Читать книгу Drive Me Wild - P.J. Mellor - Страница 9

“N o way in hell.” Ryan Wright squinted in the late afternoon sun at his twin brother, Braedon, and wondered what kind of mess his sibling had gotten himself into this time.

“Please.” Braedon cleared his throat, and took a draw from the sweating longneck before setting it back on the sun-bleached wood table between them. He glanced nervously around the deck of the deserted ice house before zeroing in on his brother again. “You loved the twin trick when we were kids.”

“We’re not kids now. We weren’t kids the last few times, in fact.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice. I’ll never ask you for another thing. I swear.”

“You swore last time.” Ryan stood and threw some bills on the table, trying to ignore the way the hairs on the back of his neck stood on alert whenever he was near his twin brother. “Not only did it cost me several thousand, it damn near wrecked my life.”

Braedon’s hand on his arm halted Ryan’s exit. “Please. Don’t you think you’re the very last person I’d ask for a favor?” He gave a bark of laughter. “Unfortunately, you’re the only one I can ask. The only one who will do. What do you want me to do? Beg? I’ll beg. Hell, I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to help me, to agree to do this just one more time.” He raked a hand through his short blond hair. “This is my life we’re talking about here,” he added in a strangled voice.

“My God, what kind of trouble are you in?” Ryan sank back into his chair and gauged his brother’s expression. In his experience, Braedon’s face told him more than his mouth. And right now it was telling Ryan his brother was scared shitless.

“I made some, uh, less than solid investments, took some chances that didn’t pan out.” He held up his hand. “I know, we all do that occasionally. But I thought I could fix it. I took out a loan. Then another. And another.”

Dread clawed at Ryan’s stomach. “I get the feeling these loans weren’t from a bank.”

Braedon scrubbed at his face and shook his head.

“How much?” Despite his firm resolution to not aid his irresponsible brother again, he reached into his open sport coat for his checkbook. When Braedon remained silent, Ryan looked up, pen poised.

“More than you can float me, this time,” Braedon said in a choked voice.

“How much?” Ryan asked again.

“Eight hundred would get them off my back for a while.”

“Only eight hundred dollars? Sorry, bro, but I don’t understand how you can be so bent out of shape over eight hundred dollars.”

“That’s eight hundred thousand dollars… bro. And, like I said, it’s only a payment.”

Ryan stopped writing.

“I can’t help you this time,” he said, closing the checkbook and slipping it back into his coat.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, big brother. Like I said, you’re the only one who can. And it won’t cost you anything except a few days out of your life.”

Ryan wrestled with the pros and cons. He’d told Braedon he was finished with him and his stupid get-rich-quick schemes and shell games, that he was tired of bailing him out every time he turned around. He paused, swallowing the dread. Then again, he did have some vacation time coming. He had no plans. And Braedon did look desperate. And he was his brother.

His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll pretend to be you. Just one more time.” At Braedon’s triumphant smile, he gripped his younger brother’s shirt and drew him closer until their noses touched. Eye to eye, he said, “But I swear to God, this is the last time I’m bailing your sorry ass out. And there have to be some ground rules.”

Braedon’s blue eyes took on the cool turquoise Ryan had come to recognize as cocky arrogance. He tugged his wifebeater T-shirt from his brother’s fists and stepped back with a satisfied smile. “Thanks. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” His gaze scanned Ryan head to toe. “You’ll need to lose the pretty-boy haircut. No one will believe my hair grew overnight.”

“What about your job? I don’t even know where you work these days.”

“No problemo. I’m currently on permanent hiatus. I plan to find a better job, anyway.” He dug in the pockets of his jeans. “Here’s my license, and the keys to my car and my apartment. And my cell. Now give me yours. Then we’ll switch clothes and shoes.”

“Wait. You haven’t heard my stipulations.”

Braedon heaved a sigh and shifted his booted feet on the deck. “Go on.”

“You will not contact anyone in my address book, either on the cell or my computer. I have some vacation time coming, so you don’t have to worry about going into the office. You are not to touch or even look at my stock portfolio. I mean it. No selling or trading, no matter how great of a deal you think it is. And I expect you to treat my home and my belongings, including my clothes, with respect. Is that clear?”

“Man, I told you the fire was an accident.”

“Is that clear? Because if it’s not, I’m not doing this.”

“Yeah, okay, it’s clear.”

“And one last thing.”

Braedon arched his brow.

“Don’t sleep with anyone I know this time.”

“That wasn’t my fault—”

“I don’t care. Swear to me you won’t sleep with anyone I know. Swear, or I call the whole thing off.”

“I don’t care if you sleep with anyone I know.” Braedon held up his hands. “Okay, I swear. I swear.” He looked across the parking lot at the highway. “Not that I’d be attracted to the skanks you date anyway.”

Ryan took a deep breath in an effort to relieve the tension radiating into his shoulders. This was such a bad idea on all levels. But he’d do it. Just one more time.