Her Sister’s Forbidden Ex, page 1
Her Sister’s Forbidden Ex
The Brides of Christmas Book 3
Published by Izabella Brooks, 2019
© Izabella Brooks
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
The Brides of Christmas Series:
More Books by Izabella Brooks
About the Author
Chapter 1
Taye
Love and chocolate cake make fools of us all.
At least I feel like a fool letting myself into my sister’s ex-fiancé’s house. Once upon a time, Bryn bad mouthed my sister at a party where all their closest friends were there to hear it. They’d been over for a long time before they broke up. At least a year beforehand, but it could have been even longer. They were far more like friends in the last year they were together, yet he went off half-cocked when he found out she wanted to go on a date with someone else.
Okay, that someone just happened to be his best bud, who also happened to confess that he’d loved my sister, Cozzie, since they were in high school, but hey. I still took issue with the whole thing. So, once upon a time, the giant piece of chocolate cake on the plate in my hand ended up in Bryn’s face.
Which, oddly enough, started this whole foolish escapade. After the cake incident, Bryn texted me the next day, the day after Valentine’s Day, to apologize. I can only imagine who he bribed to get my number. Seeing as Bryn was in my life for thirteen years as my sister’s boyfriend and then her fiancé, I relented and went over to his house, even if it was super awkward without my sister there.
She’d moved on, that was obvious. Bryn was ready to be alone, but the place had a horrible lonely feeling entrenched into it. In just under two months, he’d managed to turn it into a complete pig sty of a bachelor pad, complete with old food wrappers and dirty laundry. It looked like a ruthless group of college kids called the place home and it didn’t smell much better.
I’d made some stupid comment about how Bryn should pay someone to clean up for him, do his dry cleaning and laundry, make the place habitable. He’d asked if I was looking for a job. I wasn’t. My parents kind of blamed Bryn for what happened with him and Cozzie, even though my sister turned out to be happy after. It was probably the best thing that could have happened to her. Bryn let it slip in his apology that his parents blamed him too. He felt groundless, without family and friends, and in that moment, I just felt really sorry for him.
So, long story short. Here I am. Nearly a year later. I usually only go to clean when I know he’s not going to be there. It’s just easier if he’s not in the way.
I let myself in with the key code that’s been the same since Cozzie lived there. Bryn never bothered changing it. The place is quiet. The lights off. I walk around, flicking them on one by one as I go. The house is nice. It’s a sixties bungalow that Bryn and his friends renovated before Coz moved in with him. I thought she and Bryn were it for each other and that this house would be bustling with children and laughter and our combined family Christmases for a long time.
It stands pretty much empty, except for the furniture and the department store art prints on the wall. It’s nice, but there’s no tree. No décor. No scents of holiday baking. I’d say that Bryn just hasn’t started yet, but I know him better than that.
He never really liked Christmas. The house really lacks Cozzie’s presence. Bryn works out of town a lot. I don’t even fully understand what he does because his job always sounded hella boring to me. I know that he does programming for some big company, but I don’t know the finer details.
I walk around the house, starting my usual cleaning routine. Once a week, I come in and dust, vacuum, do the dishes, Bryn’s laundry, take out the stuff that needs to be dry cleaned, polish his shoes, and just about every other housekeeping task.
I’d call myself pathetic if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s so obviously lonely and I feel guilty about that, even if it’s irrational. No, I am pathetic. I’m pathetic for doing this, even though Bryn pays me well. I haven’t told Mom and Dad that I have any contact with Bryn. Cozzie doesn’t know either. Not that she’d care. She wouldn’t. She wants Bryn to be happy like she is. They parted as friends. They have mutual friends. After the initial stumbling, they’re over their hurdles. I just feel weird about bringing it up, so I haven’t.
That’s the only reason.
I stuff a batch of dirty clothes into the washer and take care of the vacuuming. After that, I do the myriad dirty dishes, pick up all the empty takeout boxes and food wrappers, and gather up the two pairs of Bryn’s expensive looking dress shoes that need to be polished.
I finished college two years ago and work as an admin assistant. My salary isn’t killer but I own my own place. It’s expensive and eats up a lot of my income, but I didn’t want to live with my parents forever. I gladly suck it up and do what I can to earn the thousand dollars Bryn pays me. It’s currently paying most of my mortgage. It’s nice to have a bit of extra money for stuff for a change.
When I’m done with the shoes, I set them neatly back in the small entryway closet by the door, and change over the laundry. All of the furniture in the place is pretty standard stuff, but the table in the kitchen is a big behemoth that Bryn bought from his friends, Arla and Jake, who are big antique people. It’s crazy huge, an old farmhouse looking thing complete with chippy paint and a raw wood top. I’ve been researching how to oil the top and came armed with the required supplies tonight.
