I'm in the final editing stages of Book 3 in the How to Date series: How to Date Your Brother's Best Friend. This story follows Lizzie Vandevere (Brendan's new business partner at McConnell's Bar and Grill) as she tries to guard her secret from her friends and her heart from her high school crush. Zander Drake, Lizzie's crush, is no longer the lanky boy from high school. He's all grown-up and all man. And all about Lizzie. The problem is he's only in town for a short visit. And he's Lizzie's older brother's best friend. AKA: Off-limits. But aren't rules meant to be broken. I know Lizzie and Zander's story will warm your heart and heat your naughty bits (did someone say sex on a motorcycle? Varoom!). Enjoy the first two chapters here and be sure to grab your pre-order copy!
CHAPTER ONE
Lizzie Drake
Mrs. Lizzie Drake
Mrs. Elizabeth Drake
Mr. and Mrs. Zander Drake
The Drake Family
Lizzie and Zander
Zander Zander Zander
Partly embarrassed but mostly amused, Lizzie Vandevere shook her head as she flipped through her old high school notebook. Why had her mother even kept this thing? The color drained from her face as another thought occurred to her: who else had seen this thing? Hopefully if anyone got a hold of it, they got bored with the geometry notes in the beginning pages and stopped looking. It had been embarrassing enough when stupid Todd Sanderson had seen her writing it in class when she was a freshman.
She'd been tuning out their teacher's lengthy explanation and doodling in her notebook when a voice behind her whispered, "Never gonna happen." She quickly slammed shut her notebook.
"Lizzie? Question?" Mr. Shalvo asked. Her classmates all turned in their seats to stare at her.
"No. I'm good. Sorry," Lizzie said. She ran her fingers through her short blond curls to try to hide her bright red ears.
"As I was saying—" Mr. Shalvo went back to the lesson.
When he turned to write something on the board, Lizzie shot a glare over her shoulder to the seat behind her. Todd Sanderson smirked back at her. God, what a dweeb. She'd silently cursed him with chronic, pus-filled acne.
"Zander Drake is like Deerfield Prep royalty. You don't even exist to him, Freshie," Todd had whispered.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered back. Denial. Denial. Denial.
"Your little notebook covered in wishes and dreams. Better set your sights a little lower if you ever want to get laid," he suggested.
"You're ridiculous." She felt her neck heat with embarrassment betraying her flippant tone.
"The Drake brothers can have any female they want, and they usually want the ones who actually act like females. In other words," he said tugging on one of her curls, "not you."
She swatted his hand away. "Shut up. You're gonna get us in trouble," she shot back. Thankfully he sat back, but she could hear him chuckle under his breath.
Of all the people to see her doodles, it had to be the lamest, stupidest boy that ever lived. The lamest, stupidest boy with the biggest mouth. She'd sweat bullets until the end of the day, praying and hoping Todd wouldn't tell Zander—or the rest of the school for that matter—about her doodles. Since Zander nor her brother, Nick, said anything that afternoon, she figured her secret crush was still a secret. Mostly. Except for Todd who tortured her for months by winking at her knowingly—especially when he was talking to Zander and happened to catch her eye. He'd point to whatever fully make-upped girl stood beside Zander and shake his head sadly at her.
In high school—well honestly now, too—she'd had very little interest in unbuttoning her uniform blouse or rolling the skirt to make it shorter like most of the other girls in their exclusive private school. She didn't wear make-up and kept her hair short, so she didn't have to think about it. She'd rather be on the soccer field than sitting in front of a mirror for hours perfecting her eyelashes or practicing social media poses or whatever girly-girls did all day.
But Todd was right about one thing: Zander did seem to date the high-maintenance ones. Not only that but he remained a pipe dream for another reason—he was her older brother's best friend. Which put her directly in the "like my little sister" zone—a zone even lower than the "friend zone."
Where was her brother anyway? He was supposed to be helping clean up the house. Typical Nick—MIA when manual labor was involved. He'd be at closing though when the money was handed out. Well, she sure as shit wasn't touching anything in his room. He could come clean out his space himself. Or watch it get put in the dumpster.
