Page 20 of Vegas with my Ex’s Best Friends

“Fair warning—”

“Liam.”

“—I was not anticipating a midnight hot tub situation when I got dressed this morning, or rather when I didn't get dressed this morning, so—”

“Oh my god.”

“—I'm suggesting, purely as a courtesy, that you maybe—”

“I am looking directly at the city of Las Vegas.”

“Wise.” The distinct sound of fabric hitting the deck, then someone entering the water. “You can look now.”

“I wasn't looking before.”

“You were a little bit looking.”

“I was absolutely not—” I turn back. Ethan and Andrew are already in, expressions perfectly neutral. Liam is stretched across the opposite ledge looking thoroughly, undeservedly pleased with himself.

“This is harassment,” I tell him.

“This is transparency.” He tops off my glass without being asked. “Very different.”

Ethan, without looking up: “He's not wrong. Technically.”

“Ethan.”

The corner of his mouth moves. Just barely. “Technically.”

It takes me longer than it should to realize what I'm wearing.

Simple black triangle top bikini. Something I'd worn exactly once before, when no one was home and didn't feel nearly as skimpy then.

What I hadn't factored in was this.

Three men. Eye level. Close enough that the water isn't hiding much of anything.

I adjust, subtle, like it doesn't matter.

It matters.

Liam notices first. Of course he does. His gaze drops for half a second—not crude or slow, just there and back again like he took it in and stashed it somewhere he'll revisit later.

Ethan doesn't move at all.

His attention settles—focused.

Andrew doesn't pretend. His eyes find mine, hold for one beat too long, then move down my body, slow and unhurried, before coming back up.

He shifts closer in the water. The casual drift that brings his knee against mine beneath the surface. It stays there. Not accidental.

He doesn't acknowledge it. Just reaches for his glass.

My pulse kicks anyway.

Liam raises his glass. “To surviving the Harrington investors.”

We drink. The clink feels like a small surrender.