How (Not) to Date Your Brother's Best Friend

CHASE

Thank God she couldn’t bust into the back.

Samantha Hastings.

His brain did a double-take, refusing to believe it was her. Okay, the last time he saw her, she didn’t exactly look like this. Had those curves always been there? Two obstacles made it hard to tell: one, the baggy overalls she used to rock. And two, he was twenty-two and had no intention of leering at an underage girl.

But now? It took a smidgen of self-control to keep his eyes to himself.

She’d grown up.

She’s Stephen’s little sister.

That annoying voice in the back of his head just wouldn’t quit. He knew that. He didn’t need the constant reminder. The lingering question: why was she playing dumb like she didn’t know him?

It almost made him question if it was really her. Almost.

He was drowning in a sea of questions: What in the world was she doing out here? Why was she cruising around in a lemon? Money troubles? None of it made sense.

If there was one thing he knew about her family, it was that their lives were mapped out from birth.

It was the case for her brother. Shouldn’t it be the same for her? There was no way her parents would’ve shipped her off to the middle of nowhere without at least a couple of pennies to rub together.

Could he even ask her? Well, he did have to talk to her. It was her car he was fixing. Not tonight though. He had to special order some of these pieces, and there’s no way he could slap it all together tonight.

He had to face the music. After casually calling her Sam.

Good job, Chase.

He let out a breath before shoving the door open, unveiling the counter to his eyes once more. And there she was, Sam, waiting for him.

She furrowed her eyebrows, rage doing a little dance in those green orbs of hers. “You knew?”

He chuckled, giving his neck a little rub. No mistaking that attitude. “Pot calling the kettle, don’t you think?”

Indignation spread across her face leaving redness behind. “I wasn’t sure,” she defended.

“Sam…”

What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to ask? It had been years… It wasn’t like they were friends. Stephen was his friend. Samantha was…his little sister.

She blinked slowly, stepping back from the counter. “What about my car?”

“Good news, bad news.” Sam didn’t seem too eager to dive into conversations about him either. Unless she already knew his sappy story. Maybe Stephen hadn’t briefed Chase on Samantha’s life, but perhaps he’d spilled the beans to his little sister…

“Oh, great,” she replied, her tone dripping in sarcasm.

“Good news is I can fix it.”

“And the bad news?”

“You won’t have it tonight.”

“That’s fine.” She nodded. “I can—yeah, that’s fine. Wait. How much is this going to cost me?”

Good question. He never had to wonder if money was an issue for the Hastings family. So why wasn’t he so sure now? “Two hundred bucks.” That was ridiculously underpriced.

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to charge you more?”

She threw her hands up. “Nope. Too late, you set your price. I heard it. You can’t take it back!”

His laughter bounced off the walls as he tilted his head backward. “Then two hundred bucks it is. Leave your number, and we’ll ring you when it’s ready.”

Her breath caught, and she froze for a beat before nodding. She strutted to the counter, scribbling her number down before shoving it toward him. “All right, well, thanks.”

That was it. Years of radio silence, and she had nothing else to say? Well, duh. You ditch the lifestyle, you’re nobody now. She’s not gonna waste her time on you.

“Okay.” He blinked. “Do—do you need us to call you a cab?”

“No, hmm, I’ll take the bus,” she explained, avoiding direct eye contact.

Despite her answer, she made zero effort to budge. For the first time, he allowed himself to truly observe her features, spotting the dark circles beneath her eyes. She was practically running on empty.

“I—I can give you a ride home if you need.”

“I—hmm.” She swallowed hard, eyeing the door. “Well.”

“Sam, we both know I’m not some weird serial killer.”

Did she want more? What exactly was she expecting him to say? She had been Stephen’s little sister. Though the word “little” now left an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

He let his eyes roam over her form once more, attempting to be subtle. And once again, he had to face the undeniable truth—there was nothing “little” about her. Not the way her sweater clung to her curves or the—

Nope.

He wouldn’t entertain such thoughts about a girl who used to run around in pigtails. Yes, that was the feeling he should focus on. That and her current predicament.

A ride.

Because his buddy would want to know if his not-so-little-anymore sister got home safely.

The buddy who never told him about Samantha moving here. He knew Chase lived in the vicinity. Why didn’t he ask him to keep an eye out for her?

“Hm, sure.”

He shot her a grin and a casual wave as he strolled around the counter. “Follow me.”

Samantha trailed behind him as he led the way. When his ride came into view, he noticed her hand flying to her chest, a dazed look taking over her face. “A…a motorcycle?”

He turned around, flashing her a grin. “A motorcycle.” He scooped up his sleek black helmet from the seat and turned back to offer it to her. “Wear this.”

Samantha reached for it with an unsteady hand, cradling it close to her body. “What about you?” she asked, one perfect eyebrow quirked.

“I’ll be fine.” He didn’t make it a habit to cruise without his helmet, but—Samantha was going to be on his bike. He’d be careful. Plus, if he slipped back into the shop, he’d catch heat from the boys, and he wasn’t in the mood for it.

“Motorcycles are dangerous. You need a helmet.”

She was just as stubborn as he remembered. “I’ve done it before. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry ’bout it.”

“Not because nothing has happened before means you’ll be fine every time.”

He wasn’t going to win this, was he? “If I run inside and grab another helmet, will you stop?”

She grinned. “Yes.”

A lengthy sigh was pulled from his lips as he surrendered to the inevitable. “A’right.”

