“I’ll go find Joel and keep him… occupied.”

  I ignore him. Whatever. I just need to get Claire away from him. Far away.

  Before I know it, we’re in the dining room, the smaller one where we used to have breakfast when I was a child. Right now, it’s empty. It looks like it’s been that way for a while. It’s quiet. And lonely. The rest of the house looks bright and festive, but there’s not a single Christmas ornament here, like it’s just been skipped over. Why?

  “Damn it, Ryker.” Claire pulls her arm away. “Have you lost your mind since I last saw you?”

  “Have you?” I ask her. “You know how dangerous Asher can be and you still let him corner you.”

  She snorts. “We were hardly in a corner.”

  Not my point. “Claire…”

  “I can handle him, Ryker. I know you think I’m still five, but I’m nineteen now.”

  “And he’s twenty-seven,” I remind her. “Almost a decade older than you.”

  She shrugs. “So what? All men act the same age when it comes to women.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Oh, you’re an expert on men now?”

  “I know more now,” Claire answers confidently with her hands on her hips.

  I see. So she has had a boyfriend. And a lover. Maybe the same guy. Maybe not. Still…

  “You don’t know Asher,” I tell her. “You can’t handle Asher.”

  “I can.”

  “Really? Because you looked like you were already falling into his lap.”

  She puts her hands up. “I was just talking to him.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  She was flirting with him. And Asher was flirting back. And she was enjoying it.

  “Wow, Ryker.” I hear the dismay in her voice. “When did you get to be so stuck up?”

  “When did you get to be so desperate to suck dick?”

  The moment the words have left my mouth, I regret them. Even more so when I see the pain in Claire’s wide eyes.

  Joel is going to kill me.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly. “I… shouldn’t have said that.”

  Claire looks away and says nothing. Her shoulders droop. I suddenly have an urge to wrap my arms around her. Instead, I swallow the lump in my throat and apologize again.

  “I’m sorry, Claire. I know you think I’m being a jerk, but I was just worried about you.”

  She turns her back to me and places her hands on the table. “Why?”

  Why I was worried about her?

  “Because as much as I care about Asher, I know he’s the devil when it comes to women.”

  “So you were worried about Asher. Not me.”

  Not true. “I was worried about you, too.”

  “Why?” Claire asks again as she turns to face me. “Why should you care? You’re not my brother. You’re not my best friend. I don’t mean anything to you.”

  “That’s not true,” I tell her. “I’ve known you for most of your life. I helped take care of you when you were sick. I helped fix your bike. I helped you with homework. I cheered for you when you were on the soccer team.”

  “Wow. It sounds like I put you through a lot of trouble. No wonder you got sick and tired of me.”

  I give her a puzzled look. “What?”

  “We’re friends on social media but you’ve never once sent me a message.”

  Because I didn’t have anything to say to her.

  “Not even on my birthday,” she adds.

  I didn’t think she was expecting a greeting from me, especially since she must get dozens each year.

  “And since I’ve arrived here, you’ve barely spoken to me. You know, if you had been talking to me, I wouldn’t have been talking to Asher in the first place.”

  Why haven’t I been talking to her? I saw her when she arrived with Joel. I should have approached her then, talked to her. But I didn’t. Why?

  It’s strange. Before tonight, I never had a hard time approaching her. But the first time I saw her in her red dress, I froze. When I saw her alone, I wanted to talk to her but I just couldn’t come up with anything to say because my heart was pounding so loudly I couldn’t hear myself think. Even now, it’s trying to break free of my chest so fiercely that it’s almost painful to breathe. My skin burns all over.

  Claire isn’t the problem. It’s me.

  I comb my fingers through my hair and grip the strands on the nape of my neck.

  “I’m sorry, Claire. I wasn’t avoiding you. I swear. I just…” I draw a breath. “It’s been a while since I last saw you.”

  “And?”

  “You look very different,” I tell her honestly.

  For a moment, Claire falls silent. Then she nods slowly.

