The next week flew by in a rush of color and sound. Rolling wheels. The flutter of paperwork. The click of my briefcase closing. The annoying beep-beep-beep of my hotel room alarm clock and the crackling of coffee percolating across the room as I put on my makeup each morning.

Luckily, I hardly had to deal with Bruin himself at all. His broker was a perpetually exhausted man in his fifties named Robert Browne. He had what seemed like permanent five o’clock shadow and bags under his eyes. He walked with a slight stoop and rarely smiled. I got the sense that he was more of a wrangler, a handler for Bruin, rather than a consultant. It had to be hard work, dealing with such a rowdy, reckless guy. If Bruin was anything like the way he used to be when he was in college, he was a lot of work.

Sometimes my parents even warned Jeff about hanging out with him, afraid that he would be a bad influence on my brother. And to be fair, he kind of was. Jeff was a straight-A student when Bruin suddenly transferred over to Harvard in the middle of their freshman year. They were put together as roommates, two guys with opposite personalities. At the time, Jeff was a studious, quiet guy who was wholly focused on his schoolwork. He was dedicated to graduating with honors, because that was exactly what our parents expected of him. And of me, too.

At first, Bruin and Jeff didn’t get along well. Jeff was an early riser, getting up at five in the morning for a brisk run before coming back to get ready for his classes. Bruin, on the other hand, routinely overslept and missed classes. He stayed out late and stumbled into their room buzzed and sloppy, making a lot of noise. He brought home girls. He played his music loudly. He was a thorn in my brother’s side for the first semester they spent together. Jeff would call me on his run in the morning to complain about the awful asshole the university paired him with. At that point, I had never met Bruin. I knew him only by name and reputation. And to be quite honest, I wasn’t his biggest fan.

But then, when the second semester began, something changed. One night, Bruin convinced Jeff to go out to a bar with him. And I don’t know what all happened that night, but after that, they were suddenly best friends. They influenced each other, in a lot of ways. Bruin stopped skipping his morning class. Jeff started actually going out and having fun instead of being cooped up in his dorm studying all the time. They quickly became best friends, and before we knew it, Jeff brought Bruin back for Thanksgiving, to meet all of us. Apparently, Bruin’s family was never very close. And as soon as Bruin walked through those doors, I was a goner.

He was, and still remained, the hottest guy I had ever seen.

He walked into the room and my heart skipped a beat. No, several beats. I forgot to breathe for a moment. I felt my jaw drop and my eyes go wide. I was just a high school student, still wearing braces and struggling to figure out how to dress for my newly changing body. In short, I was a hot mess. It was glaringly obvious to everyone that I was smitten. Infatuated. Over Thanksgiving dinner, I could hardly eat. I was too afraid I might accidentally spill gravy on my shirt or drop a biscuit on the floor. I was so distracted by the hulking hunk of a college guy sitting across from me that I could hardly hear anything being said. Apparently, Bruin reined himself in and was for the most part respectful and dutiful. But my parents were still wary of him. They could see the sparks in his eyes, and they were worried he would knock Jeff off his A-game. Still, Jeff was pretty much an adult by then and they couldn’t stop him from being friends with somebody.

And they couldn’t stop me from having a crush on him.

Today, I was finished with my work and back in my hotel room. I had ordered a cobb salad and a glass of red wine from room service and was busy running a hot bubble bath while I watched some stupid cooking show on TV. I decided to FaceTime Anna Kate, since I hadn’t talked to anyone back home since I left.

To my relief, she picked up on the first ring, and her pretty face popped up on the screen.

“Jillian. Hey,” she said cheerily.

She was wearing an apron, her kitchen cabinets visible behind her. Much like Jeff and Bruin, Anna Kate and I had been friends ever since we roomed together at college. Even though we no longer lived together, of course, she still lived in Atlanta, so we hung out whenever we actually had time out of our busy schedules. Anna was a pastry chef for a very successful indie baking company, a job that took up a lot of her time.

