Claimed By my Brother’s Best Friend (Wilder Brothers #1)

Chapter One

Ivy

“The rednecks at that bar down the street are going to be a problem.” I plop down on the metal barstool and stare at the broad-shouldered giant who’s been pestering me for as long as I can remember.

“And why’s that?” he groans under his breath as he pours me a Coke from the soda fountain under the bar. I’m still desperate to get behind there and play with that thing. I don’t know what it is about pressing buttons, but I think I have a calling for touching things I shouldn’t.

“It’s true. I heard some guys talkin’ on my walk over here. They’re all pissed off. They’re losing customers.”

Ryker narrows his thick brows and leans against the mahogany bar as twangy country music plays over the speakers. “How’s that?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t sit them down for a dissertation on their feelings, but they were pissed. Can you blame them? They’ve been here forever and now some trendy little distillery opens up, threatening to take their business.”

He lets his gaze linger a beat too long, then slides the Coke in my direction. “I’m not threatening. I am taking their business.”

I roll my eyes and slide the Coke back toward him. “I don’t want this. I want that new blackberry pie whiskey everyone’s been talking about.”

Shaking his head, he turns away and busies himself with organizing the mason jars beneath the bar. “The last thing you need is whiskey.”

“Well then, I guess I’m askin’ for the last thing, ‘cause I want some whiskey.”

He responds with silence as he makes his way toward a customer who’s waving him to the other side of the bar.

If I didn’t know him better, I might be hurt, but this is Ryker to the core.

He’s overprotective, stubborn, and insanely full of himself.

If it weren’t for the fact that he and my brother are best friends, I wouldn’t even be here.

Well, maybe I would be… he’s still nice to look at.

“Did I hear you say you wanted to try the blackberry?” The newest bartender, Marin, grabs a mason jar from beneath the counter as she talks. “It’s pretty good, though I’m still partial to the strawberry shortcake. Have you tried that?”

I shake my head and smile at the brunette who’s actually listening to me. “No, but ya know what,” I glance toward Ryker, who’s still busy helping another customer, “I think I will. Let’s do the flight.”

She offers me a grin as she pours my drinks into tiny shot glasses that sit on a pine wood board. “I get it. My brother is the same way. He’s way too protective. I find that doing the exact opposite of what he suggests really annoys the hell out of him and entertains me.”

“Oh,” my eyes widen, “Ryker isn’t my brother. He’s my brother’s best friend. He’s just… like this. I don’t know what his problem is. I think maybe he was raised by cavemen.”

“Maybe he has a thing for you,” she leans in and whispers low as she hands me the flight of drinks. “That’s what emotionally stunted men do when they don’t know how to say the things they feel. They get all barbaric and overprotective.”

I laugh, though I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t an era when I fantasized about him.

Heck, he still comes to mind when I’m looking for a quick orgasm, though I’m not proud of it.

“No. That’s one hundred percent not the case.

Ryker isn’t into anyone but himself. Plus, you’ve seen him, right? The man could have anyone he wants.”

The brunette with the big boobs shrugs her shoulders. “Just sayin’ that men are weird. I dated this guy once who named our future kids, then ghosted me the next day. The guy after that was totally standoffish but ended up being super sweet.”

“Are you still with the sweet guy?”

“Hell no!” she laughs. “He was sweet, but he liked wearing women’s underwear.”

“I want to ask how you found out, but I think I’m too pure for the truth.”

“It’s not as dramatic as it sounds.” She grins. “I just saw him taking a piss with women’s underwear on.”

“And what did he do when you confronted him?”

“Nothing.” She shrugs and twists her hair to the side. “He just acted like it was normal and that something was wrong with me for not being cool about it. Anyway,” she sighs, “point of the story is that men… are weird.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I say, picking up my first shot glass.

“That’s tutti fruity,” Marin says. “You’ll like that one too. It’s like hot Skittles.”

Do people like hot Skittles?

I shoot back the shot like I shoot whiskey every day, even though I haven’t shot whiskey since my twenty-first birthday when shooting whiskey made me more ill than I’ve ever been in my life, which is probably why Ryker didn’t think I should be doing it again.

“What do you think?” Marin watches me close as though she’s truly invested in my desire for good liquor. “It’s good, right?”

