Three's A Crowd: A Best Friend's Older Brother Rom Com (Love in Apartment #3B Book 2)

by Everly Ashton

  It causes all the muscles in his arms and chest to bunch up in the most delicious way. A low thrum of arousal centers between my thighs.

  Oh my God. I’m lusting after Marlowe’s brother.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I need sex and not with Keane.

  Thankfully, he doesn’t notice my ogling. “All I can hear on the wall between our bedrooms is this weird scraping sound.”

  I’m still so stunned by the realization that I’m attracted—at least on a physical level—to this man that I miss the opportunity to get a jab in. “Sorry about that.”

  He blinks a couple times as if he too is surprised I didn’t dig in on him. “Don’t worry about it. Looks like you’re going to need a hand up there.” He points at the wallpaper I can’t seem to reach no matter how hard I try.

  “I can handle it.”

  “You clearly can’t reach that far up, otherwise it would be done. Why don’t you let me help you?” His hands land on the ladder, but I raise my hand between us to stop him.

  “I said I can do it. Just because you’re a man doesn’t mean you need to swoop in and rescue me.”

  He pushes his hand through his hair and shakes his head.

  Again with the bulging muscles. Damn it.

  “This has nothing to do with me being a man and everything to do with me being a foot taller than you. Just get down and let me help.”

  “I told you—I’ve got it.” I turn away from him.

  Unfortunately, I mistakenly look down and get little wobbly, so I grip the ladder tighter with one hand and stretch out with the other, pressing the scraper to the edge of the paper and pushing up.

  I don’t know if he’s still behind me or not, but I do my best to look as though I’m completely confident and not at all freaked out. I’ve almost gotten the paper off all the way up to the ceiling, but there’s one spot right near the top that’s being stubborn. As though Keane put some hex on it just to prove he’s right.

  I stretch some more, willing my body to extend to limits it’s incapable of. I reach too far forward and lose my balance. I grab at air as I free fall down.

  I yelp, but Keane’s arms wrap around me and he takes the brunt of my fall, letting out a gruff “oomph” when my weight crashes down on him. The air in the room stills as he slides me down his mostly naked body, my front to his, until my feet reach the floor. I look up, startled but wanting to thank him for saving my ass. But once our eyes lock, I’m unable to form any words.

  The naked skin of his chest is hot against mine and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if my chest were bare too. His arms remain wrapped around me, and his fingertips feel like individual brands on my lower back. While our gazes remain locked, our breaths mingle in the space between us. Mine grows shallow and my lips tingle with desire.

  A knock on the apartment door jolts us and we both take a startled step back.

  “I’ll get it.” I rush from the room, face heated from either arousal or embarrassment, I can’t be sure.

  When I open the door, a package is sitting on the floor. I bend to pick it up and see that it’s for Marlowe, so I set it on the entryway table and close the door.

  Keane heads toward the kitchen and doesn’t turn to look at me when he says, “Let me get some coffee into me, then I’ll help you with the parts you can’t reach.”

  Perfect. We’re going to pretend that whatever just happened between us, didn’t.

  “That’d be great, thanks.” I hurry back to my room and lean against the wall once I’m alone, letting out a rough exhale.

  What the hell was that? How can I possibly be attracted to the one man who drives me to the brink?

  Keane and I have been working in silence since he returned with coffee. Every time I open my mouth to say something, I shut it. There’s this weird awkwardness between us now, and as much as I’d like to play off the uncomfortableness like it means nothing—which it does, of course—I can’t get the words out. So we’ve been working in silence for the past couple of hours.

  I’m working on the last wall, pulling off the paper, when something catches my eye. It’s an envelope on the back of the wallpaper. This section of wall had a bit of a bulge and I expected to find a crappy repair job underneath, not an envelope.

  I set down the scraper and hop off the ladder with the swath of wallpaper in hand, then open the unsealed envelope.

  “What’s that?” Keane asks, walking over to me.

  “I’m not sure. It was on the other side of the wallpaper. Seems like whoever put it there didn’t use any glue around it.” I pull a piece of paper from the envelope. It’s a little damp, though not soaking wet, and I gingerly open it, letting the wallpaper with the envelope still attached drop to my feet.

  “Read it out loud.” Keane positions himself closer to my side. Even without showering, the man smells too good. Not fair at all.

  “It looks old,” I say and read the handwritten letter…

  The magic of this apartment has found you! Now you just have to believe. Someone special is coming your way and will have a major impact on your life. They will catch you when you fall and be your rock in times of trouble. Open your heart to them and your life will be better for it. Trust that the universe is sending you the right person. Could be, they’ve been standing nearby, waiting for the right moment all along.

  I glance at Keane and we lock gazes. His eyes are wide and look unsure. It’s not lost on me that he did, quite literally, catch me when I fell earlier and that he is in fact standing beside me now.

  I step away from him then turn around to face him. I hold up the limp letter. “This thing must be a joke.”

  “It’s like that one Jemma found.”

  I swallow, my throat feeling narrower than usual. I know what happened after Jemma found her letter—she found Ollie and ended up engaged. But there’s no way this letter has any real power, and even if it did, it couldn’t possibly be referring to Keane. I’m only thinking of him because of what happened earlier.