“Hey, Anna Kate,” I said, sitting on the bed. “What’s up?”

She gestured toward the kitchen behind her. “Just working on a new recipe for work. As always. I’m covered in flour.”

She moved the phone so I could see the front of her apron smattered with white. I laughed.

“Cute,” I said. “That’s a good look.”

“Thanks, I made it myself.” She giggled. “What are you doing? And where are you? Still in Florida?”

“Yep,” I groaned.

“Lucky.”

“Lucky?” I retorted. “Anna Kate, it’s like ninety degrees here.”

“In November?”

“Yes. This place is like hell, but hotter.”

“It snowed here this morning,” she said. “Just for a couple minutes, but still.”

“You had snow? I can’t believe it. Ugh, I miss that,” I said. “I can’t wait to get out of here. I’m doing this deal for Jeff, or else I wouldn’t be in this muggy mess.”

“Oh, really? That’s nice of you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s turning out to be a pain in my ass,” I lamented. “You’ll never guess who the seller is.”

“Who?” she said, turning to stir some concoction on the stove.

“Bruin Kincaid.”

She stopped stirring and looked back into the camera with her mouth open in a wide O.

“What? Bruin? That Bruin?” she repeated.

“Anna Kate. What other Bruins do we know?” I said, deadpan.

“Good point. But why? And how? And what does he look like nowadays?” she asked.

“Still hot.”

“Hotter than Florida?” she chirped.

I sighed. “Way hotter than Florida.”

“Well, what’s the deal? Are you going to buy his boat? And more importantly, are you finally going to ask him out?” she prodded.

I shook my head.

“God, no. Anna Kate, he’s still the same womanizing jerk he used to be. Just older. And sexier than he was back then. Everything I should avoid.”

“That’s saying something.”

“I know,” I said weakly. “He was always hot. But now he’s, like, ripped. I mean, really. He’s definitely been hitting the gym. Hell, he might be living at the gym.”

“Ooh. How do you know that? What is he wearing, a sheer tank top?” she asked, confused. I took a deep breath.

“Here’s the thing,” I began slowly, “I might have… uh… seen more than that.”

“Jillian.”

“I saw his… everything.”

“Jillian!” she gasped. “Did you fuck him already?”

“No! God, no. I just happened to walk in on him while he was naked. Just out of the shower. In his bedroom on the yacht. Right after he slept with some girl. They were showering off together. It was horrible,” I explained.

Anna Kate clucked her tongue.

“Oh, that’s so awkward. But did you see his—”

“Yes,” I answered.

“And it was?”

“Massive, yes.” There was no way to deny the size of that man’s cock.

“Jillian, you have to sleep with him. You know that, right?” she said, biting her lip. “This is a high priority now.”

“What? No. That’s fucking crazy, Anna Kate. I can’t sleep with my brother’s friend. First of all, I’m way over that crush, and second of all, Jeff would kill me. He’s in town and you know how protective he is. He’d flip his shit. Third of all, Bruin has never been interested in me. He just likes teasing me,” I explained. “Like a kid sister.”

“You saw his package. You’re already halfway there.”

“That’s not how it works,” I laughed.

She shrugged. Something started beeping and she whipped around to look at a timer on the counter.

“Oh! Shit, those are the soufflés. Look, I have to go. But seriously, you should go for it. I mean, you’re both adults. You’re both stuck there in Florida. Go on and scratch that itch, Jillian. You’ve had that itch for, like, a million years. Just do it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Go get your soufflés. I’m going to go now.”

“Do it,” she commanded with a smile just before she hung up.

I stared at the phone, shaking my head. It was tempting to try, but I was smarter than that. A guy like Bruin would never go for a girl like me. I was sure he still saw me as that awkward little fourteen-year-old who had a crush on him.

Nope. A guy like Bruin would just break my heart, and I just couldn’t afford that.

Not now. Not ever.