“Sure.” I agree because it seems like the safest bet before we go to Elena’s and have to sell being a happily married couple. I offer my elbow, hoping some gentlemanly charm will help, but she struts right past me and out the door. Though, if I’m not imagining it, she’s swishing her hips a bit more now that she knows I’m watching.

  She locks the door behind us and then downstairs, she snorts when she sees my car parked on the curb. “Should’ve guessed.”

  “What?” I question, not sure what’s irritated her now. First off, the Mercedes CLS is a perfect vehicle for me and my lifestyle, sporty and powerful enough that I can pass anything I need to on the highway, but safety conscious, with airbags everywhere and antilock intelligent brakes. The thing’s even eco conscious, with a hybrid drive that lets it get good in-city gas mileage. And it’s not too crazy looks-wise either, in perfectly glossed black and chrome, with a smoke gray leather interior.

  I could have easily bought something more expensive. So what’s Luna’s issue?

  “That’d you’d drive a car like this. Fancy, but not flashy. It’s just . . .” She pauses, searching for a word as her eyes lock on mine, delving into my soul. “You.”

  Feeling unsure, I reply, “I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment.”

  In the car, things don’t get any better as I get down to business. “I figure we need to have our story straight in case Elena asks any questions. I looked up how Thomas and Elena Cartwright met to see if we could work in some similarities for connection. It was pretty straightforward—they met through friends, dated for a short time, married, and lived together for almost fifty years of wedded bliss, by all accounts. They never had children, but Thomas has a niece he doted on as almost a substitute child. The Cartwrights are known business minds, with a variety of investments, but they’re also philanthropists, working with everything from children’s hospitals to women’s causes in developing countries.”

  “And art,” Luna reminds me. “That’s why I’m doing this.”

  Despite her direct hit to my ego, I tease, “And here I thought you wanted to spend the evening with me?”

  “You thought wrong.” She looks out the window, watching the city fly by. “So the story is . . . we met through my brother, dated, and fell in love. You proposed at the museum and we married after that. You work for your family business and I do tours at the museum. Probably best to keep it as true to life as possible so we don’t misspeak.”

  I nod and then remember. “I told Zack about the deal too. He was surprised you agreed but said he was fine with it.”

  She turns her head slowly, and when I glance over, her lips are pressed into a thin line.

  “What?” I ask, splitting my attention between her and the road.

  “You asked my brother for permission when he has absolutely nothing to do with this? I don’t need his or anyone else’s permission for anything.” Her tone is no-nonsense, and I’m left staring at the back of her head when she whips around and resumes staring out the window. Her lips move slightly, as if she’s talking silently to herself. Or possibly preparing a speech to rip me a new one.

  I decide that it might be in my best interest to keep my mouth shut and not argue that talking to Zack about taking his little sister out to dinner, even on a fake date, much less in a fake marriage situation, is completely reasonable. He’s my best friend, and the last thing I would do is disrespect him by seeing his sister behind his back, especially for something outrageous like this.

  We ride in silence for several minutes, the only sound the interruption of the automated voice giving me directions. “Next exit, 126 miles.”

  Shit. It’s a long drive to the Cartwright estate, at least three hours, and I think we’re going to be traveling in utter and awkward silence. Still, I set the cruise control and think of turning on the sound system. I could use a few hours of surround sound. But that would require talking to Luna about what she’d like to listen to, and the vibe she’s giving off tells me her answer would be the sound of my balls being chewed on by rabid toy poodles or something like that.

  When my phone rings, I’m actually thankful for the distraction. I hit the button to answer and my brother’s voice sounds out.

  “Carter, man . . . I need your help.”

  I groan in annoyance. Kyle always needs something, usually a swift kick in the ass, and he manages to blow up his life at the most inopportune times. He’s the youngest Harrington, and as the baby of the family, you’d think he was coddled, but you’d be wrong. He was basically left to his own devices growing up and used our parents’ money to get into and out of trouble.

  Drag racing? Yep. Both illegal street ones where he pretended to be in The Fast & The Furious franchise, and even some on a track . . . where he wiped out a half-million-dollar Lamborghini Huracan.

