I stuff a few spoonfuls of cereal into my mouth and grab my backpack from the counter.
I can feel Xander frowning at me even though I’m not looking at him. “You should really eat a proper breakfast, shorty. Especially for a job as physical as yours.”
“I’ll grab a bagel from the deli,” I assure him.
“We have bagels right here.”
“I know, but I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.” I check my watch and groan. I’ll be late even if I do leave now. Although the early morning orgasm in West’s office was worth it.
“We’ll drop you,” he insists, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around my waist.
“I should just ride there. I don’t want to become dependent on your car.”
“Why not?” West asks as he walks into the kitchen with Zeke close behind him.
“Because I can’t, that’s why. If I start getting shuttled around in cars all the time, I’ll become soft.”
West comes up behind me, wedging me between him and Xander. “I don’t like you riding that death trap around the city anyway.”
“Betty is not a death trap,” I protest on her behalf. She has almost gotten me killed once or twice with her faulty brakes, but that’s beside the point.
“Take the car to do your deliveries,” West suggests.
I snort. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I glance at Zeke, hoping for backup, but he just watches the three of us, an intense expression on his face.
“Why is it ridiculous, shorty?” Xander asks.
“Because I am a bike messenger. I’d never get anywhere with city traffic, and I’d get parking tickets every time I stopped. Besides, it’s wasteful and bad for the environment to drive around in a car all day.”
Resigned, Xander shakes his head, and West plants a kiss on the top of mine. “We’ll take you and the death trap to work this morning.” He checks his watch. “Or you’ll be late.”
“And whose fault is that?” I murmur.
“Entirely yours, brat.” He swats my ass on his way to the coffee machine.
I grab my parcels for the afternoon and go to the bike shed in the lobby of the Grayson News building. I glance around, sure that I left Betty in her usual spot, but she’s not here. Nobody in their right mind would steal her.
I pop my head out of the small space and jerk my chin at the security guard. “Hey, Stan. Did you see anyone walk out of here with my bike?”
“Yeah. Your friend, Mr. Archer. He told me to tell you that he took it.”
What the hell? “And you just let him? How am I supposed to make my deliveries?”
He passes me and goes over to the corner of the shed, pointing at a brand-new bike. “He left you this one as a replacement. That’s some friend you got there.”
My eyes widen at the sight of the top-of-the-line electric bike. “He left me that?”
“Sure did. She’s a beaut.”
“She’s not Betty,” I grumble.
“Yeah. Lucky for you, huh?” Laughing, he nudges my arm and leaves me alone with Betty 2.0.
Left with no other option—for now—I grab the fancy bike and spend a full five minutes cursing West before I accept what I already knew. This thing is a dream; with its effortless handling and ridiculously plush seat, I find myself falling in love. With the bike.
As much as I want to be pissed at West, the fact that I get my packages delivered in half the time it usually takes, without causing any accidents, makes it impossible.
I throw my hands in the air. “You can’t just buy me a four-thousand-dollar bike, West.”
He rolls his eyes and turns his back to me, pouring himself a Scotch while he watches Zeke chop carrots like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
“And where did you put poor Betty?”
He turns and frowns. “Betty?”
“Her bike,” Zeke explains.
I blink at the back of Zeke’s head. I don’t know why I’m so surprised that he remembers. I guess he pays more attention to me than he lets on.
West scoffs. “You mean the death trap?”
“I mean my beloved bicycle that I’ve had for six years and who has been with me through …” I swallow the words on the tip of my tongue. “A lot,” is all I whisper.
Xander wraps me in a hug. “Relax, shorty. She’s downstairs in the basement.”
“Oh.” Some of the tension eases out of my body. “You still can’t just buy me an expensive bike like that.”
West sets his glass down on the kitchen counter and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why the hell not?”
I open my mouth, then close it again. For the Unholy Trinity of billionaires, four grand is nothing. It would be like me dropping my pocket change into a panhandler’s collection cup. But that’s not the point. “You just can’t. It’s too much. You’ve known me for less than a week.”
Xander buries his face in my hair and chuckles darkly. “But we know the most intimate parts of you.”
I squirm in his arms. True.
“You’re our girlfriend, Lily. Why the fuck can’t we buy you a gift?”
I gape at him. “Your … girlfriend?”
Zeke turns now, brandishing the vegetable knife like a villain from an ’80s slasher flick. “Aren’t you?”
I frown.
“You live with us. You have sex with—” He clears his throat. “With West and Xander. So what the fuck else would you call yourself?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it,” I admit, unable to tear my eyes from Zeke’s intense gaze.
Xander kisses my neck. “Do you want to be our girlfriend, shorty?”
My cheeks burn. “I do.”
“For appearance’s sake, you’ll be my girlfriend if anyone asks questions,” West says matter-of-factly, then takes another sip of his Scotch.
I swallow hard. Have I thought this through? Do I want to be West Archer’s girlfriend? Not publicly. “Questions? Who will ask questions?” I can’t have my picture popping up in some gossip column.
“Work mostly.” He searches my face with narrowed eyes. “When we drop you there in the morning or pick you up for lunch. Better to say you’re only dating one of us than all three.”
“Okay.” I nod. “No paparazzi stuff or anything though, right?”
“Fuck no,” Zeke growls.
“We manage to fly under their radar for the most part,” West says.
“Then I guess I’m your girlfriend.” My lips spread into a grin that falters when I realize how ungrateful I’ve been acting. “And um, thank you for the bike. It was actually very thoughtful.”
The wink West gives me ignites a fire in my ovaries. “You’re welcome.” He turns back to Zeke. “You need any help there?”
Zeke hands him a head of broccoli without so much as a word.