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

I’m sure about this. In some ways, I’m actually surprised at how sure I feel about this. I’m a planner, someone who plots out points of success and tackles life until I reach each benchmark. But here I am, throwing it all in on what amounts to an underdog bet.

And underdog is not a position I’m accustomed to.

Approaching the door, I hold Luna’s hand a little tighter, glad she’s here with me because there are going to be questions for us both.

I ring the bell and clear my throat, ready to plead for my life. Or at least my professional one.

“Sir?” Stanley’s greeting as he opens the door is less than friendly. In fact, with his expression, I’m ready for him to declare in a booming voice, UNLEASH THE HOUNDS!

“Hi, Stanley, good to see you again. How are you?” I’m going all-in with the charm, but he’s giving me nothing, staying blank-faced and stone-still. “I was hoping Elena might be available to talk for a few minutes?”

I smile graciously, assuming he’ll either say yes or at the least, go check with Elena.

“Sorry, Mr. Harrington. I’ve been instructed that you are not to see Mrs. Cartwright under any circumstances.” His tone is flat, but there’s something in it that tells me he’s not sorry at all and really wishes I’d vanish from his employer’s doorstep.

“Instructed? Who’d do that?” Luna asks, saying what I’m thinking.

He cuts his eyes to Luna, vacantly acknowledging her for the first time, and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Who told you that?” I repeat. But I already know. She told me as much when she came to see Dad and me. “Claire, right?”

He sighs in exasperation, seeming annoyed that we’re asking. “Yes, Mrs. Reynolds. She’s ‘taking over some things here’, apparently. Seems to think Elena’s judgment is no longer fit.”

“What? Elena’s sharp as a tack,” Luna argues.

“You didn’t hear anything from me,” he says, pulling a zipper across his lip and throwing away the key. “You’d best be going. I’d hate for Mrs. Reynolds to hear about your visit.”

It sounds like a threat, as if he’s the one who would do any tattle-tale telling to Claire, and then he shuts the door in our faces.

“What the fuck?” I say quietly.

Luna’s eyes are big and round behind her glasses. “Do you think Elena is okay? I mean, Claire’s a bit entitled, but this sounds more like . . .”

“A money grab?” I suggest worriedly. If it is, I’m almost tempted to kick in the door and the consequences be damned. Funnily enough, this old lady means something to me.

Luna presses her lips into a flat line, not liking the sound of that any more than I do.

We step off the porch, looking around at the quiet property. Off to the right, I see another familiar face. “Come on, let’s ask Bernard.”

“Hi, Bernard, how’re your roses doing?” I ask. He doesn’t even turn around, ignoring us completely. “Bernard? This is ridiculous. We just wanted to talk, see if you knew what’s up with Elena and Claire. You don’t have to be rude.”

Completing trimming the bush he’s on, he turns and screeches, jumping a foot into the air when he sees us. “Oh, my good gravy!” he shouts, pulling earbuds from his ears. “You two liketa scared the tar outta me. Why’re you skulking about?”

He’s angry and scolding us, but I chuckle at his word choice. “Sorry for the scare, didn’t realize you had on earbuds. And we’re not skulking. We’re looking for Elena.” I specifically don’t mention that Stanley said we weren’t welcome here. If Bernard doesn’t know, I won’t be the one to tell him.

“She’s over in the greenhouse. Come on, I’ll show ya,” he grunts.

Now that I know he didn’t hear me earlier, I repeat my question. “How’re your roses doing?”

It’s the right thing to ask because the whole way to the greenhouse, he talks about soil content and nitrogen levels, sounding more like a mad scientist than a gardener, while Luna and I nod along agreeably. When he opens the door, I can hear Elena singing. “We were swingin’. Just a-swingin’.”

There’s something about chocolate pie and fried chicken too, but I don’t know what song she’s singing. Hopefully, it’s about an actual swing and not some upside-down-pineapple, swapping type deal.

“Ms. Elena! I found some trespassers out here. Whatcha want me to do with ’em?” Bernard says, his face impassive.

“What?” Elena says, but then she turns. I watch her eyes tick left to me, right to Luna, down to our clasped hands, and then back up to our eyes. “Oh, this I’ve gotta hear. Get on in here and tell me everything.”

She’s grinning widely, and her eyes are sparkling with delight as she waves us closer. Perching herself on the edge of a wooden stool, Elena looks like she’s more than pleased to see us. She’s wearing what probably amounts to her gardening clothes—polyester pants, a designer patterned shirt, and a sunhat. She pulls her dirt-covered gloves off, setting them on the edge of the pot she’s working in.

“There’s not a lot to tell,” I try, but Elena chuckles and then Luna quietly joins in. “Okay, where do I start?”

“How about where you got that shiner?” Bernard suggests. “And was it deserved?”

It’s as good a place as any, so I tell them about Zack coming over and popping me for Luna’s honor. Luna frowns, seeming surprised by that news, and says she’ll talk to him, but I don’t need her to do that. Zack did exactly what I would’ve done, maybe less, if someone hurt my sister. Though Kayla and Luna are worlds apart in personality, and I’d be more scared that Kayla would hurt someone else than vice-versa.

“Then, Claire showed up to Blue Lake Assets to talk with my father about ‘my behavior’,” I drone, using finger quotes. I know I didn’t react well, but running to my dad—and boss—is such a dick move on Claire’s part.

Elena balks, her smile disappearing. “Excuse me, that girl did what now?”

“She’s understandably concerned,” I reply, giving Claire the benefit of the doubt. “So she asked that we no longer contact you.”

“Yet, here you are.” Elena gestures to Luna and me.

“I don’t quit that easily. Plus, I don’t follow orders very well, I’m afraid.” I’m hoping that’s a positive in Elena’s estimation.

She grins slyly and elbows Bernard, confessing, “I do like a streak of rebellion in a man.” He chuckles gruffly at her joking, sounding like an empty oil can, and I wonder how much of a rebel Thomas was. I think I would’ve really liked to know him, but learning about him through Elena is still a gift.

“I hope that’s true because I have an idea . . .” I trail off, trying to entice her, but I’m not in sales mode. I’m going pure, unadulterated honesty and praying it’s enough.