Page 7 of The Secret Heir Next Door

Dammit. Brant’s right. I sound like my brother.

“Damn it, you’re right again.”

“I usually am. I get paid to be right, remember?” he laughs. “I’m only the best lawyer in the city, and it’s not because of my devilish good looks either.”

“You’re so modest,” I laugh. “I’m glad you don’t hold back and call me out on my bullshit.”

“It’s what I’m here for. You’d do the same for me.”

“Damn straight.”

“Maybe try going back to Sweet Treats tomorrow and offering an olive branch or something.”

“How did you know the name of it, anyway?”

“They have the best fudge in the city there. Also, my sister only wanted the jelly beans from Serena when she was pregnant. Drake would always beg me to pick them up for her.”

“You’re on a first-name basis with this woman and you failed to mention it until now?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “She’s hot and single.”

“So are half the women in town. I’m not interested. You can have her.”

“You should go back and make peace with her.”

“Whatever. I have a packed day tomorrow.”

“If you want to be Mister Bigshot CEO, then you need to be humble and admit when you’re wrong. You can’t be a great leader if you’re shitting on people and treating them like dirt.”

He’s right, but I’m not saying those words out loud again.

“Fine,” I sigh. “Charley’s tomorrow night?”

“Of course,” Brant laughs. “I’ll see you then.”

We hang up, and I drop the phone on my couch and continue pacing, staring out at the sunset and the skyline again.

Why does Brant always have to be right?

That woman was beautiful, but I didn’t even get her name.

Yet my best friend knows it?

ShouldI have asked if he ever slept with her?

The notion makes my fists clench.

Women are usually all up in my grill. She didn’t care who I was. She went right back at me and didn’t seem intimidated in the least.

That’s sexy as Hell.

The next morning, I find myself standing in front of Sweet Treats, holding a coffee from the café down the street. I had spent the entire night thinking about what Brant said, and I decided to give this peace offering thing a try. The coffee is the same kind the woman, Serena, spilled on me. Well, it’s a guess from the stains and smell of my suit, a sort of peace offering, if you will.

The bell above the door jingles as I step inside, and the sweet, sugary scent of the shop hits me at once. It’s almost overwhelming. I search the store, taking in the colorful displays and jars of candies. Everything is vibrant and quirky, a stark contrast to the sleek, sterile environments I’m used to.

It’s like someone was stoned out of their mind when they designed this.

I can’t believe she has any customers.

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