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

by Everly Ashton

  “Here, let me turn the heat on before we get going.” Keane adjusts the controls so warm air comes through the vents.

  As he works to turn the vents so they all blow right on me, I can’t fight my smile. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought Keane had this side to him, let alone did I think he’d ever direct so much energy to please me. Not only did he plan this wonderful date in a picturesque setting, but he made an extra effort to prepare food I’d enjoy.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect from today. Frankly, I thought he might turn on one of his war documentaries, order delivery, and call it a date. But this is so much more. And it only makes me want to discover so much more about him. What else is hidden under his cocky, self-assured exterior?

  “That better?” he asks.

  “Much, thanks.”

  With a nod, he shifts the Jeep into reverse, checks his mirrors, and pulls out of the parking spot.

  Once we’re back on the highway headed home, I shift in my seat to face him. “Thank you for today. It was a pleasant surprise.”

  He glances over and raises an eyebrow.

  “You put a lot of effort into planning today.”

  He links his hand with mine, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “I don’t know what kind of guys you’ve been dating, but you absolutely deserve someone who’s going to woo you.”

  I smile. “Is that what you’re doing? Wooing me?”

  He winks. Something that would have drove me mad a few months ago, but I now somehow find endearing. “How am I doing so far?”

  “A plus.”

  He squeezes my hand and I turn back to face the road. A few seconds later, my phone rings inside my purse, the Jaws theme song playing. I tense, knowing it’s my father and knowing Keane does too.

  “You gonna get that?” he asks.

  “No,” I say more curtly than I would usually. All the amorous feelings from earlier are replaced by bitterness and disappointment.

  “Can I ask you something?” he asks, and I look at him. “Have you spoken to your dad since he was released from prison?”

  All these years later and still the words “prison” and “my dad” in the same sentence nauseate me.

  “I haven’t spoken to him since he was convicted.” I cross my arms over my wet chest. Even with the blasts of hot air, it’s cold once again.

  “That’s a long time.”

  “Yup.” I hate talking about my father, and judging by Keane’s reaction when I didn’t answer my dad’s calls, I’m worried he’s going to continue to pry.

  Silence fills the Jeep like a heavy blanket weighing down upon us until Keane speaks again. “Don’t you think you should—”

  “Keane, I was having a really nice time with you today. Let’s not ruin it by discussing my father, okay?”

  He looks at me and nods before returning his attention to the road. But the damage is done. The rest of the ride home, the energy with us shifts to strained silence.

  Damn it. My dad ruins any happiness I find.

  That afternoon on my way into work, I stop at the grocery store because Adam texted that they have items due to expire soon that I’m welcome to have for the shelter. I pull up behind the store and ring the buzzer. Adam opens the door immediately, startling me.

  “Sorry, did I scare you?” he asks.

  “I wasn’t expecting anyone to open the door so soon.” My hand covers my heart, which is beating a face-paced tune now.

  “Maybe I was waiting for you to show up.” He smiles, trying to make it a joke, but something inside me tells me it’s not.

  I smile in return, not sure what else to say or do.

  “It’s just one box today and it’s heavy, so I’ll carry it to your car.”

  “Oh, thanks.” I head back to the van to open the back door.

  Adam comes out with a large box. He sets it in the back of the van then rests his hand on the open back door in a casual pose, looking at me. Is it me or is he acting different today? “You’ve got some fruit, milk, then just some odds and ends.”

  “Perfect, thank you. We’ll figure out a way to make it work.”

  “You always do.” He pauses but doesn’t move. “Listen, I was talking to my dad this week… things have been going well for the business and he’s the kind of man who likes to give back to the community, so I brought up the shelter and suggested giving a donation. It’d be a lump sum donation around twenty-five thousand. We’d still pass on all the food to you as well, but you guys could use the money for something else that you need there.”

  My eyes widen in shock. He cannot be serious.

  “Wow! What did your dad say?” I smile while I think of all the ways the money could help the people who visit the shelter.

  “He said he’ll think about it. That there’s a lot of good charities around to give the money to and maybe he should split it up into smaller sums for everyone to get a little.”

  “Well, we’d be grateful for anything you were able to do,” I say, crossing my fingers that his dad decides to give it all to the shelter. Not that other organizations and causes don’t need it too, but knowing firsthand how much it could help us at the shelter, it’s hard not to be a tad selfish.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep putting in a good word for you.”

  It doesn’t escape me that he says “you” and not “the shelter”.

  “That would be wonderful, thank you.” I find it hard to contain my excitement at the idea of such a large donation.

  He nods then stares at me for a couple seconds. I shift in my spot. I’m not sure why he’s not closing the van door, and I’d feel rude if I closed it on him.

  “We received the invite to the gala today.”

  It takes me a second to clue in on what he’s talking about, but then I realize he’s referring to the big fundraiser to benefit the shelter that’s held every year in Boston. We’re one of a few shelters under the umbrella of a larger charity that does a lot of work in the city, and each year, they hold a huge fundraising gala to support all the charities for the next year.

  “That’s great. I hope you guys can attend. It’s always a special night.”

  “We’ll be there for sure. I was going to ask if you’ll be attending?”

