Page 3 of Flirting With My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

“I don’t know how I feel about all this testosterone.” But I’m used to it from being around Ronnie and Langston, and Langston’s four brothers so much.

Family is everything to me. Ronnie is two years older than me, and I was a tomboy, always tagging along with the boys. Langston is the second of the Keith boys and is a couple of years older than me, the same age as Ronnie. I grew up playing with Ashton, who is my age. He lives in Singapore now, so I only see him for holidays and the odd visit back.

My mom likes to sit around with Langston’s mom, Laurie, talking about how much they want grandbabies. Langston’s mom has a granddaughter, two-year-old Angel, who is Callie’s little girl from her first marriage, and Callie is now married to Langston’s older brother, Weston. But my mom doesn’t have any grandkids, since Ronnie and I haven’t made any headway in the relationship department. It’s something that makes me sad. I’ve always wanted to be a mom, despite the fact that I grew up a tomboy and hated dolls. And nieces and nephews wouldn’t be so bad either.

Langston swims up to me. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”

I turn to look at him. “Nope. I’m right here. And I’m ready for some coffee and a hot shower.”

“Me too.”

“Good thing the guest house has three showers.” Ronnie swims up to us.

“Yeah, because otherwise, you’d be sitting in wet clothes until one of us got out of the shower,” Langston says.

“You’re assuming I would have let you go in first,” Ronnie teases.

It’s ridiculous because I know Ronnie would never be the type to make Langston sit in wet clothes while he enjoyed a nice, warm shower.

I get out of the water, and the wind hits me. I grit my teeth against the chill.

“Hey,” Langston says, coming next to me. “At least it’s not below freezing. Forty-seven isn’t that bad.”

“Yeah, just a nice spring day,” I bite out, teeth chattering.

He pulls a dry jacket out of his backpack and puts it around my shoulders. I don’t comment and accept the kind gesture. It makes up for the fact that he threw me in. But only a little.

After calling a groomsman to take Marshmallow back to the stable, we cross the lawn to the guest house, Langston and Ronnie on either side of me. Langston is close enough that I can see the goosebumps rising on his skin. The guy must be freezing.

Ronnie is wrapped up in his towel. I key in the garage code, and we file into the house.

We’re greeted by Rosie, one of the staff members, who is mopping the rustic stone floors. She’s thin, early twenties, and wearing earbuds as she works. She pulls them out.

“I’m so sorry, Rosie,” I say. “Can we use the showers? Someone thought it was a good idea to take a swim in April.” I shoot Langston a scathing look.

“You must be freezing!” Rosie says. She’s employed by my parents, but she cleans for me as well. I also have a cook and a guy to manage the grounds. Nothing like the extensive staff my parents keep to manage their twenty-thousand-square-foot home, and they often have guests visiting, like my mom’s family from India.

“Sorry to mess up the bathrooms and to disturb you while you’re cleaning,” I say.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. Go get warm. It won’t take me long to wipe them down again.” She waves us away.

“Thank you, Rosie,” Ronnie calls as we split up to go to our separate showers.

I sprint up the cedar staircase and head to the master bath since Ronnie and Langston went for the bathroom on the main floor and the one in the basement. I strip off the wet clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, making a mental note to tell Mom about how sweet Rosie is about us messing up the place right before guests are due.

I step into the stream of steaming hot water and sigh. It’s such a relief to finally get warm again. I scrub the pond scum out of my hair with the random bottle of shampoo someone left in the shower. Thankfully, there’s conditioner too, or I’d never get the tangles out of my overabundance of hair.

There’s a knock, and Rosie calls to me through the cracked door. “Do you want me to put your wet things in the dryer for you?”

“Yes, please.”

Her voice gets louder as she steps into the room and bends down to pick them up. “Langston mentioned that you don’t have dry clothes with you. I can have some of your clothes sent over while you’re showering, since these will take a while to dry.”

“Thank you. That would be wonderful.”

“In the meantime, there’s a robe hooked onto the bathroom door you can use,” Rosie says before leaving.

I finish my shower and dry off before I wrap up in the robe.

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