Page 11 of Filthy Rich Brother’s Best Friends (Filthy Rich Harems #5)

Jude

I think about her more than I should. Way more.

It’s constant. I mean full-blown, hijacked-my-headspace, orbiting-my-brain like a moon locked in place by gravity. She’s just…there. In my head. All the time.

Sometimes I’ll be folding towels at the spa and wondering what she’s doing. Then I find myself checking the appointment app just to see if maybe, by some cosmic fluke, she booked another session. But she hasn’t.

She caught my attention from the very first moment and she’s held it ever since.

I noticed her the second she checked in at the front desk. It wasn’t because she was pretty—though she is. Her smile hits like sunlight, but that wasn’t what caught me. It was her energy.

Most clients come in carrying stress. But hers felt heavier than most. She walked in looking like she hadn’t caught a break in weeks. Tired isn’t a strong enough word.

She was scheduled to be with Maria, but I knew Maria had been overbooked today and would be happy to leave early. So, I asked and Maria was happy to give her to me.

I tend to request all the pretty, young women—and I’m not ashamed of it. But Lola? I would’ve picked her no matter what she looked like. There was just something about her.

When I got her on the table, I started to work my magic. Most clients relax in stages. Shoulders ease, breath slows, tension releases in little waves. But Lola didn’t release—she braced.

And then…she cracked. Or rather, came apart under my hands.

The second I moved down her spine, she sucked in this sharp, startled breath. Her entire body tensed and then released in the most dramatic way.

She tensed back up after that and stayed that way through the rest of the session. When it ended, she barely looked at me. Hell, she couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

I wish she’d stayed. I could have told her it happens sometimes, that there’s nothing to be ashamed about.

When she walked out that day, I thought I’d never see her again.

Then she showed up at the bar. And ended up in my bed.

Now she lives next door. And I have no idea what to do with any of it. Because she seems determined to pretend that none of this ever happened.

The night we spent together wasn’t just good. It was fucking amazing . It didn’t feel like a one-night thing to me. I was fully prepared for it to be the start of something. But I woke up to find her gone and it left a gap I haven’t figured out how to fill.

I haven’t been with anyone since.

I could—easily. I just…haven’t. The truth is, I don’t want anyone else.

But I’m not the only one who wants her.

The strange fuck-off energy she was throwing at the BBQ wasn’t even fully directed at me. There’s something going on between her and Reid. Miles too. I don’t know where I fit.

I just know I’m not giving up.

So, I show up at her studio the next day.

She’s standing behind the desk when I walk in, her eyes on the tablet in her hand. She doesn’t seem to notice me, so I approach the desk. When she still doesn’t look up, I clear my throat and speak. “Thought I’d try a class. Heard the owner’s hot.”

Her head jerks up. The tablet almost slips from her fingers, and I watch her fumble to keep it upright.

“Jude—hi. Uh—what?” Her voice jumps up several octaves, and I bite back a grin.

“I was hoping you had an opening.”

She blinks again. Then clears her throat. “Right. Okay. Um…do you—have you done Pilates before?”

“Yoga, yes. Pilates, no,” I say. “Figured you could teach me how.”

She presses her lips together and turns toward the small bin of paperwork behind her. “Okay. You’ll need to fill out a waiver. And socks. Do you have grippy socks?”

I glance down at my feet. “Nope. I don’t even know what those are. Do I need some?”

She’s already reaching under the counter, pulling out a basket filled with mismatched socks in different colors. She holds out a pair. “You can borrow these. Please return them.”

I take them with a small nod. “Understood. Sock honor system.”

She doesn’t laugh but I can tell she finds me amusing.

Once I’ve changed and stashed my shoes, she introduces me to the group. There are four other women in the class, each already stretched out on a reformer. She points to an empty one near the window. “You’ll be there. Try not to fall off.”

“Is that a common risk?” I ask.

She ignores me and cues the start of class.

From the first movement, I can tell she’s distracted. Her voice is steady, but her rhythm is off. She cues too fast, then too slow. I take pride in the fact that I clearly make her nervous.

I follow her cues, match her timing, and do exactly what she says. For now, being here feels like enough. I just want her to stop pretending she doesn’t feel what’s between us.

But every second she avoids my eyes tells me she’s not going to budge.

When class ends, I linger. I know she sees me waiting for her because she strategically avoids me. But I’m done letting her duck and run. I want it all out there so there is no denying my intentions.

Once the others are gone, I head in her direction. I watch her wiping down the reformers, wondering if she’d let me help. She knows I’m here but she’s still ignoring me.

“You don’t have to say anything,” I tell her. “I just wanted you to know—I’m not backing off, Lola.”

Her hand freezes.

If she told me no, I’d stop. I would walk away with nothing but the memory of the night we shared. But that’s not what she’s doing. She’s playing pretend and burying her head in the sand like some beautiful ostrich. She feels everything I feel. She just doesn’t want to.

“You could have any woman in that spa. Or anywhere else. Why don’t you want to be with one of them?”

“Because none of them are you.”

She doesn’t turn and keeps wiping. How clean do these machines need to be?

I exhale, slowly. “Lola, before I found out you were my neighbor, I spent a lot of time thinking about you and hoping to run into you. And all of a sudden, you were there, right in front of me.”

She goes still.

“I was this close to hacking into the spa’s system to get your number.”

She makes a sound that might be a laugh.

She finally looks over her shoulder and meets my eyes. “Are you just looking to hook up?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Not even close.”

She studies me for a second longer, then turns back to the reformer.

I wait.

She grabs the towel again and starts wiping the handles with a little too much enthusiasm. “I don’t have time for this,” she says.

My shoulders sink. “I’m not here to pressure you.”

“I’m serious, Jude.” Her voice is tighter now, more defensive. “I’ve got a business to keep afloat, rent that’s—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “I don’t have time for whatever this is.”

“So I’ll wait until you do,” I say quietly.

She stills again. She’s gripping the towel so hard her knuckles are white.

“I just needed you to know,” I add. “I meant what I said. I’m not backing off.”

I don’t wait for her to answer. I turn and walk out the door.