Page 8 of My Brother's Best Friends

The water nearly sizzles against my skin, but after a beat I acclimate, every muscle slowly unknotting.

“Oh, I wonder if that’s what lobsters feel when you boil them,” I say with a dry chuckle. “That brief moment of total relaxation before it’s over.”

Kellan gives me a wry smile. “That’s a little dark, but still a good question. You haven’t changed a bit, Kay.”

“Thanks. My foot-in-mouth syndrome is still perfectly intact.”

I settle onto the underwater seat across from Kellan and gaze up at the distant mountains. The view is so breathtaking I momentarily forget about the swarm of butterflies dive-bombing my stomach.

“How was your trip?” he asks.

I let out a quiet groan and focus on the tranquil blue sky overhead—anything to drown out yesterday’s chaos. “It wasn’t as smooth as I’d hoped, but I’m putting it behind me. I’m here to enjoy myself.”

“Good. You’re only meant to indulge yourself here,” he says, voice low. “I hope I can help with that.”

The intensity in his eyes sends a slow, molten heat crawling up my cheeks, and I’m not sure whether to blame the water or him. I try not to let my imagination gallop, but he’s making that impossible.

“So, Kellan.” I scramble for a safe topic. “Are the others still working?”

“They are. I left them in this morning’s meeting,” Kellan says. “They’ll fill me in on anything I missed later.”

My mouth goes desert-dry—his undivided focus does that to me. I reach for my flute and the chilled bottles, grateful for the excuse to fuss with a mimosa. The first cool sip slides down my throat—a burst of citrus-bubbled relief.

“I assume you know that Bryan is going to propose to Callie,” I say.

“I do, yes,” he says, stretching his arms to hook them over the rim of the tub.

Now his chest is on full display—broad, cut, and utterly distracting. He hasn’t let himself go since we were kids; if anything, he’s grown deliciously broader, ropes of muscle sculpted across his torso and draped over those massive shoulders. I try not to stare but fail miserably.

The sight of him rivals the distant mountains and even the sun overhead. I realize it’s going to be absolute torture spending the week with him. I can only hope that the other two won’t be equally tempting. Otherwise, I’m bound to make a fool of myself sooner or later.

He catches me staring and smiles. My heart skips a beat. It’s that slow, knowing smile men wear when they realize a woman is interested.

I clear my throat. “So, when did Bryan tell you?”

“About two weeks ago,” Kellan says, thankfully looking away. “He invited all of us out for drinks and bought the first round. He’s a class act, your brother.”

He glances toward the mountains, giving me his rugged profile. His jaw is so sharply cut I can picture him in the wilderness, axe biting into fresh timber—or flipping a giant tractor tire, sweat sliding over those bulging muscles. Get your mind out of the gutter, Kay.

“It’s so like him to pull this whole trip together so the proposal will be unforgettable,” I say. “That’s Bry for you—every milestone deserves a party.”

“I think that’s the idea,” Kellan agrees. “I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Bryan didn’t tell me how beautiful you’ve become.”

I stay perfectly still, but the flute in my hand trembles, threatening to slosh champagne into the crystal-clear water. I force myself to set it down carefully before drawing a deep breath. Things are escalating way too fast for my comfort. The effect Kellan has on me is downright alarming. This moment feels like a dream come true, but I’m not sure I’m ready to live it yet.

I scoot onto the rim of the tub, stealing a precious foot of space. When I glance back at Kellan—submerged to his neck—I don’t see a single fabric line between his chest and his thighs. It’s difficult to tell beneath the gently rolling waves of the jacuzzi, but I think he’s naked.

“Are you…” I begin, not sure how to respectfully accuse him of being nude.

Didn’t Bryan mention he’d be sharing a suite with me? And does my brother care that his best friend thinks clothing is optional in front of his sister?

“Am I what?” he asks.

“Are you naked?” I blurt.

“Yes,” he says with a laugh. “Is that a problem?”

I cough, startled by his shameless directness. “Why are you naked?”

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