Page 18 of Dating His Brother

The truth was, no matter how hard I tried, I kept thinking about Dawson. Nothing good or bad—justabouthim and everything I knew so far. The only negative feeling I had about it was that I couldn’t seem to shake him from my brain.

But I held it together well enough for us to split a dessert, make small talk, and down several glasses of wine.

“So, where to next?” he asked, once again refusing to give me a chance to ask to go home. It’s like he could see it coming, and kept trying to squash the words before they could roll off my tongue.

I racked my brain for a moment, relishing in the warm buzz of the three glasses of white wine I tossed back. They were bringing me back to life some, and I thought—hell, I have Richard for tonight. I might as well make an effort not to waste it. I did like him, after all.

“How about your office?” I blurted. “I’d love to see where a top dollar lawyer like you works. And I believe you mentioned something about a portrait of you hanging there?”

His brow twitched in surprise, then he looked down to his drink with a smile. “Oh, you don’t want to see that boring old place any more than I want to go off the clock. Trust me. I have a better idea. Why don’t you come back to my place and see the art collection I have there?”

“I thought you weren't such a big fan of art. Are all of the pieces you own by your brother?”

“Some of them might be. I don’t know. A decorator picked them all out. But I’d love your opinion. Maybe you’ll have some ideas for how I can improve the art in the place.”

He grabbed my coat and held it up for me to slide my arms in, like a child. But I went along with it and followed him back out to the car. I could feel him staring at me the whole drive, and I was certain if I made eye contact—he’d try to kiss me. So I avoided it.

His place was everything I imagined it would be—a spacious penthouse loft with minimal, modern decor. The paintings and sculptures inside were simple lines and curves with bold colors to give some pop in all the black and white everywhere else.

While I circled the rooms, surveying the large paintings on the walls, he poured us some more wine and put on some music that he obviously intended to try and seduce me to.

“What do you think?” he asked as I stood in front of one piece with messier strokes that was obviously done by Dawson. I checked the signature to confirm I was right. How could I have never noticed him or his name before when my friends were dragging me around to all of those gallery openings?

“I think…I think…” I clutched my glass and tilted my head, noticing how heavy my eyes suddenly felt. “I think I better get home and go to bed.”

Richard moved in closer from behind, grazing my neck with his hot breath—which only made me think of his brother doing the same earlier that evening at the opening.

“You could always sleep here,” he said in a deep rasp, his lips dangerously close to kissing my shoulder and neck.

“Uh, I would. I just…I can’t,” I stammered, fumbling towards the door. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight. Can we reschedule for another time when I’m thinking more clearly? I’ll make it up to you then.”

Just as he had been doing to me all night long, I took off out the door without giving him a chance to respond. I bolted for the elevators like I was fleeing from a bad date, but the thing was…It wasn’t a bad date at all.The only thing that made it bad was me being so distracted.

I lied to him. I knew exactly what had gotten into me, or my brain anyways. Suddenly, Dawson was taking up more space in my mind than I could handle—leaving room for little else, especially paying attention to his more predictable brother.

I raced home, desperate to sleep, hoping I was cured by morning.

10

Isabella

Iwasn’t hungover, but I still felt like I couldn’t stomach anything more than the fancy herbal infused water being served at the swanky brunch spot where I was supposed to be meeting Jada. No matter how much I drank, my throat still felt dry and tight. And it was all because of those pesky thoughts about Dawson that were still running rampant in my brain even after a good night’s sleep.

I scanned the room from my table, casually watching the other diners as they ate their salads and sipped their drinks. Then, across the room…I sawhim. The devil, Dawson, himself. At least I thought it was him. Until another person passed by in front of him, lifting the fog of my obsessive brain. By the time they were out of the way, I could see the guy on the other side of the room clearly wasn’t Dawson at all.

“Have you been waiting long?” Jada’s voice appeared as she slid into the chair across from mine.

“Oh, no. Not at all,” I lied, snapping back to alertness.

She put away her purse and locked her fingers together, perching her chin on top of them with a big grin. “Soooo…tell me all about your date with Richard Hayes. It was last night, wasn’t it?”

I nodded. “There’s not much to tell. I’m not so sure how I feel about him yet.”

No more than I was sure about my feelings regarding his brother, I thought. Beyond being hopelessly obsessed with the idea of him for no real reason I could put my finger on.

“I’m actually glad to hear that,” she said, bursting with excitement. “The interest in you and the ball has been even bigger than we anticipated. So I want to make this thing…”

“Let me guess. Evenbigger?”

---