  “You mean because I don’t have my braces anymore?” She points to her teeth. “Or is it because of all this makeup that I know how to wear now?”

  I let out a breath of relief and smile because she doesn’t sound pissed anymore.

  “And because you’re wearing heels.” I glance at her feet. “You used to hate them.”

  Claire shrugs. “Well, I still hate blueberries.”

  I chuckle because I remember the face she used to make when Joel would try to force her to eat some.

  “And I still save the lime-flavored Skittles for last because they’re my favorite. And I still suck at chess. I’m still the girl you taught how to ride a bike and who listened to you play guitar. I’m still the girl you used to help with math homework and the one who used to sulk when she lost at soccer. I’m just… all grown up now.”

  Yes, she is, I agree as my gaze wanders to that tear-shaped opening in front of her dress where I can catch a glimpse of just a bit of her cleavage. I quickly pull my eyes away.

  “So there’s no need for you to treat me like a stranger, Ryker,” Claire tells me.

  I nod. “Yeah. I was a jerk.”

  She chuckles. “Actually, you were acting more like a jealous boy—”

  She stops abruptly like she’s just run out of air. I, too, find my breath cut off as my chest feels like it’s imploding from the impact of what Claire was about to say—and realizing she’s right.

  I was acting like a jealous boyfriend.

  And all of a sudden, everything makes sense. And then it doesn’t.

  “Claire, I…”

  In my haste to clear things up, I bump into the table against the wall. The crystal goblet on it topples over, hitting the candy bowl beside it. It cracks and starts to roll over the edge. Claire lunges forward to save the goblet but it slips through her fingers and shatters on the floor into a hundred pieces.

  Fuck.

  I stand still, staring at the mess as my thoughts race to come up with my next move. Then from the corner of my eye, I see red.

  Blood.

  Somehow, in her attempt to keep the goblet from falling, Claire cut a finger. And she hasn’t even realized it yet.

  I quickly pull my handkerchief out of my pocket and wrap it around her finger. Only then does she notice the wound.

  “Ow,” she complains as she winces.

  “You’ll be fine,” I tell her. “We…”

  Just then, the door opens. Joel comes in.

  “There you are. I was starting to think—”

  He stops as he sees my bloodstained handkerchief. Then he comes running.

  “What the hell?”

  “It’s fine, Joel,” I tell him before he starts to panic. “It’s just a cut.”

  “I’m fine,” Claire reiterates.

  Still, he insists on seeing her hand. “Let me see. Oh, shit.”

  I move away to let him take over applying pressure to the wound. Joel is Claire’s brother. He’s the one who’s supposed to be taking care of her. I’m not needed here.

  “I’ll go get the first aid kit,” I say before leaving the room.

  Out in the hall, I pause just for a moment to take a breath. It seems like so much happened in the past minute. One moment Claire and I were happily reminiscing and the next there’s this cloud hanging over us. And then the goblet fell and Claire cut her finger. Then Joel came.

  I glance back towards the room. I can’t see Claire from this angle but I can see Joel clearly. I can see the concern on his pale face.

  He loves Claire. He really does. He always has and always will. Which is why he isn’t going to let just any man have her, not even me, his best friend. Maybe least of all, me. After all, he did warn me once that I shouldn’t get any ideas about his little sister.

  And still, I did. I betrayed him. But no more. I did have an idea, but I’m getting rid of that now and I’m never thinking of it again. Because Joel is my best friend and Claire is his little sister.

  Grown-up or not, Claire will always be my best friend’s little sister, which means I can never lay a finger on her.

  Not in a million years.

  Chapter One

  Claire

  Seven years later…

  I recognize Ryker as soon as I enter the bar.

  He looks just like he did in the last photo of him I saw online. Not that I’m stalking him. The article about Hawthorne Holdings acquiring some bigshot Swiss company just popped up in my news feed.

