He jumped when a knock sounded at the door. As he crossed to the door, he did one last visual sweep of the room and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Through the peephole, he glimpsed his brother and yanked open the door.
Stan brushed past him, turning back to him moments later with a disappointed frown. “Where is your walking hair disaster?”
He scowled, a warning for his brother to behave. “Her name is Meg, and she’s on her way. I told her to be here at six.”
Stan checked his watch. “Then I have ten minutes to get ready. Help me move this chair over by the window.”
After doing as his brother ordered, Matt helped him spread a cloth on the floor around the chair. When they finished, he said, “Can I ask you a favor?”
“You know you can ask me anything.”
“Pretend this is your room, not mine.”
His brother arched a well-groomed blond brow. “Starting out on a lie? Not smart, big bro.”
“You know I don’t want another girl who looks at the star catcher and sees an ATM for life.”
“Has Meg given any indication she’s after your cash?”
Matt squirmed. How was it his kid brother could make him feel like a disobedient five-year-old? “No.”
“Then why, Matty?”
“It’s too soon to tell her, Stan. Just trust me on that.”
“You can’t keep judging all girls by what happened with Lana.” When Matt didn’t reply, Stan pursed his lips and exhaled. “I’ll do it—if that’s what you really want.”
“It is.”
Just then, another knock sounded. Matt and Stan both headed for the door, but Stan stopped him by mouthing the words, “my room.”
Already beginning to question asking his brother to agree to the charade, Matt hung back. A second later, Stan opened the door with a flourish.
“Welcome to my room, my dear.”
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