There’s a cop leaning against his cruiser, arms crossed, shaking his head as we approach.
“Evening, Officer,” Mason says cheerfully.
“Boys.” The cop, middle-aged, graying at the temples, looking entirely too amused, eyes their makeshift clothing. “Sure hope you’re not planning to drive home if you’ve had too much to drink.”
“We were going to call someone,” Dylan starts.
“I can drive,” I offer. “I only had one drink.”
The cop pulls out a Breathalyzer. “Let’s make sure.”
I blow into it, and it comes back way below the limit. He nods his approval.
“Here are my keys,” Mason says, then grins. We find the truck, a massive deep-red four-wheel drive that looks like it could crush smaller vehicles.
“You sure you can drive this thing?” Mason asks as I stand next to it, realizing it’s significantly taller than me.
“How hard can it be?” Famous last words.
I unlock it with a click and open the door. Then I climb up into the driver’s seat, using the running boards, and immediately realize this vehicle is ridiculous. The steering wheel is huge. Thedashboard has more buttons than an airplane cockpit. And the hood extends so far I can barely see where it ends.
Mason climbs into the passenger seat beside me, and Dylan gets in the back, leaning forward between the seats so he’s close to both of us.
I start the engine, and it rumbles to life with a deep growl that vibrates through the entire cab. I adjust the seat, pulling myself forward more to reach the pedals and lifting the chair for an easier view. Pushing it into reverse, I slowly pull out of the parking lot.
“Easy,” Dylan says, watching me wrestle with the steering wheel.
“This thing is a tank,” I mutter.
“Best truck money can buy,” Mason says proudly.
The drive is nerve-racking at first. The truck handles differently than any vehicle I’ve driven, especially on the winding roads leading away from The Timber Den.
But the guys are being surprisingly patient, offering gentle directions, and gradually I relax into it.
That’s when I notice how they’re both watching me.
Mason’s eyes are on my hands gripping the wheel, on the way my arms flex as I turn. Dylan is leaning forward enough that I sense his breath on my neck.
“You look good behind the wheel,” Mason states, his voice lower now.
“Yeah?” I keep my eyes on the road, but I’m blushing.
“Real good,” Dylan confirms. “Confident. In control. It’s sexy as fuck.”
Heat floods through me. “You two are going to cause problems for me.”
“Says the woman who hustled us at pool and made us run nearly naked around the table,” Mason points out.
I laugh. “You agreed to it.”
“And it was worth it. Watching you move around that table, bending over, teasing us. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Maybe,” I admit.
We’re climbing now, leaving the town behind, winding up a hilly road that offers glimpses of lights below through the trees.
“So, Anita,” Dylan says, his voice dropping to that rumbling bass that makes everything inside me clench. “You ever been with two Alphas at once?”
