Accidentally in Love with My Best Friend's Brother

Chapter 3

(Song: "How Many Drinks" by Miguel ft Kendrick Lamar)

Kiara

"Ms. Black, we're going to have to let you go."

I blink rapidly, trying to process what my boss, Mr. Davis, just said. "I'm sorry...what?"

"We must make budget cuts."

Liar. There's not an ounce of empathy on his stupid, tanned face.

"So was I like the first on the list or-" I can't help but raise my voice as I grow more upset.

"Ms. Black, it's been two years since you wrote a bestseller and no offense, but your romance novels are no longer drawing the attention of your audience."

Why do people say "no offense" when what they're about to say is going to offend the f**k out of you?

My face contorts with hurt and confusion. "So what you're saying is...my books are...boring?"

He clears his throat, gazing out the window of his office. "Look Kiara, your audience is looking for spice. The spicier, the better. Your latest manuscript has not one explicit scene in it, it might as well be YA," he continues, "I'm sorry, but no one is willing to publish it."

And I didn't think I could get more offended...

"If you can rewrite it with more spice, theres a chance we may bring you back on board, but for now, we have to let you go," he says stoically.

Universe, just f**k me right? First, my boyfriend cheats on me with my sister. I have to sleep in my damn car for the next month. Now, I'm getting fired from my job.

What a wonderful week I'm having (note the sarcasm).

"You know what, you don't have to fire me because I quit!" I exclaim, abruptly standing from the chair and storming out of his office without another glance.

I can feel the eyes of my former colleagues on me, but I keep my head down as I make my way to the elevator.

I manage to hold it in until I reach my car. I swear, this is the most I've cried since my boyfriend in kindergarten proposed to another girl with a ring pop.

I have maybe six months worth of living expenses covered. Six months to write a best-seller and find another agency to publish it.

Or I will lose everything.

Sooo, I'm going to need a drink. Like right f*****g now!

I pull up to the nearest bar using my GPS. It's practically empty inside except for the bartender and two other guys. Considering it's only noon, I'm surprised anyone is here at all.

I'm two drinks in when I hear the door swing open. Someone plops down beside me, but I ignore them. There's like ten different bar stools in here, why the hell do they have to sit beside me?

With a voice smoother than molasses, he asks, "what's a pretty girl like you doing in a bar like this?"

I recoil in disgust. The last thing I need is some guy hitting on me right now.

"Two more vodka tonics, please!"

"Put it on my tab, and I'll have a bud, please." The bartender nods in the man's direction.

Oh great, the asshole wants to play savior.

I scowl as the drinks land on the counter in front of us.

"You know, I can pay for my own drinks," I assert, still avoiding eye contact.

"Never said you couldn't, but someone as gorgeous as you shouldn't have to."

I learned early in life that guys don't do something nice unless they can get something out of it.

I roll my eyes. "Let me guess, what do you want in return? s*x?"

He chuckles deliciously. "If you're up to it."

"What?" I shriek, shooting the stranger a glare. My eyes widen as I'm completely captivated by the sight of the man in front of me.

He's handsome. Like drop-dead sexy. He has a beautiful, mocha-toned complexion with chiseled features, and hazel eyes that steal your breath away. I can tell he's tall and muscles ripple underneath his black t-shirt, exuding power and confidence.

"Like what you see?" he flashes a crooked grin, exposing his dimples. They are like deep craters of charm that only make him more irresistible.

I immediately hate him. Nobody should look this damn yummy. Nobody!

"No!" I snap, quickly turning away to hide my flushed cheeks.

Who the hell does this guy think he is? I've never seen someone be so direct, so f*****g sure of himself. It's absurd. It's infuriating. It's....wait, why can't I stop this heat from pooling between my legs?

"Why are you at a bar at noon on a Tuesday?"

I continue to avert my eyes from the sexy stranger. "I could ask you the same thing."

He hums. "Let me guess...some little boy broke your heart and you're feeling bitter, and plan to push away every man that tries to come into your life after him?"

I toss back another glass. "I bet if you caught your sibling sleeping with your significant other, you would be bitter too."

He's silent for a long moment. "I'm sorry, that really sucks."

He sounds sincere, but it's too late. He's already hit a sore spot.

"I don't need your sympathy," I bite out.

Damn, I actually might need to tone down the bitterness a bit. I'm starting to sound like a real b***h.

"Real men don't cheat."

"Well, I didn't see the signs until it was too late. I'm starting to believe there aren't any left," I mutter, downing the last cocktail.

"Well look no further, you're in the presence of one."

I laugh humorlessly. "Nice one. You use that on all the girls you manage to trick into bed?"

He shrugs. "Don't know, I don't usually approach women."

"Oh, so I'm special then?"

Ugh. I already know he's full of s**t. Why am I still entertaining him?

Maybe because he has my v****a throbbing like a second heartbeat.

"I'm interested in finding out, but before I do, just know I'm not the relationship type. I don't do love. I'm usually just the guy women f**k inbetween serious relationships."

I scoff. "Talk about being a cliche. I wonder how many guys have said "I don't do love," I use air quotes, mocking his voice, "I don't think me being bitter and you being the heartless playboy will mix well."

He chuckles, shooting me another arrogant grin. "I suppose you're right, but what's the harm if it's only one night?"

I swallow hard. I've only been with Jordan, so I've never even considered having a one-night-stand. I think back to how Jordan told my sister how boring I was. What if I actually suck at s*x? That would be so embarrassing, but also I would never see this stranger again after it happens, so what do I really have to lose?

While eagerly awaiting my response, he swiftly declines the bartender's offer for another beer.

"One and done?" I ask.

He nods, the muscle in his jaw ticking up and down. "Both of my parents are alcoholics. I make sure that s**t ends with me."

That reminds me of Candy. Watching her Mom's life be destroyed by alcohol, she has never laid a finger on it.

"Wow, my friend is like that too. She doesn't drink at all."

"Smart girl," he murmurs. "What about you? You know you can't just drink your troubles away."

"Hey, don't judge me! I've had a crappy week," I scowl back at him defensively.

I've only had like four or five now. I think.

Worry clouds in his eyes, but it's gone in a blink of an eye, replaced by a mask of indifference.

Suddenly, I fall out of the barstool, and strong arms swiftly wrap around my waist, stopping me from embarrassing myself further. "Woah, you okay?" his warm breath fans against the nape of my neck, sending tingles up my spine.

Or maybe that's just the alcohol.

He pulls me closer, his arms wrapping tightly around my upper body to keep me steady. I can feel the firmness of his abs pressing against my back, and I gasp.

He's even more ripped than I thought he was.

"That's enough for you, ma'am. Do you have someone to take you home?" the bartender asks, his voice laced with irritation.

How f*****g embarrassing. The room is starting to spin, and all I can do is giggle uncontrollably.

I would call Candy, but she's probably busy at work and I know after seeing me hammered like this, I would have to open up about my f****d up week and I'm still not looking forward to that.

So, my only hope is the sexy stranger.

I try to ask him to help me to my car, but my slurred words make it uncertain if he understood. He glares down at me, nostrils flaring, and firmly states, "No. I'm taking you home."