  Out of control parties? Of course.

  Brought home by the local police? So many times I lost count.

  But did he ever pay a ticket or fine, or spend time behind bars? Absolutely not, despite it being warranted a few times. And since becoming an adult, there’s no telling what he’s done because he sure wouldn’t share it with us.

  “I’m sure you do. What’s wrong?”

  “Where are you? Any chance you can swing by for a minute?” He’s trying to sound casual, but there’s a thread of distress in his voice. And I’m already calculating the time it’ll take to get to Elena’s if I add in a stop at Kyle’s. The dinner is way more important, but he’s my brother, even if we’re not the closest.

  “I have an important dinner tonight. Can it wait?” I ask hopefully.

  Kyle laughs roughly. “If it could, would I be calling you?”

  He’s closest with my sister, Kayla, and likely always calls her first. She was the one to play second mother to him when they were little. As they got older, he became Kayla’s protector. Thankfully, he didn’t take her along on any of his paths to hell. At least that I know of. But they forged a connection that’s beyond what any of the rest of us siblings have.

  “Fair point. I’ll be there in fifteen, but it needs to be quick. I can’t be late, not for anything,” I warn.

  I hear Kyle sigh, and the line goes dead.

  “What’s that about?” Luna asks curiously.

  Kyle’s drama seems to have drawn her attention away from the window, at least, but we don’t share family secrets, and despite Luna being my ‘wife’ for this occasion, I can’t reveal too much. Not that I know anything in this particular situation.

  “With Kyle, honestly, there’s no telling. He might need money or he might want to show me his new motorcycle, or anything in between. He’s . . . unpredictable.” That’s not enough to describe Kyle, but it’ll work as a warning for the few minutes Luna will be around him.

  Luna lifts her brows as she comments, “Is that the worst thing someone could be in your world?”

  “No,” I argue, “but you don’t know him. He’s always going off on tangents and wild goose chases. It isn’t a healthy way to live.” I’m hoping Luna can read between the lines a bit, but she takes me literally.

  “Says you. Did you appoint yourself chief decision maker on how everyone else should live their lives? Because if so, you should probably rethink that,” she says matter-of-factly. Her fire is back in full-force, and though it’s exciting, I wish it wasn’t directed at cutting me off at the knees.

  I shove my hand through my hair in frustration. “Fuck, you’re probably right, but that doesn’t change where we’re going or what we’re doing.” I solidify the declaration by pressing the pedal down, speeding toward Kyle’s, as Luna resumes staring out the window.

  I pull into Kyle’s in record time to find him in the driveway tinkering with his motorcycle. I bite back the snarky comment that tries to escape, but Luna has no such desire.

  “That’s your brother? He doesn’t look anything like you.” She’s leaning forward like getting four inches closer to the windshield will let her get a better view of Kyle, who’s wearing low-slung jeans, thick-soled boots, and no shirt, leaving his nipple piercings quite visible. Before I know what’s happening, I stick my arm in front of her and press her back to the seat. If we’d been coming to a sudden jolting stop in traffic, it would’ve been perfectly normal. But at a standstill in Kyle’s driveway, it’s definitely not and Luna looks at me in shock. “What was that for?”

  “Saving you from yourself,” I explain. “Kyle doesn’t look like the rest of us because he’s nothing like us. It’s not only that he’s unpredictable, he’s—”

  “Hot?” Luna suggests softly.

  Jealousy rears up inside my gut. Luna’s not mine beyond this play act tonight, but I don’t like her lusting after my brother. Especially one who is my polar opposite, though I’m not going to examine why that in particular bothers me.

  I glance out the windshield myself. I know that Kyle is attractive. He’s a Harrington, with all the genetic benefits that implies. But instead of the dirty blonde and blue-eyed, tall and lean-muscled version the rest of my brothers grew into, Kyle is shorter, wider with muscle, and has darker hair that he keeps long and messy. Though he has blue eyes, they’re not the deep blue the rest of us have but rather an icy blue.

  But the true difference is in presence. We’re mostly cultured, having grown up with Dad’s expectations of what being a Harrington means. Kyle skipped all that, officially left home at eighteen, though he'd been gone long before that, and he lives a life filled with grease, motor oil, and roughness for no reason that I’ve ever been able to discern.