  It all makes sense. His weird smiles, the fact he’s not shutting my van door, the lingering uncomfortable stares that are making this exchange more awkward. He’s going to ask me to be his date. Not only will it be completely awkward when I turn him down, there’s a chance that it could affect the shelter if he’s offended and decides to pull the store’s support. Adam doesn’t seem like that type of guy, but you can’t believe everything someone presents to you. Everyone wears a mask of some kind.

  “I’ll be there. I have so much to do that night to make sure things run smoothly. I’m always running around like a crazy person.” I hope my smile is genuine and he’ll surmise that I’d be a crappy date based on my response and not even ask.

  It’s not exactly the truth. Most of my work at the event is done beforehand—getting sponsorships, tracking down RSVPs, and coordinating some of the speakers. Actually, now that I’m on nights, Jerica will handle a lot of that this year since it needs to be done during business hours.

  Based on his disappointed expression I did a good job of selling the idea that I’ll be too busy to be anyone’s date. “That makes sense.”

  “All right, well, I’d better get going. My shift starts soon.”

  “Right.” He steps back from the van.

  I close the back door with a bang that makes the whole van shake and rattle as if doors and parts might just fall to the ground. “Thanks again, Adam.”

  I hurry to the driver’s side door and get in, not wanting to prolong this conversation. I like Adam, but not in that way. As I drive off, I hope I haven’t offended him, but I’m pretty sure this won’t be the last time he approaches me with more than almost expired food for the shelter.

  My night at the shelter is uneventful, but I drag a
ss because it took me forever to fall asleep. My mind kept rolling over my date with Keane and the kiss we shared in the rain. And then I’d think of the drive home and my dad calling again. My mind kept getting lost in the blackhole of my non-existent relationship with my father.

  A yawn escapes when I pull into a parking spot and “Butterflies” by Kacey Musgraves plays from my phone. Marlowe. It’s odd for her to be calling me this early. She must be on her way to work.

  A sudden panic grips me. Does she know about Keane and me? I’m not even sure what it all means yet, but what if she somehow found out we went on a date? I’m a lousy friend for keeping it from her, but I need to know what this is before I offer it up for public consumption.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Hey, stranger, how’s it going?”

  With her chipper attitude, I assume she doesn’t know I’ve sucked face with her older brother.

  “It’s going well. I miss you though.” It’s true. Since I’ve been on this night shift, I only really get to see her on the weekends.

  “I know. We need to catch up. Which is part of the reason I’m calling.”

  “I figured something might be up since you’re calling me on your way to work.”

  “It is. I want to talk to you about Keane.”

  Alarm bells ring in my head and my thumb hovers over the end call button. I try to keep my voice even. “What about him?”

  “You know his thirtieth birthday is coming up and my parents are coming into town to see him.”

  “Um, yeah… I think he mentioned that.” I glance around outside the vehicle and spot our landlady, Mrs. Davenport, watering the budding garden out front of the building.

  “I want to have a surprise party for him, and I was hoping you could help me organize it.”

  A rush of relief makes my muscles relax, and I exhale. “Yeah, for sure I’ll give you a hand.”

  “I know he’s not your favorite person or anything, but I figure since you two seem to be cordial now, it would be okay? Because I could really use the help. I meant to start planning earlier, but time just got away from me.”

  “I’m happy to help. You just tell me what you need.”

  “Great! Would Friday night work for you? Maybe we can go grab some drinks and go over everything. I’ll see if Jemma is available.”

  “Friday sounds good.” I’m relieved she doesn’t know anything about Keane and me being more than cordial, but the guilt still weighs like a boulder on my shoulders.

  “Perfect. Thanks so much, Fi, I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem. You have a great day at work.”

  “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “I’ll fill you in on Friday. Talk soon!” She hangs up.

  God, I feel like such an asshole friend. I grab my purse and overnight bag from the van and head across the parking lot to the front door of our apartment building. Mrs. Davenport is still there, wearing an ankle-length sleep dress that reminds me of something from the seventies and a set of hot pink fuzzy slippers. Her silver hair is pinned in curlers. Sometimes I feel like I time-warped when I see her.

  “Morning, Mrs. Davenport.”

  She sets down the small watering can and faces me. “Morning, Fiona. You’re keeping different hours lately.”

  I smile. I’m not surprised she noticed. She’s not pushy, but she certainly makes it her business to know what’s going on with her tenants. “I’m on the night shift for a while down at the shelter. One of my coworkers needed me to switch with them. It’s taking some getting used to.”

  She nods. “I’ll bet. Have you gotten used to your new roommate yet?”

  I feel my cheeks heat. At this rate, I’ll have no chance of talking about Keane in front of Marlowe and Jemma Friday night without them figuring out I’m his regular make-out partner. “We’re making the best of it.”

  She gives me a knowing smile, but there’s no possible way she could know anything. “Glad to hear it. Sometimes life surprises us.” She winks.

  I continue toward the door and call over my shoulder, “Have a great day.”

  “Oh, I will. Same to you, dear.”