She sighed in frustration and looked back down at her notebook. As if her name melding with Zander's wasn't bad enough, the millions of little hearts she'd drawn made it especially cringeworthy. Yup, this was going in the trash pile. No evidence needed from her embarrassing high school crush. And she hadn't needed the geometry notes so far in her adult life She tossed it into the trash bag behind her and started on another pile.
After an hour, Lizzie stood to try to get the kink out of her back. The three additional trash bags she'd accumulated so far barely made a dent in her childhood room. Three trash bags for just her tiny room! They still had the rest of the house to go through. When she agreed to help her parents get the house ready for the market, she figured they'd at least started the process. But, nope. Not a single china cabinet emptied or box packed. If she didn't get some help soon, she was going to hire someone. Definitely the College Hunks Hauling Junk company. She wouldn't mind watching that process.
In the meantime, she once again called her brother. Straight to voice mail. She rolled her eyes, a bad habit her mother had tried to guilt trip out of her, and texted him instead.
LIZZIE: Thanks for the assist at Moms house today
Knowing he wouldn't respond to her attempt at a passive guilt trip, she slipped her phone into her back pocket and called it quits for the day. She boxed up her keep pile, taped it shut tightly, and labeled it KEEP FOR LIZZIE on all four sides. Then she pushed it to the corner of the room where hopefully no one would bother it until she could come retrieve it. She'd have to borrow a car. Maybe Xavier would be willing to help her. He had a truck.
"Oh crackers!" she shouted. She glanced at her phone again to check the time. She was late for her shift at McConnell's Bar and Grill, the bar where she was now proudly part owner.
She didn't want to leave Xavier hanging any longer than she had to on what was bound to be another busy Saturday night. Brendan McConnell, the other owner, Jerry, their full-time cook, and Gabby, their part-time employee, were finishing a catering job and wouldn't be back until much later.
LIZZIE: Zay! Sorry Im gonna be a little late
XAVIER: No prob. Ride safe
LIZZIE: Thx Ur the best
XAVIER: I know. ;) You owe me
Xavier Drake—Zander's little brother, who wasn't so little anymore—suddenly came back into her life about a year ago when he moved back to the D.C. area. She hadn't seen either Drake brother since their parents retired to Florida about five years ago. The boys, both exploring their own lives in other states, didn't really have a reason to return. Until recently, when Xavier wanted to take advantage of the IT boom in the D.C. area. He'd fallen in love with McConnell's, just like she had, and agreed to not only be their part-time IT guy, but also continue to work behind the bar and in the kitchen. More importantly, he had become one of Lizzie's closest friends.
She'd asked him about Zander from time to time, trying to sound nonchalant. Just a "how's the family" when she really wanted to scream "tell me everything about Zee!" in desperation. He'd only given her the standard "everyone's fine." Zander apparently hadn't stopped serial dating, much to the chagrin of his parents who were hoping for grandbabies to spoil. Lizzie tried to ignore the thought that crept into her consciousness—at least he wasn't married.
Because who cares if he was? She didn't care.
That was her story, and she was sticking to it.
And holy crap did Xavier ever look like his brother—or at least how she remembered him—tall, broad, and blonde. The only significant difference was their eyes. Where Xavier's were a kaleidoscope of browns and greens, Zander's were a deep mocha brown with amber rays extending from the pupil to the outer rim. Tiger eyes, she'd called them in her unfortunate attempts at poetry in high school.
Shit. Her poetry. Where was that journal? The thought of someone seeing those pathetic inner thoughts and childish metaphors had her running back upstairs to her room. She found it among the cobwebs and dust under her dresser. Right where she'd hidden it before leaving for college. Her parents' housekeeper never cleaned under there. Based on the layer of dust on the top of the dresser, she doubted the woman ever came in her room at all after she'd officially moved out.
She flipped through the journal, cringing at her pitiful high school heart vomit—there were a lot of references to angels and falling rose petals and broken mirrors, yikes—and then started to stuff it into one of the trash bags. Something made her pull it out at the last minute.
Instead she took it downstairs and stuffed it into her backpack. She put her trash bags in the attached garage, grabbed a water from the fridge and her helmet from the hall table, and headed out the back door to where she parked her motorcycle.