I’m hard at work scrubbing the table, the sleeves of my black crop sweater rolled up, jamming away to the music drifting through my wireless earbuds, dancing round, making the best of a shitty, big job, when something taps my shoulder.
I nearly jump out of my skin and let out a blood-curdling shriek. When I see Bryn, I let out a short-lived sigh and rip the earbuds out of my ears.
“What the hell?” My hands are full of furniture oil and I probably just ruined my earbuds. I glare at Bryn. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Seattle this week.”
Bryn looks like the typical American superhero. Actually, no, he looks like a really hot villain. His jaw is so square that you could use his face to cut glass. The rest of him is beautiful, sculpted cheekbones, a firm brow, firm lips, dimples in both cheeks, sandy brows, bronzed skin, and soft sandy hair to match that overhangs his forehead and curls around his ears. It’s his eyes that would downgrade him from that hero status to that of a brooding, tortured villain.
They’re green. Well, they’re not just green. They’re this crazy jade hue that is so different from any other hue I’ve ever seen before. They’re almost otherworldly. He’s broody on the outside with storms in those sea jade eyes, and something even worse happening on the inside.
My palms go damp and I clench my hands, blaming it on the oil. I’m embarrassed that I look like a scrub, crop sweater exposing my dark midriff, high waisted black jeans that are faded and ripped and are so past their prime that they’ve been worn buttery soft. Bryn saw me dancing. In jeans that basically look like they’re painted on. Not only that, but I look like I’m straight from the nineties grunge scene and Bryn looks more like he belongs in the pages of a magazine or on a billboard in his expensive, immaculate charcoal grey suit jacket, matching slacks, black dress shirt, and his brooding scowl.
Something about his expression makes me nervous. I gulp and wipe my oily, sweaty palms on my jeans. “I was just finishing up and going.”
He doesn’t say anything He hasn’t said one word.
“Uh, your laundry is in the dryer. I’ll fold it. I’ll grab the suits and shirts that need to go to the cleaners. I still have to mop the kitchen floor. I can come back tomorrow if you’re not going to be here, or I can finish up if you want to go grab something to eat. You’re probably hun—”
That’s as far as I get before Bryn obliterates the space between us, his massive stride eating up the floor in a few seconds. He grips my shoulders in impossibly huge palms. I’m so startled that I don’t pull away. I don’t do anything but stare up at him stupidly, my mouth parted to make actual words, but nothing coming out.
He bends his head like this is some kind of messed up dream, like I haven’t been cleaning his house for a year, like I belong here, and crushes his lips to mine.
Chapter 2
Bryn
“Are you freaking drunk?” Taye plants her hands on my chest and shoves me back. She wipes the back of
“Not drunk.”
I watch as Taye rushes over to the kitchen sink and rinses her mouth out with water. She’s tall, stacked and gorgeous She’s curvy, but not overly so. Nice breasts, long legs, sweetly curled hips and an ass to die for. I just about did when I walked in and got a load of her dancing in her skin tight skinny jeans. Normally, she’s not so conservative with fashion. She likes off-beat things, vintage finds, bright colors, crazy stuff like those flats she owns that are cats, complete with the ears and the pink noses. She has eclectic taste. She likes to dye her curly hair different colors. I imagine she nearly fried it to a crisp bleaching it so much to bring out the crazy shades she chooses. Currently, it’s a toned down dark purple.
For all her cray taste, she never wears much makeup. Just a little here and there. She has huge dark eyes, long lashes, a perfect nose, full lips, and a sweet, heart-shaped face. She doesn’t need makeup to make her beautiful. She knows it too. Not in the arrogant kind of way. She’s just comfortable in her own skin, and that is the trait that is probably most remarkable about her, if you don’t count her loyalty to her friends and family and her incredible kindness.
Take me for example. She found me wallowing in a hell of my own making and did her best to pull me out of it, even if it made her really uncomfortable. She kept the inner workings of my not so shiny life a secret. She’s the reason I still go to work in fresh clothes and come home to a house that isn’t a sty.
I work. A lot. Having Taye there to do all the things her sister used to so effortlessly beats paying a whole bunch of different people to do it. I’d rather the money went to Taye.
“You asshole!” Taye seethes. She doesn’t usually use strong language. She shuts off the tap and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand again. “I can’t believe you did that. What were you thinking?”
That you were too sexy, dancing around without a care in the world, not to pull you into my arms and kiss you.
I stand there, staring at her. She stares back. Her nostrils flare with anger and her eyes widen. I know I’m pissing her off more by not answering, but I don’t have a suitable response.