  I tiredly walk up the stairs to the third level and trudge down the hall to apartment 3B. I’m surprised to find Keane on the couch, watching the morning news. He flicks it off when he sees me. The smile on his face is… gah. Suffice it to say I feel it in every cell of my body.

  “Oh good, you’re home.” He stands and breaks the distance between us. “Drop your bags and come eat before it gets cold.”

  “Before what gets cold?” My forehead wrinkles.

  “I made you blueberry pancakes. I want to see what you think. It’s hard not to make them too dense, but be honest when you try them.”

  “I’m going to gain twenty pounds if you keep cooking for me.” I give him a small smile, my guilt at keeping whatever this is from Marlowe overshadowing my ability to be charmed by his thoughtfulness.

  He pulls me into him, and I reluctantly relax in his arms. “You need to eat a proper breakfast regardless, and this is kind of what I do, so…”

  I chuckle. “You’re not even usually up when I get in.”

  He shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t get my mind off of you all night.”

  My cheeks feel as if they’re on fire. There’s no way I’m not blushing. At least he’s dressed and not half naked, otherwise there’s a chance my cheeks might actually catch fire.

  “You’re just saying that so I’ll tell you your pancakes taste good.” I set down my overnight bag and hang my purse on the hook near the door.

  Keane laughs and follows me to the dining table where a lone plate sits. I take a seat and reach for the pure maple syrup, which I pour over the stack of pancakes.

  “I picked blueberries since I remember how much you used to eat them when we were younger,” he says.

  I still and look at him taking a seat to my left. “You remember that?”

  “Of course.”

  He says it as though it’s obvious he would, but I’m a little taken aback. I never would’ve thought he’d remember something like that from our childhood. Especially when I was Marlowe’s friend, not his.

  I cut into the pancakes, scooping some on my fork when they crumble. I glance at Keane. He’s frowning.

  “Did you follow a recipe?” I ask before shoving the forkful in my mouth.

  He shakes his head. “I wanted to try to figure it out myself. I like the challenge.” He waits patiently while I chew. “Well?”

  I’m not sure whether I should fib or not, but I decide to go with the truth. “The flavor is great, but the texture… they kind of fall apart on the fork and when I put them in my mouth.”

  “I was afraid of that.” He sounds disgruntled. “It’s because there’s no egg to act as a binder.”

  “They still taste really good.” I cut off another piece and put it in my mouth to prove I’m speaking the truth.

  He chuckles and stands from his chair. “Worry not. I’ll figure it out.” He leans down and kisses me on the temple. The sweet gesture makes my heart race. “I’m going to go wash the dishes. Just bring me your plate when you’re done.”

  Once again, Keane has managed to surprise me. I wonder if it’s all a show. Who is the real Keane Travis? Is he the guy I hated for years because he tormented me, or is he the man I’ve seen for the past few weeks?

  I guess time will tell. One thing is for certain—we need to figure out exactly what this is between us so that we can fill Marlowe in sooner rather than later.

  Nineteen

  Fiona

  The week flies by, mostly because my days are spent hanging out with Keane before we both go into work. I’ve been helping Keane prepare for his parents to arrive and the presentation is coming along nicely. I suppose I shouldn’t be, but I’m surprised at how knowledgeable he is on running a restaurant—food costs, table turnover rates, staff turnover, and the business si
de of his industry. I knew he was an excellent chef, but I wasn’t aware he knew the business side too.

  By the time Friday comes, I’m more uncomfortable about keeping whatever’s happening between Keane and me a secret from Marlowe. We haven’t done anything more than heavy make-out sessions on the couch—mostly because we’re both aware that anything more is crossing a line we won’t be able to come back from. It’d be making a declaration about the direction our relationship is headed and neither of us appears to be ready to go there yet.

  But I push it all out of my head as I step into the restaurant where we’re meeting for dinner and drinks. Marlowe came straight from work and Jemma is meeting us here, but I spot them already at a table in the back when I walk in. I wave and weave through the tables.

  “Hey, ladies.” I hook my purse on the back of my chair and sit.

  “Hey,” they say in unison.

  “I think I see Fiona as much as you do since you moved out, Jemma,” Marlowe says.

  Jemma chuckles. “How’s the new shift treating you?”

  “I’m pretty used to it now, but it was an adjustment.”

  “Seriously, I think Keane is the one who probably sees her most now.” The way Marlowe tilts her head like she wants me to fill in the blanks brings all those worries back to the surface.

  I give her an awkward smile, hoping it masks what my face might give away. I’ve never been good at lying, even by omission.

  “Can I get you ladies some drinks?” the server asks.

  Whew. Saved by the waiter.

  We order a bottle of wine to share between us, and after he leaves, Jemma whispers to Marlowe, “He’s cute. Should we find out if he’s single?”

  Marlowe rolls her eyes, but her shoulders fall in defeat. “Has it really come to that?”

  I shrug. “You tell us. Been on any good dates lately?”

  “Let’s see, there was the one where the guy said he was going to the bathroom and never returned, leaving me to pay the bill. And there was the one who kept calling home to his mother every hour. When I asked if she was ill, he told me no, she just wanted to know he was okay and to check in. And then there was the guy with the flatulence problem. He assured me it’s a valid medical condition.”