smiling and welcoming, seeming glad to see us, and my heart rate slows incrementally.

She hugs Luna and then me in greeting, making this feel more like a visit to Grandma’s house than a business meeting. Though given how close Elena and Mr. Oleana have been for years, maybe that’s the type of working relationship I can look forward to with Elena too. I can imagine monthly lunches where we go over finances and catch up about our lives. Like friends, blending personal and professional. I know that can work because that’s how Zack and I function too.

Elena shows us into the formal living room, and all hope dies in my chest instantly. Claire is sitting on the couch, looking smugly amused by our arrival. Mads is sitting next to her, examining his nails though his hands haven’t seen a lick of hard labor in his lifetime, from what I read. Jacob is sitting sideways in a chair, tilting his Nintendo Switch left and right as he hisses at the game. “Get’im! No! The other guy, stoopid!”

“Hi, Claire, Jacob,” I say with a wave. “You must be Mads.” I hold my hand out to him, and he glances at Claire first, as though asking permission, before shaking.

“You must be Carter.”

His eyes flick to Luna at my side, but as they shake hands politely, his gaze drops to her chest. It’s only for a moment, but it’s long enough. I take an instinctual step forward, slipping an arm around Luna’s shoulders possessively.

“This is my wife, Luna,” I say sharply, feeling Luna jump at the harshness in my tone as I introduce her.

The caveman in my gut is glad she’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans, because if she were wearing a dress, I don’t know if I could hold back from popping him for daring to check out Luna’s breasts so brazenly.

“Madison!” Claire scolds, jerking his hand so that he falls back to the couch beside her.

“You know I hate that,” he tells her. Not ‘don’t call me that’ or anything commanding, but rather a whiny reminder.

They’re having a silent conversation of glares, and though I’m paying attention to it, I check in with Luna. She mouths, “Whoa.”

There’s a flush high on her cheeks and her eyes are full of heat. I think she liked the caveman moment. I bend to press a quick kiss to her cheek and give her a wink, and she fans herself in response.

Elena chuckles, and Luna remembers that we have an audience, going a bit stiff beside me. Though his eyes are glued to his game, I ask Jacob, “Whatcha playing, man?”

“Mario Kart 8 . . . Nooo!!!” he shouts. “You messed me up.” The accusation is reminiscent of the tone his dad just had.

“Sorry,” I say, not sorry in the slightest.

“Have a seat,” Elena says, coming in behind us and sitting down on the other side of Mads. I wait for Luna to sit on the loveseat, then sit beside her, resting my ankle on my knee and holding Luna’s hand on my thigh.

“Luna couldn’t stop telling me how excited she was to give you a tour of the museum. What’d you think?” I ask.

Elena smiles warmly at Luna. “We had fun. Two ladies talking about art. Thomas would’ve gotten a kick out of my going to an art museum. He was always trying to drag me here to see this painting and there to see that painting. Like I had a clue about any of it.”

She laughs lightly, and Luna smiles. “I had fun, but I think you gave Maeve a heart attack showing up like that. Me too, honestly.”

“Well, I’d say you hid it well,” Elena replies, but then the straight face she’s holding melts, and she and Luna laugh loudly together, leaving the rest of us looking on in confusion.

“Instead of playing nice, could we talk about something actually important?” Claire frowns at Elena, and I can feel the pendulum of doom swinging over my chest.

“Claire!” Elena snaps sharply. “Could you at least pretend to have a sliver of a heart in that hollow void you call a chest? This isn’t the kind of thing you dump on someone without a warning. You gotta warm up to it a bit. And I still think you must be mistaken.”

“I’m not,” Claire insists.

“Uh, not to interrupt, but is everything okay?” I ask.

Claire’s frown intensifies and though Elena shakes her head, she waves a hand of permission. “Get on with it, then. Your funeral.”

“Right. Well, then . . .” Claire turns her attention to Luna, and I can feel her shrink back into the couch at the unmitigated focus being directed at her.

My protective instincts kick in again, though I’m not sure what’s happening. I lean forward, blocking Claire’s view. “What’s going on?”

“I went to dinner with a friend recently. At a cute place in Bridgeport.” She says it as though that should mean something. When I don’t react, she continues, “You’ll never guess who I saw.”

Mads shifts uncomfortably beside Claire, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“Can you guess, Luna?” she asks, a smirk on her lips.

“Someone famous?” Luna guesses. I can feel her peeking around me to answer, so I relax back on the couch, letting her handle this herself. Whatever this is.

Claire laughs. “No, definitely not. Though you’ll probably wish I had. But no, I saw . . . you.”

“Me?” Luna squeaks.

“With another man.” Claire locks eyes on me, hungry for my reaction to finding out my wife was with another man. “She kissed him.”

She enunciates it, wanting to make sure there’s no room for misunderstanding. Luna barks out a laugh of shock, but fury shoots through me. Not at the idea of Luna kissing another man because I trust Luna, but at Claire taking some kind of sick, twisted pleasure in thinking she’s going to hurt me and Luna.