Chapter 3
THREE
Brendan
Why is it that when Scarlett Rossi is ticked at me, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world? Maybe it’s her pink lips that remind me of our kiss back in high school. Or her scowl defying me to change her mind. All I know is that I’m not letting her leave until she listens to me.
“Scarlett, stop,” I call out to her.
To my surprise, she actually does. Maybe for the first time in my life—and likely, never again.
She spins toward me. “What?” Her dark eyes warn me not to take another step.
“I…” My voice falters because she’s standing there in just a hoodie and jeans, looking like she just rolled out of bed, and she’s somehow still stunning. Her long, brown hair escapes from her bun, framing her face with dark wisps and accentuating her long lashes and wide eyes.
This is exactly why I can never get the courage to ask her out. One look at her, and my brain turns to mush.
“Well?” She bites her lower lip impatiently.
As a former Marine, I’ve been trained to compartmentalize my feelings, to stay focused under pressure.
It works well for me as a coach. But put me within three feet of Scarlett Rossi, and suddenly I’m a fumbling idiot who can’t string two coherent thoughts together.
The faint scent of her shower gel—something floral that reminds me of high school summers—is making it impossible to think straight.
“Let me explain.” I hold my hands out like I’m approaching a spooked animal. “Please.”
“What exactly is there to explain, Brendan?” She props her hands on her hips, and the gesture pushes her hoodie up just enough that I can see the curve of her waist and the light-wash jeans that show off her hips.
Great. I’m having a dating crisis, and my brain decides now is the perfect time to notice how her jeans fit.
“Your mom thinks we’re dating.” Her brow lowers. “But I’m pretty sure that requires both parties to be aware of the relationship status.”
“This was not how it was supposed to go.” I’d had a whole speech prepared—something more polished about how this could benefit both of us, how she’d get to network with potential investors, and how we’d just go as friends.
But my mom ruined that plan, and now Scarlett’s looking at me like there’s nothing I could say that would make this situation better.
“Everyone misunderstood.”
Scarlett’s eyes narrow. “What exactly did they misunderstand? Because from where I’m standing, you told your family we were together without bothering to mention it to me. That’s not a misunderstanding, Brendan. That’s just you acting like a coward.”
I drag a hand down my jaw. “I can’t stand my sister’s maid of honor. We went out once before, and by the time our entrees arrived, she was planning a destination wedding in Tahiti and I had to pretend I had food poisoning so I could bail early.”
“Come on, Bren,” Scarlett chides. “You couldn’t handle her for a single wedding?”
“She talks constantly and has the most annoying laugh—high and nasal, like she’s been sucking helium. Plus—” I don’t know how I’m going to explain this. “She’s slightly obsessed with me. Like near-stalker level. If I took her to the wedding, she’d probably tell everyone we’re engaged.”
“Why couldn’t you just tell your mom you’re fine going alone?” she continues with a shrug. “Or better yet, why couldn’t you ask one of the dozen women who throw themselves at you every time you walk into Boots and Buckles?”
“You think women throw themselves at me?”
“Oh please.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re Brendan Marco. Former Marine, assistant coach to the Crushers, heir to the Marco empire. You probably have a waiting list of women who’d pay to be your wedding date.”
I huff out a laugh. “I don’t, actually. And why would I want to go with a stranger, especially someone who wants to date me?” I meet her eyes. “I need someone who doesn’t see me that way. Someone who’s completely immune to the Marco name. That way, there’s no pressure.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “And I’m the only woman in your life you think is incapable of being attracted to you?” She shakes her head. “Your ego is astounding.”
“That’s not—” I start, but she’s already turning away. “Look, my family’s been on my case about settling down ever since Carmen got engaged. If I take Laila, she’ll read a whole future into it. And I can’t even stand one minute with her, let alone an entire week.”
Scarlett scoffs out an unsympathetic laugh. “Oh no. Poor Brendan might have to actually find a suitable date off a dating app. What a terrible fate.”
“Scarlett, it’s too late to find someone else. And if I show up alone, Laila will attach herself to me like a leech. I thought bringing you would keep her away.”
She lifts her chin. “So I’m a defensive strategy? Is that right, Coach?”
