My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

I turn to find one of Evan’s friends, Caplin Hawkins, standing there and grinning down at me.

“Can I interest you in a dance?”

“Uh…yeah…sure.” I mean, why the fuck not? It’s not like I’m here with anyone.

He leads me out onto the dance floor, and despite his reputation for being a bit of a playboy, he appears content with keeping things very PG between us. A chaste number of inches separates our chests, and his hands never veer away from my waist.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?”

“Uh…yeah.” I furrow my brow and lift my eyes to his. “It’s a happy day. I mean, I have every reason to be nothing but okay.”

“You sure about that?”

What in the hell is he getting at here?

Uncertain, I half nod. “Pretty sure.”

“I know you probably don’t know this about me, but I’m a damn good listener,” he says quietly, and I don’t miss the way he flits his gaze across the dance floor and pauses for a few seconds too long on Milo. “So, if you need to unload some shit that’s on your mind, consider Ol’ Cap more than willing to lend an ear.”

It’s pretty apparent he knows something, and I’m just about to open my mouth and tell him to drop the bullshit, but an all-too-familiar voice fills my ears.

“Mind if I cut in?”

I glance over my shoulder to find the devil himself.

Milo. Standing there. Wanting to dance with me.

You have got to be kidding.

But Cap, the rat bastard, doesn’t hesitate to agree, and I mentally curse him as he walks away, leaving me committed to a dance I didn’t agree to.

Milo doesn’t hesitate to pull me gently into his arms, and I hate how easily I let him lead me.

He sways us to the music, and I notice that he doesn’t keep things as PG as Cap. Our chests touch, and his strong hands brush against my skin as he keeps me inside the safety of his embrace.

Goose bumps pebble my bare arms, and tears threaten to flood my eyes.

And when Ray LaMontagne’s voice filters in from the speakers and he starts singing the lyrics of “Hold You in My Arms,” one lone tear makes its escape and slips down my cheek.

Discreetly, I avert my eyes and wipe it away with my fingers.

God, I hate how good this feels. How good he feels.

I both hate it and love it, and I hate that I love it.

And I miss him…so bad. I miss being able to smell the soft hints of his cologne. I miss hearing his laugh and his voice and seeing his smile.

I miss it all, and I loathe the fact that I miss it all.

He is the one who said I can’t.

He is the one who brought a damn date to this wedding.

But why can’t I drop my torch for him and move on?

Because love is a motherfucker.

Milo pulls me tighter into his embrace, and I tremble.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers into my ear. “I’ve missed you like crazy, kid.”

More tears threaten to fill my eyes, and I don’t even know what to say.

Scratch that, whatever I want to say, I know I shouldn’t say it.

But he doesn’t hesitate to speak for the both of us. More crazy-romantic things that make my head swim and my heart clench.

“I know I said all the wrong things to you that night,” he says softly, and his warm breath brushes my ear. “But just know, I didn’t stop because I didn’t want to be with you. I stopped because I wanted to be with you too much.”

What is that supposed to mean?

I lift my eyes and search his gaze.

But I don’t find any red flags. Or hints of dishonesty. Or anything but a genuineness inside the depths of gorgeous blue.

“I d-don’t know what to say to that,” I whisper back.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says, and for the briefest of moments, I let myself rest my head on his shoulder.

And I let myself enjoy the way I feel inside his arms.

And I let myself shut my eyes and just savor the way he makes me feel.

But it doesn’t take long before the bubble is popped.

“Milo.” My father’s voice is behind me. “I think it’s high time I get a dance with my favorite daughter.”

“Of course.” He clears his throat, steps back, and lets my dad take his place.

Bruce doesn’t hesitate to step in, taking my hands into his, and I watch as Milo offers one last look in my direction before he leaves the dance floor.

To go where, I don’t know, but I can only assume it’s wherever his beautiful date is located.

That’s right, you idiot. You nearly forgot about that. He is here with another woman. A woman who is not you.

As Bruce sways us around the dance floor, stupid emotions tighten my throat, and I act like I’m just giving him a gentle hug, but in reality, I’m burying my face into his chest and trying like hell to hide my tears.