WEST
Iwas trapped.
Sweat coated my forehead and slicked my back, totally negating my earlier shower. Struggling against the unforgiving cotton, I gave up attempting to push the soft cast through the armhole, ripping the whole shirt off and flinging it across the room with a barked curse instead.
Hand on my hip, chest heaving from my mounting frustration, I glared at the few shirts hanging in my closet, debating which one I should—and could—wear for our stalking mission.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Langston leaned against the doorframe with his inked arms crossed over his chest. My glare zeroed in on his two fully functional hands. He tracked my focus and huffed out a laugh. “If you need help, just ask.”
“Right, like either of us are good at that,” I grumbled, grabbing a looser-fitting shirt off the hanger so hard that the thin plastic flung around the metal rod and crashed to the bottom of the closet. “And I’m fine. Everything is just ten times more work. Hell, getting dressed is a fucking challenge with this thing.”
“Again, all you have to do is ask.” Langston strode to the corner where I’d tossed the black long-sleeve T-shirt I almost suffocated in when it incarcerated me in its buttery softness and snatched it off the floor. He shot me a knowing smirk. “You really need more than one ‘good’ shirt, West.”
I shrugged. “One is fine if I could get it on.”
Motioning me closer, he helped me slip it over the recovering hand first, the soft fabric catching on the cast, before helping me thread the other arm through. After pulling it over my head, he stepped back and nodded.
“Was that so fucking hard?”
I gave him the bird and moved to the dresser to find some socks. I swallowed a groan, knowing that would also take me three times as long with only one working hand.
“You’re not the one actually going on the date, you know. No need to put on your Sunday best.” Which was hilarious coming from him, because I knew for a fact that Langston chose his current clothes because the jeans hugged his firm ass and thick thighs the best and the shirt was practically painted on. Plus, the color made his green eyes even more entrapping. “The plan is to stay hidden and see if we can learn more about Juno.”
Scoffing, I rolled my eyes. “That’syourplan, not mine, remember? And honestly, you lie to yourself way too much for it to be healthy. Do you actually believe you’ll stay hands-off if I somehow find the opportunity to convince Juno that I’m a better option than whoever she’s with?”
“I told you, I don’t trust her.” Langston shifted to lean back against the wall, watching me struggle to pull on a tall boot sock.
“Why the fuck not?” I snapped. “So she’s keeping something from you. Big fucking deal. You don’t get to know everyone’s darkest parts of themselves right away. Maybe try being nice to her and talking to her for once without arguing about every damn thing. Then maybe she’ll open up.” I dropped my head inexasperation. “I want her, Lang, and I won’t let your stubborn ass get in the way of the three of us being together.”
Langston’s lips parted, ready to respond, when someone pounded on the front door, the sound echoing through the cabin and shaking the walls from the force. We shot each other surprised and cautious expressions before filing out of my room to see who was attempting to beat down the solid wood.
With a white-knuckled grip, Langston yanked on the handle and opened the door wide, barely shifting in time to miss the fist aimed for his nose. He snatched it out of the air and used the hold to shove our friend Dax backward onto the porch.
Dax stumbled, arms pinwheeling as he attempted to stay on his feet and not tumble down the porch steps. Once he had his footing, he tossed both hands up in the air with an expectant expression.
“What the fuck was that for, Langston?” he demanded, storming up to the door.
“For almost hitting me and your annoying knocking,” Langston snarled before turning around and stomping back into the cabin. “I’ll get the supplies we’ll need for tonight.”
“Supplies? What supplies?” I questioned as he stalked past me.
“Guns, duct tape, zip ties….”
“I brought a shovel.” I followed Dax into the living room with both eyebrows high on my forehead. “What?” he said with a wicked smirk. “You never know what you’ll need.”
“I think he was kidding,” I sighed, rubbing at my temples to ward off the headache I felt coming on. “At least I fucking hope he was.”
“It’s Langston, going to stalk Juno?—”
“Recon, not stalking,” Langston corrected from the kitchen.
“Right,” Dax drawled. “Anyway, I want in.”
“In on what?” I headed back to my room to grab my glasses and came back to find Dax pacing the length of the wide stone fireplace. “In on what, Dax?”
He shot me an incredulous look. “Sabotaging their date, obviously.”
I slid my glasses on while contemplating finding new, less violent friends. “Who said we were sabotaging it?”