I scrub a hand down my face, trying to focus on the point I was making. “That’s not what I meant. Honestly, I thought you’d make it easier. It wouldn’t be this whole…” I wave a hand in the air. “…production.”
“Surely, you have other options. Beautiful women who’d fit right into the Marco family. So why drag me into your drama?”
“Because—” I shove my hands into my pockets. She’d never fall for me after what happened between us. Our history makes that next to impossible. And now she’s looking at me like I’m the jerk who used her name as my wedding date without asking. “You are the only one who can do this.”
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t respond.
“My family loves you.”
They always have, even back when she used to show up at our beach house with Eli, sunburned and laughing as they camped out around the pool. She had a way of making me feel like the most interesting person, instead of invisible.
“And you’re Eli’s sister. We’ve always gotten along.”
I hate the words as soon as they leave my mouth.
Gotten along? It sounds like we’re in middle school.
I kissed her, for heaven’s sake. And I would’ve kissed her a thousand times more if she hadn’t walked away on the worst night of my life—when Carmen was in the hospital and my family was falling apart. I needed her, and she wasn’t there.
She shoots me a withering look. “So, what? Because of Eli and some history, I’m supposed to be your convenient stand-in for when you can’t be bothered to find a real date? Just to keep Laila and her annoying laugh away from you?”
“No, that’s not—”
“I’ve heard enough.” She starts to turn away again, but I catch her elbow without thinking.
The contact sends electricity through my body, the way it does every time I touch her. It’s why I’ve learned to keep my distance.
She freezes, and the message on her face is clear. She doesn’t want this. Doesn’t want me touching her.
I drop my hand immediately, shoving it in my pocket again. “Scarlett, please. I haven’t ever asked for help.” I pause and shift on my feet. “Not even after what happened in high school with your brother.”
Her eyes widen. “You mean my brother’s stupidity?”
It wasn’t one of Eli’s finest moments and ended with me taking the fall for his stupid decision to bring a few beers to a high school party.
I didn’t even drink that night. But the party got out of hand, and the cops needed someone to blame.
Scarlett’s family couldn’t afford a lawyer, so I took responsibility for it.
She’d been so grateful, almost stubborn about paying me back.
When I told her I didn’t need anything, she promised me that if I ever needed a favor, she’d repay it in a heartbeat.
I haven’t forgotten. I just never thought it would take over a decade to cash it in.
She looks away, lost in thought. “You saved him from so much trouble.”
Eli’s always been a lovable screw-up. He means well right until the moment he messes everything up.
I’ve watched Scarlett cover for him more times than she realizes.
And I’ve done my share of covering too, for reasons I can’t tell her yet.
I tried to help him out, and look where that got me. He won’t even talk to me now.
“Look, forget I asked.” I back away from her. “This was a stupid idea.”
A part of me hoped that maybe this wedding could restore something we lost a long time ago.
She stares at me for a few seconds. “I could ask one of my friends to help.”
“Scarlett…” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I don’t want to go with anyone else. I want to go with you. And if it’s not you, then no one.”
Because the only woman I’d want on my arm for a week is the one woman I can’t have.
And she can’t know that. If she sees it on my face or catches me watching her because I can’t stop myself, this whole arrangement falls apart.
And after years of doing nothing, I’ll have earned exactly that. Nothing.
Her eyes snap to mine, and the questions swirl in her eyes.
“As friends,” I add quickly, backtracking. “I thought I could ask you for help. But I guess I was wrong.” I turn to head out the back door.
“Bren, wait—” She studies me for a long moment. “I’m just wondering, why’d you think I’d say yes? I mean, other than the chance to date the great Brendan Marco.”
Her sarcasm is rich.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess what I’m asking here is—what’s in it for me?”
“Name your terms.” I hate saying it so bluntly, but isn’t that exactly what we’re doing? A transaction with our own set of rules? We each have something to gain here—might as well not beat around the bush about it.
“Okay, then.” She swallows hard. “I’ll only attend the wedding and reception. Everything else is beyond the deal.”
“You know it’s like a free beach vacation, though, right?”
“I know, but I can’t take a week off now that our landlord sent this.” She pulls a crumpled letter out of her hoodie pocket and hands it to me.