  “Maybe someone who used to live here is playing a joke.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Some joke.”

  “Whatever. It means nothing.” I toss the letter into the pile of wallpaper and climb back up on the ladder.

  “Whatever you say.” Keane heads back over to his side of the room to finish the section he’s working on.

  It isn’t until he’s gone and I’m cleaning up that some impulse has me pull the letter from the garbage and put it in my drawer for safekeeping. I don’t want Keane to be the one the letter is talking about but having a man in my life that I trust would be a welcome change.

  Ten

  Keane

  I met with the insurance adjuster at my old apartment earlier today. Thank God I had insurance for all my belongings. If I continue to live with my sister and Fiona, I’ll be able to put the money from the insurance company into my savings. Then I’ll only need another hundred thousand dollars to buy-in on the new restaurant.

  Jesus. A hundred thousand is no small feat. I’ve sent in my loan application at the bank. I’m not overly optimistic, but it’s the first step and one I need to take before I stomach asking my parents for help.

  Yesterday, I helped Fiona rid her room of wallpaper and oh yeah, we almost kissed. Fuck it. I’m calling it what it is. If I’d bent my head down, I have no doubt she would’ve let me kiss her, which surprised the hell out of me. I’ve always thought Fiona was hot as hell, with her light blonde bob and tiny frame, her fresh face and witty comebacks. Christ, she’s like my own drug concocted to make me an addict and bring me down.

  But she’s my sister’s best friend. Marlowe would probably cut off my nuts if I ever hurt Fiona, which I’d do. Fiona is meant to be someone’s everything, someone’s wife, and I’m not sure I’m capable of that kind of commitment. So instead I torture myself by taking jabs at her and raising her ire because Fiona irritated with me is hotter than hell. Yes, I’m a proverbial third grade boy in a
man’s body.

  I pull in and park behind the restaurant, finding Jacques’ car parked near the back door. Good. I want to touch base with him about going to see the building and let him know I’ve applied for the bank loan. I exit my Jeep and head in through the back door, stopping short when Annabelle is standing in the hallway as though she’s waiting for me.

  “Hey,” I say, giving her a small smile and walking past her.

  “Hey, Keane. How’s it going?” She follows me down the hall to the employee break room. “Have you heard anything about when you’ll get back into your apartment?”

  “Not yet. Met with the insurance guy today though. He says I should have my check to replace my belongings in a few weeks.” I open my locker and shove my bag with a change of clothes for after my shift inside.

  When I turn around, Annabelle is right there. Literally, no more than two inches separate us.

  “That’s good. It must be really hard being out of your place. Need to burn off a little stress?” She trails her finger down my chest, and I catch her wrist when she slides it below the waistband of my pants.

  “Nah, I’m good.” What is it going to take for this woman to clue in that there isn’t going to be a repeat of our drunken escapade?

  She frowns and yanks her wrist from my grasp. “You sure? I still can’t stop thinking about the last time.”

  Okay, it’s clear I’m going to have to be super obvious and spell it out. “Annabelle, what happened between us is not going to happen again. I’ve told you that. Repeatedly. We work together, and I never should have slept with you in the first place based on that fact alone. Please don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

  She steps back and crosses her arms. It’s hard not to glance down—because Annabelle is especially gifted in the chest department—but I’m not giving her any wiggle room to think I might back down about what’s happening with the two of us.

  “Fine. Have it your way. But you’re missing out.” She turns on her heel and stomps out of the room.

  I push both hands through my hair and rest them on the back of my neck, exhaling a long, tired breath.

  “That you I hear, Keane?” Jacques says from down the hall.

  I leave the break room and head to his office on my right. He’s seated at his desk, which is covered with various invoices from our vendors. When he looks at me above his glasses, he motions for me to have a seat.

  “Don’t get old. I can’t read shit anymore without these things.” He pulls his glasses off his face and tosses them on top of the papers on his desk.

  “Noted. I was hoping to catch you before the dinner rush.”

  “Oh?” He steeples his hands in front of him and raises an eyebrow.

  “I’ve applied for a loan at the bank for my buy-in. I should know within the next week or two.”

  He leans farther back in his chair. “You have a back-up plan? Banks aren’t generally the purveyor of dreams, at least for the self-employed.”

  “I have something in mind, but I want to see if this will work first.”

  He nods. “Great. I set up an appointment on Sunday afternoon for us to go see the building. I’ll text you the details.”

  Lightness fills my chest as my pulse picks up speed. “Can’t wait to see the space.”

  He holds his hand up in front of him. “Don’t get too excited. It’s not much at the moment. I’m pretty sure it needs a wrecking ball, but you’ll be able to see the lot and the surrounding area. Get a feel for what might work there.”

  “Looking forward to it. Thanks again for bringing me into the fold on this, Jacques.”

  He chuckles. “You might not be saying that once you’re dealing with all the bullshit that goes along with being a restaurant owner.”

  “Fair warning.” I thumb in the direction of the door. “I’m going to go get prepped for tonight’s service.”