Chase hustled inside the shop to snag another helmet, striding back out with it tucked under his left arm.

“Happy?” he quipped, showing up by the bike.

“Yes.”

“Now, where do you live?”

He observed her mull over the question, chewing on her bottom lip. “Do you know the soccer field?”

“By the old elementary school?”

She nodded.

“Yeah.”

“I live next to it.”

He tried to keep his poker face on—not the fanciest neighborhood. Maybe he was wrong.

As Samantha stood there, not making a move to mount the bike, Chase raised an eyebrow. Oh. He shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. Stepping closer, he observed her staring intently at the bike.

Oh yeah. “You don’t know how to get on?”

She faintly shook her head, the helmet barely hiding the pink blush on her cheeks.

He pulled away from the bike, sauntering around to her. Chase put his hands on her waist and effortlessly lifted her off the ground.

A tiny shriek escaped her lips as he placed her on the bike. Quickly positioning himself in front of her for stability, he expected her to wrap her arms around him. But nope.

He chuckled. “You’re free to hold yourself, but, since you’re so concerned with safety—I’d say it would be safer for you to hold onto me.”

Samantha stood frozen, arms firmly at her sides, and for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. This wasn’t his usual scene. He didn’t have an issue with women being hands-on.

Sure, some didn’t appreciate his blunt statements about steering clear of relationships, but that was a whole different saga. His life was too hectic for a girlfriend.

He casually shrugged before revving up the motorcycle, the engine’s roar breaking the street’s silence.

Three…two…one…

Barely hitting the corner, her stance on touching him did a complete one-eighty. Her petite hands landed on his chest, clutching his shirt as if her life depended on it.

He could feel the curve of her breasts pressing into his back, erasing any trace of distance between them.

Within minutes, he pulled up to the closest building near the soccer field. His heart sank. Any second now, she’d mention living a tad farther down.

Any second.

Even after he killed the engine and his feet were back on the ground, she remained silent. To be fair, her arms were still clamped around him like a vice grip.

Perhaps she was too wrapped up in her clingy embrace to notice where they were.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?” Her voice vibrated through his back.

“Is this where you live?”

He heard her swallow, and finally, she peeled her face from him. Her arms reluctantly let go and dropped to her sides as she gawked at the dilapidated building to their left. “Yeah.”

Oh crap.

That place looked like it had hosted a few wrestling matches with wrecking balls. Did her folks even know she was residing here? They wouldn’t let her stay in this dump, especially with the family fortune that could buy entire skyscrapers.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

The next thing he knew, she was swinging a leg over the bike. However, her temper appeared to have sabotaged her sense of balance.

He watched her lean precariously to the side. Without second-guessing it, he hopped off the bike to catch her. As his arms circled around her, a cringe mirrored on both their faces at the resounding crash of his bike meeting the concrete ground.

She nestled her head beneath his chin, her hair teasing his nose. His hand found a spot on the small of her back. She tilted her head back, her eyes locking with his.

Her eyes.

That was where he should focus.

Not on her slightly parted, pink lips.

What the heck was wrong with him? He wasn’t some hormonal sixteen-year-old on the prowl.

He never expected to find her here. He didn’t anticipate her being all grown up. And why the heck was she here alone, defenseless?

“T-thanks.”

She balled up her hands into fists, gripping at her stomach.

It felt like someone had socked him in the guts. He cleared his throat, attempting to dissipate the thick, awkward air between them.

“I’ll walk you inside.”

“Chase, I’m a big girl. I can get inside by myself. I’ve been doing it every night for a long time now.”

Except, he heard nothing after she said his name. It was the first time she’d uttered it tonight. Why did it roll off her tongue so naturally? Why did it set his blood rushing south?

And there she was, hands planted on her hips, putting on a tough front while he was thinking with his downstairs brain. Fantastic.

“Sam. Why do you live here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Here are your options, Sam. You either let me walk you upstairs, or you explain yourself.”

“Why do you care?”

It was none of his business. Her family knew about this. That was the only logical explanation for her living situation. But it didn’t sit right with him.

“It’s not the best neighborhood.”

“I’ve lived here for a year. I’m fine.”

“Sam—”

“Thanks for the ride, Chase. Let me know when my car is ready.”

His inner monologue was a mess of confusion and a dash of inappropriate thoughts. Note to self: don’t let the brain south of the border do the talking.

He watched her hustle to the building, probably thinking he’d tail her. With a hasty punch of a code, she retreated to the safety inside. No entry for Chase.

He slid his hands into his pockets, eyeing her vanishing up the stairs. Then he was counting windows—a solid eight. Waiting for a sign of life, he felt his eye twitch and his fingers drummed a chaotic beat on his thigh.

Come on, Sam.

Seconds ticked, and no light. His impatience surged.

Then, the furthest left window on the top floor lit up, and he exhaled the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Why did it matter?

Sure, once upon a time, he considered her family—an annoying tagalong brat. That was maybe what…six years ago?

He hadn’t spared her a thought. Family called, and he answered—it was as simple as that.

His world now? The garage, supporting his aunt and uncle. Everything else on hold. Distractions weren’t in the budget. Not now.

She had no clue about this version of him. The old Chase, the cocky guy with selfish ambitions—that was history.

No room for that person now. And as much as she was clueless about him, he was equally ignorant about her. Her life, her family—once a goal, a finish line. Not anymore.

That life wasn’t his path anymore. No more pretending.

Fix her car, then back to his life.

Good night, Sam.