Best Friend’s Big Brother: Older Man Younger Woman Romance (Tall, Dark and Handsome Billionaires Book 1) Read online

  Best Friend’s Big Brother

  Older Man Younger Woman Romance

  J. P. Comeau

  Copyright © 2020 by J.P. Comeau

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Best Friend’s Big Brother is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and occurrences are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a person, living or deceased, events, or locations is purely coincidental.

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  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

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  1

  Margo

  The Miami Beach sunrise was bright enough to awaken me long before my alarm clock went off. My fresh, crisp sheets were pulled up to my neck as I glanced out the window. Living close to the beach blessed me with breathtaking views directly from my bed, which was why I had positioned it so close to the window. I wanted to both see and hear the waves crashing against the shore first thing in the morning.

  The view was the only thing keeping me from having a mental breakdown that morning too.

  My feet hit the rug as I made my way into the bathroom to get ready for work, stopping along the way to chuck one of Nick’s T-shirts into the kitchen garbage. What a waste of time that relationship had been. He finally had the balls to end it after three months of stringing me along, but the jerk dared to do so right before Paris’s wedding. I had made it abundantly clear to him on numerous occasions how important this event was to me, and he had promised to be my plus-one.

  I should have known better.

  My skin looked quite pale in the mirror as I stood there, brushing my teeth over the sink while trying to snap out of my bad mood. I made a mental note to squeeze-in a spray-tan at the spa before the wedding, although it’d have to be later on that day after my hair and makeup clients. I rinsed my mouth and stepped into the shower, welcoming the water to cleanse my skin as though I were washing Nick out of my life.

  I decided to go with a natural makeup look for my job at the Lavender Dreams Spa, opting for neutral shades on my eyes, lips, and cheeks. Being forced to be a bridesmaid without a date had put me in a sour mood. But as I stared at the nude lipstick in my hand, memories of Nick chastising me popped into my mind.

  All that gunk makes you look like a prostitute.

  I chucked my nude makeup aside and chose a neon-pink blush and matching lipstick, and then brought it all home with a smoky eyeshadow. It would take one hell of a pleasant surprise to snap me out of that mood, but if any of Nick’s current girlfriends showed up at the spa again, maybe they’d gossip to him about me. And knowing that his face would grimace at the thought of my “looking like a prostitute,” put a little more pep in my step.

  While sliding into a pair of skinny jeans, a white blouse, and short-sleeved tan blazer, I once again considered backing out of the wedding altogether. The weight would be lifted off of my shoulders if I simply called Paris and said, “I’m so sorry, but I can’t be in your wedding after all. I’m afraid I contracted a stomach virus from one of my clients.”

  But that simply wasn’t an option when you were a bridesmaid.

  I cursed my unlucky stars while brewing some coffee to go, wishing I had never agreed to be in her stupid wedding anyway. The thought of being a bridesmaid without a date was mortifying, but it was too late to find a partner. Anyone I met on such short notice wouldn’t have enough time to be adequately vetted, and as much as I wanted to bring someone, I couldn’t allow myself to settle for just any guy.

  By the time I made it into work, I was fuming.

  I pushed through the glass doors painted with intricate lavender flowers and forced a smile at the receptionists sitting behind the large pink-and-purple marble desk. A few clients were waiting for their appointments in the lobby off to the right, fitted with large crushed-velvet couches, Victorian-style end tables full of bouquets, and a built-in waterfall that streamed down the wall—it was all very Zen. One of them helped herself to a cup of herbal tea while eating one of the baked goods Guadalupe had brought in that day. Knowing her, she had probably made the pastries herself.

  The spa's tranquility was starting to ease my stress, especially as I stopped to peer out the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the ocean. I may have to attend this wedding without a date, but I got to work and live in paradise.

  “There’s my favorite girl!”

  Guadalupe’s warm, motherly voice filled my office as I turned around to see her standing in the doorway, holding a cup of Cuban coffee in one hand and a coconut pastry in the other. Ever since I had started here almost a year ago, she had treated me as though I were her daughter instead of her employee.

  Which was fine by me. Between her inability to have children and my being so far away from home, it was a win-win for both of us.

  My eyes lit up as the smell of coconut came closer. “If you keep feeding me these pastries, then I might not fit into my bridesmaid dress!”

  Guadalupe set the coffee and pastry onto my desk before wrapping her arms around me.