Lizzie threw a leg over the bike and was about to put on her helmet when she caught movement in her periphery. Without thinking, she swung her heavy helmet toward the shadow rapidly approaching behind her and felt the contact all the way up her arm. She heard an "oof" and a "what the hell, Lizzie," in a voice from her past.
As the doubled over figure lifted his head, she immediately recognized those tiger eyes.
Zander Drake.
CHAPTER TWO
"That's not what helmets are for. Haven't you learned to ride that thing correctly yet?" Zander asked, trying to catch his breath after Lizzie's blow to his stomach.
"Maybe if I had a better teacher, I'd be doing a better job," she teased. Zander had in fact been her teacher.
Zander scoffed. "You had the best teacher."
"What are you doing here anyway?" Lizzie asked.
"Visiting Xavier. Checking out the old stomping grounds," he said. Not completely a lie. Just not the whole truth.
"But what are you doing here?" she clarified pointing to the driveway. "At my parent's house?"
"Oh. I'm supposed to be meeting Nick. He said he needed some help moving some furniture or something," Zander explained. He was finally able to stand up straight and take a deep breath. He lifted his shirt to see if she'd left a mark.
"Holy abs," Lizzie said under her breath. He flexed them for good measure. Then examined her more closely. Little Lizzie all grown up. Time hadn't dulled her natural beauty one bit. "Looking good, Lizard."
She rolled her eyes at the use of her old nickname. "Thanks. I haven't seen Nick. He was supposed to meet me here like two hours ago. If you see him, let him know I'm pissed." She started to put on her helmet.
"Where are you headed?" he asked.
"McConnell's. My shift is starting. Xavier's there solo until I get there," Lizzie explained.
"Mind if I tag along? I need to touch base with Xavier and see if I can crash at his place," he said smirking. Probably he should have asked Xavier first, but what are families for, right? If Zay wasn't up for company, he'd crash with Nick. God knew that clown had enough room to spare.
"You haven't asked him yet?" Lizzie asked. Zander smirked again and shook his head. "Does he even know you're coming?"
"He knows I'm coming. I just don't think he knows it's today," Zander explained.
"I see," Lizzie said in a tone that clearly meant she did not, in fact, see. "Well, you can follow me if you can keep up." She put her helmet on and adjusted the straps on her shoulder bag.
"How about you drive my rental, and I'll take your bike?" he asked hopefully. He hadn't ridden in too long.
She flipped up the face shield on her helmet, said, "Not a chance," and gunned the engine.
Zander sprinted back to his rental car knowing she wouldn't wait for him. She was out of the driveway and halfway down the street by the time he started his car. Thank goodness for GPS.
He caught up to her at the next light, however. He beeped and waved enthusiastically when she glanced over her shoulder at him. He could feel her eye roll even though he couldn't see it through the tinted lens of her helmet. His eyes traveled the length of her back as she leaned over the handlebars in anticipation of the light change. Her perfectly round ass hugged the seat as though it was molded for her specifically as her thighs gripped the sides of the bike.
Damn, how he wished he had just asked to ride with her. He remembered all too clearly the way their bodies fit together as he gave her riding lessons back in high school. The slight curve of her breasts against his back. Her arms tight around his waist. Her soft breath tickling his neck. And, on especially tight turns or fast straightaways, the pressure of her thighs gripping his hips as she squealed with excitement. When she finally demanded to take control herself, he rode behind her feeling her muscles move as she expertly controlled the powerful bike beneath her.
He was also ever mindful of not poking her in the back with his hard-on. And making sure Nick never saw his embarrassing reaction to Lizzie. The Vandevere siblings didn't always get along, but Nick was still protective of his younger sister. Nick was the biggest reason why Zander hadn't made a serious move on Lizzie in high school. That and the fact that she wasn't a cheerleader. He kicked himself now thinking about what he missed because he worried so much about his reputation.
So instead of dating her, he'd purposefully extended those riding lessons making up ridiculous reasons for them to continue. Just to spend time with her. Just to feel her tight against him.
A horn blast behind him made him jump. The light had changed. He waved an apology in his rearview mirror and took off after Lizzie's retreating back. He was in for a long couple of weeks if he lost all conscious thought every time Lizzie was around.