  He’s thirty now and he should look that old, but he still only looks twenty-five at most. Maybe it’s because of his thick, dark hair and his light-colored shirt. He always did like the paler hues—Arctic blue, lemon yellow, pink even. Tonight, he’s wearing a mint green shirt even though most of the people in the room are in emerald or ruby red. No tie. Just a Paul Smith scarf draped loosely around his neck. It’s fashionable, but I would have preferred him without it so I could have seen more of the sculpted muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. I’m pretty sure he has a chiseled chest to go with that six-pack. Between him and my brother, he was always the fitter one, but not because he was conscious of how he looked. He was just more disciplined. Too disciplined, sometimes. Too stiff.

  Not right now. Right now, he looks perfectly relaxed. He even has a smile on his face as he listens to the pregnant woman in front of him.

  I frown as jealousy pricks my chest.

  Yup. Jealousy. Because ever since that Christmas party at Hawthorne Mansion, I’ve had a crush on Ryker Hawthorne. And not a silly schoolgirl crush. A serious one, the kind where I’ve dreamed of kissing him, where I’ve imagined him naked and us having sex as I lie in my bed.

  It got so bad that I secretly went through Joel’s phone just to get his number. I summoned the courage to send him a few messages, but he never replied. Once, I used a different phone to call him, but as soon as I heard his voice, I froze. Oh, and when I was back in Chicago to finalize the sale of the house Joel and I grew up in, I stood for a few minutes in front of the Hawthorne Tower just wanting to see him. But I didn’t. And eventually, the crush waned. But it never completely disappeared.

  It was just like the moon. Sometimes, it’s like it’s not there. I’d stop thinking of Ryker. Some days, I’d forget he even existed. I’d go out with some other guy and have fun. And then Joel would mention Ryker or I’d see a picture of him online and the crush would hit me like a full moon, taking up a big chunk of my sky.

  Right now, it’s taking over my whole sky.

  Fuck. Why couldn’t I have realized what I felt for him sooner? I’ve known him since I was—what? Three? And why can’t I just forget about him? In spite of the way Ryker acted that night, he clearly lost interest in me afterward, since he never replied to my messages or liked any of my posts or called me even once. And yet I just can’t forget the look in his eyes before that stupid goblet broke and I cut my stupid finger, or ignore the fact that he hasn’t gotten married. According to Joel, he isn’t even seeing anyone. Why?

  “Ooh. Hottie.” Christy puts her arms around me. “Though frankly, that older, buff guy with the brown hair is more my type.”

  I glance at him. Like Ryker, I also recognize him at once. Asher. So he’s here, too. And Ethan. Maybe they’re having some kind of family gathering. Then again, I don’t see Mr. Hawthorne, so it must be just a boys’ night out.

  I look over my shoulder at my friend. “Where have you been? I was beginning to think you got flushed down the toilet.”

  She takes her arms off me and purses her lips. It’s a sign she’s gathering her courage to tell me something that I might not like hearing.

  “Just say it,” I urge her.

  Christy draws a deep breath. “My mom called. She and my stepfather are here in Chicago.”

  “Really?”

  “They’re in my apartment, actually. Well, waiting outside my apartment because my super is on vacation and his nephew must already be passed out drunk.”

  Which means she has to go.

  “Then go,” I tell her. “Don’t keep them waiting. It’s cold outside your apartment.”

  She frowns. “But then you’ll be all alone…”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “We haven’t seen each other in a while and I was really looking forward to catching up.”

  “I think we already covered at least five years during dinner.”

  “We were going to get drunk like the old days…”

  “I can still get drunk.”

  “You were supposed to stay at my apartment,” Christy says.

  Right. I guess I can’t do that now.

  “Well, I guess I’ll just stay at my own apartment. I have one here, remember?”

  It’s mine and Joel’s, actually. After we sold our parents’ house, he insisted on buying one so that we’d still have a home in Chicago and a place for me to stay when I’m not traveling or crashing at his. I’ve never actually been to it—I’ve made a conscious effort to stay away from Chicago—but I have the keys.

