Page 56 of Filthy Rich Brother's Best Friends

I don’t even say hello as I slide into the booth. The drink is at my lips before my ass has even hit the vinyl. I take a long sip before speaking and I almost groan. I didn’t realize how badly I needed this—her, the tequila, the break from pretending I’m fine.

“Okay.” I exhale a long breath. “Where do I even start?”

Harper leans in. “From the top. Full download. Don’t skip the hot parts.”

I don’t. I start with the studio—how the rent has gone up again and my savings are circling the drain. I tell her about Jude showing up with smoothies. Then Reid showing up with drama.I tell her how Miles saved my ass with a simple tech fix without making me feel like an idiot.

By the time the second round hits the table, I’m tipsy. Which is maybe why I tell her that despite everything, I still want all three of them desperately.

Harper’s her usual supportive self—swearing vengeance on Reid and offering to slash Sierra James’s tires for good measure.

By the time the third margarita arrives, I’m starting to slur my words a bit.

Harper’s already several pages deep into a dramatic retelling of how she once hooked up with a guy who tried to “reiki” her during foreplay when I interrupt her with a loud groan and drop my head into my palms.

“I’m going to lose my damn mind,” I mutter into the table.

She snorts into her drink. “Too late, my love. You probably lost that around the time you let Reid Morgan anywhere near your vagina.”

I glare up at her. “Okay, not fair. I didn’tlethim. He barged in.”

Harper lifts one perfectly groomed brow. “Into your studio or your pants?”

I wince. “Both.”

“So what’s your excuse for the brunch incident? You know, the one where you let him diddle you under the table—in front of your brother—mere moments after you let Jude fuck you stupid.”

I pick up my glass and drain what’s left. “I obviously have brain damage. Jude’s dick broke something in my head.”

Her laugh is sharp enough to draw attention from the next table, not that she cares. She never does. “God, you’re a disaster,” she says fondly. “I love it so much.”

“You don’t understand,” I say definitively. “It’s not just the sex. It’s him. Reid is infuriating. He’s smug and impossible and Ihate him. But his hands—Jesus, Harper—his hands are insanely good.”

She grins. “Go on.”

“He’s so hot it makes me angry,” I say, gesturing wildly with my half-empty glass. “It’s actually offensive. That jawline? That smug ass fucking smile? Rude.”

Harper raises both brows, clearly delighted. I keep going.

“And don’t get me started on the tattoos. Or the fucking voice. All low and gravelly andugh. He could narrate sex dreams the way Morgan Freeman narrates…everything else. I can’t think straight when he talks. It short-circuits my brain.”

She starts to say something and I talk over her.

“And the worst part? Heknows. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He walks into a room and it’s game over. He’s cocky and smug and so fucking hot. It’s—” I stop.

I’m seeing things. I must be. That is the only explanation for the hallucination I am currently having. Because there is no way that Reid Morgan is standing at the far end of the bar right now.

Did I summon him with my thoughts? Or maybe I cursed myself by saying his name too many times. It must be the second one because he’s not alone.

He has a drink in one hand, the other rests casually on the bartop. His fingers are close enough to graze the polished nails of the woman beside him. She’s beautiful and everything I’m not: tall, tanned, wearing a barely-there dress and heels that make her legs look even longer than they already are.Who is this bitch?

Meanwhile, I’m over here looking like I just rolled out of the laundry bin.

She tosses her head back when she laughs, reaching out to brush his forearm. He doesn’t stop her. If anything, he leans into the touch.

This isn’t some casual conversation with a fan. They’reflirting.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Reid’s a playboy through and through. He flirts the way other people breathe. It’s not like there’s an agreement between us. We didn’t label anything. And I’m not exactly an innocent bystander. I’ve been sleeping with his roommate. There’s no version of this where I get to be mad.