“Oh, umm… yeah. It’s,” I blow out a breath like a dragon shooting fire, “that’s hot!”

She giggles under her breath and pushes the tray toward me. “Well, there’s more where that came from. You’ve got the whole fruit-flavored line in front of you. The creams are the best.”

My stomach churns a little when I look down at them, but I ignore the voice in my head in favor of proving Ryker wrong. My twenty-first birthday was nearly a year and a half ago. I’m sure my more adult body can handle a few shots now.

I shoot back the blackberry pie, letting the whiskey sit on my tongue for a moment to absorb the notes before swallowing.

“Tastes like pie, right?” Marin dries out a mason jar as we talk. “Like you can taste the bush the blackberries were on.”

“Not sure I’m getting all that, but it’s pretty good,” I lie, feeling a little buzzed. “I might take a few bottles home with me. I think I’m going to need them to get through tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

I lean in and whisper low, as my head lifts to the clouds, “I really shouldn’t be drinking eighty-proof anything. I’m selling myself in a virgin auction.”

“A virgin auction?” She narrows her perfectly manicured brows. “What’s that?”

“It’s this online bidding site. You list your picture, a few details, and wait for the money to roll in. I’ve been chatting with this Allen guy for a while. He’s a doctor from the Springs. Late twenties, looking for a virgin to deflower and maybe more.”

“Oh my God,” she gasps and leans back from the counter as though she just found out her boyfriend likes wearing women’s underwear, “are you serious? Why would you do this? Do you like this guy?”

“I don’t know him, really. I mean, we’ve talked a few times online, but this isn’t about finding love. It’s about cashing in. I need the money.”

“What could you possibly need money for that you’d do this?” Her tone is judgmental, but I’m used to people like her. Heck, people like her are the only people I know, and I prefer it that way. I like knowing where someone stands.

Thankfully, I can dish it out as well as I can take it.

“Sorry, but really,” she continues and shakes her head, her beaded earrings swaying, “what do you need the money for? I mean, the guy could be a total weirdo. He could be luring you into a web so he can murder you and sell your parts online.” Marin slides a jar of whiskey toward a woman in full western garb, who’s getting an earful all about my terrible life choices.

“Lucky for me, my parts aren’t worth much. Plus, the website does background checks and the guys are vetted.” I shrug. “The bidding was up to fifty grand when I looked last. That’s enough to finally buy a little piece of land and start my homestead. I really want chickens.”

Marin’s eyes widen again in judgment. “You’re doing this to buy chickens?”

“Umm,” I pop my lips playfully, “no. Are you listening? I’m doing this for land.

Land is expensive out here. I don’t have a mommy and daddy paying my bills, and I didn’t go to college.

So, it’s either work admin for ten years and hope I save enough to purchase land or do this one thing and fast-track the process. ”

Marin laughs. “I like you.”

“Thanks!” I grin and twist my hair to the side of my shoulder. “What am I saving myself for anyway? Some guy who’s gonna think screwing me in the back of his pickup truck is romantic?” I laugh and shoot back another shot casually, like an idiot.

Marin drums her fingers against the bar. “I’m surprised your protector hasn’t stopped you. Doesn’t seem like something he’d approve of.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t know, and he never will.” My stomach churns as I talk, and before I can say another word, the fruity hot whiskey is making its way back up my throat.

Oh shit!

I clasp my hand over my mouth, run to the bathroom, push open the swinging door, and throw myself over the back stall toilet, heaving up the whiskey I swore I could hold.

“I told you that whiskey makes you sick,” Ryker’s deep voice echoes as he swings the bathroom door open and steps into the stall, his big hands gathering my hair back. “You always have to prove yourself, though.”

His tongue is sharp, but his hands stay gentle at the back of my head, and despite everything, I’m thankful he’s here with me.

When I’m confident I’m not going to die on the bathroom floor, I wipe my mouth with the back of my forearm and stand straight, looking back at my brother’s friend.

“I probably have a stomach bug or something. Here… come closer… let’s see if it’s contagious.

” I playfully grab his massive shoulders and lean into his chest, half expecting him to pull away, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he stays right there, solid and warm, like he’s daring me to move first. This strange stance goes on for a long moment, our gazes stuck on one another like we’re in one of those cheesy romance movies people watch at Christmastime.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he grumbles.