Take your pick from one of the following: It’s really irresponsible to have feelings for you because I was with your sister for thirteen years, but I think I do, although I’m slightly emotionally bankrupt, so maybe I’m not totally sure. Or, I wasn’t thinking. From the second I walked in and saw you dancing, I was hard as a fucking stone. My brain kind of short circuited and I was thinking with my dick. The only appropriate course of action it decided on was that kiss. Or, I just found out that Cozzie and Trell are engaged and I don’t know why, but for some reason that made me feel completely fucking haywire inside and you were the first person I saw after my mom told me. Or, I just really, really wanted to kiss you. I didn’t think about it at all. I just did it.
None of those are going to cut it and each option is just going to make Taye more pissed off, I’m sure. I can’t undo what I just did, and, truthfully, I really didn’t think about it. It was probably a combination of everything on my mental shit list and whatever feelings I might be capable of actually producing. “Did you like it?”
“Did I…what?”
I run a hand through my hair. It’s getting long again. I need a haircut right away. I’ve known that for over a week, I’ve just been too busy to bother with it. “Did you know that your sister and Trell are engaged?” Shit. Fuck. That was not what I meant to say. All I can do is stand here and keep a straight face. What I really want is to sit down at the table Taye was just polishing and ask her if she’d like to order pizza because I’m starving, tired of being on the road, exhausted, and jetlagged. Oh, and lonely. Not that I’d admit to that one.
Now Taye’s the one with a good poker face. Her lips are pursed. Her stance wide, ready for battle, her hip thrown out against the island with the butcher block top in the middle of the kitchen. She doesn’t move a muscle. Damn. She’s really good at this game.
“I’m going to ask you again, what were you thinking? If you don’t have an appropriate answer for me, the only thing you’ll be kissing again is my maid services goodbye.”
I nearly snort. “That’s witty. Did you come up with that on the spot?”
Taye flips me off and rolls her eyes at the same time. “The extra money is nice, but it’s not worth the hassle. I’m done.”
“Taye, come on.” I edge into the kitchen, using my best tired, pissed off mother sounding voice.
Taye sees me coming and of course she’s fast. She rounds the other side of the island as I try to get close. She’s not her sister, that’s for sure. Cozzie never swore at me and she put up with a lot of my bullshit over the years, all with a smile on her face. Even when she didn’t love me. Even after I told her I didn’t love her. God, she still does, whenever we all hang out together. Jake and Arla, Breona and Karsyn, Trell and Cozzie. I’m the odd man out in our friend group now. It used to be Trell, but we switched places. Taye just hangs out with us whenever Cozzie drags her out and she doesn’t mind flying solo.
“You come on! You can’t just walk in here—”
“I thought it was my house.” I smirk at her, but she’s unaffected by the lazy curl of my lips. Probably the one woman in the universe.
“It is your house,” Taye snarls. “But my body belongs to me and me alone. There are boundaries. Personal space. You don’t just tug someone into you and kiss them. You don’t just—” She’s strangely breathless, her chest heaving under that crop sweater. She’s standing just far enough from the island that I can see the indent of her abs as every single breath zips them in.
“Just what?” I curl my brow up, waiting. “Finish your sentence. I don’t just what?”
Taye stands a little straighter. Her hand grips the edge of the island for dear life though. “This is about my sister and Trell. That’s why you kissed me. It’s gross. It’s wrong. It’s just some weird form of spiteful vengeance, which is just petty given that you were the one who told Cozzie that you didn’t love her and you’ve both admitted you weren’t in love for years and you’ve been single for a year. You’ve had a lot of time to get used to the idea of you not being together and her being with Trell. Doing this isn’t going to make Cozzie jealous and it’s not going to make you feel better.”
“You’re wrong. I feel a lot better already.”
“You’re disgusting,” Taye snorts. “If I had another piece of cake, I’d smash it into your face all over again.”
“Is that your kink? Food fights?”
She stamps her foot in frustration. “You are such an unbelievable douchebag. Remind me why my sister put up with you for so long?”
“I might be a huge douchebag and your sister was a saint, but I’m not talking about her right now. Or Trell.”
“Yeah, you kind of were.”
I roll my eyes and spread my hands over the island, leaning in casually. “What’s the problem, Taye? Are you actually offended by the kiss or are you angry that you enjoyed it? If you’re conflicted, I can do it again…”
“You were almost my brother,” Taye squeaks.
“Brother-in-law. There’s a major difference there.”
Taye stands with an open mouth for so long that I’m surprised her jaw doesn’t become unhinged and drop off like an old rusty trap. “You were engaged to my sister!”
“Yeah, well, I’m not anymore. It’s been a long time. Now she’s engaged to someone else and I’m happy that she’s happy. You’re not answering my question. Are you conflicted?”
“About what?”
The fact that Taye is still there at all is pretty much an answer in and of itself. She’s pretending like she doesn’t know. Like she doesn’t care. She’s blasé, but I can see her hand tremble on the island. She won’t look at me, and Taye always makes eye contact. And most telling of all, she didn’t walk out that door when she said she was going to.
