Page 95 of Filthy Rich Brother's Best Friends

I could definitely get used to this.

And that’s the terrifying part. Because the second I let myself breathe, the second I believe I’m allowed to have this—I’m afraid it will all disappear.

My phone buzzes with a text.

I glance down. It’s from Wes.

Wes: Call me when you can. Been hearing some shit I don’t like.

Shit.

“You okay?” Miles asks.

I take a sip of my coffee so I don’t have to answer.

“I should head back to my place,” I say.

“You good?” Jude asks, brow lifting.

“Yep.” I slide off the stool. “Super good. Just have to get going.”

I rush off toward the front door before any of them can ask anything else. I’m sure they’re wondering what the hell is going on but I need to talk to Wes on my own first before bringing the guys into the conversation.

I don’t need to deal with Wes flipping out over me sleeping with his two best friendsandhow I’ve very conveniently not mentioned to him that my studio is floundering.

The hem of Reid’s jersey flutters against the backs of my thighs as I step off the porch and into the damp grass. It’s only then I realize I’m not wearing shoes—or pants. Welp, too late toturn back now. I’m halfway to my own house when a car pulls up in the driveway.

Shit. Shit shit shitty shit.

Wes’s Tesla rolls to a silent stop and I stand frozen like a deer in headlights. He gets out before I can move. His eyes lock on mine—and then drop to my choice of clothing. I watch a series of emotions roll across his face. His eyes flick to the house next door and then back to me.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

There are about a million ways I can play this. I pick a lane and decide to play dumb.

“Hi. Nice to see you too.”

“We need to talk.”

I shrug and unlock the front door. He follows me inside.

“Are you kidding me with this shit, Lola? I came over to talk about your studio, and instead I get a front-row seat to whatever the hell is going on over here.”

“Nobody asked you to show up here at the ass crack of dawn, Wesley.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“So you’re barging in here to scold me about who I spend time with?”

“So, you’re admitting it then? You’re sleeping with him?”

“I didn’t say shit,” I shoot back. “Let me get this right. You saw me walking back from next door in Reid’s jersey and decided I must be sleeping with him?”

His silence says yes.

I cross my arms. “Well, thank god we’re jumping to conclusions.”

“You’re not wearing pants, Lola.”