Tate has both arms raised in victory and the biggest, brightest victorious grin on his face. The abundant muscles in his bare chest and abdomen are taut and rippled and gleaming with a slight shimmer of perspiration. His dark hair is ruffled perfectly, and I notice for the first time the matching chestnut hued hair that dwindles its way down from his belly button to the top of his faded jeans.. And those damn V-cut muscles on either side that I was all hot and bothered by—against my will—when he was cleaning our apartment are on display again tonight. Ugh. I look up from his treasure trail, lock eyes with him and immediately look away, which is good because my cup was about to overflow.
Caroline grabs it from my hand and as she raises it to her lips she says, “You look parched. You should do something about that.”
She caught me checking him out but I refuse to admit it, so I feign innocence by blinking my eyes rapidly like I’m confused and then grab another cup to pour another beer. It’s almost full when another hand takes it from me. This time the hand is wider and bigger than Caroline’s and as the fingers brush mine there’s a roughness to them. A shiver runs down my spine without my permission. “Thanks, Firecracker.”
“That’s the second time you’ve called me that nickname and I like it even less than the first time,” I reply more calmly than I feel. Why am I suddenly rattled by him? I level him with an indifferent stare and he just smirks.
“It could be worse,” he says and pauses to take a sip of beer while I reach for yet another cup to fill. “I could call you Maggot like I used to in grade school. But that will make the time I’m about to have to spend with you even harder.”
“Why are you shirtless?” I ask and wrinkle my nose so I look disgusted.
“All your freckles turn into one big blob when you do that,” Tate replies and points to my face. Jerk. “And I’ve been playing ping-pong for an hour straight. Can’t seem to lose a match. Anyway, I got hot.”
“Yes you did.” Caroline nods and I glare at her.
Rhys, Jasmyn’s boyfriend, has walked up and is standing right behind Tate.
“Speaking of ping-pong, champ. I’ll take a rematch,” Rhys says but Tate just hands him his paddle.
“I don’t need to kick your ass twice,” he says and Rhys shrugs and takes the racket, leading Jasmyn toward the table with him. Tate is still staring at me and I’m fighting the urge to blush.
“Well, enjoy your night,” I say nonchalantly and turn, grab my sister by the hand and walk out of the kitchen, Caroline doesn’t follow. She stays with Tate, which annoys me but whatever. It’s her life.
For the next half hour, Daisy and I chat with friends in the living room and I almost forget Tate’s even here. But then I go to get a second beer and he’s still standing by the keg and still shirtless. And now he’s holding a bottle of Malibu coconut rum, pouring it into shot glasses lined up on the island. Caroline is still right there beside him. I reluctantly walk over and she laughs like she’s drunk, and she probably is. “Tate is pouring shots!”
“I see that,” I reply coolly.
Caroline blinks. “Oh…right. We’re not supposed to like him.”
Tate chuckles smugly at that. I glare at him for a second and turn back to Caroline. “You can like him. There’s no accounting for taste. But I’m vetoing him.”
“Vetoing me?” Tate says, evidently confused. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“House rules,” I explain and lean on the counter waiting for him to stop pouring his shots so I can get to the keg without accidentally brushing up against him. “When we all moved in together we put a veto rule into effect. We can hook up with whoever we want but if the other roommates don’t like a guy, then he’s not allowed in the apartment. Hookup must happen at their place.”
“We’re not like that,” Caroline tells me, her tipsy expression growing serious. “God, you’re dramatic tonight.”
“Caroline’s right. We’re not,” Tate agrees. “But if we were, that would be a stupid rule. I’ve already been in your apartment.”
He hands Caroline a shot and then one to a buddy of his, some blond guy from the hockey team, and then he hands me one. I shake my head.
“Can’t handle the strong stuff, huh? Clearly you don’t have Clyde’s genes.”
Ouch. Low blow. “I can handle my booze just fine. But unlike you, I have to work tomorrow. People will actually want to buy our products, unlike your subpar apples.”
“More drinking. Less bickering,” Caroline demands.
“I agree. This is way too much drama for me,” the blond guy says.
“Cooper wait!” Tate calls but Cooper keeps walking.
Caroline leans forward to clink her shot glass with Tate before she puts it to her lips and tips it back. He does the same but doesn’t do a little shimmy afterward from the harsh taste of it like Caroline does. Tate smiles at her reaction and I grab the remaining shot glass.
“I’m going to need this if you two are going to flirt,” I mutter and down the shot in one big swallow. I force myself not to react as it burns its way down to my stomach and slam the shot glass on the counter.
“I’m not flirting,” Caroline replies.
“Neither am I,” Tate says and turns to me, leaning on his side of the island to bring our faces closer together. “Trust me, you’d know if I was.”