  He’s every girl’s dream bad boy . . . except that he’s actually bad.

  That Luna finds that the least bit attractive irks me. “You can put your tongue back in your mouth. He probably still has last night’s frosted flakes on his dick.”

  “Huh?” Luna looks at me in surprise, then waves her hands. “Never mind, I don’t want to know, and if I do, I’ll ask Samantha. Not you.”

  Shit. I guess that was a bit crass, but it was the jealousy talking.

  “Sorry. Stay here. I’ll see what the big emergency is,” I tell her brusquely as I open my door. “Hey, man, what’s up?” I say to Kyle by way of greeting. “Like I said, I’m in a rush.”

  “Yeah, yeah . . . you’re always in a rush. I have a life too, you know.” He’s risen to his full height, which puts him at six feet, still a couple of inches shorter than me, but with his arms crossed over his chest, he looks ready to take me on, especially given that I’m in my nicest gray suit for the dinner. “I need you to . . . whoa, well hellooo there.”

  Kyle’s looking over my shoulder, and there’s only one thing he could be seeing. Luna.

  “Hi, I’m Luna,” she says, and I can hear the . . . sweetness in her voice. I never get that, goddammit.

  “I told you to stay in the car. This won’t take long.”

  I don’t have to see her to know she’s doing something behind my back because Kyle is fighting a losing battle to hide a smirk. “Well, I guess I’m too unpredictable and don’t like being told what to do,” she challenges.

  I turn to face her fully, and her bratty grin melts when she sees the thunder in my face. “We’ll see about that,” I warn.

  “Hey, I’m Kyle. This guy bothering you?” Luna looks past me to Kyle but thankfully shakes her head.

  “More like the other way around.”

  I feel like I’m on the outside of whatever conversation they’re having, and somehow, the butt of the joke too. “What do you want? No time for shooting the shit.”

  Kyle plops down onto his motorcycle sideways, his feet spread out to brace himself. “The two of you are going to dinner? No offense, Luna, but you’re not his usual type.”

  She laughs, and that hurts. “I know. I have a brain, my own boobs and nose, and this is . . .” She looks around as if someone might overhear her revealing a deep secret. “My natural hair color.”

  She flips her brown curls over her shoulder dramatically, and Kyle’s deep chuckle pisses me off, but not nearly as much as Luna talking shit about who I typically date. “It’s not like I only date blonde bimbos.”

  “Of course not, dear,” Luna says in a patronizing tone, patting my arm before she flashes a conspiring look to Kyle.

  Kyle grins. “Ooh, I like this one, Carter. Are you sure you can handle her? If not, I could take her off your hands and show her a good time.” He licks his lips, running his thumb over his bottom one as he leers at Luna.

  Luna turns her fire on Kyle, rolling her eyes as she says, “For all his audacity, you’re an arrogant asshole. Neither are exactly sexy. To me, at least.”

  Wisely, I choose not to remind her that she was drooling over him mere moments ago.

  Kyle shrugs off the dismissal. “I wasn’t expecting you to hop on my dick. I just like giving my brother a hard time, especially when it seems like he’s crashing and burning already. Can’t say I’m disappointed to see the show. It’s some pretty entertaining shit.”

  I’ve had enough of this. We have places to be. Returning to the issue at hand, I demand, “What do you want?”

  Kyle lets out an ear-piercing whistle, and the storm door swings open so hard that it hits the porch wall. “Uncle CJ! You’re finally here! I’ve been waiting forever and ever!”

  My niece, Grace, is running at me full-force, and I brace for impact instinctually. “Hey there, Gracie girl! How’s my sweetheart?” I pick her up and spin her around, her legs flying out behind her in a move we’ve done since she was little bitty.

  “Good!” she shouts as she laughs. Putting her down, she informs me, “Uncle Kyle says you’re taking me home because he has work to do.”

  Shooting a deadly glare at Kyle, I answer Grace, “Oh, he did, did he?”

  “Yeah, you can drop her off at Mom’s. Cameron’s gonna grab her from there after dinner, but I can’t put her on the bike yet. Cam’s orders.”

