Page 67 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

He smirks. "Sure it was." Delighted, he crosses his arms. "Or. Hear me out. You've finally cashed in on some of that attention you get every single night." He starts listing them off on his fingers, entirely too pleased with himself. "The redhead who pays for drinks with hundreds, telling you to keep the change. The two best friends who sit at the end of the bar after their pilates class every week who keep asking you to judge which of them is more flexible. Steph's sister who's been asking about you for weeks. I mean...if you were just a little more open-minded, that would make for an interesting night, right?" He waggles his eyebrows at me. "So? Which is it?"

"Yeah, you guessed it,” I say, deadpan. "Finally went home with one of my employees and her recently divorced sister. I mean, tall, leggy blondes are exactly my type, you know that. Turns out not having a gag reflex is a family trait.”

That's exactly when Alexia's bedroom door opens.

She's dressed for work, hair loose down her back, bag already on her shoulder. She stops at the sight of us standing outside her door.

For one long, awkward second, none of us say anything. There's absolutely no way she didn't hear the end of what I'd said to Marcus.

I open my mouth to explain, but I don't get the chance.

"Morning," she mumbles and moves right past us to the kitchen.

Marcus mumbles something to her, scratching the back of his neck as she passes.

I start to move to follow her when Marcus stops me. “Hey, did you see Leon's text last night? You know, in between giving Steph and her sister a throat exam with your tongue presser."

I groan and shake my head at Marcus. Yes, he's one of my best friends, and I'd take a bullet for him. But sometimes I'd also be the one smothering him with a pillow.

"Yeah, I did," I answer. "We should all have a conference call later."

He frowns. "Why? I mean you're on board with moving to the new site when it's up and running, right?"

It's a sore point, the assumption that I'll always be the one going site to site. Not their fault — I've never given them reason to think otherwise. But sometimes I want to see the bigger picture, a future where I'm more than a glorified bartender. "Like I said, we'll talk."

"Of course, bro, if that's what you want. But, something's up with you recently. Maybe that's the thing we should actually be talking about."

Yeah. No. That's not happening.

Rhys chooses that moment to come out of his room, also dressed for work, looking like he got about as much sleep as I did.

"You're up early too," Marcus says, swinging around, happy to find a new target. "What's your excuse?"

"Early meeting." Rhys doesn't elaborate and I'm not entirely convinced.

"It's barely seven a.m.," Marcus says, voice edged with suspicion.

"Really early meeting," is all we get in response.

As he adjusts his tie, he glances toward the kitchen, sees Alexia pouring coffee into a travel mug with an almost inhuman focus, and something shifts in his expression.

"You've got to be kidding me," he mutters, mostly to himself. Then he takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and heads in there before either of us can ask any questions.

Rhys grabs a banana off the fruit bowl, then stands to the side, staring at a spot on the kitchen cabinet about a foot from Alexia's head as she finishes making her coffee. She looks up, startling as if she hadn't noticed him there and then clears her throat. “Oh, hi,” she mutters.

He just nods wordlessly. Guess she doesn't get more out of him this early either.

Once she passes him, his jaw twitches as he steps into her spot in front of the coffee machine, bracing his hands on the counter, head dropping as he takes a deep breath.

Without glancing our way, she grabs her keys off the hook and is out the door before I can say a word to her.

"Anyway, message a time into the chat, and we'll set it up, okay?" Marcus says, slapping me on the back as he wanders into the kitchen. He steps down on the pedal of the bin, about to throw away a wad of tissue when he stops.

"What—" He crouches down and comes back up holding a large foil-wrapped parcel. "Is this..?” He unwraps a corner and looks up at us. "This is the chai banana bread she made last night. Why did she throw it out?”

He breaks off a piece and before either of us can stop him, he pops it into his mouth. Both Rhys and I make a noise somewhere between disgust and disbelief.

"That's out of the bin, mate!" I shout.