Of course, he could always avoid her. He was good at that—running, avoiding, excusing, denying. Those were the real reasons why he was back here in the DC area in the first place. Namely avoiding Tiffany. And giving her space to get over him since she was apparently in denial about their break-up. Plus, he had to help Nick clear out his parents' massive Potomac home. At least that was the excuse he gave Tiffany for going away and not taking her calls. Or answering her bazillion texts. Or liking her social media posts. Even when she tagged him. Which she did. Too often.
He shook his head at his own stupidity. Again. The last time he dated a girl like Tiffany—all boobs, no brain and hell bent on a husband—he'd gotten himself into a similar predicament. He'd promised himself he wouldn't be that stupid again. He'd be perfectly upfront about his intentions or lack of intentions when it came to marriage. Instead, he'd been lulled into passivity with Tiffany's buxom breasts and fuck-me eyes. So stupid.
This two-week hiatus was a good idea for Tiffany as well as him. He needed to cleanse his palate of women and focus on himself. He was almost 30 and still pretty much adrift. Sure, he had a career, one he liked well enough, but he was stagnant. He liked dating around, but the types of girls he attracted weren't the ones he really wanted to be with. Of course, he was the envy of his office since he not only dated the most chicks but also the hottest ones. Unfortunately, he never really had a connection with them outside of traipsing them around company events. The very definition of arm candy. Lately he wondered if he wanted more.
Then he'd get out of his own ass and remember how good he had it being single. Nobody nagging him to clean his bathroom or make dinner or call if he was going to be late. He could listen to Metallica at full blast in his tighty-whiteys at two in the afternoon if he wanted to.
He'd never actually wanted to do that specifically, but that wasn't the point.
Zander's phone buzzed beside him. He cringed as he waited for the hands-free system to inevitably tell him it was Tiffany. Even though he explicitly told her not to contact him.
Instead the robotic female voice said, "Text from Nick the dick. Where you be at bro."
Zander chuckled at the nickname for his oldest friend. He really should change it. Maybe when he actually turned thirty, he'd feel more compelled to be mature. He enabled the Bluetooth and said, "Call Nick the dick cell," which made him chuckle again despite himself.
The phone rang twice then Nick picked up. Miracles upon miracles. He rarely actually answered his phone. Of course, Nick wanted something from Zander which increased his accessibility a hundred-fold.
"Hey man," Nick said by way of greeting. "I thought you were coming to help me?"
"I was there, dude, but you weren't. I ran into Lizzie as she was leaving. She said you were supposed to be there two hours ago," Zander said.
"I probably definitely did that on purpose," Nick laughed. "I didn't want to hear her nagging me the whole time. Listen, I'm here now. Can you come back?"
"I'm heading to McConnell's really quickly to check in with Xavier. Depending on how long it takes, I could be back in about an hour," Zander offered. He didn't really want to make the 20-30-minute drive back to Potomac after having just been there. And after flying from Atlanta to Mary
land this morning. He wanted a shower, a snack, and a nap. One look at Lizzie's ass on her bike made him think about something else he wanted, too. Something perpetually off limits.
But he did promise Nick he'd help. Plus, he loved looking through rich people shit. They had the craziest things. He'd worked really hard to be able to afford his own crazy things.
"An hour? I might be done by then. Text me before you leave. I'll let you know," Nick said.
"No problem. Sorry. Lizzie made it seem like you were a no-show. I can help tomorrow," he offered.
"Yeah, that could work. Forget about coming back here tonight. I'll text you a time tomorrow. I need to check if Lizzie is planning on coming back," Nick said.
"I'll ask her when we get to the bar and let you know."
"Thanks, bro. See you tomorrow." Nick hung up.
Before he could stop them, Zander's thoughts turned to being alone with an adult Lizzie in the big, empty house tomorrow before Nick arrived. He could absolutely show up early "accidentally" and show Lizzie what he'd been fantasizing about since high school.
Then he immediately scolded himself. Idiot. She was Nick's little sister. He'd known her forever. Plus, she'd never been the type of girl to just roll into bed with anyone. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if she was still a virgin. As he followed Lizzie towards McConnell's, he wondered how he could confirm or deny that thought.
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