Page 41 of Filthy Rich Ex's Brothers

I can do that—invest in my business—now that I have money from all these wealthy men flowing into my freelancing checking account.

“It’s a long hike,” Graham says, turning and walking toward a break in the fence. I huff and puff to catch up to him, looking wildly back toward the lot, where our two solitary vehicles sit like unlikely friends.

“Hey, wait.” I touch his wrist, pull back, and ask, “What about everyone else?”

Graham stops, turns back to face me. I can’t see his eyes through the polarized glasses. “…everyone else?”

“You know,” I blink and gesture back toward the cars. “Like, the videographer? Writers? Other people on your team?”

For an uncomfortable moment, we stand there, staring at each other.

Then, Graham sucks his teeth, nodding sharply. “I can see now why you would think more people were coming. No—I just need photos. The whole team came out before. All the other promotional materials are fine. Just the photos need re-taking.”

I stare at my reflection in his sunglasses, my heartbeat picking up slightly.

“You’re uncomfortable being alone with a man out here,” Graham says matter-of-fact, taking a step back from me and raising his hands. “That’s understandable. We can reschedule, and bring?—”

“No!” I step forward and take his wrist in my hand. Or, I try to. My fingers don’t touch. “Sorry.” I drop his wrist when he stares pointedly at the contact. “It’s okay. I was just surprised. You’re Ryan’s friend—that’s good enough for me.”

Graham studies me for a long moment, probably thinking that I’m stupid. If Georgia was watching this—in fact, ifanyof my roommates saw this—they’d make fun of my actions like thestupid girl in the horror movie who goes to check out the noise in the basement.

Yes, objectively, it is stupid for me to venture into the mountains with this man. With no cell signal. Relying on him for all our supplies. The best he could do is leave me behind. The worst is that I could end up on Dateline.

But Graham is high-profile. All my roommatesknowthat I’m here, even if they don’t know I’m alone with him. He’s Travis’s brother and Ryan’s friend. If he murders women in his spare time, it doesn’t make sense that he would pick me. It wouldn’t be ideal for the whole, not-going-to-prison thing.

“I’m not sure I want to know what you’re thinking,” Graham deadpans, looking between me and the path ahead. “But if we’re going, we need to go now. Daylight is wasting.”

“I didn’t know people actually said that,” I laugh, once again working hard to catch up with him. It’s already startlingly apparent that I am not in good enough shape for this.

Graham doesn’t laugh.

It’s going to be a long day.

The path starts out through grass—a strip mowed down shorter than the rest, which rises up and sways well over my head. Then, slowly, we’re enveloped by trees, which grow thicker and thicker as we move along.

The foliage is a vibrant, almost painful green right now, but I can see in the way the leaves move on their branches just how beautiful they’ll be come fall, when the state is plunged into a mix of yellow, orange, and red. I’m not afraid to admit that I love autumn, even if that makes me basic.

It’s a little chilly when we start out, but it quickly grows hot, so I’m shrugging off my jacket and tying it around my waist. Graham stops promptly every hour, spraying me down and forcing me to hydrate.

“Ticks out here,” he says at one point when I admit I have no idea what permethrin is. When I agreed to camping, I’d thought of it more like the few Girl Scout outings I’d been on—a park with hook-ups. Tents. Hot dogs and s’mores.

Notthis.Tromping through the woods, following a trail I’m not entirely convinced is really there. Graham is confident enough, pulling tree branches aside for me and navigating forks in the trail without any hesitation on where to go next.

“You need to eat,” he insists, pushing a granola bar into my face when we stop again. At least now we’re out of the sun, but even being in the shade, it’s sticky and humid. I lean against a tree and ask myself if this job is really worth the money.

I’d be lying if I tried to act like I didn’t say yes to it because of Graham himself. But he seems to have no interest in me. And even though he’s probably not going to murder me and leave me out here for the birds, I might die of a heart attack anyway. Then he’d have to deliver my corpse to my roommates, and none of them can afford a funeral.

“I’m not hungry,” I say, pushing the fruit and nut bar away and trying to reach around to get my water bottle from my bag. Graham plucks it out, hands it to me, then tries to push the bar into my hand again.

“You don’tfeelhungry,” he says, peeling the wrapper down like it’s a banana. “But your body needs fuel. Trust me.”

I glare at him, but he surprises me by taking a huge chomp from the bar. “Here,” he says, holding it out to me as he chews. “Take half, then.”

Stupidly, I take it, apparently happy enough to consume the remnants of his spit. I’m truly and completely fucked if this is thekind of thing I’m into now. So the man can take big bites—he’s large. It’s not that unusual.Lotsof men are big.

Still. I can’t stop thinking about what else on him might be… large.

The hike is torture. My entire body is sticky from the layers of bug spray and sunscreen Graham keeps coating me with. Sweat runs down from my hair and into my eyes, stinging with a particular fervor because of all the protective chemicals. And, to top it off, Graham doesn’t say a single word to me except when he feels I need to drink water, apply more sunscreen, or rest.