  Kyle seems to think I’m going to drop everything and handle this.

  Of course he does. The selfish prick. At least he followed Cam’s rule on the bike.

  Admittedly, we all help take care of Grace. She’s like the family mascot, always hanging out with one of us. It started when Cameron lost his wife and Grace was just a baby. He understandably needed time and couldn’t handle everything amid his grief, so we all stepped in to help, and as much as Cameron annoys me by being the golden child at work, I would never take it out on Grace. She’s blameless for her dad’s assholery.

  But not today.

  “Kyle, I can’t. This dinner is important. Call Mom and have her come pick up Grace,” I suggest reasonably.

  “Gotta go, man. See ya later, and” —he shoots a wink at Luna— “hopefully, I’ll see you sooner.” Somehow, without my noticing, Kyle has already straddled his motorcycle, and he starts the engine, drowning out my arguments with the roar as he revs the throttle. He pulls off, shouting loudly, “Bye, Gracie-Face-y!”

  “Bye, Uncle Kyle! Be safe!” she yells, her hands cupped around her mouth needlessly because this little girl has lungs so big the neighbors two streets over probably heard her, even over Kyle’s bike. “Ready, Uncle CJ?” Seeming to only now notice Luna, she holds out her hand. “I’m Grace Harrington, nice to meet you.”

  Cameron’s taught her well, especially for an eight-year-old. Luna, charmed it seems, shakes her hand politely. “Luna Starr, nice to meet you too.”

  Grace looks gobsmacked. “Is your name really Luna Starr? Like moon and star? That’s cool. I wish my name was cool like that.”

  Luna bends down, getting on Grace’s level. “Your name is pretty cool too. Are you graceful, by any chance?”

  Grace shakes her head so wildly that her blonde curls fly back and forth. “Nope, Mee-Maw H says my name is ironic because I never met a piece of furniture I don’t walk straight into.”

  “Well, that only makes it better. Keeps people guessing,” Luna says, making Grace beam with pride. “We should probably go if we’re adding another stop,” she tells me.

  I plaster a smile on my face, never wanting Grace to feel as though she’s a bother. “Yeah, let’s go, Gracie. It’s a drive, so hop in.”

  But someone else hears me say ‘drive’ and also hops in the car. “Nutbuster, get out of my car!” I shout at Kyle’s dog, who’s climbed in Luna’s open door and is sitting happily in the backseat, ready to go for a ride.

  Rrrarf!

  “Did you say the dog’s name is Nutbuster?” Luna asks, her brows scrunched together as though sure she must’ve misheard.

  I sigh in response. “Technically, his name is Peanut Butter,” I say about the brown, long-haired dog who’s probably drooling and shedding all over my back seat. “But when he grew, he stopped right at” —I hold my hand groin high to explain— “and he’s a bit overly welcoming. By the time he racked us all a few too many times and we’d have to greet him with our hands over the crown jewels, the name stuck.”

  “What’re crown jewels?” Grace asks. “Can I wear them?”

  “No,” I say sharply.

  Softer, Luna says, “I don’t think you want these jewels, honey. They’re all wrinkled and hairy and gross. A lady like you deserves a tiara.”

  “Ooh, can I get a tiara, Uncle CJ?” Grace asks. Thankful to not be talking about testicles, I quickly nod in agreement. “Woohoo! Let’s go to Mee-Maw H’s, then.”

  Before I know it, Grace and Nutbuster are in the back seat, buckled in and ready to go, and I’m looking at Luna in confusion. “How’re we going to do this?”

  “Breathe, Carter. It’s not on your plan for the day, but it’s fine. Let’s go so we’re not late to the Cartwrights’.” Her tone is soothing and calm, like this is no big deal, like flirty asshole brothers, no-filter kids, ball-busting dogs, and fake marriage dinners are just another Saturday. As ridiculous as that is, she does help me settle down a little.

  “Okay, this is fine, totally fine,” I repeat, more for myself than anything. Getting in the car, I back out of Kyle’s driveway, cussing him a blue streak but only in my mind so that Grace doesn’t learn those words . . . from me.