  I often counted my blessings that I got to work for Guadalupe. The cosmetology industry was full of catty, bitchy women who hated each other for one reason or another. One girl I had graduated with from cosmetology school went into business with a woman who stole all of her clients, and I’d heard nightmares about some salon owners treating their employees like garbage.

  But Guadalupe was one of the sweetest women I had ever met.

  “What are you worried about, my dear? Men love women with a thick, curvy body! Especially when they’re alto, oscuro y guapo!”

  She sat down on the white couch with lavender-colored pillows opposite from my desk, and I sank my teeth into her delicious Cuban pastry. The flaky, buttery texture was exactly what I needed to put me in a good mood for the rest of the day. And her robust Cuban coffee was more potent than anything I could make at home.

  “Well, I’ll be on the lookout for any tall, dark, and handsome men at Paris’s wedding.”

  Guadalupe’s face didn’t hide her shock. “What are you talking about, love? Aren’t you taking Nick, or has that bastard ghosted you again?”

  Hearing her call him a bastard put another smile on my face. “I’m afraid he’s ended it for good this time, Guadalupe.” I turned around in my seat to make sure I didn’t have any more pictures of him
in my office.

  “That’s awful, Margo! You’re supposed to be a bridesmaid! How can a bridesmaid go to a wedding without an escort?”

  I simply nodded while devouring the rest of my pastry and washing it down with coffee.

  Please don’t remind me.

  “The worst part was, he sent me a text message to end it. The jerk couldn’t even do it face to face like a real man.”

  Guadalupe simply nodded as her body tensed. “Let me tell you something, dear. Nick was never good enough for you. I saw evil in his eyes when we met, but he seemed to make you happy, so I stayed quiet. A real man doesn’t waste your time, either.”

  I thought about other times when Nick had treated me like shit. On more than one occasion, he had blatantly flirted with waitresses while we were placing our order. And they’d flirt right back. In fact, the more I looked back on our dates, I realized that I had never gone home without feeling insecure. And whenever I’d mention it to him, he’d turn it around on me, saying that I was being needy and lacked self-confidence.

  Guadalupe was right, and deep down, I knew she had never liked him. Then again, mothers always knew when a man wasn’t good enough for their daughters. And as much as I loved my mother, I kind of wished Guadalupe he had been my real one. She reached out and held my hand, using her fingers to rub mine.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. It should still be a fun time, though.”

  Guadalupe cocked her head at me and raised a perfectly arched brow while leaning back onto the couch. “You’re not thinking of canceling, are you?” Nothing got past her.

  “If I weren’t a member of the bridal party, then yes, I would back out. It’ll just be so embarrassing to be the only one at the wedding without a date. And the more I think about it, Guadalupe, the more I think that I will cancel. But please don’t say anything if I do, though.”

  She straightened her petite frame as she stood and put her hands on her hips, staring at me in a motherly fashion. “Now you listen to me, Margo. There are worse things in this world than showing up to a wedding without a date. You are far too young and beautiful to let this bring you down. Look at it as a blessing! Remember how Nick used to flirt with other women in front of you, at your job no less?”

  My eyes narrowed as a knot formed in my stomach, remembering that I’d caught Nick being a little too talkative with a temporary receptionist and some clients in the waiting room. He’d seen me standing there and just smiled, as though he hadn’t done anything wrong.

  I cringed at the memory. “Of course I do, Guadalupe.”

  “Now just think about how he’d act at a wedding after a few drinks. You’d probably end up being his babysitter. So no, I won’t tell anyone about you canceling because you’re not going to. Have I made myself clear?”

  Both of us giggled at the same moment, and I nodded. Guadalupe kissed me on the cheek and walked back out into the spa, which she owned with her husband, Yuslan. I had loved her as a mother after my very first interview and told myself that even if they didn’t hire me, I’d definitely become a customer at Lavender Dreams Spa.

  I went to get another coconut pastry and cup of her delicious Cuban coffee and paused a few feet short of my office on the way back. At the end of a long hallway full of massage rooms, clients chose which oil they wanted the massage therapist to use on their skin. The client in the room next to mine had gone with lavender, my favorite scent. It wafted under the sturdy door and into the hallway. I stood there for several minutes with my eyes shut, inhaling deeply, and appreciating the calming, floral aroma until another door opened.

  “Good morning,” I said to a woman who had paused there in a plush, terrycloth robe.

  She seemed concerned about why I was just standing in the hall with my eyes closed, but I wasn’t about to tell her. Instead, I smiled and went into my office and closed the door.

