He reaches across the table to shake, and I have to admit, I like the way his warm fingers close around mine. It’s a lot of stimulating hotness to have at my breakfast table, which is good, because I ran out of coffee four days ago, and this is just the pick me up I needed.
“So,” I say, pulling back my hand so I can devour another piece of bacon. “What are three strapping men like you doing in Endstone?”
The other two look at Theo. “My uncle passed away. Left me his place there. So we decided to move in together.”
Dawning realization washes over me, and I feel myself deflate a little. “Oh. Damn. I should’ve known a trio of hotties like you would prefer snakes to beavers.”
Brant, who had just taken a bite of eggs, starts cough-choking on them. Without breaking a sweat, Madix reaches over and claps him on the back, while Theo passes him a glass of orange juice. Neither of their eyes leave me as they do this. It’s a bit weird.
Theo lets a teasing smile cross over his face. “We aren’t gay.”
I brighten at that. “Oh. Thank you for clearing that up,” I say seriously.
Madix runs a hand down his face. He’s the only one who hasn’t started to eat. “Not hungry?” I prompt.
Before he can answer, Theo does for him. “Madix is a bit particular about, well...everything.”
I cock a blonde brow as I shovel more eggs into my mouth. “Meaning?”
Madix gestures around my kitchen. “Meaning you have homemade jerky hanging from a towel rack over your stove, loose birdseed all over the counter, four bowls of questionable pet food beside the oven, and your refrigerator door is wonky. Also, your jam looks homemade,” he adds as an afterthought, glaring at the jar of preserves like it’s going to grow arms and punch him in his face.
“Of course it’s homemade. What do you take me for?” I snort.
“This kitchen is unsanitary,” he replies.
“I’ll have you know, I scrubbed it with lemons yesterday,” I tell him matter-of-factly.
He blinks at me with an incredulous look.
“You do all this yourself?” Brant asks, now that he’s adequately recovered from choking.
I nod. “Yep. My dad raised me to be totally self sufficient. It’s just about the only thing we agree on anymore. I live totally off the grid for two months out of the year before I go back to work in Alaska.”
“What do you do in Alaska?” Brant asks curiously, watching as I pass a piece of bacon down to his dog.
I open my mouth to answer, but Madix cuts in. “Look, we aren’t here for visiting hour. We’re here to retrieve you and bring you back to Endstone.”
I roll my eyes. Figures this guy is a douche. Guess he can’t have that many musclesanda good personality. Oh, well. I bet I could wrangle Theo in for a good time. I let my eyes trail down his trim waist and strong arms. His green eyes light up and his mouth twitches with amusement, but I don’t mind being caught checking him out. I flick my eyes over to Brant, and I could totally see him doing that sweet, loving kind of thing. He’s probably awesome at making a girl feel precious.
But Madix? He’s the kind of guy who can pick you up and slam you against the wall while he fucks you hard and angry. Three totally different styles, and I’m a fan of all of them. Excitement courses through me at the thought of getting these three delicious morsels to give their special attention all to one girl. That would just be sex heaven.
I decide in that moment that it’s my new goal. I’ve been meaning to make some new ones anyway. When I hear something loud shatter in the cellar, I groan and get to my feet. “Coon! How many times do I have to tell you? Stay off of my meat rack!”
I hear one of them snort behind me. “Is that some weird euphemism?” I think Theo mutters as I rush down the wooden steps to the cellar.
“Based on the interior of her house, I’m pretty sure it’s not,” Madix intones.
I jump the last step of the stairs and land nimbly on my feet. I tug the chain cord hanging from the ceiling, and the space lights up.
I hear the guys trudging down the stairs behind me, but I ignore them as I put my hands on my hips and glare at Coon and the destruction she’s wrought in my cellar. The rats are loose out of their cage, nibbling on the knocked over grains that Coon no doubt pushed off the shelf on purpose. The climbing tree I built her with loose branches and spare drapery is also toppled over. There are teeth marks all over the meat I had drying on the rack, and my crate of apples has been totally ransacked.
I hear one of the guys whistle behind me. Coon pops up her head from where she’s lying on my shelf of preserves, partially rolled up in one of my scarves. She has a glass jar of orange marmalade clutched in her clawed little paws and she dips her entire snout into it, licking up the contents.
“Coon. You arenotan awesome opossum right now,” I tell her with an angry jab of my finger.
“You named your opossum...Coon? As inraccoon?That’s just confusing,” I hear Brant say.
I roll my eyes and look over at him as I gesture to Coon who’s still wrapped up on the shelf. “Coon as incocoon.She likes to be wrapped up. My scarf is a favorite,” I explain to him, but honest to Betsy, it should be obvious.
