Page 14 of My Ex's Billionaire Brothers

She glances at Theo, who hasn’t said much since I made the offer. He remains focused on the road, but I see him occasionally checking us in the rearview mirror. He gives her a small, almost imperceptible nod, confirming he’s on board.

She clears her throat, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “I—I need to think about it. This is…a lot.” Her eyes flick to the middle seat, then land on me once more. “I just got out of a bad situation with Calvin. I’m not sure if I’m ready to jump into something, even if it’s casual.”

It’s all I can do not to offer a demonstration right now. “Completely understandable. Take all the time you need. We’re not in a hurry.”

“Thank you,” she whispers. Then she falls silent, staring out the window at the rolling greenery and scattered towns passing by.

I sense tension draining out of the SUV, replaced by a charged possibility. There’s no going back from what we just proposed, but there’s also no pressure.

We drive on through the afternoon, stopping here and there for gas and snacks. None of us are in a rush. By the time night falls, we reach northern Delaware, exhausted and in need of a place to crash. But after Anya checked into it, we learn that Calvin canceled all their hotel reservations.

Because of course he did. The dick.

“This is the only place that has rooms,” Theo announces, checking his phone at a gas station. He rattles off the address ofa motel near the highway. “It’s not ideal, but we don’t have many options if we don’t want to sleep in the car tonight.”

Hunter groans, but I shrug. “We’ll manage.” I shoot a worried glance at Anya, who bites her lip in hesitation.

She forces a small smile. “It’ll be fine. I’d sleep on a cot if it means not dealing with Calvin.”

Eventually, we pull off the interstate and into the parking lot of a low-slung, two-story motel. The neon sign flickers with half-dead bulbs. The asphalt is cracked, and a lone streetlamp illuminates more moths than parking lot.

Theo and Hunter head inside, and I pop open the rear hatch to start grabbing our luggage. A warm breeze ruffles my hair. The night air is thick with humidity. I can’t deny I’m on high alert—places like this aren’t the safest.

As I heave my duffel bag out of the trunk, the zipper snags and splits.Great.My bag flops open, revealing clothes, toiletries, and—damn it.My knitting project. Yarn spills out in a tangled ball of soft gray wool, along with needles and a half-finished project. I freeze, heart thumping.

Footsteps approach behind me, and I pivot quickly, trying to shove the yarn back inside. But it’s too late. Anya stands there, watching me with wide eyes. I flush, cursing silently. My bag’s contents are out in the open for her to see, yarn trailing over the dusty pavement.

She glances at the yarn, then meets my gaze. There’s no mockery in her expression, only surprise—and curiosity. I see her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. My chest constricts.The last thing I need is Hunter or Theo finding out.I’ve always felt silly for enjoying this harmless pastime, but I love it. The act of creatingsomething out of yarn isn’t unlike shibari, except this is wearable shibari.

She stands there silently, like she’s not sure what to say. Then her eyes flick to Theo and Hunter, coming our way.

“Please don’t,” I whisper, my voice low and urgent.

She looks from me to the knitting needles in my hand, then to the other two men. I see understanding dawn on her face, and her tight smile seems sympathetic. Wordlessly, she nods once, stooping to help me scoop the yarn back into the bag. Her gesture is so gentle, so accepting, that my gut twists with gratitude.

I mouththank you.She presses her lips together, returning my look with a softness that nearly undoes me. Then, carefully, she zips my bag. For a moment, we’re both crouched by the bumper of the SUV, the motel’s neon flickering above us. My heart thuds in my ears.

“Everything okay over there?” Hunter calls, voice slicing through the hush.

I clear my throat, rising to my full height. “All good,” I answer, forcing a casual note. I hoist the duffel bag over my shoulder as Anya straightens, smoothing her sweater. She gives me one more fleeting smile—an unspoken promise to keep my secret—then moves to join Theo and Hunter.

“Shake a leg—this is a bad neighborhood,” Theo says.

Hunter snorts a laugh. “It’s Delaware. The whole state is a bad neighborhood.”

I roll my eyes and, loaded up with our bags, I follow them inside.

7

HUNTER

I kickopen the door to our so-called “two-room suite,” half expecting a raccoon to scurry out or a tumbleweed to roll by. Instead, I find a tiny living space with scratched furniture and brownish carpet that’s seen better days—maybe in the last century.

Still, it’s notthatbad. There’s a little kitchenette off to the side and two closed doors. One leads to a cramped bedroom meant to fit three big Carver men. The other is the same size, and it belongs to Anya.

I set my duffel bag on the threadbare couch, stretching my arms overhead until my joints pop. “Whew,” I say, grinning at Gage, who’s lugging in the rest of our stuff. “At least there weren’t any cockroaches skittering when I turned on the light.”

He snorts, placing his bag against the wall by the kitchenette. “If there were, I’d probably handle it better than you.”