Page 43 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

"I don't know what you mean," he says.

"Bro, you know exactly what I mean."

Rhys looks at me for a long second, and something in his face settles into something unreadable. "She's Leon's sister."

"Yeah, I know, and?"

He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "You might want to start acting like it."

I feel my face harden. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He doesn't answer. Just holds my look for another beat, then leaves without another word.

My phone buzzes. I pull it out, half-annoyed, expecting Hunter with a time for our joint inspection.

"Still on for tonight, babe?"

Shit.

Not Hunter.

TEN

Rhys

"So the panel wants a demonstrated example," I say. "An actual time when you managed a conflict between two staff members and what the outcome was."

Wes nods along, pen moving fast across his notepad, actually taking notes, which tells me how seriously he's taking this. "And if I don't have one? Like, an actual example?"

"You've been doing the staffing rosters for three years now. I have absolutely no doubt you have one." I tap the printed selection criteria between us. "But if you have trouble thinking of one, don't worry, we'll have a chat, okay? You've got until Thursday." I start stacking his file, my tried and true tactic to signal I'm wrapping up the meeting.

"I'll send you my draft tomorrow." Wes gathers his things, stands. But instead of leaving, he says, "Hey, you're wearing The Fancy Shirt."

I inwardly groan. Seriously? What about me makes people think I would want to talk about my clothing? “What?"

He braces his hands on the back of his vacated chair. "You have eight work shirts, all nice, don't get me wrong. But you've got one special shirt, you wear it when you want to look especially nice, or when you've got an important meeting." He points at me, wiggling his fingers. "This one. The Fancy Shirt."

I don’t even look down. I know exactly what shirt I’m wearing. “This is a normal shirt. I mean, I ironed it this morning. Maybe that's why you think it's special?" Why am I even entertaining this conversation? I need to get ready for my next meeting.

"Dude. You iron every shirt. But I will give you this, this one is extra...starchy."

A loud knock turns us both to the door. Hopefully an actual work issue. It's not. Priti, the admin manager, efficient as anything, unless she's got a coffee in her hand, which is her sign she's looking for someone to gossip with. The one she's currently holding is the largest size they make.

"What are we talking about?" Priti says before taking a loud sip of her caramel macchiato.

"Rhys's shirt situation," Wes tells her with way too much delight.

"Oh, right, The Fancy Shirt." She comes in and plops herself in the chair. "And the cologne. He rarely wears cologne. Today he smells like he tripped and fell against the parfumerie wall in Sephora.”

"I wear cologne," I protest.

"He does," Wes says. "When he's wearing The Fancy Shirt."

"I have a meeting," I say pointedly.

"Oh, we picked up on that," Priti says. "The question is...who with?"

"Confidential."