MY BEST FRIEND'S STRAITLACED BROTHER

The sweetgirl act I'd kept up for years fell apart in front of my longtime crush, Wesley Dixon.

To appeal to that straitlaced guy, I always wore makeup that made me look younger and coordinated sets in bright candy colors whenever I saw him.

But the night before my best friend's wedding, I brought her home after she'd had too much to drink.

My hair was in big, sultry waves, and I was wearing a bodycon skirt, black stockings, and redsoled heels. The door opened, and Wesley's eyes met mine.

Feeling caught, I turned to leave, but he put a hand against the door. “It's late, Marissa. Why don't you stay the night?” Chapter 1 I shook my head to clear it.

When I looked again, whatever had crossed his face was gone. He was his usual composed, restrained self. I must have had too much to drink after all.

I was a bridesmaid the next day and would have to be up early for hair and makeup, so I took him up on the offer. Wesley got the guest room ready for me.

By the time I'd showered and climbed into bed, most of the alcohol had worn off. My mind, however, chose that moment to revisit the way he'd looked at me when he opened the door.

I'd paraded around him in sweet little pink dresses before, and he hadn't so much as reacted. Tonight, all I'd done was let him see the real me, and he'd looked for quite a while.

A knock interrupted my thoughts. “Marissa. Some soup to ward off a hangover.” The moment the door opened, I began to suspect this delivery of soup wasn't entirely innocent.

Wesley had clearly just showered. His black silk pajamas hung loosely on him, the open neckline revealing a stretch of pale collarbone.

Nothing about the outfit looked like his style. Especially not that low neckline. I narrowed my eyes.

But Wesley looked utterly innocent, as if he'd thrown on the most ordinary clothes he owned to lounge around the house. He handed me the soup. “Have some.

You won't wake up with a headache tomorrow.” I took the bowl, but I couldn't help looking him over again. Broad shoulders, narrow waist.

Where the silk skimmed his body, I could just make out the contours of his waist and stomach. I lowered my head and took a sip. My moral resolve began to crumble.

Then, quite naturally, my wrist tilted. The remaining half a bowl of soup landed squarely on Wesley's midsection.

The muscles I'd barely been able to see were suddenly outlined in perfect detail. I regretted it immediately.

If I'd known it would work this well, I should have taken a couple fewer sips and spilled the whole thing. Keeping a straight face, I pulled out a tissue. “Sorry. Too much to drink.

My hand's a little unsteady.” No sooner had I said it than I very responsibly reached over to wipe him dry. The moment the tissue touched him, the muscles beneath my palm went taut.

They felt almost unfairly good. I gave an already dry spot another two passes. Wesley's breath caught. He didn't move away at first.

My hand drifted ever so casually a little over half an inch to the side. Only then did he finally reach up and catch my wrist. I looked up.

The tips of his ears were bright red, but he kept his expression perfectly serious, working hard to look like a proper gentleman.

The hand around my wrist, however, was burning hot. “Marissa.” His voice was a little lower than usual. “It's dry.” I obligingly withdrew my hand, fighting the urge to laugh.

How had I never noticed how easily flustered this straitlaced guy was? Wesley picked up the bowl from the table, turned, and left.

Chapter 2 For someone who never seemed to hurry, his steps were a little rushed now. It looked suspiciously like he was beating a retreat.

Propped against the headboard, I stared at the closed door for a few seconds before I finally laughed. All those years of trying to look younger. I'd had it completely backward.

The next day, makeup artists, photographers, and bridesmaids crowded the house for the wedding.

When I came out in my bridesmaid dress, Elise Dixon caught my arm and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “One of the groomsmen today has absolutely everything going for him.” That opening told me she was up to something.

Sure enough, she began ticking off his qualifications on her fingers. “Just got back from abroad. He's a partner at a law firm.

Goodlooking, high income, emotionally stable, and most importantly, single.” I nodded along. “Thank you, Miss Dixon, for finding time in your busy schedule to screen eligible men for me.” But looking good on paper was one thing.

Actually liking someone was another.

And the one I liked— Without warning, last night's black silk pajamas flashed through my mind, along with the feel of those muscles tightening beneath my palm.

I stopped myself there. It was far too early in the morning. Get a grip. As the time to leave for the wedding approached, things got lively outside.

The groom came in surrounded by his groomsmen, and I immediately spotted the man Elise had described as having “everything going for him.” Dean Stevens.

White shirt, black suit, thinframed glasses. Maybe it was his age and experience, but he had a warm, unhurried confidence that made him stand out among the rowdy groomsmen.

Elise hadn't exaggerated. He was the sort of man who would have older relatives immediately asking whether he had a girlfriend.

As I looked away, my gaze caught on someone on the other side of the room. Wesley was a groomsman too. His shirt was buttoned all the way up, his tie impeccably knotted.

He looked nothing like he had last night. My bridesmaid dress was purple satin.

His tie happened to be in the same color family, and for a moment, we almost looked dressed as a couple. My thoughts wandered, unbidden, back through the years.

