Roman-2(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(73)

They want the dirt, and I refuse to give it to them, seeing as the only dirty thing concerned is Peter and his forceful advances.

“Oh, come now, Becky. Lighten up. We’re all friends,” she says, and they titter some more, driving me precariously close to the very edges of my temper.

I’m saved from assault charges and losing my job when my phone rings, forcing me to ignore their continued giggles and sidelong glances.

“Miz Cox’s office.”

“Hey, Beck.”

I smile for the first time and clutch the phone tighter when I hear Lila’s voice. My brother Grey’s fiancée is not only my best bud but one of the only people I enjoy talking to outside of my family. We’d grown up together in our small town of Granger Falls, Georgia, and have been best friends our whole lives.

I’d always counted on us coming to the big city together and spending our college years partying it up and enjoying our freedom. Thanks to Grey and his possessive ideas, I’d spent four years alone in a moldy dorm room, studying to keep myself sane while they played house and took things slow.

They’ve been engaged so long I’d started wondering if they’d ever get married. Now I regret it, thanks to the fiasco that is the grand wedding, a weeklong event that means I’ll be fitted, prodded, and poked at by every old lady in attendance.

Oh, and then I’ll have to answer a million questions about my still-single status and fend off advances from the boys Mama is sure to have lined up like a herd of cattle.

“Hiya, what’s up?”

“Grey called. His business trip is gonna be extended by a day, and he…uh, he asked if you could get Devon from the airport and bring him on down to the house for Wedding Week,” she says hesitantly, her voice more of a whispered grimace.

What? No. Hell no. Definitely negative.

“Uh, um, the thing is…”

Oh, why didn’t any of my brothers teach me to lie better than this? I suck when cornered and everyone knows it, which is no doubt why they’d gotten Lila to call instead of doing the dirty work themselves.

Grey or any of my other family would get a quick no and dial tone. Lila, well, I can never say no to her, especially not now, when she’s stressing herself to death about the little details.

“Oh, please? I have another fitting tomorrow morning and Mama’s going ape-shit about the roses I ordered and Grey’s—”

“Can’t he just rent a car or something? Please?”

“He’s getting in at Gate Three; I’ll text you the details. Please do this for me, Beck. You know I wouldn’t ask, but I’m so swamped,and—”

“Fine,” I mutter, rolling my eyes heavenward. “Just don’t have a freaking stroke the week before your wedding, or my brother will murder me.”

Shit. It’s not that I mind taking the time or making the effort where the wedding is concerned. It’s that I’d rather collect Hannibal Lecter from the airport than be forced to spend a two hour car ride with the oh so delectable Devon Baxter.

The guy is like, super-hot, and I’ve been crushing on him since I was thirteen years old and he was nineteen. I’d spent two summers following him and Grey around like a lovesick puppy until he’d very gently told me to get lost and lose the stars in my eyes.

Easier said than done.

I’ve kept the crush, though from a very far distance, and would happily have done so for the rest of my life if not for Grey and his stupidity.

“Thanks, babe, I owe you one.”

“No, you owe me like six for this alone, not to mention three months ago when you made me go on that date with your cousin Kurt. The guy has seven arms, the way he was fondling me!”

That gets a laugh, exactly what I was going for, and we spend the next few minutes reliving my night of horrors.

“You remember what he said to me?”

“Oh, Jesus, don’t say it, Beck!” she laughs, making me smile and giggle down the phone.

Kurt’s okay—for a pig, I guess. Handsome, blonde,and charming to everyone but me. He’d told me in a matter of fact tone that while he’s not a ‘chubby chaser’, my face more than made up for a lot of things, and that he could see a future for us after I made a ‘few changes’. And then the schmuck had ordered me a salad, and I’d had to force it down while he ate a rib eye and baked potato.

Asshole.

“Slade! In my office.”

“Oh crap, I gotta go. The Darkness calleth my name.”

“Good luck. And thanks again.”

Don’t mention it.

“Miss Cox?”

I’m practically jumping out of my skin by the time I make it to her office—while the others smirk knowingly—and stand a few feet away from her desk, waiting for whatever she has to throw at me.