  Christy pouts. “I’m so sorry, Claire.”

  “Hey, just go.” I pat her arm. “It’s not like I’m leaving town right away. I’m here a while, so we can still spend more time together, get drunk, go to the Pier, watch trashy movies, see who can try on more clothes in five minutes.”

  Christy chuckles.

  “I’ll be fine. Really. I’ll just have a drink and then leave.”

  She still doesn’t budge.

  “I promise I won’t do anything stupid,” I tell her. “Happy now?”

  “Do you promise you’ll talk to that guy you were staring at?” she asks.

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Isn’t that kind of stupid?”

  “I think it’s kind of why you wanted to go to a bar,” Christy reminds me. “Plus, did I mention he’s hot?”

  “Yes, you did.” I give her a shove. “Now, go.”

  Finally, she walks off. I order a whiskey sour. As I sip it, I find myself glancing repeatedly at Ryker. He’s talking to another woman now. Tall with dark curls. And then he’s with his brothers. It’s nice to know they still get along so well.

  With each sip, I try to summon enough courage to carry out Christy’s suggestion, but by the time I’ve finished two glasses—I know I told Christy I’d just have one drink, but I needed another—I still haven’t found any.

  I’m just… terrified. What if Ryker doesn’t remember me? What if he says something mean and sends me away? What if he leaves because of me? He did disappear from the party that night.

  I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want him to leave because of me, not when he’s having fun. Besides, he was here first.

  I decide to leave. I pay for my drinks and head towards the exit. I’m almost at the door when I hear a voice.

  “Claire.”

  My heart stops. It’s Ryker. I know it is.

  I draw a deep breath before turning around.

  “Ryker.”

  I give him a smile—just a small one so I don’t look too happy to see him even though my heart is on the verge of bursting out of my chest.

  “You’re…”

  Gorgeous? Perfect?

  “Here. You’re here. In the flesh. In this bar that… I also happen to be in, although I didn’t notice you because I was at the bar and I had my back turned…”

  Alright. I’ve said too much.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Having some holiday fun with my brothers and their girlfriends—well, Ethan’s fiancée and Asher’s girlfriend.”

  My eyes grow wide. “Asher has a girlfriend?”

  Ryker nods. “Hard to believe, I know, but true.”

  He glances over his shoulder.

  “See that woman with the dark curls?”

  “Yup.”

  So that’s Asher’s girlfriend. And the pregnant woman must be Ethan’s fiancée.

  “And you’re still single?” The question spills out of my mouth.

  Ryker’s eyebrows arch. Shit.

  “I mean… I don’t… I…”

  God, I can’t believe I’ve turned into a babbling mess.

  “Yes, I’m still single,” Ryker tells me.

  Relief fills my chest, but only for a moment. Now what? What do I say? Do I say I’m single, too? And then what? Do I ask him if he wants to be my boyfriend?

  “I’m… going,” I say.

  When in doubt, do without. When you’re not sure how to advance, it’s best to retreat.

  Ryker doesn’t try to stop me, so I start to walk off, even though every drop of my blood, every inch of my skin is screaming for me to stay.

  Tell me to stay.

  “Wait.”

  As soon as he says the word, I stop. He grips my arm and I look over my shoulder as I wait for what he’ll say next. He looks around.

  “Let’s go somewhere quieter,” he says.

  I say nothing. I just let Ryker lead me out of the bar and towards the far end of the lobby, to a quiet spot under the staircase next to a giant golden harp.

  I wonder why we’re hiding. Is he afraid someone from the press or an important guest staying at this hotel might recognize him? Is he trying to keep me away from his brothers? I don’t really care.

  “You’re not in a hurry to leave, are you?” Ryker asks.

  I see the hopeful gleam in his eyes.

  “No,” I answer. “I just… felt a little tired.”

  “Sure you don’t have a boyfriend waiting?”

  Now he’s teasing me. Or is he testing the waters?

  “No,” I say. “It’s just me back here in Chicago.”