Back then, he hadn't even come up to my shoulder.

Yet he'd always been so serious, with that pretty little face set in a solemn expression, nothing like the other boys his age who were forever bouncing off the walls.

Which was precisely why I loved teasing him. Once, I'd pinched his cheeks and tried to scare him. “You're so stiff and proper, and you don't know how to sweettalk a girl.

Who's going to want to marry you?” Little Wesley had pressed his lips together and ignored me. I'd laughed even harder and ruffled his hair. “Fine.

When you grow up, I suppose I'll take pity on you and marry you myself.” And in what felt like the blink of an eye, the boy I'd had to look down at to tease was much taller than me.

He stood there in his crisp suit, broad across the shoulders and back, his expression cool and reserved. It was hard to connect him with the word “child” anymore.

My heart gave a small, unexpected flutter. Just then, the prewedding games began.

The first few rounds were fairly standard: pushups, guessing who the lipstick prints belonged to, answering questions about the bride's favorite things.

For the final round, Elise suddenly had someone bring out a balloon. “We need one bridesmaid and one groomsman. Get the balloon from here to the door without using your hands.

If you drop it, you start over.” My friends immediately started calling for me to do it. I was easygoing by nature, and weddings were supposed to be fun, so I thought nothing of it.

I took the balloon and looked over at the groomsmen. My gaze barely paused before settling on Wesley. I tipped my chin at him. Chapter 3 “Mr. Dixon.

Come here.” He was already walking obediently toward me by the time I finished speaking.

The straight line of his lips had crept upward by about two pixels, and even his steps were a little quicker than usual. Then a hand shot out of nowhere. Elise grabbed his arm.

Caught off guard, Wesley was hauled half a step to the side. I was baffled. Wesley said nothing.

Elise, oblivious to anything being wrong, looked at her younger brother dismissively. “What are you getting involved for?” Wesley frowned as if he was about to say something, but Elise simply pushed him aside and picked Dean out of the crowd. “Counselor!

Come on.

You're with Marissa.” I gave her a laughing shove. “Elise, that's enough.” “What?” She leaned close to my ear and lowered her voice. “I'm going to all this trouble to give you an opening.

What's the point of playing with my brother?” Then she waved Wesley away. “Stand back. Don't get in the way of Marissa's love life.” I instinctively looked at him.

The hand he'd already reached toward the balloon stayed there for two seconds, then slowly withdrew. His lashes lowered too. I gave Elise a helpless look.

The instigator had already settled back onto the bed, smiling as she waited for the show.

With a roomful of friends and family watching, I couldn't keep going back and forth over a game. We got started. The balloon was wedged between Dean and me.

At first, everything went smoothly. Halfway across the room, it began to slip, and I instinctively pressed a little closer.

At a glance, we practically looked as if we were embracing. Everyone erupted. “Steady!

Steady!” “Don't drop it!” “Can you handle this, Dean?” A few steps away, Wesley was holding several task cards left over from the earlier games.

As the cheering grew louder, the stiff cards folded in half between his fingers. Once, then again.

By the time someone laughingly called, “Get closer!” a deep crease ran through them. He glanced down and crushed the cards into his palm.

The wedding festivities lasted into the evening. After the older guests gradually left, Elise kept a little party going on the hotel's top floor.

Only the younger people closest to us stayed. I went back to my room to change.

I let down the long curls I'd worn pinned up all day, leaving them loose behind my shoulders, and put on my favorite black slip dress.

It drew in at the waist, showing off my curves just right. I touched up my lipstick and brushed a little fine shimmer onto the outer corners of my eyes.

The woman in the mirror had red lips, dark hair, and an easy expression. Every movement carried that familiar, bright confidence. This was me.

Being a little showy suited me far better than trying to look young and sweet. Remembering Wesley's red ears from the night before put me in a remarkably good mood.

Now that I knew someone's taste, continuing to make myself look younger would be a waste of my talents. I opened the door to the upstairs party room and spotted Wesley immediately.

He sat beside the floortoceiling windows, listening to the person next to him. Neon light filtered through the glass, shifting over him and making his expression hard to read.

At the sound of the door, he looked up. His gaze stopped on me for a distinct moment, then slid away as if nothing had happened. I couldn't help smiling. Sure. Keep pretending.

Chapter 4 As it turned out, once I knew I was on the right track, I had a tendency to push my luck. I'd always been so conscious of being five years older than him.

I'd wanted to hide every trace of maturity and do everything I could to look sweet and innocent. But really, what was wrong with being older?

He clearly liked the more mature version of me. For the next half hour, I stopped holding back.

I lounged on the couch with a drink, laughing and joining in whenever I felt like it, entirely myself again.

Every so often, though, I'd glance up and catch Wesley before he could look away. That secret little thrill of satisfaction was becoming harder and harder to contain.

While I was thinking about that, Elise called everyone over for truth or dare. When my turn came, I drew truth