  He waves me off. “Yep, go ahead.” I’m just outside the door when he says, “They shorted us on our duck order, so we’re going to have to figure out something else for the special tonight.”

  I turn and nod. “On it. I’ll let you know what I come up with after I see what we’ve got.”

  “Make it good.”

  I always do.

  The next day, I’m leaving my bedroom when I spot Fiona in hers, eyeballing a bunch of different paint samples she’s taped to the wall.

  “Can’t decide?” I say, leaning along her door frame.

  She turns to face me. “That’s it. We’re going shopping.”

  “Come on. You know you’d miss this view if I covered it up.” I grin and flex my abs.

  She rolls her eyes and goes back to looking at the paint samples—but not before her gaze dipped down to my treasure trail, much to my satisfaction.

  The samples she’s looking at are all various shades of pale yellow. Wouldn’t be my first choice, but I’m not surprised that it’d be Fiona’s.

  “Go with the one on the left,” I say.

  She plucks the one in the middle off the wall. “I think I’ll go with this one.”

  “Of course.” Far be it for her to agree with me on anything, even something as inconsequential as a paint color.

  She grins at me over her shoulder. “I’ll pick it up after I get back.”

  I push off the door frame. “Where are you headed?”

  “I’m going to the downtown area. There are some people I want to talk to. Try to get them to come use the services we have at the shelter.”

  “You’re going to talk to bums?”

  Her eyes narrow. “Homeless people. They’re people, Keane.”

  I raise my hands. “Sorry. You’re heading out on your own to go to an area with a bunch of homeless people, many of whom I’m sure are drug addicts?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going with you.” The words are out of my mouth before I have time to consider what I’m agreeing to.

  “I don’t need you to go with me.” She walks past me in the doorway, brushing against my arm, leaving a trail of vanilla and coconut scent behind her.

  I inhale deeply and follow her. She still uses the same shampoo she did in high school. Back then, any time my mom lit one of her vanilla candles, I’d be sporting a hard-on. I’m happy to report that I have much more self-control now.

  “You can’t go out there among a bunch of druggies on your own. It’s not safe.”

  She whips around at the archway to the kitchen from the living room. “Just because someone has problems doesn’t mean they’re a threat to me. Not everyone grew up in a two-parent nuclear family with a white picket fence like you. Sometimes people’s lives are hard, and they end up somewhere they never expected. It doesn’t mean they deserve to be treated as less than.”

  “You have no idea how I grew up, Squirt, so don’t go making assumptions.” My fists clench at my sides.

  Everyone always assumes that because my parents are happily married, my life must have been perfect. I might not have had an alcoholic mother or an abusive father, but I had my challenges just the same. Try growing up in a home where everyone only ever expects the worst from you, forcing you to fulfill the role you’re cast in.

  “You had it a lot better than some people.”

  “Okay, so I did. So what? That has nothing to do with keeping you out of harm’s way. I’m going with you. End of story.”

  She practically vibrates with anger. If there were anything within her arm’s reach, I think she’d be firing it at my head right now.

  Before she can, her phone screen lights up on the coffee table and plays the Jaws theme song. I step forward and see “Dad” flashing across the screen as the song continues playing. When I glance up to tell her who’s calling, all the fight and color has drained from her cheeks. Seconds ago, they were red with anger and now she’s as white as a cloud.

  We hold one another’s gaze as the eerie music continues. She makes no effort to reach for the phone. The song stops and the room shrouds in sile
nce.

  “Just let me tag along. I promise I’ll stay out of the way and keep my mouth shut.”

  She purses her lips and moves them around before relenting with a nod. “Fine. But I’m leaving in ten minutes. Make sure you stay out of my way. And please find some clothes.” With that, she disappears into the kitchen.

  I rush down the hall, take the fastest shower of my life, brush my teeth, and get dressed. Then we’re off.

  Eleven

  Fiona

  I can’t believe I agreed to let Keane join me. But he probably wasn’t going to back down, and then my dad called. I didn’t want to get into that conversation with Keane, so allowing him to come was an easy distraction.

  We exit our apartment building and I look back at him. He’s freshly showered, and his brown hair is still damp. The five o’clock shadow prominent on his jaw since he didn’t have time to shave makes him look sexier than normal. I curse myself inwardly for even noticing.

  “I’ll drive.” I walk us over to my van.

  “Not a chance.”

  I turn once I’m beside the van. “What?”

  “I wouldn’t be caught dead in your ride. We’ll take my Jeep.” He points toward the other side of the small parking lot where his red Jeep is parked.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my van. It gets me from A to B.”

  He crosses his arms and widens his stance. “It’s basically a chastity belt.”

  My mouth drops open. “It is not.”

  “Look at that thing.” He nods toward it. “It is a rolling advertisement that says do not look at me, do not find me attractive, and definitely do not try to get in my pants.”

  “You have such a way with words. Let the record show I don’t want anyone in my pants.” Wait, that’s not what I meant.

  He pauses, his smile deepening as if he’s forcing himself to hold back a smartass comment. I left the door wide open for him.

  “Sorry, but it’s true.” He walks toward his Jeep, not bothering to check if I’m following.