They all stare at me as if I’ve officially lost my last brain cell.
“None of us.” Foster leans on the wall closest to me, crossing his ankles.
“Are you scared?” I ask.
“Fuck no.” Easton scowls.
“Definitely not.” Decker shakes his head.
Foster doesn’t even bother to respond.
“Oh, I figured you’d all be fighting to be the one to find the guy trying to get in.”
“Or girl,” Foster says, and when I turn to him, he’s looking at Decker. “I know you think these two are all innocent, Callie, but they?—”
“We have a game tomorrow,” Decker says. “And the women I see don’t try to break in. That seems more your style.”
Foster scoffs. “Yeah, I’m always the problem, right, Deck?”
“Okay, you two. We’re a united front. I’ll go out, and you guys better have my back.” Easton walks toward the gate. He’s only wearing basketball shorts, and I’m pretty sure no underwear. If it is a woman, she’ll be drooling.
I jump off the stairs. “I’ll be your wingwoman.”
Someone pulls my sweatshirt hood and yanks me back. I land against a hard chest.
“No, you won’t.” Foster’s voice is gruff and sexy as hell in my ear.
“Well, you guys aren’t doing anything. You’re kind of earning your reputation right now.”
Easton turns around, crossing his arms. “What’s that mean?”
I shrug. “Just that, you know… hockey and football players are rough and tough. Baseball players are… well… not.”
Foster comes around in front of me, and all three of them stand side by side, staring me down. Easton’s arms are crossed, Foster’s hands are on his hips, and Decker’s palming the back of his neck.
“I didn’t mean to offend you guys. It was an offhand remark. I’m just saying, I think Miles Cavanagh would’ve been through that gate already.”
Easton and Decker both turn to look at Foster.
“What?” His jaw flexes.
“This is your fault. She lives with you, and she’s wearing his sweatshirt, and now she’s saying he’s tougher than us.” Easton throws up his hands.
Foster blows out a breath and heads to the gate. Easton and Decker follow.
I smirk to myself. It really is too easy to bruise their egos and convince them to do something.
Foster pushes the gate open and walks right out, not even looking in either direction. “Just as I thought—no one. Except the fucking neighbors.” He spins back around and the gate slams closed behind him. “And now a picture of me without a shirt on will be on the internet in about ten seconds.”
“It was a nice thing you did. You made a lot of women happy just now.” Somehow, I manage not to burst out into laughter.
His chest rises and falls, and I shrug with an expression to say sorry.
“Are you satisfied, Mrs. Cavanagh?”
Foster grunts in response to Easton’s question.
“There already is a Mrs. Cavanagh, and I think she could kick my ass, so cool it.”