  When I had started at the spa, I had never expected to have an office. The other salons I had applied to had a casual setup where clients checked in with the receptionist, and you were lucky if you found a seat at the break room table.

  But not at Lavender Dreams Spa.

  My office was nearly the size of my bedroom and provided me with stunning views of the shore. Once the door was closed, it was almost impossible to hear anything in the hallway, and I often used the time between clients to write in my journal or read a book.

  According to my schedule for the next few days, I had three more clients than I did last month.

  Thank God.

  Their treatments included everything from basic haircuts to coloring, along with a few extension requests. It was so fulfilling to sit a client down in the chair and transform their hair into something completely different. My favorite treatment was changing someone’s hair color to an entirely different shade and then seeing their face light up in the mirror.

  Thankfully, nobody had complained about the final results yet.

  My first client wasn’t until ten o’clock that morning, which gave me some time to relax and get ready. I fought every urge to look at Nick’s social media accounts during that time, too. Guadalupe was right about him. He had a wandering eye, and there were several instances where I had questioned his faithfulness.

  Even though I was still livid that he had dumped me right before the wedding, I had started to see it from Guadalupe’s point of view. Once Nick began drinking, he became a party boy without limitations or a filter. He would have flirted with other women at the wedding, and that would have made me look like a fool.

  It still sucked that I wouldn’t have a date, though.

  Remembering that I wanted to get tanned before the wedding, I quickly scheduled an appointment later on that day after all of my clients. Maybe I’d end up meeting someone Guadalupe would approve of, but of course, he’d have to be alto, oscuro y guapo to measure up to her standards.

  2

  Chase

  The gorgeous blue sky in Key Biscayne, Florida, welcomed me home as the airplane pilot announced that we’d be landing shortly. I hadn’t planned on spending so much time in San Francisco, but the proffered deal for my latest round of cellphone software was too good to pass up. It was a profitable exchange that would only serve to expand my business ventures in the technology world.

  The only downside to a successful business trip was an unsuccessful social life. Coming home to an empty place did bring me down a little bit, even when I tried not to focus on it.

  As I looked down into the ocean, a few sharks swam far away from the shore while people sunbathed. The scenery was one of the many reasons I chose to call Key Biscayne my home. It would have been nicer to know that I was returning home to a woman waiting for me, but I couldn’t have been more single.

  After grabbing a bottle of water from my carry-on bag, I tackled the massive pile of emails demanding my attention.

  I knocked out the first group regarding my company’s laptops, which had consistently been the number-one selling brand for several years. Competitors simply didn’t stand a chance against the models we put out, which featured cutting-edge technology and software nearly impossible to hack, and it was all exclusive to our brand.

  After replying to those that warranted a response and forwarding the others for someone else to handle, I moved to the next batch. My televisions line was the second bestseller on the market. And while I couldn’t stand that we weren’t number one, I was still proud of that position. The amount of time and effort that my team and I had put into creating that technology should have yielded us the number-one spot, but it gave us something to strive for.

  But it was my home security products that took up the bulk of my email and gave me notoriety around Key Biscayne. Most of the people I knew had it installed in both their homes, vacation properties, and businesses. One of my neighbors had even contacted me while I was out in San Francisco, thanking me because it had helped to stop an intruder from getting too far onto his property.

  That’s what I loved most about what I d
id for a living. Even though I was a billionaire and could practically swim in all of the money I had earned, knowing that people truly enjoyed and benefited from my products satisfied me. And I took pride in staying hands-on with the technology and its creation.

  As we got closer to landing, I wondered if I would ever feel the satisfaction I did in my career in my personal life. I loved going to work, and I wanted to love coming home. People would do just about anything to have my life between my luxury sports cars and trips around the world, but I always dreaded returning. To me, it was nothing more than a big house, because a home had a wife, kids—a family. I didn’t even have a dog.

  When I was first looking for a place to live in Key Biscayne, I knew I wanted a Spanish-style mansion—a place that had charm and lots of character. But I soon discovered that all of the beautiful crown molding and fancy, handmade tile in the world didn’t make for a happy life, just a stunning home.

  Having people waiting for your return made you happy.

  I had tried discussing my thoughts with some of my friends, but they just shrugged it off. The theory—regardless of its validity—being that it wasn’t masculine to want someone to share your life with, and the only reason men got married and had kids was to maintain a certain image. I lived in a social circle where if you wanted to be a successful businessman, then it was true, you needed to come off as every bit of a family man when you reached a certain age. Especially if you wanted to become a politician.